by Regan Black
EIGHT
It makes no difference if I burn my bridges behind me – I never retreat. Fiorello LaGuardia
Kelly stuck with the back roads as they made their way through Indiana, grateful Cleveland trusted her with a car. It wasn't his precious 1957 Chevy, but she couldn't complain about the vintage Super Sport. Cleveland promised her it could outrun anything and corner on rails.
Whatever that meant.
She might not get the driving reference, but she wasn't stupid about the rest of the plan. She knew Petra had insisted she drive to give her a sense of purpose, to provide a distraction from her ultimate failure.
Surprisingly, they'd also given her something to ramp up the healing in her shoulder. She hardly felt any pain there now. She kept the windows down, hoping the fresh air concept would have a healing boost for her, like it did for Nathan. The rush of air teased her hair free of the ponytail. Still devastated, she'd thought about shaving her head, but no one would let her near anything sharp. Even now, she felt a little naked and disadvantaged without her dirk at her ankle. She needed to believe Nathan had it with him. Hopefully he'd give it back soon. She just had to convince him she didn't intend to commit suicide.
That would be easier once she convinced herself.
Kelly took the last turn and followed the overgrown track until it ended. Turning off the car's engine, she stared at her tiny cabin. She thought of the two small rooms and the sparse furnishings. How would Nathan handle the cramped space? Would they even both fit in there at the same time?
He was out of the car the moment it stopped, stretching his legs and taking it all in with a big grin plastered across his face. Who knew rustic suited him?
She was the opposite. The remote setting was ideal, but she didn't feel like smiling, she felt like taking a nap – oh no, she hadn't thought about the sleeping arrangements. She'd just have to take the floor and give him the single, narrow bed.
"No way." Nathan said coming up behind her and flipping her ponytail. "I'm not setting myself up for that lecture. If anyone sleeps on the floor, it's me."
"But –"
"Martyr much?"
Her temper flashed then settled to a low simmer when she realized he was kidding. "This trip is supposed to give you time to heal up and feel better."
He exaggerated an inhale, puffing out a chest that looked remarkably heartier than he had just few days ago. "Fresh air, lots of space, I'm feeling better already."
She smiled and it felt sincere. She tipped the seat forward and started to unload the car. "Let's go in. You might find the bed's too small anyway."
"I bet it's just right." He waggled his eyebrows and she resented how his chipper mood grated on her bruised nerves and heart.
He scooped up the luggage, leaving her to stalk up the path after him. "Smart ass."
As she reached for the lock, she heard it tumble. She smacked him on the shoulder, taking advantage of the moment. He was loaded with a backpack and duffle since he wouldn't let her carry anything but the cooler. "I can turn a damn key."
"What?" he said, grinning down at her. "No congratulations for healing up so quickly?"
She muttered under her breath.
"Your language is appalling, dear." He didn't go inside, though, just dumped their things inside, including the cooler and snapped the door closed with his power.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"We need a walk after that long drive."
She groused about it, but let him guide her around the cabin and into the woods that surrounded it.
"Nice area." His eyes were on the trees and the autumn rainbow of leaves above them. "How'd you find it?"
She wanted to ignore him, but he'd only climb inside her head.
I would not.
"Point proved." She hooked her thumbs into her back pockets and veered off on her favorite deer trail. It led to a scenic spot on a little stream and she suddenly wanted a drink of that cool, clear water.
"This place belonged to my uncle, dad's brother. They sent me here occasionally."
"Sent you?"
"Whenever I whined too much about seeing the world."
"This is hardly a worldly view."
She shrugged. "It was a different view. I learned about plants and stuff here. That's what they wanted."
"'They' meaning your family."
"Yes." She recognized the interrogation, but didn't see much point in stopping him. They'd be here a while and may as well talk about something. It hurt, but it helped too. "My father was often baffled by me. When I showed an aptitude for anything remotely feminine, he encouraged it." She reached out, plucking a vibrant orange leaf from a tree.
"So what goes into your sedative powder?"
Surprised by the subject change, she looked up at him. Way up. He was closer than he should be. Not as close as they'd been in some of their mental pen pal moments, but too close for in person. Too close for two unchaperoned people in the woods on a nice fall day.
She cleared her dry throat. "There's a creek this way, hear it?"
"Sure."
Her intense relief that he was so easily distracted had to be a bad sign. Who had thought up this idea of hiding him out here in the wilderness? Oh, yeah, Petra. If her cell card worked out here, she'd be calling in a change of plan right now.
The creek burbled to life at their feet and Kelly sank down onto the bank in the warm sunlight. The lack of development in this area continued to amaze her. When Nathan echoed the sentiment, she bristled.
"I wasn't in your head that time, honest." He sat down beside her, stretching his long legs. "You have to admit we think a lot alike."
She didn't have to admit it out loud. He burst into laughter and after a startled moment, she joined in.
When the giggles faded and only the sound of the creek and birds remained, he said, "It wasn't your fault."
The sympathy in his voice set her on edge. "At the museum, you mean."
"That too."
She groaned, shoving her fingers into her hair. "Petra showed you everything."
Nathan winced. Kelly's misery was so obvious and he only wanted to soothe. "She didn't do it voluntarily. The little she did share was because you matter to her. Well, and she was really pissed at me," he confessed. "You've been through a lot and I was cruel. I'm sorry."
"You said that in the infirmary."
"But you needed to hear it again."
She paused in the process of wrestling the tie out of her hair to stare up at him with those dark, fathomless eyes. "How'd you piss her off?"
"The way I spoke to you after the attack."
Kelly shook her head, her black hair cascading over her shoulder. He longed to run his fingers through it, but suppressed that part of the program. For now.
"Why didn't you complain more about this plan of hers?" When her face shifted from confusion to worry, he rushed on. "I mean I jumped you in the infirmary about the – the –"
"Suicide attempt," she finished. "You were mad, you apologized."
"Yeah. I was out of line, but…"
"But?"
He got to his feet, worried he'd throttle her, or worse, kiss her, if he stayed by her side. "I still can't believe you'd be so selfish. You were blindsided by that attack." He spun back around, leaves fluttering near his feet. "I watched the replay. You fought brilliantly and have nothing to be ashamed of."
"I lost the object we need."
Where was her temper? What did he have to say to get to the warrior part of her? "It was just an old box," he argued.
That dig had the desired effect; it just took a form he didn't expect.
She belted him with a left hook that dumped him in the creek. Then she followed, wading in to finish the job. He ducked and evaded to the best of his ability, but it was a challenge not to shout in celebration.
He might need fresh air, but for this woman, fiery temper was the best medicine.
She hollered at him, ignorance being the least of her insult
s among phrases he didn't want defined. "You don't know anything about it!" she finished, shoving him back on his ass.
He swiped his wet hair out of his face while she was stomped up the bank. He scrambled, using his mind to trip her, then he tackled her, gently, so he wouldn't add to her previous injuries. She squirmed furiously against him, but he held firm, wrapping her tight to trap her arms and hooking her legs with his feet. When she stopped fighting, he pointed out the obvious, "If I'm so stupid, enlighten me."
She glared at him, long enough that his body forgot the plan and reacted to the feel of her rapid breath against his chest.
"C'mon, Kelly," he begged, not sure what he wanted more – the truth of the past or the pleasure of the present.
"It's not just some old box. Let me up and I'll tell you. At the cabin."
Cautiously, he freed her, one limb at a time. He dusted off her back, carefully, and then took her hand as they walked back. He gave her credit for accepting the touch when he knew she wanted to be left alone.
He let her open the door this time and though he ached to know everything the minute they were inside, he didn't press or intrude.
"The bodies," she said, then stopped. He didn't need to be an empath to sense her pain. Flopping onto a well-worn sofa, she scrubbed at her face and started over. "You saw the bodies through Petra, right?"
He nodded, aching for the bleak emptiness in her voice.
"You saw my father and my brothers."
Through the fits and starts and flurries of information, the full picture came together. He understood she'd lived life secluded from mainstream society and marveled that a feat like that was still possible anywhere, let alone America. Of course here he was, standing in one of those very unlikely secluded places.
The rigorous training, combined with growing up as the only girl among six brothers explained her amazing fitness and ability. And when she explained how her father squashed her life's goal of guarding the map box, his heart simply broke for her.
By god, he was in love. The decorated soldier, Mr. Lone Wolf, in love with a woman who'd never officially existed – a woman who could never exist officially.
It was an impossible union, but he knew he didn't want anything else.
She rolled to her feet so suddenly he knew he'd transferred the thought. "We should eat," she said, with a blindingly fake smile.
"Kelly, I want –"
"It's Calisto actually, remember?"
"As in chalice."
She rolled her eyes and made a gagging sound. "That's some education you've had. Call me Kelly. Or Cali if you like."
"Cali," he tested it, liked it. "About the map box," he added quickly when she seemed to panic. "Why would your father make a duplicate and park the real box so far away?"
"Oh. Umm. Petra said it had something to do with me…" She moved another step and was in the small kitchen. "He told us all the time that someday someone – some thing – would come looking for it. Every generation prepared for that war."
"This is that war?"
"It would appear so." She grimaced and he caught the shiver that rippled through her mind and body. "Though we don't stand much chance if they use the maps."
"You haven't told me what the maps show."
"I haven't," she snapped. "I won't." Her fingers twisted and she spun a tight circle in front of the sink. "Since this obviously isn't Chicago, we can't just order in whatever we want to eat." She rummaged around in the cooler one of Slick Micky's girls had packed for them. "Looks like peanut butter sandwiches or beef jerky."
"Did they send any beer?" Better to play along, he thought, until she relaxed again.
She pulled out a long neck bottle and passed it to him, making a face. "Hope you're not putting that with the peanut butter."
He smiled, raised the bottle. "Join me?"
"Trying to get me drunk so I'll talk?"
He put the bottle to his lips to disguise the grin that sprang to his lips. It was a fair accusation, though he'd had enough talking. His body was processing other input while his head worked on her puzzling past. He figured they'd both benefit from a change of focus.
* * *
Kelly felt herself relax as the beer sank into her system. She'd found some hearty deli sandwiches at the bottom of the cooler – thank god. Smuggling aside, she admired Slick Micky's set up. "The man knows how to make the most of his recruits," she said, licking mustard from her fingers.
Nathan watched so intently she felt rather like a rabbit who'd invited the fox in for tea. Unsettled, she picked up the plates and hustled the whopping three paces to the half-wall of cabinets that separated sitting room from kitchen.
"You probably need rest," she said, wishing for her usual composure. "It's been a long day."
"It's been just as long for you too, Cali."
She'd never been happier to hear her name spoken. The way he said it lit her up inside, like her own private campfire, but she knew if she reached out to him she'd get burned. She applied herself to rinsing the dishes without breaking them. "I think you should take the bedroom."
He was right behind her. It was impossible to miss his movements in a space this small, so she really shouldn't have been startled. "Petra said I shouldn't leave you alone."
She wanted to get mad, and found her temper alarmingly absent. "Surely you can see I'm feeling much better."
"I'd like to know exactly how you feel. I want to touch you with my hands, not just my mind."
His sultry voice had her spinning around in time to catch the blatant invitation on his face. She looked away. It was better to cling to the values she'd grown up with, but as he surrounded her, his desire washing over her, those values felt distant and childish. Flustered, she turned her back on him.
"Not childish at all." He brushed her hair forward and set his lips to her nape. "What's important to you matters to me."
"But…" she squirmed away, unable to think in a straight line when he was so close, so hot, so…male. She sidestepped again, redefining cowardice as self-defense. "But it will change everything and there's still too much undone."
He looked distinctly uncomfortable. "That's an unshakable truth." Boldly, he adjusted himself. She cursed her eyes for tracking the motions. "I'm a man, not an animal. I'll wait as long it takes."
She worried it wouldn't take long at all. All they'd shared telepathically swirled through her head, the memories heating her body to unprecedented levels, sparkling along nerves she hadn't known existed. She was at war with herself; her body screaming to ignore logic, her logic calmly telling her body that hormones could not be trusted.
Then her mother's voice slid into the discussion reminding her there were things a girl didn't do if she wasn't ready for the consequences. And a girl wasn't ready until she was a married woman.
Kelly could never be married. Not when she was the last guardian in her generation. She had to hold the line until Daniel and the others could help. Of course right here, right now in this moment, there was nothing to guard. That sounded like logic, but recognizing her flawed thinking, she blamed hormones and scooted back to the main room.
Nathan was behaving honorably, a factor that made the attraction all the more difficult.
"Talk to me, please?"
She didn't miss the note of concern, but how did she say that sleeping with her was tantamount to marriage? Even if he wanted marriage, a life with her equaled solitude.
They both knew he would need more. He thrived on the challenge of a mission. Diverse interaction and variety were as necessary for him as breathing fresh air.
"I want you so much." The words burst from her mouth; her hands clapping over her lips were too little too late.
To his credit, his advance stopped short of physical contact. "I scare you."
She nodded, the only response she could muster as he took her hand and settled her on the sofa. She pretended not to notice the way he walked through her space, opening all three of the small windows.
&nb
sp; "I did wire in security." He just smiled at her. "Really, I did. The monitor's there." She pointed to what looked like a bread box and watched him slide open the door and pull out the compact keyboard. Unfolding it, she saw him pause, tipping his head. He smiled as he entered a flurry of commands.
"I set a perimeter scan," he explained.
"Oh. Good." What witty conversation. "Umm. We should talk about how to get the map box back."
"No point." He stood in front of her. Dark broody eyes, broad shoulders, long legs, and…she ripped her gaze back to his face. "We can make a plan tomorrow."
She had a feeling tomorrow would be too late. Rational thought might be out of her reach forever if he stayed with her.
He sat down and weaved his fingers with hers. "Remember that last time before they dropped me in the hole?" he asked. A seductive grin tipped his lips.
She wondered how many hours of practice he'd put in perfecting that look, wondered if he knew exactly what firestorms the expression caused. He was telepathic, how could he not?
"Stop over thinking every breath."
"You promised to stay out of my head."
"Telepathy isn't a requirement with that expression on your face. And it isn't a one way ride. Other than Petra, no other woman has heard me like you have."
He called her 'woman'. Her internal campfire was growing into an epic bonfire.
"Or shared herself like you have."
He leaned closer. She scooted away. The process repeated until she was pinned between him and the armrest. He stretched an arm across the back of the sofa, his other hand still liked with hers.
She should feel cornered…instead she felt…excited.
Her whole body thrummed with an awareness she'd never known, yet recognized as her right. Logic was indignant. She shifted, leaning close, inordinately satisfied by his soft gasp. Reaching up, she caressed Nathan's shoulders with her palms and told logic to take a hike. As her hands coasted down, that bonfire ignited like nothing she'd known before. Her body moved on instinct, her mind soaking up the sensations.
