This consumption countdown better yield rewards bigger than a freaking NASA launch, ‘cause he was about to explode. He grabbed her arm. Marcus. Brown. Evie was the only connection. He needed more information from her. “So what did he want?”
Evie lurched up from the couch and tilted sideways, and Hunter grabbed her just in time to keep her from falling into the coffee table. He hooked an arm around her small waist and dove backward, landing in a heap on the couch.
Her on the bottom.
Him on top.
He ground his hips between her legs, unable to resist the temptation spread before him.
“Hunter…” Evie arched into him. Once again, only the thin layer of her nightgown separated their skin. Damn nightgown.
“Evie, be still.” Her reaction to him was obliterating his control.
Evie froze.
Point one for Team Hunter. Now he needed to get her to hold still so he could interrogate her without screwing her brains out. Or his.
He grabbed her wrists and lifted them over her head, pinning them to the couch cushion. He couldn’t help the little grind forward. Fuck she was so perfect. Just right for him.
No. No. No. He couldn’t let himself forget what was going on. She was far from perfect. She was suspected of being involved in international terrorism. And he was here to take her down and find out all she knew.
“Better. Now as long as you stay there you will be safe. If you move, I can’t make any promises…”
Evie wriggled her hips away, her cheeks flushed, her blue eyes dark.
“I’ve been thinking about you for a long time. Holding you. Touching you like this. I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself in check.”
“What do you want?” He enjoyed the desperation in her voice. She wanted him too.
“I want the truth. I want to know why your father was murdered. I want to know why that asshat who calls himself sheriff was here assaulting you.” He tried to keep calm but his rage boiled too close to the surface.
“You’re only home a little while. You don’t need to get involved in my messed up life. I can handle it.”
“Really, Evie? Is this how you handle things? By letting some asshole beat you in your own home?” Hunter’s voice went quiet. Dark. Deadly, but he didn’t blow up, didn’t get lost in the haze of rage. He was calm. Cold. As cold as the blade he’d use to slice Brown’s neck.
“Stop it, Hunter. Just stop.” Evie’s voice shook. Her body shook. She bucked and he stood, nowhere near monster enough to hold down a terrified woman.
“Stop what, Evie? Trying to put together this crazy puzzle? How about I tell you what I think?” Hunter snatched the bottle from the floor and took a swig straight from it.
“I think Marcus ordered Brown to kill your father to cover his operation. And now, whatever he was covering up is coming out of hiding and he needs help to move it. Probably guns. Could be drugs. And he’s planning on making you his pawn to do the dirty work so he can keep his hands clean.”
Evie fumbled behind her and clutched the window frame. “How did you figure that out?”
“I guess you’ve been in it so long you can’t see the forest for the trees. But I can see the trees. See ‘em real good. And I see you either standing next to Marcus or crushed under him.”
15
“So what is it, Evie? You a drug runner or a weapons dealer?”
“A what?” What was he saying? Her? She could hardly wrap her head around it. All she could think about was that video. It would haunt her in her sleep, she knew that.
“You heard me. Drugs or guns? I can smell shit when I step in it.”
Guns. Downriver. Mexico. How long would Marcus give her?
As if he’d heard her thoughts, her phone pinged in the kitchen. Evie ran to read the message. Tomorrow. Five p.m. Coldwater Paper Mill dock. Bring your boat.
She didn’t recognize the number, but she recognized an order for what it was. He’d already made his threat.
C.W. had gifted her with his remade Vietnam-era Mark II gun ship to evade taxes. He’d sold it to her for a dollar and each year she paid her six cents to the government.
“Was that Brown?”
Evie jumped. Hunter stood right behind her, but she hadn’t heard him move from the couch.
“No.” Not a lie. Not exactly. God, the desire to tell Hunter everything, to plead for his help, filled her. After everything he’d been through, his injury, losing his friend…how could she ask him to risk his life for her?
She couldn’t. She would take care of her problem, and she would do it alone.
“Who was it then?”
“Who the hell are you to interrogate me? It’s none of your business who sends me texts.” Evie managed to pull off the affronted act even though she was quaking like a terrified little girl inside.
“I’m the guy who saved your life. And it’s looking like this won’t be the only time I’ll need to step in.” Hunter turned her around, his hands heavy on her shoulders.
Evie yanked free of his grip. “Aren’t you forgetting one teeny tiny fact? You left me. And you show up expecting me to just bow down before you?”
“Is your second job moving illegal weapons?”
His question came so fast and blunt it caught her off guard.
“The closest I’ve come to a gun was the one my ex-fiancé pointed at my head.” Hunter jerked back, and she relished the shock on his face. “I’m not moving anything. I own a bar. I sell alcohol. That’s it.” She needed to keep it close to the truth, at least until she figured out what the freaking hell she could do to get out of this mess. No need to tell him about their little money laundering operation.
“Yeah, and I’ve been traveling across the world to serve as a tour guide for missionaries,” Hunter said.
Evie wanted to punch him. Then she wanted to wrap her hands around his neck and kiss that smart-ass expression right off his face. But no way would she give him a second chance to stomp on her heart.
“Sounds like you also do a little extra on the side.”
“Sounds like you have quite an imagination.”
“Evie, after tonight, my imagination couldn’t come close. Why won’t you let me help you?”
Because if she let him in he would only break her heart. Destroy her. Completely. If she’d learned one thing lately, it was this: She could only depend on herself. “I don’t need your help. I told you. I can handle it.”
She wanted to tell him she’d fallen for Marcus’s good-boy pretense. Got engaged to him without thought. Without reservation. But that wasn’t true. Evie had used Marcus to get over Hunter.
It was her fault. She’d ignored her parents. Her instincts. Her father. Instead of testing the waters, she’d jumped in headfirst and pulled her family down with her.
*
“Show me then. Show me how you can handle a real man,” Hunter dared her. Got in her face.
“Forget it. Forget everything and go home, Hunter.”
“You want me to forget what he just did to you?”
“Yes, I do.” Evie punctuated each word. “Yes, I want you to forget. It shouldn’t be too hard. You’ve done it before. And it seemed real easy for you back then.”
“Forget? You think I forgot about you? I couldn’t get you out of my head.”
Evie’s could feel her eyes going from saucer-wide to paper thin in a split second. “Really? You thought about me all the time, but you never called? Never tried to contact me?” She made a sound, some distorted version of laughter.
“I wasn’t going to beg. You know that. I tried to forgive you, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to be the first one to come crawling back.” Hunter’s muscles tensed. Swelled. He tightened his hands into fists at his sides.
“Forgive me?” Evie’s voice rose higher, almost shrieking. “You’re the one who left. You’re the one who walked out. Not me.”
“Goddammit! What did you expect me to do?” He grabbed her and lifted her up before he r
ealized what he was doing. Her feet dangled in the air, her eyes level with his.
He could see the fright in her gaze and regretted his outburst, but then she kicked him. Hard. In the knee, right below his gunshot wound.
“I expected you to stay.”
Hunter let go, his fingers opening on reflex to grab his injured leg. He’d been wrong. She wasn’t some fearful little girl. She should work for fucking ISA as their director of torture.
Her feet hit the floor and her hands landed on her hips in a perfect representation of an angry female in charge. All she needed was a bullwhip and a pair of metal clamps for electrocution.
Hunter rubbed his wound, trying to get the fresh agony down to a dull throb.
Where was the guilt he’d expected to see in her eyes? She had the audacity to yell at him when she was the one who had cheated?
“You expected me to stay after you kissed Marcus? That’s right. I followed you that night. I wanted to make up. But you ran straight to that bastard.”
The guilt he’d been expecting filled her gaze, for a second, and then her expression hardened. “You think I kissed him? You idiot. He kissed me. If you’d stayed around long enough, you would have seen me slap his face.”
“Sure, okay. If that’s true, why were you with him in the first place?” He wasn’t stupid. She would say anything to cover her ass.
“I wasn’t. I went to our spot to calm down. I knew you needed some space. He was waiting. Like he knew I would be there,” Evie said.
“I am not an idiot. I know you wanted him. Or his money. You got engaged to him right after I left.” He was yelling at her. Acting like a crazy, jealous, love-sick boyfriend. It was like all those years had just melted away.
“You are an idiot, Hunter James. I never wanted him. I wanted you. But you left.” Tears threatened her eyes.
Fuck. This whole night had gone wrong.
Hunter threw up his hands and stormed out the front door. Her voice taunted him.
“Go ahead. Run away. That’s all you’re good at anyway.” Evie’s voice followed him outside.
Hunter raced down the drive, across the gravel road, down a dock as old as her house, and stopped at the water’s edge. He was breathing hard, his chest expanding and contracting with all the force of an air compressor.
The rain had stopped, but the moon was still hidden by clouds. Darkness surrounded him, except for the dim yellow light on the electric pole in her front yard. He crouched and sunk his fingertips into the Mississippi. As if her waters could somehow wash away the emotions tearing up his insides.
But the river kept rushing past, her current strong, unbroken and nearly to the top of the dock. All that planning overseas. The cold calculation to systematically break down Evie’s barriers, destroy her resistance, and infiltrate her organization. All of it was disintegrating.
He hadn’t planned on the heat in her gaze. He hadn’t planned on the electric current from her touch. He hadn’t planned on the niggle of doubt about her guilt eating at his resolve.
The recon and reports just weren’t adding up with what was really happening. If Evie was in Marcus’ pocket, why would he have her beaten?
Hunter stood and wiped his hand on his jeans, his dog tags rattling against his chest. To win this battle, he needed to forget what the intel said. The Evie he’d thought he expected to find here didn’t exist. He was no longer sure of anything. But he knew he wanted her no matter what.
And this need, this longing wouldn’t change until he figured it out. Until he gained her trust.
16
Evie dabbed a wet washcloth on the dried blood trailing down her chin, careful not to press too hard on her swollen lip. Experience had taught her the wonders of a little bit of peroxide to clean up blood. And the power of frozen peas to shrink a swelling eye.
The woman staring at her in the mirror had gone from drug-rehab actress to black-and-blue housewife. Not someone she didn’t recognize, just a familiar face from her past she’d hoped never to see again.
The sight sobered her.
She rinsed the cloth in the sink and watched the water turn from clear to pink. Her dad’s blood had looked almost black in the video.
And here she stood, alone, wiping blood off her face, wishing Hunter were still there. Something she’d done a lot of in the past.
Then, as if she’d summoned him with her thoughts, there he was. Brown eyes. Bare chest. Beyond-sexy face.
Evie spun around so fast she had to grab onto the bathroom counter to keep from falling. “I thought you left.”
His expression looked different. Fine lines seemed to have cropped up around his eyes and mouth. Her fingers tingled with awareness.
“I almost did.”
The words hung between them, heavier than the humidity.
“I almost got in my truck and left. But then I walked out to the river. And I thought about what you said. And I realized you were right. I should have stayed. I should have trusted you enough to talk to you about it.”
Her thoughts faltered. Hunter, a man who never apologized, who never screwed up, was admitting he’d been wrong.
She’d been prepared to yell at him. To argue and tell him what an asshole he’d been. But she hadn’t been prepared for this. He’d yanked her anger out from beneath her feet, leaving her on shaky ground.
Hunter took the washcloth from her hand and dabbed at her cheek. And Evie let him.
He rinsed the cloth and pressed it to her lip again, so gently, his touch nourishing some empty part inside her.
“I want another chance, Evie. I know I don’t deserve it, but I want it.”
She flinched and he pulled back, concern written across his gaze. “Did I press too hard?”
Not on her bruise. On her heart. He’d left her raw and aching. Aching for something she didn’t believe she could ever have again.
But by God, she wanted it. Wanted him at that moment more than she wanted to breathe.
Could she risk it? If he hurt her again, she’d never be able to patch her heart back together, not even with gorilla glue.
“You hurt me.” The words tumbled out with the force of an avalanche.
Hunter’s gaze turned fierce, eating her up with its intensity. She expected him to take her into his arms and devour her mouth, as he’d wanted to do all night.
But he kept smoothing the washcloth down her face and neck. Like he was contemplating some life or death decision. “I know. I was stupid. We were both young and stupid.”
And then the cloth was gone and his palm was in its place, cupping her cheek. Evie leaned into his touch.
Hunter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She saw his hunger. His need. But she saw something else too. Control.
“I will never hurt you like that again. Never,” Hunter said. But was he really being honest with her? Why did she feel like he was holding something back?
“Thinking about causing you pain rips me apart.”
His words broke past her defenses. She was left with an undisguised hunger. “Hunter.”
He snagged her hand and twined their fingers together. Then he rested his forehead against hers.
Evie melted. That small, binding touch warmed her from her fingertips to her toes. “Come on, let’s get you some aspirin and something for that shiner.”
She followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen.
As he rummaged in the freezer, the smell of burnt food hit her. Oh no, the cheese. She raced to the stove, only to find the pot in the sink to her right, filled with water.
“When I pulled my head out of my ass, I realized what the burning smell was coming from.” Hunter directed her to sit and draped a bag of peas over her eye.
“Thank you. I’d completely forgotten.”
She sat down at the breakfast bar and he took the seat next to her, pulling it close so he could press the frozen bag to her eye. She took it from him. “You’re welcome.”
Heat stole up her cheeks and she was grateful
for the bag covering half her face. His deep voice did all kinds of strange things to her insides.
He traced a figure eight on her knee—a motion that mesmerized her. Chills spread up her thigh and moisture formed between her legs. She swallowed but didn’t pull away. His touch felt too good.
“So, why the muumuu? You that hard up for money?” Hunter’s voice came as if from a distance.
She was still under the trance of his fingers, but she managed to croak out a few words. “Just haven’t bought clothes in a while.”
“What made you buy it to begin with?” His face scrunched up.
“It’s comfortable.” Weak response. She knew it. He knew it.
“Keep the peas on your face.” Hunter disappeared outside and returned, with a green duffel bag draped over his shoulder. She’d almost forgotten how tall he was. He had to duck his head to get through the door. And when he stood up straight, she got a good look at his rippling chest, narrow waist and broad shoulders. Muscles outlined even better under his rain soaked shirt. His skin was sinfully tan, and those jeans fit him just right.
And here she was. Bruised. Bloody. In a muumuu. She wanted to cry.
Hunter plopped his duffel on the floor and rummaged through it. “Sorry if I get your floor wet. The rain started back up. I’m assuming this type of nightgown is all you own?”
He looked up and Evie nodded.
“Well, as a token of our renewed friendship, I’m going to make one request. Burn it. Burn every last nightgown you own.” Hunter held out a bundled up piece of green material and Evie took it.
It unfurled into a T-shirt. Hunter’s T-shirt.
“You can sleep in that. I’ll take you shopping for something new tomorrow.”
Evie swallowed. He wanted her to sleep in his T-shirt, surrounded by his scent. The small amount of moisture between her thighs doubled.
“Okay.” Jesus. She was going to have to get control over her mouth.
17
Hunter woke to filtered sunlight streaming across his face and warmth no blanket could ever provide cuddled against him. He lay on his side, Evie spooned into the curve of his body, her bottom snuggled against his dick.
She scooted backward in her sleep, wiggling her too-tempting behind against him. His hand covered her hip and pulled her closer. Her T-shirt—rather, his T-shirt—rode up to her waist, revealing white cotton panties and long lean legs. Raw need slid down his spine.
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