The Sniper

by Kimberly Van Meter

  “What the hell is going on?” she whispered, scooting away from him, rejecting his offer of coffee, though she sorely needed it. She clutched a pillow to her chest, as if that would protect her from him, and glared through a sheen of tears. “Someone shot my best friend and he was going to shoot me. You show up and k-kill that man and then kidnap me for some reason when two months ago, you couldn’t stand to be near me another second. I don’t understand what is happening,” she couldn’t help but cry with a pathetic mewl that would’ve embarrassed her if she hadn’t been suffering from shock. “I’m in a nightmare and I can’t wake up. God, help me,” she said, sniffing back tears. “She’s dead. Sonia is dead.” Even as she murmured the words and knew it to be true, the reality felt forced.

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” Nathan said with genuine remorse that confused her. “I hadn’t realized that the two of you had slipped out the back into the alley or else I would’ve been there sooner.”

  She regarded him slowly, recalling a snippet of Sonia’s bawdy comments from that night. Why hadn’t she realized it earlier? The classic jawline, the hard body built with layer upon layer of muscle... “You were the one watching us?”

  He offered a curt nod but didn’t deign to explain, which only made her want to throw something at his damnably handsome face.

  “Why?” The inscrutable expression etched on the hard planes of his face gave nothing away and she looked elsewhere in disgust. “Right. More secrets. That’s you, isn’t it? Always hiding something. Well, as you so clearly stated when we last met, I mean nothing to you, so please take me home. The police can protect me from whoever is trying to kill me.”

  “Jaci, you’re not leaving,” he said, shooting her down without apology. “And don’t even try. We’re deep in the Los Padres Mountains. You’d never make it out alive.”

  “How did...” Jaci stopped in confusion, forcing her brain to work when it remained sluggish from the night before. The last she remembered she was in Los Angeles. Now she was in the mountains? She stared at Nathan, demanding answers, but when her hand strayed to the sore spot on her neck she knew the answer and her stare narrowed in indignation. “You drugged me.” Neither a question nor a guess, he didn’t bother denying it. She nearly shook with impotent rage. “You bastard,” she swore softly under her breath. “How dare you. Who do you think you are?”

  “Who am I? I’m the man who saved your life. Try to remember that fact when you’re calling me a bastard. You can thank me later. For now we need to lay low. The people who want to kill you won’t stop until they’ve achieved their objective.”

  “Why?” she cried, hating all this confusion and subterfuge that had nothing to do with her. “Why is this happening? I’m a graphic designer, for crying out loud. I design advertising and T-shirts and coffee mugs. What did I ever do to deserve this?”

  Her impassioned cry elicited a flicker of emotion, regret, possibly, she couldn’t be sure, but he shut it down quickly. “This isn’t about you, Jaci,” he admitted tersely before walking from the room. “It’s about me.”

  * * *

  Nathan cursed under his breath as he removed himself from Jaci’s accusing stare and teary eyes. He was a bastard all right, but at least she was alive and he meant to keep her that way, even if she hated him.

  He shouldn’t have left the bar to do a perimeter check but he’d been sitting on that bar stool for too long, watching every jerk in the seedy club try to sleaze their way into Jaci’s panties with the copious number of drinks sent her way. Not that he blamed the sorry saps—Jaci was hotter than hell on a summer day—but he didn’t have any grace when it came to his former flame. She was a topic of discussion that was off-limits. He was like a wounded bear with something in its paw, and that something was a certain leggy redhead who sang off-key and danced in her underwear when she thought she was alone.

  He scrubbed at the stubble on his chin and poured his second cup of coffee, knowing he’d need it to get through the next few hours alone with the one woman who knew him better than anyone on this planet—and who likely wanted to scratch his eyes out.

  He didn’t blame her. Not one bit. He probably deserved worse.

  Good God, he could still see her stricken expression, could still picture the blood draining from her face as he deliberately broke her heart in the cruelest way he could imagine.

  “You suck in bed and I’m bored. I thought I could play house but it’s just not working out and I’m ready to move on. Sorry.”

  “You said we were going to get a place together. I’ve already let my apartment go and we’ve put a deposit down on a house! What are you talking about?”

  “What can I say.... I’ve changed my mind.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Live in my car?”

  “That’s not really my problem, babe.”

  Nathan squeezed his eyes shut to block out the memory but it was seared into his synapses, punishment for believing that a normal life had been possible for a blackhearted son of a bitch like himself. He’d been deliberately cruel so that she would never want to see his face again.

  He was a killer—not a suburban husband who held barbecues and shared beers with the neighbors.

  And Nathan had been recklessly foolish to believe otherwise.

  When his past had caught up to him, Nathan knew the safest place for Jaci would be far from him and the only way to ensure that she never wanted to see him again was to break her heart into so many pieces, she’d never be able to repair it for him.

  So he’d done exactly that.

  And it had worked.

  Damn. His breath caught in his throat. It had worked.

  He peered out the dusty window across the miles and miles of forest and wondered how long they’d have to hole up here before they both went stir-crazy or straight-up killed one another out of boredom.

  At least here they were safe, he thought grimly, casting a short look toward the room where Jaci remained, likely in shock from seeing her best friend die a grisly death right in front of her, and wondered how he was going to protect her when he didn’t even know who wanted her dead.

  He turned sharply at the soft creak of the floorboard, his hand going to the Glock tucked into his waistband. Jaci jumped at his quick and unerring movement to his gun. Her gaze communicated everything he knew she was feeling—fear, anger, grief, confusion—and he supposed he had to give her some kind of explanation, though the idea ranked really low on his Excited To Do list.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, attempting to appear strong. But Nathan caught the subtle shake in her body. He stuffed his impulse to pull her into his arms and shelter her from anything that might harm her. Right. Like she’d let you anywhere near her, a voice mocked, and he grimaced at the truth of it. He watched her enter the room on unsteady feet to sit on the edge of the worn, ’70s-era sofa as if she were a bird perched on a branch. “What’s happening? Who was that man who k-killed Sonia?” she asked in a strained voice.

  “I don’t know who the man was,” he admitted. “Just that you were his target.”

  “How did you know I was his target?” Jaci asked, her eyes wide. “Why would I be anyone’s target?”

  Because of me, he thought bitterly. But how much should he tell her? She might be safer if she knew little. “I intercepted the kill order,” he said, deciding to go with honesty. She stared hard, her eyes widening even more as she shook her head as if in denial. “Jaci, there are things you don’t know about me...”

  “I think that was made abundantly clear several months ago,” she murmured, glancing away. Her quiet comment struck him in the heart and he actually winced. Yeah, he deserved that one. She returned her gaze to him, her eyes dry and hard. “Go on.”

  Nathan met her gaze without flinching, yet inside he was grimacing, wishing this conversation never had to happen. “I’m not
an FBI agent,” he said. “I never was—it was my cover story.”

  “Cover story?” she repeated slowly, her tone betraying her disbelief. “What do you mean cover story?”

  “I work for an underground government agency that specializes in neutralizing terrorist targets.”

  She digested this information with less shock than he’d envisioned and he was actually impressed when she didn’t immediately fall apart. “When you say neutralize—”

  “I’m an assassin,” he cut in sharply, leaving no room for misunderstandings. Might as well just put it out there. Her life was in danger—she’d earned the truth, at the very least. “I’m trained to kill people, Jaci. It’s what I’m good at and what I enjoy.”

  She sucked in a tiny inhale at his admission. Maybe he ought to clarify... “Listen, it’s not that I enjoy killing people. But the assignments I get aren’t good people like you and people you know. They’re bad people—people who wouldn’t think twice about mowing down a schoolyard of kids or torturing old folks—so when I take one out, I feel a certain satisfaction that I’ve done a job that needed doing.” He sounded pathetic. Why was he explaining his job to a civilian who would never understand? Jaci was a bleeding-heart type. She believed in innocent until proven guilty, whereas he believed in shooting first and asking questions later. They were polar opposites on the most extreme scale. “I don’t expect you to understand,” he said. “But I do expect you to trust me to do what I need to, to keep you alive.”

  “Trust?” she said, laughing as if amused, though in truth the sound put a sick roll in his stomach. He heard her incredulity at his use of the word and he realized he should’ve phrased it differently. She’d never trust him, ever again. Jaci could’ve thrown that in his face but she didn’t. Instead she said, “I think I’ve reconsidered your offer of coffee. Would you mind?”

  “Sure,” he said gruffly and went to fill her a fresh mug. He remembered that she liked it sweet with milk and sugar and without wasting time in pretending that he didn’t, he simply fixed it and handed the mug to her. She accepted with a murmured thanks but otherwise remained silent as she sipped her coffee, her eyes closed as if needing a moment to collect herself. He didn’t blame her; it was a lot to accept in a short time frame.

  “What about Sonia?” she asked. “I need to call the police and give a statement or something, don’t I?”

  “I can’t trust the police with your location. There are leaks everywhere. I already made an anonymous call. Your friend was picked up.”

  At the mention of Sonia her eyes filled but she looked away, not wanting him to see her cry. He appreciated that she was trying to stay strong but her pain caused a shaft of agony through his chest that only served to remind him that he was far from over her. “I’m sorry about your friend,” he said, feeling useless in the face of her closed-in grief. Jaci accepted his condolences with a short nod and then returned to her coffee. “And I’m sorry I had to drug you,” he added. “Do you need some aspirin?”

  She cast him a cool look, yet nodded. He searched a few cabinets before he found what he was looking for and then shook two tablets into her hand. Her palm curled around the medicine but she didn’t toss them back right away. Instead she looked his way and he was pinned by the same eyes that haunted his dreams and made him wish he’d been a better man.

  “I suppose I should thank you,” she began, swallowing as though the words were stuck in her throat. “For saving my life. But as much as I’m grateful...I have to wonder why you care at all. It’s not as if we parted on good terms. I don’t understand how I haven’t spoken two words to you in months yet you happen to show up at some bar that I’m at to save my life and then bring me here—wherever here is—to do what? Hide out? Until when? What now? We can’t stay here forever. I have a life...and it no longer includes you. That’s the way you wanted it, remember? I just don’t understand, Nathan.”

  Valid questions. She was a smart woman. But to answer truthfully? That he always knew where she was since the day he’d pretended to kick her to the curb; that he’d never forgotten a moment of their time together and the memories were both painful and treasured? That he’d wished a million times over that they’d met in a different life so that maybe they’d have had a chance? Hell, no. He couldn’t say any of those things.

  She peered at him closely, needing answers. “Nathan?”

  And he couldn’t give them without making the conscious choice to be straight with her about every facet of their former life together. She would just have to be content with the information he was willing to share. Besides, keeping her alive was his objective—not baring his soul and begging for her forgiveness.

  Chapter 3

  “Nathan?” The strain in her voice was evident as she stared at him, almost begging him for answers, but she could tell by the tight press of his lips that she’d have better luck prying open the vault doors at Fort Knox. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But if you can’t give me a straight answer as to why I would be safer here with you than with the police, then I’m going to walk out that door and keep going until I find a road. I refuse to sit here like a little mouse under your thumb just because you say so. It’s been a while since we’ve spent any time together so let me remind you—I don’t blindly follow orders just because someone tells me to. Either start talking, or I start walking. Plain and simple.”

  “Jaci, don’t be stupid. I do remember a few details about our time together and one of those details is that you suck at direction. You have no idea where you are and you’ll likely end up in a ravine before you find a road. Do yourself a favor and just stay put.”

  “No.” She glared when he did a short double take at her blunt refusal. He bracketed his lean hips with his hands and returned her glare. Other people might’ve cowered in the face of that commanding stare but Jaci was neither cowed nor intimidated by Nathan Isaacs. “You can glower at me all day. It won’t change a damn thing. I deserve answers and if you’re not going to give them to me, then I’d rather take my chances out there than here with a man who thinks it’s okay to treat me like a child.”

  “I’m trying to save your life,” he said, his voice low and tense. “Don’t let our past cloud your judgment. I’m the one person who can keep you safe.”

  “Why?” she shot back, not willing to back down. “I’m sure the police are trained to protect people. Why does it have to be you, Nathan?”

  A wealth of unsaid conversations, of angst and regret, pain and shame shimmered in his dark eyes, momentarily taking her breath away at the stark exposure. But within a heartbeat he shuttered his gaze with a barked answer. “Because that’s just the way it is, Jaci. Deal with it. You’re not leaving. End of story. And if you try, I will hog-tie you to the bed. Don’t push it.”

  It was a warning and a threat so why did a spark of awareness just sizzle down every nerve ending, causing memories of their sweat-slicked bodies sliding against one another to tumble free from the locked box in her head? She swallowed and forcibly shoved those thoughts far from her mind. If she needed a memory of Nathan, she’d just dig out the one where he told her that the idea of having sex with her for the rest of his life was more than he could stomach.

  A spasm of pain rippled through her body, giving her an agonizing jolt back to reality. He could not ride in like the hero just because it suited his warped sense of chivalry when he’d been the biggest bastard on the planet two short months ago. Her hands clenched into fists with pent-up rage at the man who’d broken her heart so grievously, and at that moment she didn’t care if he was the only body standing between her and a Mexican drug cartel; she didn’t want his help or his brand of chivalry. Nathan could choke on his offer of aid and protection, Jaci thought, staring a cold hole through Nathan’s back when he turned away from her.

  “Screw you, Nathan,” she murmured. “I never asked you to save me. If you want to play the hero
, play it with someone else. I’m out of here.”

  She bolted for the door. And she would’ve made it, too, if Nathan hadn’t been bigger, stronger and faster than the feelings of regret and shame that followed on the heels of a drunken binge.

  “Damn it, Jaci,” he growled, jerking her over his shoulder and slapping her hard on the rear end when she shrieked and began kicking his front and pummeling his back. “I warned you. You’re not leaving unless I say so.”

  “Put me down, you bastard!” Jaci screamed. “I’d rather die than remain stuck in this house with you! I hate you! Do you hear me? I hate you!”

  “Yeah, yeah, well, too bad,” he shot back. “And if you don’t stop wiggling around I swear I’m going to hog-tie you naked!”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Try me.”

  She landed a good kick against the hard planes of his stomach and he grunted but otherwise kept his forward pace to the bedroom where he tossed her none too gently onto the bed. She bounced with a shriek and tried to scramble away but Nathan grasped both ankles and yanked her toward him. She kicked and hissed with rage even as tears stung her eyes but she didn’t let up. She hoped he got a faceful of flying feet for his trouble.

  “Damn it, Jaci!” he roared when she refused to stop. He lunged and straddled her, shocking her with the sudden weight of his body across hers. He captured her flailing arms at the wrists and wrenched them over her head, stretching her so that she couldn’t move. Her breath came hard and fast as a long curl of her hair landed across her face, obscuring her vision in her left eye. She angrily blew the hair from her eye and ignored the uncomfortable awareness kindling to life in her body. She would not allow even a spark of attraction to flare, no matter that he remained a stable fixture in her most erotic dreams. It was much too easy to remember how it felt to lie beneath his solid strength, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. She bit down on her tongue and tasted blood. Remember the pain of his rejection, she told herself with blunt force. Remember how you cried for weeks.