A Stranger on Her Doorstep

by Julie Miller

  “You don’t have to. But there are elements of your life now that could enrich a story you couldn’t have told two years ago.” He left the chair to kneel in front of her. He gently took her hand and clasped it between his. “One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand.” Then he released her and sat back. “Is that something you can work into your story? The three-second rule? Maybe Lord Zeville put a spell on Willow while he had her in his palace chambers, and now Larkin and Willow can only touch for three seconds before her skin burns—”

  “Or she turns on him, thinks he’s her enemy.” Luke had only suggested the germ of an idea, but Ava was turning that idea into a whole story. “They’d have to break the spell by completing a quest.”

  He splayed his fingers on the flat of his stomach, reminding her of the flash drive. “Deciphering a mysterious text?”

  “They’d have to find the text first.” She snapped her fingers and stood. “That’s brilliant. If they touch too long, it leaves another scar. It brands her.”

  “You sure you want to add scars to your story? Won’t that dredge up—”

  “Of course, he won’t want to leave a mark on her, so he’ll pull away. That push-pull or wanting, but denying it, that’s sexual tension. I’ll have to work out some kind of action scene where they’re forced to hold on to each other, like dangling over the edge of a cliff. She’ll turn on him, but he won’t let go, no matter how hard she comes at him. The spell will backfire on Zeville. Larkin and Willow will be battling each other—”

  “—with Larkin being careful not to actually hurt her because she’s bewitched—”

  “—and voilà! A pair of sword thrusts and Zeville is dispatched. Destroyed by the very war he tried to create.” Ava was pacing circles around the cave, moving her hands in excited gestures, including imaginary sword fighting, as she thought out loud. She shimmered with a kind of creative energy that was as foreign to Luke as it was exciting to watch in her. She shooed Maxie off the blanket and quickly folded it up. “Are we done here? Is Stormhaven enough of a backup plan for you? You think you could find it on your own if you had to? It’s not a very well-marked path.”

  “That’s one of the things I like about it.” He helped her repack the trunk. “Cabin to creek. Creek to trees. Stormhaven is tucked in behind them.”

  She locked the trunk and pocketed the key. “I can bring out more supplies tomorrow if you think we need them. Right now, I’d like to get to my computer. Get a couple of hours of writing in yet tonight.”

  He followed her down the incline and helped her guide Maxie safely down between them. “Is this how being a writer works? You get an inspiration, and you run to your computer?”

  “Sometimes. There are days when the words flow out of my fingers and I can’t get them down fast enough. And there are others when it’s an uphill battle to get a single page written.” She hooked Maxie to her leash and headed for the trees. “It’s been a while since an idea has really spoken to me like this. I think you’re on to something. I need to write who I am now. My characters will be more battle weary. They’ll be choosier about who they trust. I have a feeling my voice will be a little grittier. But the ending of the story arc is darker, anyway. And when I reach the resolution and happily-ever-after, it will be a bigger emotional payoff. So, can we go?”

  There was not one whit of hesitation to her demeanor now. Luke was pleased to see her so fired up about her work, and he was glad that, in some small way, he’d been able to help—both as a fan of the books, and as a fan of Ava Wallace. “We’re good. Stormhaven will do for Option B. Let’s get you home to work.”

  They hadn’t yet reached the trees when Luke heard the humming overhead. The familiar buzzing sound was as relentless as a mosquito but reminded him of things far more dangerous. He shaded his eyes and tilted his face to the sky until he pinpointed the black, bug-shaped drone flying back and forth overhead, closer to the creek they’d followed here. Luke got an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d kill for a pair of binoculars right now, to either confirm or negate his suspicions.

  He sensed rather than saw Ava move in beside him, her face turned to the clouds, as well. “I saw one of those this morning. People use them to get spectacular video or pictures of the mountains. When they’re up that high, there are no trees or rock formations to get in the way.”

  “That one doesn’t belong to a tourist. It’s flying in a search grid.” He patted his hip, his instincts telling him to radio in the drone’s position. Only, there was no radio. There was no team to call. There was only this precious woman and her dog. “Where was the drone you saw this morning?”

  “About a mile north of here, higher up the mountain.” Closer to where she’d scaled the cliff below the scene of his accident.

  “This one’s a lot closer.” Ignoring the twinge in his shoulder, he spanned her waist and lifted her onto the lower ledge of Stormhaven. “Get back in the cave.”

  “I doubt they can see us through the tree cover.”

  “Do you want to take that chance?”

  When her blue eyes met his, he silently let her know he wasn’t risking their safety on the possibility he could be wrong.

  Ava offered a quick nod of understanding and reached for the dog. “Maxie?”

  He boosted the dog up. “If it’s rigged with infrared, the surrounding rocks and chill of the cave should mask our heat signature.”

  “Infrared?” Her hand was there to help him over the lip of the opening. “I felt like I was being watched this morning. I thought I was just being me. Paranoid. You think they’re searching for you?”

  “They’re searching for something.”

  “The forestry department uses drones.”

  “All right. I won’t rule out that it has a benign purpose. But I’m not gambling our lives on it.” Luke stood as close to the opening as he dared. Definitely a search grid. The drone had moved half a klick to the south and resumed its linear flight pattern. “BDS has equipment like that.”

  She tugged him back from the opening of the cave when the relentless drone buzzed toward their position. “Bell Design Systems? How do you know?”

  He was glad to see her keeping hold of Maxie’s leash. If an infrared-armed drone could pick up something as small as a fox or pika on its scope, it could certainly pick up the dragon queen loping through the woods. “We used one like it for aerial surveillance outside Kandahar.” He watched the drone easily from this vantage point, but if the search grid shifted in this direction, they’d be moving deeper into the cave. “My buddy V was obsessed with the things. He was always tinkering with them, extending their range, adding a stronger zoom feature to the lens, more sensitive radar.”

  “Who’s V?” Ava asked.

  “Ryan Voltaggio. We came up through MP training together. Our unit...” He glanced over the jut of his shoulder at her, realizing what she’d just done. “I know Ryan Voltaggio.”

  She squeezed his arm and smiled at yet another breakthrough. “It may be a long shot. But can you call the Marine Corps and ask for his phone number? Maybe he’s the friend you remember calling.”

  The fist of another memory squeezed his heart and he shook his head. “V never made it home.”

  “Oh, Luke. I’m so sorry.” Her fingertips grazed his forearm again. A sympathetic touch.

  A touch he needed like his next breath. Luke swore at the pain ripping through him and pulled her into his chest. He wound his arms around her, backpack and all. Her walking stick clattered on the stones at their feet and her arms snuck around his waist. He squeezed his eyes shut against the violent, bloody images bombarding him. The initial flash of an explosion. The helplessness at seeing his men so close to the blast. The betrayal. The loss. The searing pain.

  He buried his face against the juncture of her neck and shoulder, breathing in her clean, natural scent. Catching the long strands of silk
y hair in his beard, tangling the two of them together. He clung to her warmth. Her strength. The mental toughness that was far stronger than his own at the moment.

  He locked her in his arms and they rocked together as the nightmarish memories buffeted him. He held on, and she held him right back, well past any three-second mark. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered against his ear. “He was your friend.”

  “Of all the things to remember.” He palmed the back of her head, sifting his fingers through her ponytail, needing the reality of thick, soft waves filling his palm. “I lost four people on my team that day. Plus, this kid we knew. We’d taken him under our wing, gotten close to him. He was our friend. At least, we thought he was. It all happened so fast. There wasn’t time to save anybody. They were all just...gone.”

  Her arms tightened around his waist. Her fingers fisted in the back of his shirt. “Is that when you got hurt? I saw the scars.” She turned her lips against his ear and nuzzled his neck. “I’m so sorry.”

  Yes. This was what he needed. Warmth. Reality. Ava.

  He brought his other hand up to brush the loose tendrils off her cheek. He cupped her jaw between his hands and tilted her face up to his. Her blue eyes were shiny with unshed tears. She felt pain for him. She already had so much pain of her own. He caught the first tear with the pad of his thumb when it spilled onto her cheek.

  And then he realized it was his own tear that had dropped onto her skin.

  “Luke...” Her lips parted, trembled, and Luke dipped his mouth to capture hers. Soft. Full. Still. He heard her quiet gasp and a moment of sanity returned.

  “Oh, God.” What was he doing? He lifted his head, but he wasn’t a strong enough man to release her entirely. His fingers shook with the effort to pull them from her warm skin. Her eyes were dark with emotion, but he couldn’t read them. Ah, hell. He’d probably scared her. “I’m sorry. I overstepped a lot of boundaries. Is it okay if I kiss—”

  Ava pushed up onto her toes and sealed her lips to his.

  Luke rocked back on his feet as she leaned into him. He might be the startled one this time, but he made a quick recovery. He braced his body to take her weight and tunneled his fingers into her hair to cup the back of her head. He supped at her mouth, discovering every soft pillow, every agile corner—and then he sampled them all again, drinking in her shy forays and welcoming responses. The feel of Ava’s hidden curves flattened against him; the gentle dance of their tongues, and her growing eagerness to touch and taste him, kindled a heat inside Luke that flowed through his veins into every part of him, chasing away the nightmares and grief, filling him with strength and hope and the most perfect sense of rightness he could remember either before or after the amnesia.

  Ava skimmed her palms across his beard, smiling against his mouth at what must be a ticklish sensation. Then she slipped her arms around his neck, sliding her hand against his hair, hugging him close. His hands bumped into the backpack she still wore, but it was little deterrent to him finding more of her body to touch, more heat to absorb. His palm wound up on the sweet curve of her bottom. He squeezed her through her jeans and lifted her into his aching response to her healing kiss. Her arms tightened around his neck, holding on as her feet left the cave floor. Her legs parted naturally, falling around his hips and thighs as they traded kiss after kiss. The tips of her breasts beaded and poked him through the layers of cotton between them. So responsive, so proud, so perfect.

  He heard a breathless whimper in her throat. Her clutching hands and generous kiss fueled his own groan of frustration. He heard the rasp of denim against denim, and the lazy yawn of the dog stretched out beside them. Maxie’s indifference to the embrace was as good as a vote of approval, and Luke’s breath gusted against Ava’s throat at his sigh of satisfaction while he nibbled on the warm beat of her pulse there.

  What he didn’t hear was the hum of the drone.

  Awareness of another kind washed over him like the splash of a cold mountain stream. Luke ended the kiss, hugging Ava lightly in his arms and turning slightly so that he was between her and the entrance to the cave. He scanned the sky above them and beyond the trees. Either the machine had run out of juice, or whoever was flying it had moved on to a new search grid. “We’re alone again. They moved their search elsewhere.”

  “It’s gone? We’re safe?” He nodded before resting his chin at the crown of her hair. He took in a deep lungful of air to steady his breathing and regain his senses. Her arms retreated to his waist and he felt her fingers press into the small of his back. “Are you all right now?” she whispered against his collar.

  “I haven’t been this right since... I don’t think anything’s ever felt this right,” he admitted, then tightened his arms around her, backpack and all, and buried his nose in the intoxicating scent of her hair. “God, woman. You turn me inside out. Especially since I know how uncomfortable you are with intimacy.”

  “I’m not completely uncomfortable with it. I just need to be in control of it.”

  He eased his hold on her, not wanting to push his luck. “It sounds naughty, but control me all you want. Any way you need to. Yell at me. Push me away. Sic the dragon on me if I go too far.”

  “I can’t do that. Maxie likes you.” She straightened the blouse that had ridden up between their bodies and his roaming hands. “Besides, I’m healing, remember? That was pretty good therapy for me.”

  He laughed. “It was damn good therapy for me. I’m sorry I dumped on you. The memory of that suicide bomb kind of blindsided me when it all came back to me.”

  “I know the feeling. I like the way you handle it better. I’ll have to remember that next time I have a panic attack—kiss, don’t collapse.” She reached up and stroked her fingers through his beard again, reawakening all the nerve endings that were just starting to chill. If she was this fascinated with touching a few days’ worth of stubble, he was never shaving again. “This tickles when I kiss you. It’s...stimulating.” She abruptly pulled away as if she was feeling the electricity reigniting between them, too. “I’m attracted to you, Luke. I feel a connection to you. That wasn’t just about offering comfort. I wanted to kiss you. I liked...kissing you. I can’t remember the last time my blood pumped that hard for any good reason. You needed me, and I wanted to be there for you. It felt freeing. Normal. What normal people do, I mean. Not that you’re not normal.” Her cheeks turned that healthy shade of pink. “I’m not saying this right. I’m out of practice with any kind of relationship—”

  He pressed his thumb to her lips to hush her protests. “I liked kissing you, too. And I intend to do it again. Often, if you let me.” He brushed her hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss right against the scar on her cheek, in case she had any doubts that he wanted to taste every last inch of her. When she was ready. “But we’re still not going to rush anything. I’d never forgive myself if I scared you back into your shell. And then there’s that whole bad guys trying to kill me thing I should probably take care of.” He stepped back, putting an arm’s length of distance between them before holding out his hand. “Compromise?”

  “You and your Option B. Always got to have a backup plan.” She reached out and took his hand. “I can do that.”

  He checked the sky once more, giving an all clear before climbing down out of the cave. He captured her hand again as soon as all three of them were on ground level, heading back to the cabin. They were well beyond the count of three and still holding hands when he spoke again. “If you trust me in your kitchen, I’ll cook dinner so you can write. I can’t wait to read the next Bonecrusher book.”

  She squeezed his hand, assuring him she was okay with the ongoing link between them. It wasn’t a sexy come-on or a promise of forever. But to Luke, her ability to trust him with holding her hand meant as much as the smile she gave him. “You know, for the first time in a long time—I can’t wait to write it.”<
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  Chapter Eleven

  Luke should have asked for pajamas when Ava had bought him supplies in town. His new jeans were still a little stiff and itchy, and he really wanted to take off his T-shirt and bandage to let the stitches in his shoulder get some air and dry out after his shower. On his own, he’d sleep in his briefs or nothing at all. But he could hardly prowl around Ava’s cabin in the middle of the night in his underwear or his birthday suit. Especially since she was up equally late on the sofa across the living room at the tail end of a marathon writing session that had started almost as soon as they got home from Stormhaven, and resumed right after the grilled burgers and veggies he’d made for dinner.

  The cabin was locked up tight, but he’d been cautious about leaving on too many lights that might draw the attention of anyone flying a drone overhead, searching for them. The single lamp he had on at Ava’s desk where she’d set him up to work on her computer provided the only illumination in the entire house, save for the light reflecting off their respective computer screens and the patches of moonlight sneaking in through drawn window shades and curtains. After cleaning up the flash drive that had finally made its appearance, and reading the contents, he had no doubt an enemy was still searching for him to complete the task of silencing the veteran Marine who’d blown the whistle on BDS’s illegal activities—and the brave woman who had deigned to help him because she needed to be needed, and she wanted to disprove her misguided belief that she was weak or useless.

  Not for the first time that night, Luke turned in his chair to glance over at Ava, his dark-haired warrior, to see with his own eyes that she was safe, that he hadn’t done anything else to jeopardize her safety despite her willing cooperation with his investigation.

  And not for the first time that night, Luke let his gaze linger on the woman who had grown to mean so much to him in such a short time. Who needed a slinky peignoir when that well-worn pair of running shorts hugged her sweet derriere and showed off those long, fit legs as she sat on the couch with her toes tucked beneath a sleeping Maxie? Even the oversize man’s T-shirt she wore for a top only served to point out the wonderful differences between a man’s blockier shape and the swells and dips that made a woman’s figure so irresistibly interesting. Bopping her head to whatever tune was playing inside the noise-canceling headphones she wore, she stared at the screen while her fingers flew over the keyboard as if possessed.