Yeah, not on his watch. “You’re staying with me.”
“You don’t get to decide.”
“I actually do.” He had a work contract in his office back at his company, Tosh Industries, that trumped her denials. She might not like the protection, but her friends, powerful and concerned friends, had arranged it for her and she agreed in front of them, so now she was stuck. Gabe intended to see the operation through even if he had to lock her in a closet and sit in front of the door to keep her there.
She continued to tap those fingers against the tabletop. “I’m a grown woman.”
“Believe me, I know.” He’d eyed up every inch of her. Watched her walk and studied her file. He hadn’t seen her naked, but he could guess. That confidence, the swish of those hips. It all played in his mind on an endless loop until he ached with the need to strip that proper navy suit off her.
She froze in her chair. “I make my own decisions.”
“Not right now.” He did. He was in charge. He meant for work, but the idea of taking control in every other way appealed to him. Way more than it should.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He suddenly needed to say the words, to clue her in that she had him on edge. “Your body belongs to me.”
Tension flooded the room. Quick and without warning. Heat surged through him. Her big blue eyes blinked. She didn’t say anything, which should have been a relief but Gabe felt anything but calm at the moment. His skin felt tight and stretched, his stomach hollow. The need to fuck her gripped him.
He cleared his throat. “For now. Until we know you’re safe.”
Adding the context didn’t help to settle the energy pinging around the room. He shifted in his seat across from her and tried to rein in the thoughts bombarding him. She was a job, and an annoying one. When the first mental reminder failed, he tried again.
Most people appreciated his protection once they got over the shock of the cost. He didn’t do everyday shit. His business focused on covert, need-to-know cases. He didn’t advertise or go looking for work. Jobs came to him by reputation and through people who knew all the dirty little secrets. And in Washington, DC there were a lot of those.
He eyed the water bottle in front of her, thinking she’d have to take a breath or a drink soon. “I can name three members of your old team who are dead.”
She shrugged. “Things happen.”
Like a fireball written off as a gas explosion. A murder-by-vehicle explained away as a fluke car accident. Accidental shootings, random robberies gone wrong. Gabe had seen it all, and so had she, which was why she needed to stop fighting and let him help.
“I’m not in the mood for games.” He needed to stand up, pace around. He forced his body to stay still.
“Which means what?”
“Don’t pretend I don’t know how your business works.”
She finally grabbed the water bottle. Held it. Tapped the bottom against the desk. “My old business. I’m unemployed.”
He’d picked this office building as a neutral stop before they took off because it sat miles away from her condo in Washington, DC and office at Langley. Outside the metro area. He’d hustled her out and kept her under wraps. But they needed to keep moving. They actually had a plane to catch. Not that she knew that, but it meant they were on a timetable and if she didn’t work with him soon he’d have to take drastic steps.
Just thinking about what that meant started a countdown ticking in his head. “You have five minutes.”
“Then what?” She rolled the water bottle between her palms. “You shoot me?”
This woman never stopped. He pushed, she pushed back. He just wished he knew why he found the back and forth so fucking hot with her. “Tempting.”
“Keep in mind I’m an expert with weapons.”
If he were the eye roll type, now would be the time. Since he wasn’t he stood up instead. If he needed to implement Plan B he wanted to be on his feet. “I’m better.”
Her gaze followed him around the small conference room. “Are you trying to intimidate me?”
“Do I?”
“I’ll ignore that.” She stopped playing with the bottle and unscrewed the cap. A snapping sound cut through the room as she broke the seal.
Thanks to that death grip he half expected the plastic bottle to explode in her hand. “You now have four minutes.”
“It doesn’t matter because in three minutes I’m going to get up and walk out of here.” She took a long drink.
She managed to make something so mundane look sexy but at least she finally took a drink. “If you look around you’ll see a lack of windows and one door.”
“So?”
“You have to get through me before you can get out.” And he wanted like hell for her to try.
She stood up and her balance faltered. Slightly and just for a second. With a hand against the table, she righted her body again. Then she came straight at him. Stopped right in front of him and in her high spiky heels almost met him eye to eye. Their bodies didn’t touch but the thin layer of air between didn’t act as much of a deterrent.
She leaned in until her mouth hovered over his. “You think I can’t take you?”
Son of a bitch. “Do you want me to take you?”
“Take?” She hummed as she pulled back. “You assume because I’m a woman I’d be submissive during sex.”
Just as he thought. They were finally on the same page and it was the wrong damn page. Sure as hell the wrong time. “I know what I like.”
“I can guess.” She tipped a bit to the side and grabbed onto his shirt in a rough hold. “Complete dominance.”
“Mutual pleasure.”
Her body began to list to the side and she blinked a few times. “What did you . . .” She visibly swallowed as she shook her head. “What’s happening to me?”
“I think you know.” He slipped his hands around her elbows in a gentle touch. The room was going to sway and he needed to be ready.
“I don’t . . .” Her knees buckled as her grip on his shirt tightened. A second later her gaze flew to his. “You—”
“Drugged you.” He nodded as his gaze searched hers, trying to figure out how far gone she was at this point. “Yes.”
Before she could answer, her head tipped back and her body went limp. That hand dropped from his shirt and her body fell as if her bones had disintegrated.
He caught her before she hit the floor. Scooped her right up in his arms and stared down at her. “Now you’ll follow my directions.”
The lock clicked and the door opened. In walked Gabe’s younger brother Andy. “Talking to unconscious women? Is that your thing now?”
Gabe refused get diverted into personal talk. “Our scheduled transport should be here. We need to get moving.”
Andy glanced at Natalie then back to his brother. “I thought she’d never drink the water.”
That made two of them. The rush of relief stole some of the stiffness from Gabe’s shoulders. Since the alternate plan involved knocking her out, he’d been pretty damn grateful she got thirsty or nervous or whatever caused her to reach for that bottle.
“She’s careful.” He admired that. Admired so much about her.
“Really worried there for a few minutes that I’d have to listen to a lengthy discussion of the type of sex you preferred.” Andy shivered. “Not interested in that, by the way.”
At thirty-six, Gabe was six years older than Andy but sometimes felt like the grandfather of the group. He kept them on task. So, treating his brother to a front row seat of the attraction kicking his ass was not Gabe’s idea of a good time. “She was testing boundaries. A smart strategy, actually.”
Andy smiled. “Boundaries?”
Enough tiptoeing. That wasn’t Gabe’s style anyway. “Do you want to die today?”
“Tough talk.” Andy pressed in the code and unlocked the door again. Opened it to the private area leading to the emergency stairs and the helicopter waiting on
the roof. “To be honest, I was more concerned she’d get the drop on you, then I’d get stuck trying to get her out of town.”
“You’re hysterical.” Gabe followed his brother out the door and down the long hall.
“I’m not sure why you think I’m kidding.”
He held her close with her head tucked under his chin. The smell of her shampoo, something floral, filled his senses. “I can handle her.”
“Uh-huh.”
Unable to reach out and punch in the code, Gabe stopped at the door to the exit. Looked down at her face and that mouth. “Meaning?”
Silence pounded around them. Andy didn’t make a move for the door or say anything. The quiet had Gabe’s head snapping up. He looked at Andy, shorter with more of a runner’s build. He worked with a quiet confidence but this time something else moved in his eyes. Concern, maybe?
They didn’t have time for this. The helicopter would take them to a private airstrip, then they needed to get on a jet and disappear.
Gabe was about to bark out orders when Andy piped up. “You’re looking at weeks alone with her in a snowed-in cabin.”
A fact that gnawed at Gabe. The close proximity would test the limits of his control, but he could not admit that. “I’ll refrain from strangling her.”
Andy’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe, but will your other body parts be able to stay away from her?”
Good fucking question. “She’s a job.”
Andy typed in the code and the emergency door opened. “You keep telling yourself that.”
That was the plan. Gabe just hoped he could stick to it.
Chapter Two
Natalie stood at the window and watched the snow come down. More snow. Buckets of it fell every minute, or so it seemed. She knew because she’d been watching since she woke up an hour ago.
Exhaustion still pulled at her muscles and clouded her head. She didn’t panic or wonder what happened. She knew the answer—Gabe.
Not that she blamed him. She’d been in his position in the past and used the same tactic. Back then if she couldn’t extract someone from the field with permission, she did it the hard way. Well, the hard way for them. It just ticked her off that she’d been far enough off her game to miss Gabe resorting to the same trick.
That’s what she got for leaving the CIA on bad terms. A farewell gift that included having her life flipped inside out while she waited for the fallout in the middle of nowhere.
Nothing moved in the towering trees weighed down with thick white powder. Every now and then she’d hear a whoosh and snow would tumble, adding to the piles already covering the ground. The place didn’t work for her. It was too quiet. Too isolated. Someone could approach through the makeshift forest around the small cabin. That meant she needed to move. Assess and make a plan, probably find viable transportation.
Not that she was dressed for tracking and running. She stood in jeans and boots. Gabe would have to explain that since the last time she remembered she’d been wearing a suit. Blue, most likely. Probably had her hair pinned up, which she did for work. Now it rested on her shoulders and spread down her back.
The man was going to get his ass kicked for stripping her. She glanced down at the gun in her hand. Maybe more than an ass-kicking. At least he left her a weapon, but that didn’t exactly make up for the rest.
Here, stuck in the middle of what looked like acres of trees and forest and nothing else, she felt vulnerable and she hated that sensation. Dreaded it. Out there she might have a chance, once she figured out the terrain and a plan for escape.
She looked out over the white landscape and squinted, searching the ground for footprints. The gray sky, so thick with clouds and cutting off any natural light, made it hard to judge the actual time of day. But she knew because she’d developed an innate sense about this sort of thing. She’d spent time at The Farm, been dropped in the middle of Germany for survivalist training. Time in the desert and Arctic. She’d seen it all, which made the idea of having a bodyguard so laughable.
Not that she could see the guy right now. His ability to blend in surprised and impressed her. He wasn’t exactly small. He had the big, burly, bearded thing down. Not her usual type. Not even a little, which made her wonder why the look worked for her now.
She chalked the unwanted attraction up to months of churning anxiety, living right on the edge of death. Maybe she needed sex. A burn-off of energy. She didn’t intend to stay long enough to figure it out.
Blocking out the mental image she’d stored of him, she wrapped the oversized flannel shirt around her and reached for the doorknob. It turned in her hand, which both stunned her and didn’t. Leave it to Gabe to keep her guessing. To act as if she were free to go but trap her in a place that made leaving nearly impossible . . . or so he thought. Looked like he underestimated her. Good. She hoped he kept doing that.
The snow made a clicking sound as it fell to the ground. Ice crackled in the trees. People who loved winter would appreciate this scene. She didn’t. She grew up in the South and craved heat. After years in Washington, DC’s humidity, venturing out in feet—multiple—of snow just added to how much she hated what her life had become.
She stepped out on the small porch. The frigid air blew around her, whipping through her clothes and chilling her skin. She’d been in deep-freeze shooting situations. Owned special gloves. But she didn’t have them on her now.
The bitter cold cut through her as she moved around, going down one step then the next from the porch to what probably constituted a lawn in non-snow season. Her boots crunched against the layer of ice covering mounds of white. Snow pelted her face. She glanced around, checking for any sign of her supposed protector, the former sniper, spare-talking bodyguard she didn’t want but only the quiet sounds of the forest echoed back to her.
She took a few more careful steps and rounded the cabin to peer into a wall of trees crowding around the side and stretching out for as far as she could see. Her hand tightened around the Glock. Numbness settled in her fingers. She flexed them to keep the blood running, careful not to touch the trigger. She’d seen more than one blood-soaked accident caused by fingers contracting, poor gloves, bad grip. The cold brought death.
The eerie quiet had her on edge, waiting. A wave of tension crashed into her. She’d insisted the CIA wouldn’t come after her but she never believed it. She shared those denials to keep from getting stuck with a bodyguard. That didn’t work out so well. But on her own she’d be faster. In charge. Not beholden to a six-foot-two mountain man.
She ignored the biting cold and took a few more steps. Then froze. The slide of footsteps echoed back to her. She heard . . . something. Faint. Almost like a scratching. Her body snapped to attention and her brain switched to analysis mode. If they were coming, if people wanted to take her out, they’d go down with her.
A heavy thump sounded behind her and she spun around. She lifted the gun. A hit knocked her wrist and the weapon flew. Her instincts clicked in and she switched to autopilot. The world blurred around her. She concentrated on the figure moving into her view, not focusing on a face but, instead, seeing a target.
Adrenaline pumped through her, wiping out the chill. She landed a roundhouse kick then pulled back and slammed her foot into a hard stomach. A heavy male grunt registered but didn’t let up. She struck out with the heel of her hand, aiming for a chin. Knowing she suffered from a height and weight disadvantage, she readied to launch a quick third attack.
Before she could raise her head and size up her attacker, he crashed into her. Strong arms wrapped around her in a crushing hold. The band tightened across her chest as her body took flight. A blanket of white whizzed by her and she saw the ground coming. Knowing didn’t lessen the hit. Her body slammed into the packed snow. Actually bounced.
The air left her lungs as hundreds of pounds of furious male pressed her deeper into the cold snow. Determination fueled her muscles. She thrashed and hit and kicked.
Hands tightened around her wrists and t
rapped them against the ground. “Natalie, enough.”
The rough voice stopped her and the haze cleared. She looked up into the dark eyes of Gabe MacIntosh, the man charged with protecting her. His broad shoulders blocked the view of the world around her.
Black hair, slightly too long with a bit of curl at the edges. Those dark eyes and the brooding expression that matched the mystery winding around him. Retired military, current owner of a security company. Right now with the rich scruff around his mouth he looked more lumberjack than professional rescuer.
And she hated that she noticed any of it. “What’s wrong with you?” She spit out the question over the rage building inside her.
His intense glare didn’t let up. “You pointed the gun at me.”
He had to be kidding. She tried to lift her hand and punch him but he had her arms pinned to the ground on either side of her head. The landscape came into focus as the killing frenzy pulsing through her eased. But the anger still simmered. “You snuck up on me.”
Those dark eyes narrowed. “Are we doing this?”
Sometimes he used too few words and she had no idea what he was saying. “What?”
“Fighting about nothing.”
The minutes ticked by and she became aware of the hard body balancing against her and the scent of the outdoors on his skin. She stood five-eight in bare feet and up until recently held a position that required her to stay fit and battle ready at all times. Not exactly petite and certainly not weak. Still, he overwhelmed her. Being this close to him set off a battle between her brain and her body.
She struggled to remember what he was saying. “You are the one who—”
“You wouldn’t have heard me if I wanted to sneak up on you.” His frown eased. “I let you know I was coming.”
“A normal person would have called out my name in warning.”
“Never said I was normal.”
“No argument there.” She’d known him for two weeks. At first, he followed her around as her lawyer, Sebastian Jameson, negotiated her extraction agreement with the CIA. Bast had insisted on the extra layer of protection. Then the deal was done and Gabe drugged her water bottle, scooped her up and brought her here . . . wherever “here” was.
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