by Rachel Lee
She sighed. Then something else rose to the forefront of her mind. “How were you wounded?”
For several seconds he didn’t answer. “Which time?”
Her mind balked. “More than once?”
“More than once,” he agreed. “Let’s see. Shrapnel and burns from a roadside bomb. A bullet from a sniper. A knife in the back during a covert op.”
“But didn’t you have armor?”
“When you’re undercover, armor could give you away.”
“Oh.” Her heart squeezed. “So how many parts did you lose?”
“None that matter. Spleen, a chunk of lung, part of a rib, some bits of muscle. Nothing I can whine about.”
She hated to imagine what would make him whine. “Does it still hurt?”
“Sometimes. Old injuries do that, even when you get them from basketball or soccer.”
Feeling her own dulling aches and pains, she could only marvel at his acceptance. “How do you make yourself go back after something like that?”
“Go back to the job, you mean?”
She nodded.
“The same way you’re making yourself face this mess right now. Because you have to.”
She could see a commonality in that, although there was a huge different in degree.
“And we need to be quiet now,” he said. “Our voices could be heard.”
Fear slammed her again, but this time she forced it down. When he offered his hand, she took it, and allowed him to lead her back to the darkened bedroom.
“You can sit on the chair or lie on the bed,” he murmured. “Just stay awake so you hear me if I tell you to hide.”
“I don’t think anything could make me sleep right now.” And she didn’t. Adrenaline and fear were coursing through her so powerfully that she was sure even lying down would be impossible. She found her way to the chair and sat, wondering if even that would drive her crazy.
Clint pulled off his socks and resumed his prowling on silent bare feet. At first she wondered at that, then realized he didn’t want to slip on his socks. At one point, as he passed the bedroom door, she saw that his dark silhouette had changed, had grown bulkier. No doubt the body armor he’d mentioned earlier.
Rarely had a few hours seemed to drag by so slowly, and every time they had, it had always been bad. Why couldn’t time slow down when things were wonderful, like when they’d made love earlier? Why did those moments seem to slip by so quickly?
Her thoughts wanted to return to that interlude, to relive it again and again, holding it up as assurance that life could be beautiful, that she could be whole again. Finally she just gave in and let it, while her eyes watched the red numbers on the digital alarm by the bed change minute by minute.
Clint was an amazing lover, and she didn’t need a whole lot of experience to tell her that. Her body recognized it as surely as if her experience had come with a million testimonials. Maybe better.
He’d awakened feelings so long dormant she’d begun to believe they had died. And now she knew one thing for certain—she wanted to live long enough to make love with Clint again.
If that meant sitting here in the dark, terrorized by a memory and a threat, then she would do it. She shifted her hold on the tire iron, cherishing the bit of protection it offered, but cherishing more the man who prowled the house like a giant cat, on guard and ready.
After years of running and hiding, she’d found someone who was willing to stand up for her, willing to stand with her, even at huge risk to himself. Someone who hadn’t even wanted her here in the first place, but had a huge enough sense of duty and honor to care for her anyway.
How many places could you find a man like that? Very few, as well she knew. She’d faced impatient prosecutors, impatient cops, people who thought they had much more important things to deal with. People who cared, but not enough, who were perhaps too busy to care. When they told her they didn’t have enough evidence, she’d wondered if she was somehow supposed to provide more than her own battered, abused body as proof. But Kevin, all but that one time, had had an alibi. And he’d left nothing behind to betray him.
She’d especially hated it when they had been hinted that maybe she was somehow letting Kevin know how to find her. That maybe she got some sick pleasure out of the horror of her own life.
Her hands tightened so hard on her weapon that she had to force them to relax before they started to weaken.
Then came the dawn, and with it the sickening realization that she still had to look forward to the threat and another night of endless tension.
God, she wanted to be sick.
“Get some sleep,” Clint said from the doorway. “I’m good for a few more hours, but then I’m going to need you to spell me.”
She would have liked to ask him to sleep with her, to feel the security of him wrapped around her, but she understood his concern. Everything had to give way to vigilance now.
Unless the cops found him. But Kevin was smarter than that. He’d already proved that several times over.
Clint was right; Kevin would come at night, and he would come from the rear. He would come from where he was sure nobody could see him.
Because while he might be crazy, he wasn’t stupid.
She put down the tire iron and crawled into the bed. She could still smell the musky scent of their lovemaking, and it soothed her somehow. At last she found forgetfulness in sleep.
Chapter 11
He woke her around noon with coffee. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he called her name quietly until her eyes fluttered open.
Even though he tried to mask it with a smile, she could see weariness in his face.
“You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long!” At once she sat up and tried to swing her legs to the floor, but he was in the way.
He was still smiling when he reached out to touch her legs. A gentle, tentative touch. She felt warmth run through her like syrup.
“My turn to sleep,” he told her. “Do you want your coffee here, or would you be more comfortable elsewhere?”
What she wanted was to grab him and drag him down onto the bed with her. Without the guardian of full wakefulness, desire rose up like a tidal wave. She could feel her cheeks heat.
“What I want,” she managed to say, “isn’t on the menu this morning.”
At that a quiet chuckle escaped him. “At least not right now.” His eyes held a warmth she’d almost never seen there.
“So everything’s okay?”
“So far.”
She decided she had to get out of the bed or everything was not going to be okay. With the way he had distracted her yesterday, she was quite certain that if they went there again, Kevin would be able to bash his way into the house and she would never even hear him.
With a reluctant sigh, she climbed out of the warm bed and padded into the front room.
“Breakfast, too?” she asked as she emerged from the hallway and saw the table.
“Hot and ready,” he said.
She almost giggled at his choice of words, even though he probably hadn’t meant them as a double entendre. But when she stole a glance at him, she amended her judgment. Maybe he had meant them that way.
A touch of shyness overcame her then, enough to get her to the table and seated before a plate of steak and eggs. “This looks wonderful!”
“I was surprised you didn’t wake up while I was cooking.”
“Now that I see what you’ve been up to, I’m surprised, too.”
Her own hunger also surprised her, and while he’d served her far more than she would have chosen on her own, she devoured a surprising amount of it. They didn’t talk much as they ate, but what were they going to talk about?
Not their lovemaking, not now. Not Kevin, because he couldn’t be allowed to ruin this meal. Not the future, because right now neither of them was sure if they had one, or what it might be. But somehow the silence that had initially been a regular part of this household now seemed uncomfortable.
Too much on their minds, she decided. Too many subjects to avoid. And she found herself actually hoping that Kevin would come that night. She wanted this over with.
At last he finished. “Wake me at four,” he said.
She looked at him. “Will that be enough sleep for you?”
“Absolutely. And I want to be wide-awake before it gets too dark.” He paused. “Look out the windows from time to time. Just don’t get too close to them.”
She nodded, suppressing a shiver as the darkness moved into her mind again. She watched him disappear down the hall, then, moving slowly because the bruises still ached and some new aches had been added by their unexpected lovemaking, she cleared up and washed the dishes. It kept her busy.
She looked out all the windows, copying what she had seen him do, barely twitching curtains aside so she could see the empty areas around the house. No sign of danger that she could see.
When she went back to the couch at last, she found a surprise waiting for her, a thick hardcover book. There was no jacket, but the cover was dull green, and stamped into it in black were the title and author: Just War Theory: a Survey and Reflections. Below the title, in smaller print: Clint Ardmore, PhD. USMC (Ret.).
His book!
She sat and eagerly opened it. When she got to the flyleaf, her breath caught and her throat tightened.
Kay, he’d written in a bold hand, you understand far better than you know. Clint.
She stared at the words, feeling a throb in her chest. Nobody had ever given her a gift like this, a gift that said she was bright enough to understand.
She clutched the book to her breasts and closed her eyes for a minute, hugging the feelings, hugging the intent, wishing she could hug Clint right this minute.
Then, cautiously, sure she wouldn’t begin to understand this kind of book or even this kind of writing, she opened to the preface and began to read.
Much to her surprise, she was drawn right in.
Hours later she looked up to realize that the day was darkening. A glance at the clock caused her heart to skip.
He’d said four. It was already four-thirty. Where had the time gone?
She put the book aside and jumped to her feet. She hurried back to the bedroom, aware that night was already beginning to encroach. She hoped he wouldn’t be angry with her. “Clint?”
He sprang out of bed as if launched and settled into a crouch.
“Clint, it’s me.”
Slowly he relaxed and straightened. The first words he spoke were, “It’s getting dark.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I was reading your book and lost track of time. Don’t be mad at me.” She was already tensing, moving backward, shaking.
“Why the hell would I be mad at you?” It was almost a bark, making her jump back farther. “Kay…” He adjusted his tone. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m not mad at you. I can’t imagine ever being mad at you. I was just startled.”
She began to breathe again, although she still felt shaky. “Because I was late getting you?”
He shook his head. “If things like that made me mad, I’d be nuts.”
“Or Kevin,” she admitted.
He swore quietly. “I’m sorry. What you just saw was my own demon at work. I still wake up as if I’m under attack.”
“I know what you mean.”
He nodded. “I think you do.”
She hesitated. “Thank you so much for the book. I’m enjoying it.”
“You’re just saying that to be nice. It’s as dry as bones.”
She shook her head. “No. I really am enjoying it. It’s slow reading, but I’m learning a whole lot. That’s why I woke you late. I got absorbed.”
“Well.” He sounded almost pleased. “That’s really nice to hear. People say it about my novels, but I think you’re the first person, other than a professor or two, to actually say that about the textbook.”
“Well, I’m certainly not a professor.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me if you took that route someday.” Evidently deciding they’d both relaxed enough by now, he approached her and slowly slipped his arms around her. “I need my head examined,” he said almost to himself, then bent to kiss her.
She sailed away again to a far planet, a place where nothing existed except Clint. And she would very much have liked to stay there, except just as she started to wind her arms around him, he broke the kiss.
“Damn,” he said almost ruefully. “I gotta get rid of that guy. He’s interfering with my desire to sweep you off your feet and right into my bed.”
She felt a current of joy mixed with desire zap through her. “Really?”
“Really,” he admitted. “But first things first. I want the bastard off my plate. And off yours. Then we’ll have time to decide if we both just went temporarily insane.”
Well, Kay thought as they headed to the front of the house, that was always possible. If so, she wanted to go permanently insane.
But the shadows were deepening, and with them her fear. She wondered if she would ever feel truly comfortable in the dark again.
But Clint surprised her. He headed straight for the kitchen, turned on a few lights, and asked her if peanut butter sandwiches were okay with her.
“Sure.” She hesitated. “Um… Why did you turn on the light?”
“Because we’ve got to make it look normal in here. It’s supper time. Lights in the kitchen. Go turn on a light or two in the living room.”
“We want him to think we don’t expect anything?”
“You got it.” He flashed her a smile, though only a small one.
“Are you going outside to look again?”
“Not tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because if he’s been watching, he knows I’ve been on alert. I want him to think I’m asleep at the wheel now, feeling safe.”
She had never imagined how much psychology went into this sort of thing. “Have you been planning this all along?”
“Lady, that’s what they used to pay me to do.”
She was still standing on the kitchen threshold. Questions kept bubbling up. “But…”
He raised a hand. “Give me five to make sandwiches. Then we’ll talk about what I’ve been doing, and why I’m changing the pattern now.”
“Okay.” She could agree to that. She went and turned on a few lights, signaling even through the curtains that the people inside the cabin were up and about and busy.
She would have felt safer with less light, despite her fear of the shadows, but she trusted Clint to know what to do.
And that brought her up short. She trusted Clint a whole lot, she realized. She trusted him completely. Was that wise? Her heart said it was.
They ate their sandwiches at the table, accompanied by tall glasses of milk.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ve been listening to you and building a picture of Kevin in my head. A profile. I think I know what he’s thinking and what will draw him in.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“I realize you know him better, but I know predators, obsessives and bastards. I’ll allow I could be wrong, but I don’t think so.”
She nodded. “Go on.”
“I’ve been keeping an eye out in part to catch some sign of him. The need for that evaporated yesterday when Sarah called to say he’d been spotted in town. Whether or not I catch sight of him in the woods now is irrelevant. He hasn’t run away to try again another day. He’s here, and there’s only one reason for that—he knows you’re still around.”
She nodded, and peanut butter suddenly stuck in throat. She reached for her milk and took a few swallows, wishing she could be anywhere near as clinical about this as he was.
“Am I disturbing you? Upsetting you too much?”
“No,” she said. “Well, yes, but I want to know. I’ve got to know.”
He nodded, measuring her. “Okay. We know he’s out there. So he’s going to come. If he’s watched this place at all since the blizz
ard stopped, he’ll know I’ve been out there checking around. Of course I did it partly to see if I could get a sense of where he’d come from, or where he might be watching from. But I also did it to send the signal I was alert. To hold him off. But now I’m going to send a different signal. The new one is that I think we’re safe now.”
“So he’ll feel safe making his approach?”
“Exactly. Like I said last night, I don’t want to scare him off. Not now.” His hands flexed a bit, as if he could feel them around Kevin’s throat. “Tonight or tomorrow night, he’s going to make his move. I’d bet money on it.”
Kay drew an unsteady breath and looked down at her plate. She didn’t think she could eat another mouthful. The moment she’d been both dreading and hoping for might only be hours away.
Clint surprised her by reaching out to grasp her hand. “Trust me, Kay, he isn’t as smart as he thinks he is. And he’s not nearly as smart or capable as you think he is.”
“Probably not.”
“Trust me,” he said again, and squeezed her hand. “If you can’t eat that, I can get you something else.”
She shook her head. “It’s hard to swallow anything right now.”
“Don’t let fear overwhelm you. Use it, don’t let it use you.”
She wondered how many times he’d had to say that to someone and decided there were some things she didn’t want to know. At least not tonight. “I’ll try.”
“Anger is a good substitute. If the fear gets to be too much, work up a good mad.”
She smiled weakly. “That should be easy to do.”
“Unless the fear takes charge.”
She realized he was right about that. If ever she’d needed to be angry, now was it. But somehow fury kept slipping away before the force of memories. Memories of all the times Kevin had gotten to her despite her fleeing, despite locks, despite her going into hiding. And now he once again knew where she was.
