Survival Instinct (Instinct Series)

by Janie Crouch

  “Exactly.” She couldn’t sit on the couch anymore, so she stood and began looking around. Shane was obviously in the process of packing his grandmother’s things. “I can’t do that. It’s not worth the mental exhaustion of wading through the voices and even then I might not be able to pinpoint that person’s thoughts. Then people generally just think I’m making it all up. I don’t blame them. So it’s been a long time since I tried to tell anyone.”

  “So you can’t tell what I’m thinking right now.”

  “You?” she scoffed turning from the bookshelf she’d been looking at. “Most people I can get some sort of general emotional state without actually trying to catch their thoughts.”

  “Not me?”

  “No, you’re…” she didn’t want to offend him. “You’re impenetrable. Nothing gets through. Cold, for lack of a better word.”

  “Hmmm.” He leaned back further on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “I’m not trying to offend you. For me, it’s actually very refreshing. You…help.” She didn’t want to go further. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s funny, really. I was married for a couple years when I was younger, not long after I joined the Army. It didn’t work out since she needed someone who wanted to climb the ranks, and I was more interested in active missions than being promoted.”

  “I can’t imagine you in anything but active missions. Paperwork? Desks? I can’t see that.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, desks were never part of my plan. Anyway, Robin accused me of being cold. In a bar in front of just about my entire team. Said that being with me was like living in a sudden blizzard where ice just covered everything with no warning. The guys thought it was the most hilarious thing they’d ever heard.”

  She had to smile at that.

  Shane rolled his eyes. “Next day my locker was covered in pictures of snowstorms and ice. But the most striking photo – the one I ended up keeping – was of an avalanche in mid-fury. Zac Mackay, teammate then, and soon to be my boss at Linear, said that was what I was like in combat situations. That I pulled ice around myself and got the job done, no matter what. Like the avalanche. Name stuck.”

  She leaned back against the wall, feigning a calmness she didn’t feel. She appreciated his story and him telling her about his life. But she couldn’t keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. If he was going to end up giving her the look, she wanted to go ahead and get it out of the way. “So, Avalanche, is it your innate coolness that’s allowing you to take what I’m saying at face value?”

  He stretched his long legs out in front of him onto the coffee table, crossing them at the ankles, a comfortable action that spoke of many years of doing the same thing. His grandmother’s house had obviously been his home.

  “What if I tell you that you’re not the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen?”

  “I guess I should be offended that you called me weird, but honestly, I’m just glad you’re not already running for the hills. So you’ve seen some weird stuff?”

  “I’ve seen men who have been severely injured get themselves and their teammates to a safe location miles away. In an Afghan village I saw a mother—not much bigger than you—lift a boulder twice her weight to save a child trapped underneath. I had an Army Captain who could always tell when we were being watched. Saved our asses multiple times.”

  “That’s not exactly the same.”

  “No, it’s not. But it’s not exactly different, either. All I’m saying is that our bodies and minds have pieces that we’re not fully utilizing at any given time. Maybe your mind is doing that with a piece others don’t use.”

  Chloe had discussed this very thing with Adrienne and Paige. “My sisters have abilities too. We call them gifts, but sometimes they don’t feel that way. Paige was connected to the mind of a killer and drew his victims in her sleep. Adrienne can get a sort of reading from items that criminals handle.”

  Shane shrugged. “The three of you have a highly developed mental sensitivity. I think we all probably have sensitivities, it’s just about how pronounced they are.”

  She pushed off the wall. “A sensitivity like to light, gluten, or something?”

  “Not an allergy. Something that comes naturally to you. We’ve all seen YouTube videos of a three-year-old piano prodigy who can play music most people wouldn’t be able to even after a decade of lessons. Does that kid practice? Maybe, some. But mostly, it’s a gift that was already in his brain that was somehow discovered. Your gift was the same, just didn’t need to be discovered. It announced itself from the beginning.”

  Could it be that simple? “But…” she trailed off. It made sense.

  She sagged against the wall. What Shane said made sense.

  And sort of changed how she thought about everything. A gift, rather than an aberration. Prodigy, rather than a freak.

  It made Chloe realize that she’d been waiting all her adult life—and most of her childhood too—to explain to someone what happened inside her head and for them to keep talking to her as if it was nothing more than a unique part of her.

  Like a birthmark shaped exactly like a cat. Or having perfect pitch. Or a photographic memory.

  Someone who thought it was interesting, but didn’t think it warranted grabbing a pitchfork.

  Sure, Chloe had her sisters who accepted her, but they had their own crazy inside their heads. And Nadine. God bless her, she loved Chloe no matter what. Had done so since Chloe protected her from the bullies when they were eight. Wouldn’t care if Chloe woke with a second head.

  But Shane had no reason to look at her with such calm acceptance. To gaze at her with such unflappable assurance that she was, if not normal, at least not something to be feared. Something evil like the stalker thought.

  The sound of a little sob in the room startled Chloe. Even more so when she realized it was coming from her.

  What the hell? She never cried.

  But now she couldn’t seem to stop. Huge, heaving sobs broke out. She was so tired of hiding everything. So tired of not being able to control what was inside her mind. And, oh God, she and Shane had almost been killed today.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder and realized she’d sunk to the floor and Shane was crouched beside her.

  “Let me hold you,” he said. “You don’t have to carry this alone anymore, sweetheart.”

  The fact that he hadn’t assumed she would want him to touch her. Hadn’t just pulled her into his arms, meant everything to her. She all but threw herself at him, cries she didn’t know how to stop ripping at the very fabric of her being.

  Shane caught her and wrapped her in his arms. Didn’t try to say anything that would make it better. Just held her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The strength of this tiny woman sitting in his lap was astounding.

  He’d been telling her the truth when he’d said she wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d ever seen. Maybe the most fascinating, but he’d encountered too many things that couldn’t be logically explained to get into a tizzy because her brain picked up on frequencies other people’s didn’t.

  Shane had no doubt that anyone else who had a constant stream of voices running through her head would’ve gone insane, or used them for some other more nefarious reason than creating a damned entertaining television show. Someone without Chloe’s mental fortitude would’ve crumbled long ago.

  Hell, her own tears had panicked her more than anything else. And he’d been studying her — unable to stop — since her first smartass comment to him three weeks ago.

  For someone with the nickname Avalanche, he had decidedly no cold feelings towards this petite woman.

  He knew there was more she wasn’t telling him. But that would have to wait. She’d been through enough for one night.

  She wasn’t crying any more, but every once in a while an adorable blubbering hiccup would pop out of her.

  “We all have gifts, Chloe. Stuff our brain does more easily than others. Mine is situational awarene
ss. That’s why Linear Tactical sent me here. I don’t have any law enforcement investigation credentials, but Zac knows that not much gets by me.” He gestured at her with his arm. “Take you, for example. You’ve never told me anything about yourself — the opposite actually — but because of my strengths I’m able to pick up on stuff others might have missed.”

  “Like what?”

  “Such as the fact that you’ve chosen to surround yourself with people who think out loud all the time. A field in which everybody is constantly talking over one another. And it never bothers you. Never causes you to lose your concentration. I thought at first it was because you were just unmindful. That you didn’t pay attention, so you didn’t notice all the clamor. I realize now, you’ve deliberately surrounded yourself with these people so it balances the noise that’s inside your head.”

  She nodded.

  “You move around so rapidly for the same reason. You’re matching an internal rhythm. I’m sure as a kid you got labeled as having Attention Deficit Disorder or something.”

  She nodded again. “It took me a long time to be able to sit still. To ignore everything inside my head so I could focus on what was at hand.”

  They sat in silence for long minutes. Shane leaned against the wall. There wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be than right here holding her.

  She shifted slightly in his lap. Well, maybe there was somewhere he’d rather be with her. Definitely without so many clothes on. But he’d be damned if he would take advantage of her after the physical and emotional wringer she’d been through today.

  He was trying desperately to hold on to that vow when she snuggled closer to him, her fingers inching their way into the hair at his nape and her lips planting soft kisses along his neck and jaw.

  His eyes closed. Icy was very definitely the last thing he was feeling right now. The hand that had been stroking her back moved down to her hip, grasping her tightly, pulling her closer against him.

  Before moving her away.

  His free hand found her other hip and he picked her up off his lap — wanting to groan at the loss of her soft lips against his neck — and placed her on the floor in front of him so they were sitting face to face.

  “Chloe.” He struggled to find the right words, praying she wouldn’t make this any harder—oh God, the pun—than it already was.

  Of course, being her, she was going to, in every way. She immediately climbed back into his lap. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t want this also?”

  Her lips affixed themselves to his and he couldn’t stop himself. All he wanted to do was sink into that wet, soft mouth. To trace it with his tongue, tease those lips apart and explore. A knot of need twisted in him as he pulled her closer.

  What was it about this one compact bundle of energy, with voices in her head and a mouth that could cut a man to shreds, that made him lose every bit of control?

  He fisted a handful of her hair to keep her anchored in place as he pulled her closer, his tongue stroking against hers. He nipped at her bottom lip as she sucked on his upper, then thrust his tongue inside her mouth, a foreshadowing of what was to come.

  He breathed in her scent.

  And that was what broke the spell.

  Chloe had a unique scent to her, soft and gentle—so unlike her personality—like lilacs. Shane smelled it every time he handed her coffee or she buzzed by him in a whirlwind to get to wherever she was going.

  That scent was drowned out now by the smell of forest and rain. Neither unpleasant, but a reminder that Chloe had damn near died tonight. Tomorrow she’d have bruises surrounding that slender neck, a testament of just how hard she’d been knocking on death’s door.

  He cupped her face with his hands. “Chloe.”

  She echoed his serious tone. “Shane.” She rolled her eyes. “Let me use my advanced mind reading skills, that are not even needed for this situation, to guess your next words. ‘We need to stop.’”

  He sighed and set her on the floor in front of him again, not sure that if she attempted a full—frontal attack with her mouth again that he’d be able to do anything but throw her down on the ground and give them what they both wanted. He closed his eyes for just a moment to pull his reserve around him. His control.

  “Whoa,” she whispered. “What did you just do?”

  “Tried to find some damn resolve when it comes to you. Why? What did you feel?”

  “Ever see those gum commercials where they bite into it and their whole mouth gets a blast of icy fresh? That’s what it felt like in my head.”

  His fingers gripped her arms. “Did it hurt?” Her face hadn’t seemed pained, but maybe she was just good at hiding it.

  “No. It didn’t hurt. Was a little refreshing, actually. I’ve felt it before around you.”

  He stroked a finger down her cheek. “Believe me when I say I want to be with you. But you’ve had a pretty traumatic day. Tomorrow, if this is what you still want, I will definitely not be stopping you.”

  “What if I know it’s what I want now?”

  Resisting the plea in her husky voice was the hardest thing he’d ever done. But the very huskiness, born of trauma to those delicate tissues of her throat from the stalker choking her, strengthened his resolve.

  “Tomorrow.” He smiled gently. “Just to make sure.”

  He helped them both from the floor then walked her down to the guest bedroom, thankful it was in user-friendly condition. He set down the small bag of items he’d grabbed from her trailer, and handed her some towels from the closet.

  Those brown eyes followed him from where she sat on the edge of the bed. It was all he could do to keep from going over and kissing her again, sliding his fingers into that blonde hair and pulling her to him.

  “Shower. Sleep.” He finally got the words out, his voice sounding guttural even to his own ears. “Tomorrow.”

  “You promise?” she whispered. “Tomorrow?”

  Everything in him screamed to take a step forward, but he took one back instead. “Yes. If that’s what you want, then tomorrow.” There was no way he’d be able to resist anyway. He knew better than to try.

  He left before either of them could say or do anything else and went into the master bedroom, the one his grandmother always insisted be his since it was the only room that could hold a king-sized bed that would fit his frame.

  His own—cold—shower did nothing to stop his mind from dwelling on the knowledge that Chloe was in a bed just a few yards down the hall. That she wanted him right now.

  That pretty much made him the most stupid bastard in the history of the world.

  Tomorrow. By God, if she came to him tomorrow there was no way he was turning her away. Plus, he’d given her his promise.

  Lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he knew he should go to sleep. It was almost midnight. Chloe aside, there would be a number of things that needed handling tomorrow: police reports, reporting to the studio, finding out who from the cast and crew had still been on the set. Shane would also like to go over the scene in the woods himself.

  So yeah, he should go to sleep. But an hour later he was still awake when he heard the bedroom door creak open.

  “Chloe? Is everything okay?”

  He sat up as she continued inside. Her bare legs peeked out from the oversized T-shirt she wore. Gorgeous, toned, bare legs.

  Shane forced his gaze back up to her face. Did she have a nightmare? Residual terror from what had happened?

  “Are you a man of your word, Shane?”

  Not the question he’d been expecting. “I try to be. It’s the way my grandmother raised me. And it’s part of what gave me the Avalanche nickname—I give the cold truth. Won’t lie to you to save your feelings, or mine.”

  She continued walking towards the bed. “Good.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s after midnight. So it’s tomorrow. And I still want you.”

  Shane swallowed hard then couldn’t help the smile that crept up the side
of his mouth. “You’re too clever for your own good, you know that, right?”

  She took a step closer. “I hope I’m too clever for both our own goods.”

  He threw his legs over the side of the bed and sat up as she made her way to stand in front of him. They were almost eye to eye. Shane couldn’t remember ever wanting someone as much as he did Chloe right now. The air around them was charged with attraction. It crackled and sizzled like the storm floating away outside.

  “Chloe.” He had to try, once more, to make sure this was really what she wanted.

  “You don’t want to take advantage of me.”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  She took the final step forward, his legs parting, so she could stand between them. His hands fell to her hips of their own accord.

  “Then how about if I take advantage of you?” she whispered. “Multiple times.”

  Her lips met his. Hot, wet, open. Shane didn’t even try to resist. One hand moved from her hips to her shoulder and into her hair, gripping her head to pull her closer to him.

  The kiss left them both shredded. Desperate. He licked deep into her mouth, swallowing the gasp that fell from her. Keeping a grip on the back of her head, mindful of the wounds on her face and throat, he curled his other arm the rest of the way around her hips and flipped her onto her back on his bed.

  His lips never left hers. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to be able to leave them again. He devoured her. He couldn’t hide the effect she had on him. Didn’t even try.

  Avalanche was nowhere to be found.

  Pleasure arced through him. He swallowed her sigh as their tongues dueled, mated. He felt her fingers gripping his hair keeping him close.

  As if he was going anywhere else.

  Shane eased his weight more fully on top of her. He moaned as he felt one of her legs move up to wrap around his hips. Finally, he forced himself to let his lips release hers so he could pull her T-shirt over her head.

  Now there were so many more places to kiss. She arched towards him as his mouth made a wet and possessive line down her throat, to her chest, her perfect breasts, beyond. She was curved everywhere that drove him crazy.