Silent Threat

by Dana Marton

  But it didn’t mean she had to wallow in her feelings.

  She pulled her essence from the leaf into the branch. She still felt the storm on her skin, she still bent and shook, but she could handle it. The emotions were more muted, more manageable. Bad things happened, but nothing she couldn’t handle. She could stand up to this storm.

  When she felt comfortable in that spot, she pulled herself fully into the massive trunk of the tree and relaxed completely. The storm was a buzz around her. It couldn’t do serious damage. She’d seen storms come and go. She’d survived them.

  By the time she was in the roots, she was in Zen bliss. She was one with the earth. Down there, deep inside, an incredible peace waited for her. And the best thing was that this place was always here, always waiting. She could come anytime she wanted.

  A metal door slamming downstairs brought her out of her zone. She drew another deep breath, held, released, then blinked her eyes open, as reluctantly as if waking from a pleasant dream.

  Far below her, Cole walked across the tile floor in nothing but a pair of navy swim shorts. She sucked in a sharp breath as her gaze focused on his powerful body.

  He had scars so large she could see them from the distance, and she suspected she’d see more if he was closer. Annie looked away. He wouldn’t hear if she called a greeting, and without knowing that she was here, she felt as if she was spying on him.

  She should go. She would. In another minute. First she needed to catch her breath. Her gaze strayed back to him.

  Water glistened on his head and wide shoulders from his shower. He stretched his muscles, and she could see for the first time the difference in range of motion between his two arms. His right shoulder was obviously stiff, and his right elbow wouldn’t contract enough to bend all the way.

  Was he even able to lift a fork to his mouth?

  She’d never seen him eat with his right hand. She’d never seen him do a lot of things. The sudden thought of how briefly they’d known each other startled her. Less than a week.

  Yet, even with all the other craziness going on, he spent a disproportionate amount of time in her thoughts. And in her company too. He had helped with the fence. With the midnight feedings. And when he couldn’t find her, he’d come to check on her in the middle of the night.

  A soft, tentative kind of longing unfurled in the middle of her chest. Suddenly she could see what life might be like with a true partner. Not a casual boyfriend, not somebody she went on dates with, but someone to share the little day-to-day things, someone who would have her back. She’d never experienced that.

  She longed for a deeper connection than the ones she’d had before. Not with Cole, though. He was her patient. So she stashed that longing away for another day, another man.

  When Cole finished stretching, he dove into the pool. He swam just under the surface of the water, both arms at his sides, his great body propelled only by his powerful legs.

  Every once in a while, he came up for a quick pull of air as he swam a lap, then another and another. He propelled himself with his feet and left arm, his right arm dragging in the water.

  Annie needed to leave, but she couldn’t look away as he kept going, lap after lopsided lap, swimming a lot longer and harder than she could have.

  He had to be growing exhausted.

  When he slowed at last, she expected him to move to the edge and climb out of the pool, but instead, he abruptly sank to the bottom.

  Her breath caught all over again.

  Did he have a cramp?

  She jumped to her feet, heart hammering as Cole lay on the bottom of the pool, an alarmingly still, dark shape.

  Her chest constricted. She struggled to fill her lungs. She called without any hope that he would hear. “Cole!”

  Before she knew it, her feet were at the end of the diving platform as she stared down, her heart hammering madly. God, she was up high. Cole seemed far away, the distance insurmountable: a leap over Niagara Falls.

  Don’t let me break my neck.

  She pushed off.

  She was in the air long enough for some serious regrets. Then she slammed into the water, sideways, because what did she know about diving?

  For a long moment, she felt paralyzed with pain, then instinct kicked in, and she was happy to see that her limbs scrambled on their own. So far so good, except that same instinct was pushing her up. She forced herself to swim down. She didn’t make it. Halfway there, a submarine hit her, propelling her to the surface.

  Then Cole had her out of the water and on the wet tiles, on his knees next to her, hovering over her, his dark eyes boiling with anger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Because she was still scared to death, she shouted back, a waterlogged, half-choked sentence. “What do you think you are doing?”

  “I was relaxing on the bottom until you decided to commit suicide.”

  Oh God. Fool much?

  Her voice weakened. “I thought you were drowning.”

  “You could have killed yourself.” His volume dropped too. He spoke in the same gruff tone that she remembered from their first encounter at the gas station. That voice still drew shivers along her skin.

  He had bent to her during their earlier shouting, and their noses were now mere inches apart. His massive chest was heaving almost as hard as hers. Hers from effort, his from anger.

  That hungry-bear look came into his eyes.

  For a stunning, crazy moment, heat flared between them, arched like lightning, and she couldn’t breathe at all. Not a single oxygen molecule. Or maybe she just imagined that the heat was something mutual. Because the next second, he pulled back, his face completely blank as he ran his large hands over her limbs.

  She felt hot and cold at the same time. The best she could do was whisper. “What are you doing?”

  “Did you break anything?” His hands didn’t stop roving over her. “Dislocate anything?”

  She tried one limb at a time. Everything ached, but everything moved. When she was sure that she hadn’t broken any bones, she sat up. This brought them closer together again. Too close. Too much awareness.

  He sat back on his heels, ran his palm over his bald head. His dark gaze wouldn’t leave her face. “You took ten years off my life when you stepped off that diving board.”

  “You saw me?”

  “I noticed you up there when I came in.”

  Right. He’d been a sniper. He probably saw things that escaped normal people. She had to remember this in the future. Cole Makani Hunter missed nothing.

  “You didn’t call up to me,” she said.

  “Looked like you were meditating.”

  He stood and reached out a hand to her. She accepted the help but let his hand go as soon as she was standing. When his gaze dipped to her chest, heat tingled through her.

  “Don’t do that.” His voice was suddenly the rough rasp of a dying man.

  “What?”

  But because he wasn’t watching her mouth, he couldn’t see the question.

  Her gaze followed his to her chest. Oh God. Her giant, hard-from-the-cold-water nipples were nearly poking through the thin white cotton of her sports bra and shirt.

  She crossed her arms, but from the deep groan that escaped his chest, she was pretty sure he could still see the offending peaks.

  “Just,” he said as if speaking from the bottom of a well, “suck them in or something.”

  Part of her wanted to laugh, but the expression on his face was so intensely focused and tortured, she couldn’t. Cole was looking at her nipples. As if he was affected by them. As if he was struggling with desire and—

  Finishing the thought might make her faint, so she didn’t. “I need to go. I have a session in fifteen minutes. I need to change out of these wet clothes.”

  He raised his gaze at last. He shifted his weight, an uncertain look on his face—which was startling, because little about the man was uncertain. He looked as if he was about to say something and was sti
ll tasting the words to make sure they were the right ones. But in the end, he only said, “Have a fun day.”

  She had her doubts about fun. She’d settle for a day that didn’t leave her bleeding. Beyond the visit with her grandfather, she was also going to get Ed’s estimate for the house today.

  Cole stepped away from her. The tension eased between them. She could finally draw a full breath.

  OK, go, go, go. She nearly ran to get her sneakers. She pulled her sopping socks off before she shoved her feet into the shoes.

  Cole was back in front of her before she tied the laces, holding two white towels out for her. “Dry yourself with one, cover yourself with the other.”

  She was grateful that he didn’t offer his hand to help her up this time. She was in no shape to be touching him.

  She stood on her own and grabbed one of the towels from him. “Thanks.” She dried herself with brisk movement, her brain cells playing ping-pong with the one question she didn’t want to be thinking.

  What had just happened here?

  OK, so Cole was into nipples. Like really into them. God, the look in his eyes. A nipple fetish? It happened. It had nothing to do with her. Could have been worse. He could have focused on all her flabby spots revealed by her plastered-on clothes.

  Maybe any nipple would have riveted his attention. According to his file, he’d been depressed for a while. By his own admission, he’d spent a month locked into his apartment with nothing but his weapons for company. Before that, he’d been in a hospital and rehab. The last time he’d seen nipples might have been a long while back. With hers right in his face, he was just remembering what they were.

  She tossed the wet towel on a plastic chair.

  He snapped the dry one open. “Arms out.”

  When she obeyed, still bamboozled by the sight of so much naked male chest so close to her, he wrapped the towel around her gently, lopsided, the right side hanging lower than the left. His hands didn’t drop away from her body when he was finished.

  His gaze slipped to her lips. The air between them thickened, charged with undisguised desire.

  His fingers clenched on the terrycloth. His jaw tightened. His warm breath fanned her face. “I wasn’t going to do this, dammit.”

  And then he kissed her.

  She was no tough cookie. She capitulated the second his lips touched hers. Her body simply said yes and went for it.

  His firm, warm lips pressed against hers, and he nuzzled her, nibbled her, prompting her to submit. She did.

  She let him draw her against his wide chest as he angled his head to deepen the kiss.

  Her brain had to be somewhere on the bottom of the pool. Because no way was she kissing a patient, in the pool complex, where anyone could walk in.

  And with that thought, she regained sanity at last, enough to tug away.

  Leave. Now. But she couldn’t. All she could do was stare at him, at the heat in his eyes that threatened to blister her.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted, clutching her towel. Swallowed. Panicked. Took a quick step back. “That didn’t happen.”

  He growled and advanced. “The hell it didn’t.”

  Right. What was she thinking? What had Cole said about denial and hand grenades? Denial was not the way to go, and certainly not in a professional capacity.

  “If you want to file a complaint, I completely understand.”

  His head dipped forward like an angry bear’s. “What are you talking about? I kissed you.”

  “I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

  “You think you could have stopped me?”

  “A no would have stopped you. I didn’t say no.”

  His lips flattened.

  “I don’t think I can have sessions with you,” she said, and hated that she’d caused this. That her lack of judgment would take something away from Cole that he needed.

  “No.”

  “Cole—”

  “You’re right. Nothing happened.”

  “And it’s not going to happen again. Not even if we’re not having sessions. Anything between us is completely unethical.” She begged him silently to understand. “We can’t be more than friends. And if we can’t manage that, we can’t be anything.”

  He reached for her. “Annie—”

  She’d made mistakes with men before, but never this big. “I need to go.” She ran.

  By the time she changed in her room, then walked to the conference room for her morning session with Trevor, she should have had her emotions under control. She didn’t. She pushed Cole out of her mind, regardless. Not all the way—that seemed impossible—but enough to be able to function in a professional capacity. Focus, dammit.

  Trevor deserved her full attention.

  Technically, Annie was still on vacation, but Trevor was a fragile case. And she was on-site anyway. So she’d uncanceled their session.

  When his face lit up as she walked into the room, she knew she’d done the right thing.

  The conference room was light and airy. A dozen chairs surrounded a large poplar-wood table in the middle, one wall all windows, another decorated with three dozen orchids, an installation she had put in. The flowers cheered up the place. With this many, a handful was always blooming.

  “How are you, Trev?”

  He stood from his chair, like a gentleman from some old movie. She wasn’t sure whether he stood because he had that kind of manners, or excitement simply pushed him to his feet. “Good. Well. I think I kinda made a new friend.” As she sat, he plopped back down again. “Too bad we can’t go for a walk in the woods, huh?”

  “We’ll go tomorrow. If the rain stops. Who’s your new friend?”

  “Cole. He’s a Navy SEAL.” The way he said the words, admiration and respect in his tone, Cole might as well have been a celebrity or some major sports figure. Trevor grinned. “He said you were great.”

  “Did he?” And why did her heart leap at the news? She wanted to ask for details, but suppressed the urge. She wasn’t here for self-gratification. “He’s all right, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah.”

  She approved of Trev making friends. He was high-strung, too wired most of the time, jumpy. He was a good kid, but a lot of the other patients had their own jumpiness, and sometimes they stayed away from him. He took a lot of mental energy.

  “So what are we going to do today?” he asked.

  She nodded toward the large cardboard box she’d put in the corner early that morning. “I was hoping you could help me repot the orchids.”

  He was on his feet in a blink. Then right next to her in two seconds, so close that their elbows bumped together. “Sure. I mean if you ever need help with anything . . . I’d love to help.”

  She definitely got that. She had to bite back a smile. He was so eager. He clearly liked the idea of giving a hand instead of being the broken one who needed a hand. Annie relaxed. Today’s improvised therapy was going to work.

  “So we have the bark,” she began. “It’s wet. I soaked it for an hour this morning. Then we have some orchid food. That’s pretty much all we need.”

  “The old bark can go back in the box?” He was already opening the flaps.

  She nodded. “You know anything about houseplants?”

  He gave a sheepish smile. “My mom has a few. But, I mean, us boys don’t pay no mind to them.”

  “Maybe when you go home, you can surprise your mom with a nice orchid.”

  He looked at her as if she’d invented beer in a can or something equally earth-shattering. “She’d love that.”

  “Then your brothers will be jealous that they didn’t think of it first. You’ll definitely be the favorite.”

  He laughed, still a pretty rare occurrence. “I’m already the favorite.”

  Because they were bumping elbows again, she stepped back and put some space between them. She picked up the next orchid.

  By the time she glanced at Trev again a few seconds later, he had shut down. Eyes lifeless. Mouth grim.
She could almost see the dark cloud that enveloped him.

  He was like that most of the time, actually. He was usually at his lightest at their sessions. She knew he liked her. She liked him too, a lot, as a younger brother.

  Trev’s nearness didn’t make her feel any of the crazy impulses Cole’s did.

  Cole . . . Annie could and would resist the physical attraction she felt for him, but so much more than that drew her to the former SEAL. She enjoyed his wry sense of humor. She admired his instinct to help and protect. She respected his inner strength.

  He hadn’t made peace with his new life yet, but he never used injury as an excuse. He was gruff on the outside, but he felt deeply. He was still grieving his friend Ryan.

  And then there was the way Cole sometimes looked at Annie, that hungry grizzly look, as if he wanted to devour her. The memory of that look sent heat tingling through her.

  Don’t think about it.

  “The roots need light.” She dove into work. “So don’t bury them too deep or too fully. Orchids grow in just a little dirt in the crook of the branches of host trees. I mean, look at those roots. You think they wouldn’t be able to hang on to anything, but they do.”

  “They just hang on with these little things?” Trev ran a finger over a pale-green air root.

  “Through storms and everything. You ever seen a tropical storm?”

  He nodded, still touching the root. “I was assigned to JTF-Bravo in Honduras for a while before our unit was shipped over to Afghanistan.”

  She picked another orchid off the wall and gently tugged it out of its pot. Inside the clay pot, another plastic see-through pot held in the bark. “You have to let some light reach the roots. That’s important.”

  Trev’s shoulders relaxed as he began copying what she was doing.

  She was suddenly glad for the rain. She had already done the same leaf-branch-trunk-root meditation with Trev that she had done with Cole, but Trev hadn’t responded fully. She suspected he viewed himself as . . . if not broken, at least definitely breakable, fragile. He couldn’t relate to the mighty-oak symbolism. But he could relate to the weak roots of the orchid. If those little roots could hold on, then so could he.

  Trev and Cole becoming friends was a good thing. Maybe Cole could be the strong, sturdy tree that sheltered a more fragile plant that didn’t have massive roots, just little air roots. Weaker roots that needed something to hang on to, in order to live.