Jared sliced the steak into equal halves and dished hers onto her plate. He held her gaze as he took a bite, proving he hadn’t drugged the meat. He must think she was slightly crazy, but it was a survival thing for her. She’d never let anyone pull anything over on her again. She’d learned the hard way.
She sighed with pleasure after the first bite.
“Impressed?” He grinned as he watched her dig in to her meal.
Feeling the need to tease and distract from her consternation that he’d broken through her defenses, she managed a nonchalant shrug. “I’m used to men cooking for me.”
“Really?” A spark lit his eyes. Jealousy? Interest? Something predatory, certainly. Her belly tightened and heat flooded her. It was the same primal reaction that had stunned her on the rooftop, at the Roadhouse, and in Stone’s den. As if her body knew his was meant for her pleasure, and craved it.
“You saw the ranch where I grew up,” she said. “Lots of guys around.” And a few had even known how to cook. Mostly they grilled while she created the side dishes, but still, she wasn’t totally fibbing. And she’d cooked her own food, but technically, they’d tried to grill for her.
Heat and something akin to possessiveness definitely lit his eyes now, which was absurd. They barely knew each other.
And yet their chemistry was undeniable.
“And you were the only female?” He took a long pull on his beer bottle as he waited for her response.
She lifted her own bottle and let the sudsy brew cool the heat building within. “Most of the time.” She didn’t explain that it had been a lonely existence. Most people kept to themselves at Three Fortunes, their suspicions or desire for solitude preventing personal attachments.
“Well, you haven’t tasted anything until you’ve had mine.”
She blinked and tried to remember what they’d been talking about. “Your what?”
“Steak.”
Her belly tightened in a foreign but pleasant sensation. Her mouth was watering, and it wasn’t just the food stimulating it. She had the urge to slip his fingers, one by one, into her mouth and suck on them. Where the hell had that come from? She cut another piece of steak instead. “Tell me more about Chelsea.”
He set his knife and fork down and picked up his beer, sitting back in his seat as he took another long sip. “We had a fight just a few nights before she disappeared.”
“I’m guessing, since you went to all this trouble, you don’t think she just ran away.”
“That wouldn’t be like her, going quietly into the night.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “She’s a fighter, much like you.”
Pleasure at the compliment filled her. “We do what we have to do to survive.”
He searched her face for a long moment. “I figured as much, after studying you.”
“How have you been studying me?”
“It wasn’t easy. After I found out who you were from your rifle registration, I found your name. The truck registration led me to your ranch, which led to your uncle’s identity, but little else on either of you. Just that Tom brought you to the ranch when you were six.”
Tom had made sure there was little record of her existence, before or after age six, keeping her name out of the news reports back when the incident that had changed her life had occurred. Had Jared found anything?
He seemed to be waiting for her to fill in the blanks. Her thoughts and feelings tumbled together as she struggled for what would be an appropriate explanation for why she was a ghost. In the end, she suspected he’d know if she were lying, so she went for the truth. Another boundary crossed. She’d never let anyone in this far, never told them the truth. Only Tom knew the whole story. But trust required honesty.
“My parents died in a house fire when I was six,” she said. As his mouth opened to express condolences, she held up her hand to stop him. “Their deaths were probably the best thing that could have happened to me.” She saw his shock and pushed out of her chair. “Maybe we should talk about this another time.” When she’d shored up her defenses.
“Don’t run.” His words were a soft command.
“I’m not running.”
“You always run when you’re feeling vulnerable.”
“I’m not vulnerable,” she said with force. But uncertainty seemed to fill her skull like a constant cloud. “It’s just that it’s late, and my childhood is a long, pathetic story.” She didn’t want Jared’s sympathy. She didn’t deserve it. “Let’s figure out a plan for tomorrow and get some sleep.”
Jared stood, too, and shifted as if he would block her escape. “Where are you staying tonight?”
“I have a motel room.”
“Stay here tonight.” His eyes were warm with compassion. “It’ll give us more time to talk.”
She didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to stay here—unless it was in his bed, forgetting everything but the attraction between them. And that desire to lose herself in him was even more dangerous than spilling the secrets of her past.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked when she went still.
“No, I…” She sighed, and because she needed something to do, she scooped up their empty plates from the table and took them into the kitchen. Jared followed with their empty beer bottles. “It’s just hard to talk about.”
“And part of a soldier’s training is to leave emotion out of it.” His arched brow indicated it was a question, an opening to a deeper discussion.
“That was Viper’s philosophy.”
“Who’s Viper?”
“He’s in charge of training programs.”
“I’d like to understand why Stone might see you as a threat.” He leaned against a counter, watching her as if he had all the time in the world to listen.
She began washing plates so she wouldn’t have to react to any judgment she might see in his expression. “My uncle took me in.” She felt a twinge of pain at the thought of Uncle Tom, and again hoped he was safe and didn’t hate her. “I learned early on that he didn’t want to talk about the past. Which was fine, because I didn’t either. Still don’t.” She shot him a meaningful look.
“Sounds like you didn’t have the ideal family life when your parents were alive. That must have been difficult.”
And lonely. But she’d been lonely even before they died. She supposed she’d always been lonely, she just hadn’t noticed until lately. “I was a mistake.”
“Pardon?” He moved closer, then took her shoulders and turned her, reaching behind her to shut off the water faucet. He tipped her chin up until she met his gaze. “How could you think you were a mistake?”
She inhaled deeply through her nose to clear it of the remembered stench of smoke when she thought about that night. The air was filled with Jared. The tang of his skin and a hint of his aftershave filled her nostrils, and then her lungs, becoming part of her.
And scaring the shit out of her.
She was familiar with emotional distance and earned respect. That was the way things were done at the ranch. Empathy and compassion were there, but the expression of any tender feelings was quietly discouraged. A soldier was tough, ready for anything. But Skye wasn’t ready for this, for Jared. He knocked all of her hard-learned lessons aside as if shooing away a fly. With him, she found she wanted to talk, to be understood and comforted.
He made her weak.
“I was a mistake,” she repeated. “My parents didn’t have time for me. Rather, they had no interest in being parents. They were drug dealers with a history of drug abuse and trafficking.” She’d seen the police records once, in her late teens. That had been the first time she’d traded favors with someone. Her parents had apparently been in and out of jail before they’d had her.
“Then they probably weren’t capable of caring about anything but making money or getting their next high,” Jared said.
Or she hadn’t been interesting or lovable enough. Shame filled her and she
roughly shoved it away. “The official report says cooking meth is likely what started the fire that night they died, though I didn’t understand that at such a young age. I’d thrown a tantrum earlier that evening and they’d told me to leave. I went to one of my special places nearby, before they could deal with me in other ways.”
“Other ways?”
She avoided his probing gaze. Other ways could be anything from drugging her food or drink, to hurting her physically. “When the house exploded a little later, I thought I’d caused it.” The memories of their harsh words still echoed in her ears, her mother’s slap still stung against her cheek. She blew out a breath to expel the negative energy. “Happy now?”
“It’s not quite enough.”
“What more could you want from me?” She’d nearly shouted the words and gritted her teeth to hold everything else in.
Jared’s hand lifted and her eyes tracked it as if it would lash out at her. Memories of how her parents, both of them, had used physical discipline to keep her out of their way were too close to the surface.
He froze, then slowly resumed the movement, tucking her hair behind her ear. She exhaled in relief, and shuddered at the contact.
“You’re going to have to get used to being close to me,” he said. His fingers lightly touched her shoulder, and he drifted his knuckles down her arm. “I can’t have you scared of me, now that we’re partners.”
She felt frozen except where his fingers scorched her skin. “I never said I’d be your partner. Besides, partners don’t have to touch.”
“They might. And I can’t risk you freezing up on me—physically or mentally—if something comes up where we have to have each other’s backs. You’ll learn to trust me, learn that I would never drug you or hurt you in any way.”
“I won’t freeze up.” But he was right. While they’d occasionally practiced team exercises at the ranch, the emphasis in training had been on survival of the fittest, the survival of one person. Herself. She’d never worked with a partner. Never had to, never wanted to.
“You don’t know for sure, though.” One eyebrow rose as she opened her mouth to protest. Apparently, he could see how she was frozen with fear right now. “Just an hour ago, you were ready to starve to death rather than eat my cooking.”
“I ate,” she pointed out.
“Only because I ate first.” His hand had moved down to her wrist. He loosely encircled it with a finger and thumb, then brought his other hand up and placed his palm against hers. She’d never thought of holding hands as a particularly sensual, intimate experience, but her breath caught and dizziness swamped her. She locked her legs against the sway of the dual waves of anticipation and panic that threatened to crash over her.
I won’t faint. She chastised herself. She wasn’t weak. Not anymore. His words, his hands, couldn’t sway her. Steeling herself, she met his gaze. Do your worst.
But she didn’t trust herself to speak the challenge.
Jared saw the war she waged with herself. All evening he’d resisted the compulsion to touch her, but he couldn’t keep from reaching for her now, especially when she’d seemed to turn a corner.
She hadn’t run.
She’d trusted him enough to stay. And she’d gone beyond that, sharing pieces of herself. Just little bits, but important ones, enough to tell him he’d broken through some kind of barrier. And he was beginning to understand the influences that had shaped Skye, and why she ran from people. If Jared was reading things correctly, her uncle hadn’t exactly been a source of great love and support. At least, not the touchy-feely kind.
If anyone deserved consolation and craved contact, it was the woman before him. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—back away from Skye now. But he had to start slow and easy.
His hands enveloped one of hers. Her fingers were soft, but small rough spots attested to her great strength and purpose. She was a survivor, no matter what the world threw at her. He admired the hell out of that.
With a hand on top of hers, he stroked her as if petting an uncertain animal. Her eyelids drifted shut and her nostrils flared as if she were tolerating his touch, not wanting to want it. Every muscle in his body tensed to resist the desire to pull her against him and cradle her in his arms. He focused on the pads of his fingers brushing the smooth plane of her hand. From wrist to fingertips, his open palm memorized hers. As his fingers reached the end of their journey, her lips parted on a soft sigh. Her long lashes fluttered as her eyes opened to meet his gaze.
His groin tightened, but he ignored his body’s demands. This was about Skye, and her needs. If he pushed too far, she’d never trust him. But, even with his restraint, she pulled her hand away.
She cleared her throat. “See? I didn’t freeze up.”
He smiled. “We’ll see.”
“We just did.”
“Because you knew I was going to touch you and you wanted to prove something to me.”
She pressed the delicate pillow of her bottom lip against her bow-shaped top one until they formed a flat line. Then she shocked him by grabbing his hand and pressing it against her. His palm lay flat against her sternum, his fingertips splayed across the soft swells of her breasts. “Do you feel that?”
Jesus. The pressure of his erection bordered on pain. “Your chest?”
“My heart.” The light thump was steady against his palm. “It’s a normal rhythm. I know how to control it. I learned how to control it. Even if everything in me is screaming to run away, my body will do what needs to be done.”
When you’re using your head to control your reactions. For some reason, it made him want to push her past control. Maybe because she was testing his limits, as well. His own heart revved like a race engine the moment he breathed her in. His gaze flicked to her lips, imagining what it would be like to taste them, to feel their softness.
As if sensing the predatory turn of his thoughts, she released his hand and stepped back, then turned to the counter where she’d laid her gun. She picked it up, along with her duffel, and moved toward the front door.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To my motel room.”
“We need a plan.”
“I have one.”
He arched a brow, amused at her insistence on doing this on her own. He’d wear her down—because he needed her, he told himself. Not because he liked being around her, as prickly as she could be. “Care to share with your partner?”
“I’m going to try again to reach my uncle.”
“How? Didn’t he scatter with the others?”
“He and I designed a way to exchange messages, but he hasn’t responded to my attempts.” Worry creased her brow. “I’m also going to track down Tristan Floyd. He’s part of this, too. He worked at the ranch. Somehow, Stone got to him. I’ll also retrace Loretta’s credit card purchases and sweet-talk somebody into letting me see the video surveillance.”
“Stone will be looking for you. Ryan, his son, reported you’d broken into his study. He’s probably filed a police report,” he added, almost certain Stone wouldn’t involve the police, even if his life depended on it, but willing to lie to keep Skye here. “He’s probably got his own people out searching the motels.”
She stopped, and her shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. “Should be easy to hide in plain sight if I stick close to the Strip.”
“Stay here. He won’t expect you to be with me.” He tried not to be frustrated when she looked around like a caged animal. “I won’t touch you again, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
That made her stiffen her spine. Apparently, challenging her fears or her pride was the way to get a reaction out of her. “You give yourself too much credit. I already showed you the lack of impact you make on me.”
“Then it won’t be a hardship to stay here.” He shrugged as if he didn’t care either way, but she wouldn’t be the only one facing an endurance challenge if they were under the same roof. He hadn’t been
imagining the chemistry he felt when he was with her. “If I come too close, you can shoot me. But give me fair warning first.”
Chapter Eleven
Finn didn’t need a mask. These girls were his. Besides, they’d never be able to tell anyone about this, and he preferred his prey knowing he was coming for them. It elevated the excitement.
He undid the last of the locks on the cabin door and entered. The three women were huddled together in a corner, blinking into the early morning light pouring through the front door.
“Get up. It’s time to train.” He waved a gun to get them to move faster.
“Where’s the other guy?” the dancer asked. Chelsea, he remembered. His gaze swept over her lithe form, noting that she’d lost weight. He’d make sure they ate well before the hunt. Lethargic game would never satisfy the hunters. The girls would need a store of energy to burn.
“He’s taking care of something else right now.” He stepped closer to her. “You missing male company? I’m right here, baby.” Maybe they could have a little fun before he killed her.
She scowled and looked away.
He walked over to his newest recruit, who’d been staring glassy-eyed at the wall. Erica flinched as he nudged her with his foot. “Get up. You’re first to train. You need the most work.”
Erica didn’t move and he pulled back his leg to kick her. Before he could release it, Chelsea pushed at him. It was a weak effort, given her long confinement, but the fact that she’d tried surprised him. He turned to her, his hand raised, but she only lifted her chin.
He grunted his approval. “Well, well, there’s a little fire in the hearth. I like it.” The spark would bring more money. He kept his gun pointed at Chelsea as he stepped over to Loretta. “And you? Would you like a turn?”
Loretta spat at him and he backhanded her. Chelsea leapt between them. “Don’t touch her,” Chelsea said.
He growled, then forced himself to restrain his temper. “I won’t—for now.” He glared over Chelsea’s shoulder at Loretta. “But that’s the least you deserve for the trouble you’ve caused me. I told you not to tell anyone you were leaving. You could have ruined everything.”
Stacking the Deck (Redemption Club Book 1) Page 14