by Nicole Helm
“Knife. Got that one trying to escape the gang I’d gotten myself mixed up in.”
Gotten himself. Hardly. To her way of thinking, anyone who’d gotten him involved in a gang had manipulated him and used his grief against him. But he wouldn’t appreciate her theory, so she kept her mouth shut.
She pointed at the scar on his side, still pink as though the injury hadn’t been all that long ago. “That one?”
He looked down as if he didn’t even know his own scars. He shrugged again. “Shot.”
He laid her back on the bed, his hands trailing down her sides. He unbuttoned her pants, slid them over her hips and off. She was in her underwear, with a man, and she didn’t feel self-conscious. She felt... Well, the way he looked at her made her beautiful. Her skin practically hummed.
“Do you want to keep talking about my scars?” he asked, looking down at her with a smug smile.
“Maybe,” she offered, making a motion that he should take his own pants off as she sat up.
He grinned and dropped them. There was a jagged line on his thigh. She simply raised an eyebrow.
He looked down at it, as if he didn’t even remember it was there. “Oh. Sabrina and a broken bottle.”
“Who’s Sabrina?”
“Another agent.”
“She hurt you with a broken bottle?” Willa asked, unable to keep the outrage out of her voice.
“It was before she was an agent. We got in a bar fight.”
Willa didn’t know what to make of that, but she found she didn’t like the name Sabrina. Or the way Holden sounded almost proud she’d wounded him with a broken bottle, for heaven’s sake. “Is she pretty?”
Holden laughed. “I guess so.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s more like my little sister than anything else.” He pressed a kiss to her neck, one that had heat shuddering through her like a storm. “Want to ask me any more questions?”
“Hmm. Oh.” She slid her fingers through the hair at his temples, liking the slightly coarse texture, so much different than her hair. “Who patches you up when you’re hurt in the line of duty?”
“Betty. She’s our doctor.” He nibbled down her shoulder, and she found she liked that as much as she liked him answering her questions without stiffening up.
“You really are a little family, aren’t you?” she murmured, kissing his jaw.
He rolled her onto her back, pinning her to the mattress. It was meant to be playful, to change the subject. He was even smiling, but it faded. Slowly. She wasn’t sure it was doubt causing him to sober, so much as...fear.
“I want you, Holden,” she said, trying to match his smile, but there was such seriousness in him. “That’s all that matters for a little bit. I want you.”
* * *
HOLDEN COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time he’d been so relaxed. Though he had always worked hard to put off a careless air, there’d always been a center of...well, whatever made a man get involved with a gang, then leave it for a secretive group that worked tirelessly for years to take down that gang.
He tried to remind himself it was wrong. A man like him letting a woman like Willa curl up next to him, head on his shoulder, hand curled over his heart.
“You should have told me I was your first,” he murmured, trying to work up some kind of moral outrage on her behalf. But he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open, and mostly he wanted to press his nose into her hair and fall asleep.
She yawned. “Why?”
“I...” He wasn’t sure he could articulate why. She was too sweet, too responsive to do anything but take his time. Linger. It had been...beyond what he’d known this kind of thing could be.
It should have scared him, but he hadn’t worked up to that yet.
She was beautiful. He wanted her. Not just in the moment. He wanted her in his life. The way she went toe to toe to him. The way she understood him in ways he wasn’t altogether certain he understood himself. Or maybe she just put words to things he tried not to.
It wasn’t done. It wasn’t possible. Maybe Reece had gone down that particular road, but this was different. Holden wasn’t Reece.
Besides, it was clear to Holden—or at least he was trying to make it clear to himself in the aftermath—she knew she was going into a dangerous situation, one she thought she might not come out of on the other side. So, she’d had some kind of last hurrah.
Well, that was fine and dandy, but she needed to be clear about one thing. “You’re not going to die. That isn’t going to happen.”
She eased up onto her elbow, looking down at him. Her hair had mostly fallen out of its band and was a curling mass around her shoulders. She looked fresh faced, satisfied and so damn beautiful it hurt.
The expression of confusion melted slowly into one of understanding. Why did she always seem to understand him?
“I didn’t have sex with you as some kind of virginal last hurrah before I plan on dying, Holden.”
Since he felt scolded, he shrugged and tried to act nonchalant. “I didn’t say you did.”
“But you thought it.” She gave him a quick peck on the mouth. “I’m starving.” She slid out of bed, grabbed his T-shirt and slid it over her head. “Is there food in that kitchen?”
“Yeah.” He got out of bed, too, pulling on his jeans. He didn’t feel like pawing through the community clothes to find a shirt that would fit him, so he followed Willa into the kitchen.
She hummed to herself, and though she clearly didn’t know where anything in the kitchen was, she poked through cabinets and drawers with the quiet confidence of someone who might have lived here.
“You’re smug,” he grumbled.
“I am. Quite smug.” She grinned at him. Her hair hid most of her bandage, but Holden could see she’d bled through. “You need that bandage changed.”
She glanced over at him. “Right back at you.”
He muttered to himself as he collected the first aid supplies, and though he was trying to act grumpy or harsh, he didn’t feel any of it. The whole thing felt so right, so comfortable, he couldn’t seem to muster up the necessary self-loathing or situational irritation.
Must be the lack of sleep. And food. He’d think straight once they ate and slept.
She had a peanut butter sandwich made when he returned, laying all the supplies out on the counter. He motioned her to come closer, and she did.
She offered him the sandwich, but since his hands were full, he just leaned forward and took a bite. Then he went about changing out her bandage while she ate.
Then they switched, him finishing off the sandwich and her rebandaging his head.
“Matching head wounds,” she said with a smile, smoothing the adhesive gently into place.
“Yeah, the difference is you gave me this one and then chained me to a bed.”
She laughed, and the hand that had put on the bandage smoothed over his cheek, then rested there. There was something in her eyes. Something he intellectually knew he wasn’t ready for, but his heart seemed to be galloping ahead without heeding any reality.
“Willa...” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t mean it. Thank God his phone went off.
He grabbed it like a lifeline, moving away from her soft touch and softer eyes. Glancing at the phone screen he saw that it was Shay. “Parker,” he greeted. He heard the distinct sound of gunfire and glass shattering. He didn’t bother to ask what was going on. “I’m on my way.”
“Bring her,” Shay demanded. “We might need her. Approach with caution.”
Then the line went dead. Holden held the phone for one second in shock, but then immediately pushed himself out of it.
“Get dressed,” he ordered. “We have to get to your farmhouse.”
“What’s going on?” she asked, but she was already moving for the bedroom and their
clothes.
“I’m not sure.” But it was bad. Very bad.
Chapter Eighteen
Willa’s heart felt as though it was permanently lodged in her throat, beating too hard and making it difficult to breathe easily. She tried to portray a sense of calm as Holden drove at rapid speed, back toward Evening and her farm.
Her farm. Her animals. Would they be okay? She couldn’t even think of it. She had to put them out of her mind. She just...had to.
Holden had explained to her the brief exchange he’d had with Shay on the phone, and it worried her. Why would anyone go there? Even if they knew she had the evidence—which she herself hadn’t yet decoded even if Holden’s group had—they had to know after the fight this afternoon that she wasn’t home.
“Maybe I could try to call Shay on your phone and give her some info. There are places to hide. Security codes. I could give them information.”
Holden didn’t spare her a glance. “Elsie was already in your bunker.”
Willa blinked, somewhat taken aback. “How?”
“We have skills, Willa. She needed to hack into your computer to see if she could find anything pertinent about your parents.”
“She... Why would you guys hack into my computer? I’m cooperating with you.” She didn’t know how offended to be. It wasn’t really the time for it, but...he hadn’t told her they were hacking her computer, either, and that didn’t feel right.
This Elsie person had been combing through her files. Her parents’ files. “Did it ever occur to you that’s how they got information about me and that evidence?”
“Elsie knows more about computers than most of the people in the world,” Holden replied, his gaze never leaving the road as he raced against time. “She knows what she was doing. If she’d thought someone tracked what she was doing, what was being communicated, she would have either stopped it or let us know.”
“I could have given you or her the passwords. I could have given you access, if you’d asked.”
“You could have. She still would have hacked around or whatever it is computer people do to make sure you weren’t only showing us part of the information.”
“We’re on the same team.”
“We’ve got a dangerous criminal group. Two spies. Their daughter who can fight like the devil and has a whole underground bunker system. You tried to run and you kept some things from me along the way. Let’s not play the game of trust and being on the same team.”
It hurt, but it also reminded her of something more important than her childish hurt. “I have a way to get in where no one can see us.”
“We don’t know where their men are, Willa. We have to—”
“Trust me, Holden. I have a way.” She ordered him to take a hard left, so he did. She directed him down gravel roads and dirt roads, then over the open field that would lead to the back of her property. To one of the escape hatches her parents had put in. “Here. Stop here,” she said when they reached a swell of earth, covered in sod. She got out of the car, and Holden followed. His eyes were assessing, and his hands rested on either gun at his hip.
“I need a gun too,” she said.
He hesitated, and that hurt. But she had to bury it in reality. In what they had to do. “You have to trust me. We have to be in this together.”
He curled his hand around her neck. His grip was tight and fierce as he held her so they were almost nose to nose. “I let you fight off that guy at the lake all on your own. I didn’t want to, but I knew you could and would take care of it. There isn’t a bigger gesture of trust I’ve got than that.”
She wanted to cry. She wanted to kiss him. But all she could do was take the gun he offered, then walk up the small swell of earth. She knelt on the ground, felt around until her fingers brushed metal. She pulled up the pole, then pushed, twisted and gave it a hard yank. It unlocked the door, hidden under the piles of sod. She lifted the hatch.
“This leads to the underground room we were in the other day. We can get to the house or the barn. Whichever you want.”
“How... Willa, are you sure your parents don’t use this as some kind of...home base?”
“Of course not,” Willa replied, without thinking it through. They’d always said it was about her protection. And why would her parents take the trouble to go underground here and not tell her? She didn’t use the underground area much at all herself, but still, wouldn’t she know if they were under there? Wouldn’t they...let her know?
With a sinking feeling in her chest, she realized they probably wouldn’t. Especially if they were working.
She shook her head. “We’ll figure that out later. Come on.” She climbed into the hole. It was narrow here at the opening. “You might have trouble fitting, but you need to pull that door closed behind you.”
She heard his grumbling from behind her. The tunnel was dark and tight. She’d never used this portion. She wouldn’t call herself claustrophobic, but this particular tunnel being so narrow had always bothered her.
She breathed slowly, deeply, as the light gradually faded and they were in complete darkness.
“Does it lock?”
“We can lock it from the command center,” Willa said, her voice strained.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Can’t say I like this one. Just keep moving forward. I’ll be able to tell when we’re closer to the more reasonable tunnels.” She crawled forward, knowing there was no backing out. She was stuck. She couldn’t get out.
Breathe in, one, two, three. Breathe out.
The walls weren’t closing in. It wasn’t possible. Feeling like they were was only irrational fear.
“Willa, honey, you’re panting.”
It was strange. Honey. She liked it. That was silly, but if she thought about silly things like endearments, she wouldn’t feel like she was being swallowed whole by the earth.
If she lived through this, and she rather planned to, she’d call him... Dear? Too old-fashioned. Babe? No, that felt all wrong. Maybe she’d just call him honey back. She liked it, and if she...
If they made it out alive. He had to survive, too.
She swallowed as a new fear took over. “Where should we go? The bunker?” She had to focus on the reality of the situation, not the dark, cramped tunnel. Not life and death. Just getting from point A to point B.
“House. I think that’s where Shay would be. You wouldn’t hear gunshots from inside the bunker, would you?”
“No.”
“Then house. Definitely.”
She crawled what felt like endless minutes until at last the tunnel ended in a bigger “room” that connected all the tunnels together. The tunnels that led to the bunker and house and other places on the property were all deep enough to walk through without crawling.
Thank God. She got to her feet and led him to the path to the TV room door. It was still dark since she hadn’t been able to be in the main room and switch on the lights via the generator. So she had to feel her way, which kept her pace slower than she knew Holden wanted.
Finally, she reached the end of the tunnel. “Here we are. How do you want to do it?”
“I’m going to go first, okay? You’ll wait until I give you the signal to follow. I don’t know what we’re walking into yet.”
She didn’t say anything. Her throat was tight. She couldn’t see anything in the dark, but she could feel him there. She didn’t want to lose that.
“Willa?”
She cleared her throat and reached forward, unlocking the clasp that kept the door in place. She pulled it open slowly and quietly. There was a panel still covering the opening, but light streamed in through the cracks and she could make him out in the dim light.
“Honey, don’t cry,” Holden said reaching out and touching her wet cheek.
She hadn’t realized she was. She was too numb with fear to k
now tears were leaking out. She wiped them away with her sleeves. “No, I’m okay. Really.” She sniffled. “It’ll be fine. You just slide the panel to the left, slip out and let me know when I can come out.”
His eyebrows drew together, as if trying to figure out her emotional outburst. But what was there to figure out? She was scared. A woman could be strong and scared at the same time. Heck, women usually had to be both.
She straightened her shoulders and nodded him toward the panel. “Go on.”
“All right.” He reached out for the panel, but she found herself incapable of holding all these emotions in. She couldn’t fight like her parents, ignoring love when they had to. She couldn’t. “I love you. So please don’t die,” she blurted.
The kiss was sudden, fierce, and she nearly fell over. If Holden hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she might have. When he released her, she knew this was the only thing she could have hoped for in the moment.
A kiss that felt too much like a goodbye.
“Same goes, Willa. Same goes,” he muttered, and then he was sliding the panel open.
* * *
SAME GOES. You are an utter, bumbling moron. Even as Holden searched the room, the same goes echoed in his head and threatened to split his focus.
But there could only be one focus.
The house was eerily silent, sometimes interrupted by a creak or groan that would make Holden still as he tried to figure out if it was old-house noise or people-moving-around noise.
When he was certain the room itself was safe, he motioned Willa out from the tunnel. They worked together in silence to close up the door and replace the wall paneling. Once that was done, he took her hand.
He didn’t have to tell her to be quiet, to follow him carefully. She knew. She understood.
Holden didn’t hear gunshots or breaking glass. He hoped to God that didn’t mean he was too late.
Willa’s grip tightened on his. It gave him center and focus, her gripping him so fiercely. He had to be strong for her.
He eased forward into the hall that would take him to the living room. He didn’t have a clue as to where anyone would be, but he might be able to tell something from the living room, where you could see the kitchen, stairs and upper half of the upstairs.