One Warm Winter

by Jamie Pope

  Both of her parents were fleeing the country, not offering a lifeline to their daughter. Not giving her even the simplest explanation, only confirming her worst fears. But the rawest part of it was that they left her alone.

  There was no united-we-stand mentality in her family. There hadn’t been one in his either, and it proved to him that sometimes the family you make as an adult is much more reliable than the one you were forced to have as a child.

  “Wyn . . .” He said her name for the first time, realizing how odd it felt forming on his lips. She was looking to him for answers. Of course, she was. He was hired to take care of her, to protect her. He couldn’t allow her to continue here, not feeling safe. “Go pack. I’m going to take you away from here.”

  Chapter 2

  Wyn didn’t know where they were going. She just did what he said and had gone to her room to pack, but as she stood in front of her closet, she once again felt at a loss.

  She was running away from home. It felt so wrong to flee, especially when she didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, it went against everything she stood for.

  “You have to do it.” She heard Cullen’s voice from behind her.

  “Get out of my head, Mr. Whelan,” she responded without turning around.

  “The reporters are still surrounding the house. I called the police and asked them to post a car in front. I’ve also asked them to arrest anyone they find around the back of the town house. They’re trespassing.”

  “My neighbors must be loving me now.”

  “Don’t worry about them.”

  “I’d rather worry about them than think about myself. Thinking about oneself for extended periods of time is exhausting.”

  “Then let me do the thinking about you.”

  That caused her to turn around to face him. It was something in the way he said those words that made her want to look at him. But there was no change to his face, no expression at all.

  “What should I bring?”

  “Light clothes. Nothing fancy. You’ll need to blend in.”

  “So, don’t bring my ball gown? Damn, I was hoping there would be a gala of the fugitives.”

  “You’re funny when you’re stressed.”

  “Funny? Is that a nice way of telling me that I’m being obnoxious?”

  “I don’t mince words, ma’am. I would never imply that you were obnoxious. You’re handling this well.”

  “I don’t know how else to respond.”

  “Pack. Then rest. I’ll be downstairs making arrangements.”

  She had tried to rest all through that day, but she couldn’t. Her mind was too wired. There was no escaping the news story that now had become part of her life. She had tried to call her father from her secured landline, the one her father had set up for her about a year ago, right before Cullen had come.

  She wondered if her father had any idea then that this would be blowing up. She wanted to ask him, but her phone calls went unanswered. And the longer the silence from her father, the more her head spun.

  There was nothing to take her mind off things. She tried to turn on the television, but that proved to be a huge mistake. She was bombarded by the story, by her father’s image, by their family’s. And then she saw the pictures of herself pop up on the television. She had lived such a private life that there weren’t many. Her government ID photo, the pictures the photographers had snapped today, the one of the family holiday card that was sent out when she was still in college. But they had somehow managed to find pictures of her as a child. It had to have been nearly impossible, because her parents had kept her so sheltered, so busy with lessons, so hidden from the world.

  There was one of her around twelve, posing with a trophy at some sort of academic competition she had won. But there was another photo, the one that made her pause the television screen and stare at it. It was of her when she was a baby, in her mother’s arms. Her mother was smiling down at her, not one of those forced smiles you give in pictures, but a happy, unguarded smile. It was a photo Wynter had never seen before.

  How the hell did the media get it?

  She felt so violated. So raw. So gut-punched.

  The media was comparing those pictures of her to ones of her father, searching for similarities in their faces. There weren’t many. There never were. One of the things she used to lament as an adopted child was that she never looked like either of her parents.

  She could believe that her father had an affair. She could believe that he had created a child as a product of that affair, but she couldn’t wrap her head around that child being her. That he could take her from her birth mother. The reports stated that the child had mysteriously disappeared, that people were speculating that if it wasn’t Wynter, the child might be dead.

  Wynter’s mind flashed back to that day at the stables. The pretty blond lady who ran up to her and grabbed her, trying to take her away. The woman who seemed so crushed when she was torn away from her.

  Cullen walked into the room and grabbed the remote, pulling her out of her self-reflective tailspin. “No news, Wyn,” he said softly. He turned the television to her Netflix account and put on some dumb comedy. She obeyed him and remained there, watching movies that she couldn’t remember the plot to, unable to focus on anything but the events of that day.

  She never slept, even when darkness came and the reporters started to drift away, tired of waiting in the extreme cold waiting for her to appear. She knew they would be back. In the morning they would come refreshed and ready to stalk her.

  But they wouldn’t get their chance. Cullen came to collect her just past midnight. He had taken her to a small private airport, where there was a plane waiting.

  It wasn’t her father’s private jet. She didn’t know whose plane they took or how it was paid for, but Cullen seemed to know the pilot. He too had an Irish accent.

  There was more warmth in their greeting than she had ever seen from Cullen. It made her wonder about him again, about his life outside of this job.

  He was with her most of the time. She didn’t know what he did when he left her for the night. If he explored D.C. or dated, or hung out with his friends and complained about his job like most people did.

  She hoped he did. She hoped his life contained more than just her. It would be a truly boring life if it didn’t.

  She had thought that there had been no joy in him before, no personality. Out of all the guards she had had over her lifetime, she had known the least about him. Nothing about his home or family. There was no small talk between them. But today she saw a little more of who he was than he had ever revealed to her before. She learned things about him that she would keep stored away.

  His accent thickened when he was angry. His hands were always warm. He liked his tea sweet.

  He knew people. He had connections.

  She was allowing him to whisk her off to some unknown destination. She shouldn’t say allow. She had no other choice. She trusted him, not knowing why. Maybe it was because the bottom had dropped out of her world. Maybe it was because she could trust no one else. She had no close friends to confide in. No lover to run to. Not even her parents, who supposedly had loved her the most, would tell her the truth.

  She found it ironic. She had lived her life doing exactly what her parents asked, being the good girl, never letting a whisper of scandal sully her name and in the end, it didn’t matter. Her actions had nothing to do with her father’s.

  “This is a very nice plane, Cullen,” she said to him as she sat down.

  “Aye. It is.”

  His back was to her as he placed their bags in the small overhead compartment. “Is it yours?”

  “No, ma’am. I don’t own a plane.”

  “That was my attempt at a bad joke. If you owned a plane like this, you wouldn’t be spending your days bored out of your mind and looking after me. Hopefully, you would be someplace beautiful, surrounded by gorgeous people.”

  He turned around and looked at her. “Looking
after you is no hardship, ma’am. I do not find it boring. D.C. is a beautiful city and you are by far the most beautiful person I have worked for.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. Heat started to creep up her neck. His compliment was so lavish and unexpected she didn’t know how to handle it. “What did I tell you about calling me ma’am?”

  “Sorry.” He nodded.

  Her phone vibrated, alerting her to a text message. She pulled it out of the pocket of her oversized sweater and glanced at the screen. It was from her father.

  Cullen was suddenly beside her, his warm hand on her shoulder, the heat seeping through her seemingly permanently chilled body. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “A message from my father. He says to do whatever you tell me.”

  “Anything else?”

  “That he loves me.”

  She felt so damn hollow. That was it? She had called him half a dozen times and that was it. No explanation. No denial. Just do what Cullen says.

  It made her so damn angry. How the hell could he control her life like this?

  She had always done what he said, lived her life as quietly as he wished. For what?

  She was an heiress, but she sure as hell didn’t need his money. Her document-translating work alone paid for her town house. Her skills were valuable enough to get her work anywhere she went. She wasn’t afraid of being cut off.

  She had listened to him because he was her father and she loved him.

  And all he could do was send her a text message. Not even a call.

  He hadn’t even attempted to lie.

  “I want to get off this plane,” she told Cullen.

  “Why?”

  “Because you told me to get on this plane and he told me to listen to whatever you say and right now I don’t feel like being bossed around by any man.”

  “I work for you. I would never order you about,” he said, his voice low, his accent soothing her raw nerves. “You can get off this plane, but what then? They’ll not leave you alone, Wyn. Your parents are out of the country. They only have you to go after. You’ll not find peace in your own home. I believe that is one of the worst things a person can feel.”

  She felt choked then, her anger and frustration bubbling up inside of her, threatening to boil over and spill out, but then Cullen’s warm hand slid up to her cheek. The backs of his fingers pressing into her skin.

  “It’s your choice, but I think we should leave D.C.”

  She was quiet for a moment, but then she nodded. It was all she could manage then.

  “Try to get some sleep.” He turned away, removing his hand from her skin, taking his warmth away in the process. He pulled a large chenille blanket out of one of the bags he brought with him and draped it over her.

  More emotion bubbled up inside her. He looked like such a hard man, but he could be so incredibly gentle.

  “This is my favorite blanket.”

  “I know. I thought you might want something from home, since you won’t be back for a while.”

  “How did you know it was my favorite?”

  “It’s my job to know about you.”

  “And yet I know nothing about you.”

  “There is nothing to know.”

  “I don’t believe that’s true. Everyone has a story.”

  “Maybe I’ll tell you over some good, strong ale one day.”

  “I would like that.” She wanted to keep him talking. She liked his quiet voice. His accent. His strong presence. It was the only thing keeping her from crumbling at this point. But she couldn’t think of another thing to say.

  “I have some tea for you.” He produced a thermos from the overhead compartment. “Drink it all and get some rest. We’ll speak when we land.”

  She obeyed him and took a few sips of the tea. It was sweet, milky, and hot, but it didn’t taste like the blend she was used to. She was just about to ask him what it was when her head felt heavy. Her body was sluggish, but warm. Her eyes started to droop and the last thing she remembered before she drifted off to sleep was his warm hand on her cheek and the words “Good night, lass,” gently touching her ears.

  She woke up when she felt the warmth of the sun hit her face through the small plane windows. Cullen was sitting across from her. He was slightly slouched in his seat. His legs spread wide. His short hair was mussed, as if he had been running his fingers through it.

  She had never seen him so relaxed.

  Or so sexy . . .

  He must have felt her eyes on him, because he sat up straight, snapping to attention, his usual stonelike expression falling back into place.

  His hair was still messy, a reminder of how he appeared in his unguarded moments. She would never forget that. He was suddenly more human to her.

  “We’re almost there. You’re going to want to lose the coat when we de-board. It’s eighty-one degrees where we’re going.”

  “Where are we going?” She could see the ocean below them and she could already tell it wasn’t the icy waters of the East Coast that she was used to. The water was clearer, and in the distance she could see palm trees.

  “The US Virgin Islands. St. Thomas, to be exact.”

  “Oh.” She sat up a little straighter. All of this seemed so surreal to her. “Why here?”

  “You’ll be safer here than anywhere else, but we need to keep your identity a secret.”

  “You just said I would be safe.”

  “They won’t betray you, but if they know who you really are, they’ll feel like I betrayed them. I’m taking you to my people. My home.”

  She sat up straight. “Your family?”

  “My family is pig-shit Northern Irish from Belfast. I wouldn’t take my enemy there.”

  His accent had grown so thick then, she almost had a hard time understanding him. His family was a sore subject, apparently. One she could relate to. “Then who are your people?”

  “We’re all former military, black ops, Special Forces, CIA. Most of us have been in the intelligence field at some point in our careers. We own a large compound in the middle of the island. Half of it we rent out to tourists, but the other half is our home. It’s a community. We each have our own cottages, but we take our meals together. We spend time together. We work together.”

  It sounded like a beautiful sentiment, but Wyn automatically felt uneasy. “So, what you are saying is that you are taking me to a compound filled with former spies?”

  “Yes.”

  “And we are hiding my identity from them?”

  “Yes. We made a pact to leave the world outside when we are there. No cable. No internet in the cottages. No talk of current events. Everyone there has had a hard existence. They only want peace. They’ll go after anything that threatens that.”

  “Knowing that I’m probably the scandalous secret stolen love child of a presidential candidate won’t do me any favors with them, huh?”

  “No. They are fiercely protective of their privacy.”

  “I’ll be an outsider no matter what my backstory is. Are you sure that they will be okay with that?”

  “We’re all outsiders. That’s why we’ve come here. You’ll be with me. They won’t question why I brought you there.”

  “Who am I supposed to be to you?”

  He was quiet for a moment. “You’ll have to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

  “Your girlfriend?”

  “Yes. I think this is the only way they won’t question me bringing you here.”

  “Are we serious?”

  “I think being as truthful as possible will work best for us. If they ask, you can say that we’ve known each other for a year. That very recently things have changed between us. Don’t lie about your job or family, just don’t reveal too much about them.”

  “You were a spy, weren’t you? You create cover stories and all.”

  He nodded. “You’ll have your own room in my house. I’ll continue to respect you, but in front of them, we need to seem like we are
a couple.”

  Wyn let that news sink in for a moment.

  “I need to pretend to love you,” she said.

  “Can a person pretend to love?”

  “Yes. It happens all the time. That’s why people are blindsided by breakups.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’m not asking you to pretend like you’re head-over-ass in love with me. I think it would be impossible for anyone to do.”

  “Why? Hasn’t anyone ever been in love with you?”

  “No.”

  “How do you know that for sure?”

  “I never gave anyone the chance to.” His answer was so matter-of-fact, she had no choice but to believe him.

  “That’s sad.”

  “It’s sensible. I had the kind of career that doesn’t allow for personal relationships. I took very dangerous assignments. I do private, round-the-clock security. There’s no time for anyone else.”

  “Don’t blame me for your lack of love life. I was hoping you lived after you left me every night.”

  “You are supposed to be my number-one priority. You are my number-one priority. That’s what I agreed to when I took on this job.” He was so intense. She never felt like she was anyone’s number-one priority. She never thought she would ever be and yet he was looking her in the eye and telling her she was. She knew she was his job, but still, his words did something to her.

  “I would have quit if I were you.”

  “Why? It’s the first time in my career I have gone a year without someone trying to kill me.”

  “Are you serious?”

  There was no smile, no hint of humor on his face. “Yes.”

  “I’m like a paid vacation.”

  “Yes.”

  “Your friends are going to have to buy us as a couple. You wouldn’t just bring a woman here you were casual with.”

  “No. It’s one of our rules.”

  “I’m nervous,” she admitted.

  “I understand.” He nodded. “Just don’t mention too much about your posh upbringing.”

  “So, don’t mention my thoroughbred horse or the hundred-thousand-dollar shopping sprees I regularly partake in?” She shook her head. “You see where I work when I’m not teaching or with the government. You know I’m not a snob.”