Chill

by Stephanie Rowe

  Her sweater was tossed over the back of a faded armchair, and she hurried over to retrieve it. She still had her bra on, and her jeans—

  Oh, God. The necklace. She ran her hand over her crotch and sighed with relief when she felt the familiar bulge. She’d sewn it into the low-slung crotch of her new jeans so it wouldn’t be found in a quick search.

  She didn’t want to think about what Nate would have to do to find it.

  She picked up her sweater, then sighed when she saw it had apparently been cut off her. Obviously a male doctor. A woman would have appreciated the sweater and taken the time to remove it intact. She folded the sweater and set it back on the chair. No matter how many clothes Marcus had made sure she owned, she had never gotten used to that kind of money, to the luxury of the material against her skin, and she still treasured it.

  She reluctantly picked up the crusty sweatshirt that had been laid next to it. How many times had she worn clothes like that to school? Pulled out of a Dumpster. Washed repeatedly to try to get the stains out.

  The money had all been spent on making her mom look good. On the short skirts. The makeup. The wigs.

  Isabella ground her teeth, yanked the oversize sweatshirt over her head, and headed for the door.

  To Luke.

  She would try one last time to pay him to help her, and if he refused, she was done. She was out of there. She knew it would be futile, knew his hatred for Marcus ran too deep, but there was no harm in trying, right? The fact that he’d taken her to the doctor had touched her, had given her hope that maybe he would change his mind. If he said no, then she would move on. She would figure out something else, because there had to be someone else, somewhere else she could turn. She always found a way, and with Marcus’s life at stake, she would not stop until she succeeded.

  Or until Leon and Nate killed her.

  She banished the thought from her head as quickly as it came, but she couldn’t fight off the pall that sank over her, like a gossamer veil of danger and death.

  She pressed her lips together. She would keep moving. Ditch Luke and his hatred of Marcus. Find another option. But even as she thought about it, her mind came up blank.

  Her lack of ideas was a temporary condition.

  All she needed was to get away from Luke and her mind would clear. But when she shoved open the door and saw what was outside, she realized her plans meant nothing.

  They were surrounded by woods in all directions. The only vehicle in sight was Luke’s plane, sitting silently by the woods.

  She was trapped—entirely at the mercy of a man who believed his father should rot in hell.

  “Luke!” If she’d had any idea how to fly a plane, Isabella would have marched over to the decrepit-looking aircraft and flown herself out of there.

  But she didn’t, which meant she had to find Luke and get what she wanted from him.

  Unfortunately, she had a feeling a man like Luke didn’t do anything he didn’t want to do.

  No matter what.

  “Luke!” She shouted his name again, getting antsy to find him. To take action.

  “Southwest at ninety degrees.” Luke’s deep voice drifted out of the trees. It rolled through her like the rumble of a distant thunderstorm: a dark threat laced with the kind of energy that made the world tremble in response, a promise of a bright flash of lightning to thrust electricity right into the depths of her soul.

  A loud crack followed his reply, and she jumped.

  She realized almost immediately it wasn’t a gunshot, but it took her heart a good minute before it agreed with her.

  “Like I know where southwest at ninety degrees is,” she muttered, as she tried to pinpoint the direction of another loud thwack. “Right or left?” she yelled back.

  She heard what she thought was an amused laugh, and she bristled at it. Just because she wasn’t a master scientist with more sense about nature than about the importance of family didn’t mean he had the right to judge her. She had heard enough about him to know he was brilliant, but clearly anyone who could make the choices he’d made couldn’t have all the marbles in his drawer, right?

  “Go right,” he called back.

  “Right,” she muttered as she stalked across the clearing. “Would it have been so difficult to just say that the first time?” She almost laughed at her comment as soon as she heard it. Feeling out of her element always made her cranky, and trampling across an Alaskan clearing with no sense of direction wasn’t exactly her area of expertise.

  She liked being in control of her surroundings and knowing exactly what was going on, and out here…she had nothing.

  Which was why she had to get back.

  A loud whack sounded again, and Isabella adjusted her path slightly to the left. “What are you doing?”

  But as she emerged from the woods, she didn’t need an answer.

  It was obvious.

  And from the way her body was burning in response, it was equally obvious she was in trouble.

  Deep, deep trouble.

  Luke grinned when Isabella’s mouth gaped at her first sight of him. Her gaze swept over him, and his body hardened at the raw attraction so obvious on her face.

  She was a different woman from the one he’d already met, and he liked what he saw. No longer pale and wan, Isabella’s cheeks were now flushed with energy. She held herself erect, her shoulders pushed back. She looked strong and determined, not a pale wavering flower.

  He’d been protective of her when she was hurt. He’d wanted to hold her and keep her safe. And he’d resented the hell out of it. Weak, vulnerable women were his worst nightmare. Literally.

  But now?

  With her luscious dark hair billowing about her shoulders in the breeze, that crappy old sweatshirt flapping around her thighs, the way she’d spread her feet and set her hands on her hips, and that fire in her eyes…

  He wanted her.

  Naked.

  Under him.

  Sharing that fire with him.

  Luke ditched the axe he’d been using to cut the wood they’d need for tonight, grabbed his T-shirt off the ground and wiped the sweat off his brow as he headed toward her.

  He had only one thought in mind right now.

  Isabella’s eyes widened as he approached. “On, no, don’t—”

  “Afraid of me?”

  She stiffened and halted her retreat. Her chin went up. “Never.”

  “Good.” If she’d yes, he’d have stopped right there. Instant turnoff.

  But she hadn’t. She’d said no, and he could tell she’d meant it. And that was the turn-on. Luke stopped himself mere inches from her. He let himself lean over her, forcing her to look up to meet his gaze. For a moment, tension hovered between them.

  No words.

  Just an invisible cord twisting tighter and tighter.

  Isabella Kopas had come from his past. She knew who his father was. She knew at least something about the man he’d been.

  And yet she wasn’t afraid of him.

  He let his lips brush over her forehead, and she closed her eyes. Not speaking. Not pulling away. Just a long, deep, utterly female sigh that made his cock even harder.

  The hell he’d brought with him was already a part of her life.

  He couldn’t put her in more danger than she was in already. He couldn’t risk her life any more than it was already risked.

  For the first time in his life, he’d met a female he couldn’t drag down into his hell.

  She was already there.

  He couldn’t hurt her.

  A lifetime of responsibility fell from his shoulders, and he made a guttural noise he didn’t even recognize.

  And then he claimed her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  She was lost.

  The moment Luke’s mouth descended on hers, Isabella was lost to the heat, the fire, the all-consuming intensity of his kiss. Daniel had kissed her. Zack had tried. And there had been others. Countless others, including those who had thought tha
t because of her mama’s profession, the daughter was fair game.

  She’d learned to resist. To shut herself down.

  She was an expert at keeping an iron grip on her emotions. She’d learned not give herself away when lips came together.

  But all that was gone. Gone.

  Swept away by the most intense sensations she’d ever felt, by the sensual caress of Luke’s warm mouth on hers, by the prickle of his whiskers against her face, by the unbelievable feeling of his lips parting hers, of his tongue—

  She tensed as his tongue brushed against hers, and then she shivered. With need, with passion, with sensations more intense than anything she’d ever felt in her life. It was an invasion, but at the same time, it was the most tender, most intimate caress, and she was falling into the kiss.

  Tentatively, she splayed her palms against his chest, and his muscles bunched under her hands. He made a low noise in his throat, snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her in.

  She could feel his strength binding her, trapping her against him, and it felt good. Safe. Like he was strong enough to protect her. His body was so hard and so powerful, an unshakable force nothing would dislodge.

  Heat began to pulse in her belly. She wrapped her arms around him and inched even closer. His kiss shifted then, from a passionate temptation to a carnal assault. Deeper, harder. His hands roamed over her back, across her hips, down her bottom.

  “Isabella,” he whispered as he broke the kiss.

  Goose bumps popped up as he feathered kisses down her neck. Like a butterfly dancing across her skin, the lightest touch—

  His mouth caught on the cord of her necklace, and she felt it tug. She had a sudden image of the night she’d pulled it off her mother and put it around her own neck for the last time, because her mother would never wear it again.

  And all the feelings of fear and isolation and loneliness came flooding back, along with the realization that Luke represented everything she was so terrified of.

  He cupped her face and lowered his head to kiss her again, and she shoved against his chest. “Stop!”

  Luke froze. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t.” She tried to twist out of his grip, dismayed to find her heart was still racing and that she wanted desperately to fall back into that kiss and his arms.

  Luke tightened his grasp, pulling her back against him.

  She went still, but her body was trembling, with need and with fear. “You won’t help me,” she whispered. “I can’t trust you not to leave me. Let me go.”

  He raised his brows. “I am helping you. I brought you here.”

  “Marcus—”

  “No.” He released her then, and she knew he was so strong that she was utterly at his mercy. Trapped, until he decided to let her go. He was a man in every sense of the word. He was power and strength, everything that Marcus strived to be.

  The difference was that Marcus used expensive suits, a gun, bodyguards and cash to create his aura of strength.

  Luke? He was wearing nothing but jeans and boots, a layer of perspiration across his bare chest. He eschewed money and power…and yet it was a part of his persona far more than it ever had been with Marcus.

  Luke was Marcus’s son in every sense of the word.

  Except the one that mattered: loyalty.

  Luke had walked away from family and a father who loved him, and that told her all she needed to know about him.

  He swept his axe off the ground and slammed it through a piece of wood. The defined muscles on his back were easily visible through his taut skin. “I need answers from you.”

  Isabella hugged her body, trying to protect herself from a spike of lust. “What kind of answers?”

  “Who shot you?”

  Isabella frowned. “If you aren’t going to help me, then why do you care?”

  Luke slammed the axe down again, then turned toward her. “I’m going to get you to safety, but to do that, I need more information. And you’re going to give it to me.”

  She stiffened. “Don’t order me around.”

  “Dammit, Isabella, you want my help or not?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then answer the questions.” Luke yanked the axe free and tossed the piece of wood into a huge leather satchel. “Who shot you?”

  Isabella sank down on a tree stump and pulled her knees up as she watched him load the wood. His muscles flexed each time he grabbed a log. She didn’t miss the rifle leaning up against a tree, mere feet from his leg. Within easy reach, should he need it. “Leon.”

  The muscles in Luke’s back went rigid, and he turned to look at her, log suspended in midair. “Leon Pareil?”

  She nodded.

  “On purpose?”

  “Yes.”

  Luke swore under his breath and straightened up. The log still in his hand, Luke took a long, careful survey of the woods around them. He paused, and his eyes narrowed as he stared into the woods behind her. His head cocked ever so slightly, and she knew he was listening intently.

  He didn’t move for a long moment, and Isabella’s heart began to race again. “Luke?” Her voice came out a whisper.

  “Leon and I used to work together.” His voice was barely audible across the clearing.

  “So?”

  Luke picked up his rifle. “So, Leon is the one man who is better than I am.”

  Isabella swallowed. “Better at what?”

  “All of it.” Luke didn’t take his eyes off the woods, but he snapped his fingers at her and held out his hand. “Come on.”

  He was so tense Isabella didn’t hesitate. She leapt to her feet and grabbed his hand. “All of what?”

  “Antiquities.” He began to lead her across the clearing, the axe and the wood abandoned. “Tracking. Predicting the enemy’s next move.” He stepped over a branch and gestured for her to do the same. “Assimilating the small details to figure out the big picture.”

  Isabella looked over her shoulder at the woods. The shadows were too dark, too dangerous.

  Luke tightened his grip and tugged her along. “He knows me.” His jaw was tight, the tendons in his neck strained. “If Leon realizes he’s dealing with me, he’ll know what I’m going to do before I do it.” Luke sounded grim. “And Leon owes me. He’s been waiting eight years for payback.” He looked down at her. “Leon and I are the same, with two differences.”

  “Which are?” God, he was scaring her. She knew Leon was tough, but she hadn’t realized how tough.

  “He’s better than I am, and he won’t hesitate to kill.” Luke stopped suddenly and aimed his gun at a tree.

  Isabella went still beside him and held her breath.

  A mouse scuttled out from behind the tree and ran across the leaves.

  Isabella stared at Luke. “You heard a mouse? That’s impressive.”

  He set the rifle back on his shoulder and resumed progress back toward the cabin. “Leon can hear a ghost. When we get back to the cabin, you’re going to tell me what in the bloody hell you did to bring him down on you.”

  She frowned. “I didn’t do anything. It was Marcus.”

  “Marcus,” Luke repeated. “Son of a bitch.” He scowled at her as he hustled up the path toward the cabin. “Marcus unleashed Leon on you, and you want to save the scum?”

  “It wasn’t like that—”

  “Wasn’t it?” Luke shoved open the door to the cabin. He strode inside and began slamming shutters over the windows, dropping the bar over each one. Making the cabin darker and darker. He was also eliminating any exit. “What are you doing?”

  “Doc has to lock up against anyone wanting to steal his meds. Shutters on the outside to keep the storms from breaking his windows. Shutters on the inside to keep intruders out.” He shut the last one, and the cabin was pitch black.

  Isabella edged toward the open front door, feeling trapped. “Can we leave?”

  “Not yet.” Luke walked to the door. “I need more info before I can figure out our next steps. Now that I kn
ow Leon’s involved…” He swore under his breath. “This changes everything, my dear.”

  The endearment might have meant nothing to him, but the words made a warm sensation run down Isabella’s spine. No one ever called her that. Not since her mom.

  “I’m going to get the wood. We’re going to crash here tonight and then head out in the morning. And you’re going to tell me everything in that pretty little head of yours.”

  She stiffened. “I have a PhD.”

  A grin spread over Luke’s face. “Well, damn, woman. I was already planning to take you to bed tonight. Now? Don’t plan on getting any sleep at all.”

  Then he shut the door and was gone.

  Luke’s cell phone rang the minute he stepped out of the cabin, interrupting his thoughts before he had a chance to digest Isabella’s announcement. It was Cort. “What’s up?”

  “The whole territory appears to be crawling with more suits,” Cort said. “They’re hunting Isabella.”

  Luke’s hand went to his rifle. “How many?”

  “Not sure. I’m just hearing rumors. They’re talking to everyone, including pilots.”

  Luke scanned the sky. Blue sky. No clouds. Perfect for flying.

  “They’re figuring Isabella got away on a plane, and they’re following up.”

  His hand tensed on the gun. “They finger you yet?”

  “Nope. Les isn’t talking. My plane was gone by the time they got over there. But it won’t take much asking for them to learn that you and I both brought back bodies earlier in the day.”

  Luke felt the noose tightening around his neck. “Go back to the office and destroy everything that has my picture on it. There shouldn’t be much.” He’d been vigilant about keeping his mug out of print when he first arrived, but he’d gotten lax lately.

  The name Luke Webber would mean nothing to them, but his picture would.

  Especially if Leon saw it. “Has there been a guy with red hair involved? Six five, heavyset, scar on his right cheek?”

  “Not that I’ve seen, but I’m staying low.”

  “Can you take off for a few days?”

  Cort paused. “To where?”

  “Seattle.” That was where Kaylie was from. Not that far from Alaska, but, he hoped, far enough.