Curtis didn’t know why, but he hesitated, not wanting to share his information. “I’ll let you know if I run into a problem,” he improvised. “In the interim, leave me alone. I’ll contact you again when I have information.”
“I’ll contact you any time I want to,” the man said, his voice going hard. “Your deadline has been moved up. The D.A. got the trial date moved to Friday.”
Curtis blanched. “Friday? But how? Why?”
“Because of the multiple failed attempts on Noelle’s life, imminent danger to witnesses,’ the D.A. argued. And won. You either kill her tomorrow or it’s a sad funeral for you and your whole family. Wouldn’t that be a shame, especially since you and your wife remembered you were married and started bumping uglies again. She’s a tiger in the sack, isn’t she?” he said. “I liked that face she made when you bent her over the bed. It was hot.”
What the hell? There was no way he could have seen them. The blinds had been closed, the curtains drawn. They’d been alone. How did—
Cameras, Curtis thought. No doubt his house and office had been outfitted and bugged when he’d gone to work for Tubby, to make sure that he kept his word and did as he was told. And as an information gathering tool, he imagined it worked well. It gave them leverage.
As if they needed more.
“Tomorrow is too soon. There’s no way I can—” “Find a way.”The line went dead.
Curtis hung his head and cried.
###
Noelle breathed in the mulchy sent of decaying leaves and cold air, huddled deeper into her jacket as they strolled along the creek they’d crossed via the bridge on the way in. Squirrels scrambled through the crunchy layer of fallen leaves, the sound especially loud in the resounding quiet. A couple of does stood on the rise above them, still as stones, unsure of whether to bolt or ignore them, while a pair of chipmunks argued on a fallen log.
Life, everywhere, despite the absence of summer. “You were right,” he said, his arm slung comfortably over her shoulder.
“Yes, I know.”
He chuckled. “Do you even know what I’m talking about?”
“I don’t have to.” She smiled up at him. “I’m usually right, even when I’m wrong, or hadn’t you noticed?”
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” he said. “But in this instance I’m referring to suggesting we take a walk.” He gave her a squeeze. “This is nice. It reminds me a bit of my sister-in-law’s farm.” He made a face. “Well, my brother’s now, too.”
“Oh?” She was hoping if she didn’t ask a lot of probing questions he’d forget he was actually sharing a bit of personal information with her. These were the things she’d been dying to hear, the little bits of history that made him who he was, the man he’d become.
He kicked at a pine cone with a square-toed black boot, sent it skittering across the ground where it landed with a thud against a tree. Dressed in a pair of faded but comfortable jeans and a black fishbone cable knit sweater with one of those sexy shawl-type collars, he looked like he’d stepped off the cover of a men’s fashion magazine.
She had no idea how much his clothes cost, but she recognized quality when she saw it. That, combined with the Tag Heuer watch encircling his wrist told her that he was in an income bracket well above most. Was it family money? she wondered. Not that he hadn’t earned a comfortable living in the military—she was sure he did—but she didn’t think the salary would accommodate such expensive tastes.
“Yes,” he told her. “Sophie’s offered me a bit of land out on their place, but...” He hesitated, his brow furrowing. “I don’t know. They’re newly married. I wouldn’t want to get in the way.”
“How big is her farm?”
“A couple hundred acres, I think.”
Noelle choked on a laugh. “It sounds like they’ve got room. It’s not like you’d be pulling a double wide trailer into their back yard.”
He chuckled. “No, I suppose not.”
He held a branch out of her way, then laced his fingers through hers. It was nice. Funnily enough, she’d had the devil’s own time getting him to touch her, but now that he had, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of her. She liked it.
“You and your brother are close, right?”
His eyes widened significantly and he sent her a grin. “Too close for comfort sometimes,” he said, somewhat cryptically. She knew he’d gotten a text from him a few minutes after they’d left the bedroom. Whatever the message had said, Judd’s response had been a smiling, “Smug bastard.”
“You’d mentioned you were twins,” she remarked. She squatted down and picked up a long branch, broke the end off to form a make-shift walking stick. “But not identical. Heaven and Hell, you’d said.” She slid him a pointed look. “I would beg to differ on that score,” she told him. “You’re positively heavenly in a hellish sort of way.”
He bit into his bottom lip. “Right.”
“You are,” she said. “You’re beautiful. I’m sorry, but there’s no better word for it,” she told him when he shot her an incredulous look. “Not in a girly way, obviously,” she continued. “In a virile, manly way.”
He rolled his eyes. “Now you’re patronizing me.”
“I’m not! I’m just—” She shook her head, struggling to find the right words. “You’re hard to describe,” she finally told him. “The normal adjectives don’t work. It’s your bone structure, your coloring. And your eyes. They’re strikingly black. My stomach gets all fluttery when you look at me,” she confided. “And I don’t flutter easily.” She frowned. “In fact, I’ve never fluttered like that before.”
There, she thought. He could read into that what he would.
He paused and turned to look at her, masculine pleasuring clinging to his lips. Lips she’d kissed, lips that had fed at her breasts and between her legs. A hot rush of sensation zipped into her core, making her thighs clench.
“Is that right?” he asked, his black as sin eyes glittering with satisfaction.
“Don’t fish for more,” she said, resuming their trek. “Accept the compliment and say thank you.”
“That sounds like an order,” he said, then tsked. “Double standard, eh?”
“It was advice,” she said. “I don’t give orders. I offer my opinions and make suggestions.” It was bullshit and she knew it. So did he, evidently, because he chuckled and shook his head.
“You’re a piece of work, you know that?”
“Thanks,” she said pointedly. “See how that works? See how easy that is?”
He grinned and nodded at her. “Thank you. I love that I can make you shudder.”
It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Flutter,” she corrected. But shudder worked just as well, she supposed, chewing the inside of her cheek. He’d certainly done that, too. She’d fluttered and shuddered and quivered and quaked until she’d practically melted into goo. He’d pulled the best orgasm she’d ever experienced out of loins, made every particle in her being sing in sensation.
“Is there a difference?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with humor.
She nodded sagely, as though she knew something he didn’t. “Definitely. I’ll have to show you sometime.”
His smug little smile lost some of its edge. He swallowed. “You could show me now,” he said, tugging her toward him.
Warmth slid through her. “We have on too many clothes.”
He groaned, closed his eyes. “You’re evil”
She went up on tippy toe and whispered hotly in his ear, “I prefer depraved.” He shook, his eyes closing, and he sucked a harsh breath in between his teeth.
“I think 1 just shuddered.”
“Nope, that was a tremble. It’s going to take my mouth on a more prominent organ to make you shudder.”
His eyes widened, then he chuckled darkly. “I’m standing by my ‘evil,’” he said, giving his head a small shake. His gaze turned inward, probably imagining her mouth wrapped around his dick, then he shook himself. “Jesus. You’re killing m
e.”
“But I haven’t done anything yet. Tell me about this farm,” she said. “Are you going to build a house out there?”
She watched his mind switch gears, felt the pad of his thumb slide over the inside of her wrist. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet. I’ve got an apartment in
Atlanta. It’s in the office building, so it’s definitely convenient.” He grimaced. “I’m not a big fan of the city, though. I’d rather have a little room to breathe. Get away from the noise.”
She certainly understood that. “That’s what I like about Mossy Ridge,” she said. “It’s relatively quiet. Even off the town square, where I live.”
“Have you always lived in Mossy Ridge?”
She shot him a look. “You know the answer to that question. I’m sure it was in my file,” she said drolly. The dreaded file. It reduced her life to a few pages. She hated the very idea of it.
“It was,” he admitted, his gaze shrewd and assessing. “But it only listed the facts, not the way you felt about them.”
Ah. Pleasure bloomed in her chest. So he wanted to know her better, too? It was insane how much that thrilled her. “True,” she conceded. “Other than my tour with the Peace Corps immediately following high school, then my four years at Ole Miss, yes, I have always lived in Mossy Ridge.” She cut him a glance. “But I didn’t always want to. I was the typical teenager who firmly believed that the grass was always greener somewhere else—anywhere else— but home.”
That bit had been true, as far as living with her parents was concerned. But once she’d moved back to town after she’d graduated and gotten her own place, she’d enjoyed being a part of the community when she wasn’t in the field, when she wasn’t volunteering somewhere.
He inclined his dark head knowingly. “I’d pegged you for a rebel.”
Her lips curled. “I wasn’t a rebel,” she argued. “I was—”
“—a free spirit,” he supplied.
“Tired of my parents,” she finished. “Nothing so glamorous as a free spirit, I’m afraid.”
His expression never wavered, but she felt his interest sharpen. “There was very little information on them in your file,” he said.
There wouldn’t be, she thought. Because they played so little role in her life. “I don’t see them often,” she said, careful to keep her tone casual. “We had different visions on how I needed to live my life. It wasn’t that we just didn’t see eye to eye—we weren’t even looking at the same picture.”
He was quiet for a moment. “What did they want you to do?”
“Get a job, stop volunteering and giving my money away.”
He released a little breath, winced. “Stop being you, in other words.”
Noelle stilled, turned to look at him. “Yes,” she breathed, astonished, her gaze searching his. Sweet God, he got it. He totally got it. He understood. She’d known him less than seventy-two hours and he’d only read the “facts” of her file...and he understood her better right now than her parents ever had. Had a better grasp of what was important to her, what made her tick more than anyone she’d ever met.
It thrilled her.
Unnerved her.
What else did he see? Noelle wondered. What other hidden truths had she unwittingly shared with him? What else had his keen mind noticed about her and stored away?
It was time to make the flow of information a little more equitable, she thought. Because, other than the fact that he had a twin brother and an apartment in downtown Atlanta, but preferred the country, she didn’t know much about him at all.
Now that was hardly fair, was it?
Chapter 12
“What about you?” she asked. “Your parents ever try to make you into something you’re not?”
His dark gaze glimmered with knowing amusement and he arched a brow. “Deflecting much?” he teased. “If you didn’t want to talk about it, you didn’t have to. We’re all entitled to our secrets,” he said, looking away from her. It was a glib comment, but she caught an undercurrent there, one that irrationally made her heart ache for him. He’d said nothing—revealed nothing—and yet she knew he was hiding something painful.
He was the strongest man she’d ever met, with a formidable sense of honor, of duty. A diabolically quick mind. She didn’t know what haunted him, but whatever it was had to be substantial to put that kind of expression on his face.
“Who’s deflecting now?” she quipped, spearing him with a look.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, humoring her. “I’ll answer everything that I want to.”
A bark of laughter bubbled from her throat. “Oh, really? Everything that you want to, huh? How thoughtful of you. How open and honest,” she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
His lips twitched with fake modesty. “I try.”
She whacked him and heaved a beleaguered breath. “Shut up.”
“Are you sure you’ve never served in our armed forces?” he asked. “Because you bark orders like a pro. And to think you had the nerve to call me autocratic?” He shook his dark head, seemingly baffled at the workings of her twisted female mind.
“Tell you what,” she said, an idea forming. “I’ll give you carte blanche to ask me anything you want—anything at all—and I will answer truthfully, without being a smart ass, to the best of my ability.”
He stopped, seemingly intrigued. “This sounds too good to be true. Let me guess,” he said, searching her gaze, his sinfully carnal mouth curving. “You want quid quo pro.”
“I do.” She nodded once. “We’ll take turns. An answer for an answer.”
She knew his curiosity was piqued and was trying to figure out if she’d somehow managed to trick him. He cast another speculative, semi-distrustful glance in her direction, evidently weighing the personal risk of her proposition. “There has to be a limit,” he said finally. “Three questions. And each question has to stand on its own. No follow-up questions.”
She nodded in agreement. “I agree to your terms. Declare your out-of-bounds,” she said.
“Come again?”
“I hope to later, but I’m not talking about sex right now.”
His eyes widened in shock, then he laughed again, the sound rich and easy. He should do it more often, Noelle thought. “I w-wasn’t either,” he told her, his voice breaking with humor. “What do you mean by out-of-bounds?”
“We each name a single topic that is off-limits.” She lifted a skeptical brow. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”
He passed a hand over his face to hide his smile. It didn’t work. “No, can’t say that I have.”
“While you’re figuring yours out, I’ll tell you mine. My birthday.”
Though her grandparents had always tried to make the day special for her, her own parents never had and, ultimately, she’d always wound up hurt and disappointed. As a child she’d actually hated Christmas, resented the baby Jesus for stealing her birthday thunder. She’d outgrown that bit, of course, and had actually started to enjoy Christmas in her late teens, when she’d donned her first apron in a soup kitchen.
Her parents had both been working late, there’d been no special dinner, no traditions, just a few gifts they were going to open the next day. So she’d left the house and found herself downtown. She’d gone into the shelter on a whim...and found her calling.
He frowned, a line furrowing between his dark brows. “Your birthday?”
“That’s one,” she announced breezily. “And it’s out-of-bounds.”
“Ha,” he said. “Nice try, sweetheart. But we haven’t started yet and I haven’t told you my off- limits topic.”
She feigned exasperation, watched a group of wild turkeys peck their way closer to the creek. “Fine. Go on, then. What it is?”
“My military service.”
Wow. She blinked, absorbed that. She should have known that would have been his pick, given the little things that he’d inadvertently revealed, but it was disappointing all the s
ame. Still, she’d made up the rules and she’d have to abide by them. “All right,” she said. “I will not ask about your military service.”
A little tension leaked out of his frame. “All right.
Ladies first,” he said. “Do your worst,” he added grimly.
Oh, she would. She was good at this game. “What is the capital of Idaho?”
He opened his mouth, shut it, seemingly stunned. He arched a questioning brow. “Boise.”
“Congratulations, you’re smarter than a fifth grader.” She strolled on, cast a casual look at the darkening sky. “Your turn.”
“You’re tricking me,” he said, his probing gaze searching her face. “I know you are, but I don’t know how.” He paused, finally shrugged and gave his head a shake. “What is the significance of your tattoo?”
Shit. She should have made that one out-of- bounds. She swallowed. “It’s in memory of someone,” she admitted. “A child. A little girl name Hope who died as a result of injuries sustained in a tornado in Alabama.”
He swore hotly, looked away. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
She lifted a single shoulder, her heart heavy. “You wouldn’t, so no harm done. Most people just think it’s a message—and it is—to me. It’s a reminder of why I do what I do. Why I ignore my parents and go into recovery zones and ravaged communities. It’s why I don’t punch a time clock and get accused of not having a real job because I don’t actually earn a paycheck,” she added bitterly. “But you know what? I don’t need to earrn a paycheck—I’m sure that was in my file—and it’s for that very reason I can go where I’m needed1' The old resentment boiled up in her. “My life isn’t measured in how much money I’ve earned or how much money I haven’t—it’s measured in doing the next right thing, standing in the gap, helping where help is needed. That’s my reward. That’s my paycheck.”
He was smiling at her when she finally stopped ranting and looked up. “Wow,” he said. “I like this game.”
Noelle grinned self-consciously, felt a blush sting the tops of her ears. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent.” Felled by her own sword. Sheesh.
Over the Top (Ranger Security Book 2) Page 11