“I won’t be running anytime soon with a hole in my shoulder.” She shook her head, studied the dark circles under his eyes as a weak smile thinned his mouth. This case was getting to him. Getting to them all. Dominic had been there for her when she needed him the most. He was just looking out for her now. She knew that.
“I appreciate the help, Ryan. I really do, and I trust you and the FBI to do your jobs.”
Movement grabbed her attention through the blinds covering the window beside the door, and her gut said her new bodyguard had kept his promise to stick close. “I’ll give you my statement, I’ll answer your questions, but I’m going to make finding me as difficult for the Hunter as possible. Then we’re going to nail the son of a bitch.”
* * *
DECLAN SLAMMED THE driver’s-side door of the SUV and rounded the hood to her side of the vehicle. It’d been three days since he’d carried her into the emergency room. Three days since he’d nearly lost her, and he couldn’t get the image of her in that pit out of his damn head. Of all the memories his brain had decided to kick to the surface, it had to hold on to that one.
Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he tugged her door open. She couldn’t go home. Not to the house they’d shared during their marriage and not to her apartment. Her teammate, Vincent, had offered his cabin.
Declan surveyed the surrounding woods, the lack of access now that they were out in the middle of nowhere. He could keep her safe here. Nobody—not the rest of her team, not Special Agent Dominic—knew they were out here. The Hunter would never touch her again.
“Is that a Christmas tree in the window?” Kate stepped out onto a thin veil of ice.
Snow clung to the surrounding pines and the roof of the A-frame structure, but damn, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. All that beautiful blond hair, her bright green eyes. His angel.
The cabin looked to be two stories, had a small open porch, red door and sure enough, a Christmas tree covered in white lights in the front window. Crystalized puffs formed in front of her mouth as she closed the passenger-side door behind her. “It’s the middle of October. Doesn’t the man believe in Halloween?”
“I doubt he’s going to get many trick-or-treaters out here,” he said.
“Santa’s still a possibility.” Kate climbed the six steps to the front porch on steady legs. The past few days in recovery had done her good. Despite the fact that she’d tried to hide it from him, he’d seen exactly how much damage the Hunter had done. How close she’d come to surrendering. But the renewed fire in her gaze revealed the bastard hadn’t broken her. In fact, Declan was beginning to think nothing could.
“There is a chimney,” she said.
A laugh escaped as he hauled their overnight bags from the back seat, the new stitches in his side protesting with every move. No point in thinking about any of that now. Dominic had made it clear before she’d been discharged from the hospital: Kate and her team were no longer allowed near the case. For her protection, and for theirs. Perhaps for his former partner to get all the credit, but Declan didn’t know. Didn’t care. He might not have access to the FBI’s files anymore, but it wasn’t going to stop him from finding the Hunter.
“Maybe there’s cookies and milk waiting inside,” he said.
She smiled at him. “There better be.”
Delirium clouded his head at the sight of that perfect smile. Hell, the things she could do to him. It was no wonder his brain hadn’t been able to forget her after the amnesia took root.
Locking her gaze on him, she offered him her hand. “Come on. I bet he at least has some hot chocolate to warm up.”
He intertwined his fingers with hers and crossed the threshold. A wall of heat hit his skin as he set the bags in the entryway and closed the door behind them. Exposed beams ran the length of the open space, a grand stone fireplace and chimney at the long end of the living room. Furs, flannels, natural light and neutral colors welcomed them deeper into the cabin with a hint of cinnamon in the air.
“Oh, wow.” She released her hold on him, pulling her green cargo jacket—the one with the hole in the sleeve—from her shoulder, and hung it on the hook near the door. She closed in on the nine-foot Christmas tree snuggled a few feet from the fireplace as glittering lights highlighted the bruise along one side of her face. She feathered her fingers over the back of one of the sofas. “If I’d known Vincent owned this place, I’d have insisted he host Blackhawk’s annual Christmas party here.”
“That’s probably why he didn’t tell you.” Declan hung his coat beside hers and keyed in the code on the panel to activate the alarm. Nobody in their right mind would come one hundred feet within this cabin, according to Vincent. The forensics expert had installed a top-of-the-line security system, and Declan intended to take advantage of it as long as they could.
He followed close on her heels. The shadows in her expression had disappeared for the time being. None of his memories—present or past—had her looking so beautiful as she did right now, illuminated in the glow of Christmas decorations. No exhaustion. No deep lines etched between her eyebrows. No darkness in her eyes. Just Kate.
“Christmas used to be my favorite holiday.” She reached out for a strand of white lights, the bulb skimming down her long, delicate fingers. “When I was little, I couldn’t wait for Christmas morning. My brother and I would nag my grandparents so much, they always put up the tree for me the day after Halloween. We’d spend all day hanging lights and ornaments together, listening to Christmas music and baking sugar cookies. After you and I got married and they all moved back east, you did whatever you had to to continue with the tradition. Even when you were in the middle of an important case, you always made time to indulge in my obsession.”
The hollowness in his gut tightened his insides.
“I know it’s stupid to get excited about a holiday with everything going on right now,” she said, “but those were some of my favorite memories. Still are. And having you back in my life, with all these decorations, it’s...perfect. It’s normal.” Her voice was quiet. Calm. A genuine laugh escaped her lips, and the sound tightened the muscles down his spine. Green eyes glowed bright with help from the hundreds of lights on the tree, and he’d never seen a more beautiful sight.
Hell. He hadn’t expected an angel to set his world on fire, yet there she stood.
“I know it’s not the same,” she said, “and it’s fine that you don’t remember—”
He couldn’t keep his hands to himself any longer. Declan threaded his fingers in her hair and crushed her lips to his. Careful of her shoulder, he sandwiched her between his body and the large stone fireplace. Her light vanilla scent combined with the sharpness of cinnamon raised his awareness of her all the more.
His gut spiraled as she framed his jaw with her hand, urging him to deepen the kiss. His heart pounded hard in his chest, her sweet breaths barely audible over the throbbing of his pulse.
A shudder shook through her, and his fingers dug into her hips. Too rough. Too fast. But the need he’d tried to suppress had clawed to the surface the second he’d found her in that damn pit. He’d thought far too much about what could’ve happened if he hadn’t followed the training ingrained in his head. He could’ve lost her. She could’ve died. And he would have never forgiven himself.
She pulled back, her shoulders rising on a strong inhale, but it was the return of the shadows in her eyes that sent ice through him. Fingers pressed against her lips, she slumped against the stone wall behind her. “I can’t do this.”
“I hurt you,” he said.
Not a question. Kate Monroe was the strongest, most intelligent woman he’d ever met, but even a woman who dealt in death by getting into the minds of killers had her limits. She’d been through more the past four days—hell, the past year—than he could ever know, and he’d put his own selfish need ahead of her own.
“No. It’s not yo
u.” She shook her head, rolling her lips between her teeth. She pushed her uninjured hand through her hair as tears welled, and his heart sank. A humorless laugh bubbled past her kiss-stung lips. “I... I close my eyes, and I’m right back in the bottom of that pit.”
Hell. His hand slipped down her arm. He should’ve killed the SOB when he had the chance, should’ve been more prepared, put her safety first.
Her scent worked deep into his lungs, clearing his head. None of that mattered right now. This, right here. This mattered. And he’d do anything to chase the nightmares away. “How can I help?”
“Will you hold me? No expectations. No strings. No questions,” she said.
The tears fell freely now, and he feathered the pad of this thumb across her cheek.
Another shake of her head. “I know I said I was fine at the hospital, but I’m not fine, Declan. I’ve showered, changed my clothes, I’ve washed the blood off my skin, but I still feel him. I’m not strong enough to do this. I thought I was, but I was wrong.”
“Come here.” Declan wrapped her in his arms, and she set her head against him. Right where she belonged. With a quick glance, he ensured he’d set the alarm, then positioned his arm beneath her knees. In a quick maneuver that pulled at the fresh stitches in his side, he hauled her into his arms and walked around the sofa. He’d endure a thousand ripped stitches if it meant he got to hold her like this.
He set her gently on the fur rug in front of the fireplace, taking position at her back, his arm wrapped around her midsection. He smoothed back the stray hairs around her ear and planted a kiss at the tendon between her neck and shoulder. “I’ll hold you as long as you need, angel.”
Stiffness slowly drained from her, and within minutes her breathing evened. Inhale. Exhale.
He didn’t know how long they lay there as he counted her breaths, but night had started falling again, and he realized she’d drifted to sleep in his arms. Flames crackled in the stone hearth, shifting the shadows across her features. Exhaustion and her sweet scent pulled him closer to oblivion, to the point he couldn’t fight it anymore. The echo of her scream in the woods cut through him as sleep closed in but he only held her tighter.
She was alive. She was safe. The truth settled deep into Declan’s bones as he slipped into unconsciousness. She was his.
Chapter Ten
Kate shifted onto her side, hundreds of lit Christmas lights sparkling above her. A smile pulled at one corner of her mouth at the sight as she stretched her aching muscles. When was the last time she’d slept so well? Months? A year? The past four days had taken a toll, but for the first time since dodging bullets back at the house, she felt almost human. What had changed?
She raised her head at a hard thumping noise from outside, and she straightened. Rubbing her fingers across one eye, she pushed to her feet. She already knew the answer. “Declan?”
A tray with a steaming mug of hot chocolate and a slip of paper sat on the sofa cushion near the fur rug they’d fallen asleep on. She breathed in the combination of cinnamon and cocoa. How did he know she liked to sprinkle cinnamon on top of her hot chocolate? She pinched the piece of paper between two fingers.
Take your time and dress warm before you meet me outside.
Replacing the note, she picked up the mug. Heat spread through her as she sipped and chased back the chill that had settled there since she’d been tossed into the pit. Her shoulder ached, but it was nothing compared to recovering from three bullet wounds and the handful of surgeries afterward. Her favorite hot beverage helped. The IOU list she’d created in her head for Declan had already started growing out of control.
She changed into warmer clothes—harder than anticipated with a hole in her shoulder—and slid on her boots before stepping onto the front porch. The light veil of snow coating everything heralded the arrival of winter. She scanned the front yard for the source of the rhythmic sound, but there was no sign of Declan. Following the stone path around to the back of the cabin, she tamped down the need to search the trees at every movement, every sound.
She was safe here. She had to believe that. Otherwise...
Circling around the back of the cabin, Kate slowed as Declan came into sight.
He’d shed his jacket, and thick bands of muscle tightened and released down his back, across his shoulders, in his arms. Despite the cold, sweat formed a thin layer across his brow as he heaped a shovelful of snow onto a pile next to the in-ground firepit.
The longer she studied him, the more the knot in her gut eased. “I’m pretty sure Vincent doesn’t expect you to shovel snow while we’re here.”
Declan spun, and that smile of his hiked her blood pressure higher as he balanced one hand on the snow shovel. “Good morning.” Gleaming blue eyes focused on her, and the world disappeared. “I was about to come dump a handful of snow on you to wake you up.”
“Is that what all this is for?” Warmth climbed up her neck and into her face as snow fell around them. He made her feel warm, safe, cared for. Then again, he’d had that skill from the moment he’d inserted himself back into her life. When he’d died, she’d felt as though she’d shattered into a million pieces, and it had taken close to a year to be able to put herself back together.
But for the first time in a long time, the pieces fit. She was starting to feel whole, to think of a future outside of grieving, outside of hunting down killers. A future with Declan. And last night, she could’ve sworn she fit perfectly against him.
Kate walked up to the firepit. Boxes of graham crackers, bags of marshmallows and packages of chocolate bars sat a few feet away. S’mores? “Quite the breakfast you have planned.”
“You only live once. Well, not in my case, but you get the point.” Flakes collected in his hair as he closed the short distance between them. For an instant, she could’ve sworn his pupils darkened as he studied the sling around her arm. “How’s the pain?”
“Better today.” She didn’t want to think about the hole in her shoulder, how it got there, who’d shot her or why. She wanted the world to stop, wanted to close her eyes and for once not see herself at the bottom of that pit with Brian Michaels’s remains. She wanted her life back. But the Hunter had made that impossible. No matter how many times she tried to convince herself otherwise, the man who’d trapped her wasn’t finished. The world wouldn’t stop just because she needed it to.
He wasn’t done killing, and he wasn’t finished with her.
Kate clenched her fists to hold on to a bit of warmth and forced a smile. “Did you build a snow fort?”
“Yeah. Still needs some finishing touches, but I thought it’d be fun to get some sunshine, start a fire and relive all those favorite Christmas memories of yours.” Declan narrowed his eyes at her, then he hefted the shovel from the ground and faced the mound of snow he’d built. “What do you say, Monroe? Ready to make yourself sick from eating too much chocolate?”
He’d done this for her?
Kate reached to frame his jaw with her hand. His stubble scraped along her palms, and he closed his eyes as though he were committing the moment to memory. Hope built inside her, and she planted a soft kiss against his cheek. Her heart skipped a beat as a flood of need overwhelmed her reluctance. She leaned in a second time, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Thank you. For all of this. For saving my life. For...everything.”
“Be careful, Kate.” His gaze was on her again, filled with molten heat. Declan trailed his free hand to her hips beneath the hem of her jacket, holding her in place. “I only have so much control when it comes to you.”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few days, it’s that you won’t hurt me. I trust you.” She swiped her tongue across her bottom lip, and his gaze shot to her mouth.
The past four days—the past year of her life—had been filled with nothing but fear, pain and death. She couldn’t live like that anymore. Not when the man
standing in front of her made her feel so much more.
Fisting her hand in his shirt collar, she pulled him into her. With her heart racing so fast and hard, she feared he might hear the chaotic beat, but she knew exactly what she was asking in that moment. A chance to forget. A chance to move on. They’d escape the pain for a bit, then she’d wake up tomorrow, and reality would come screaming back.
“Control is the last thing I want right now,” she said.
Then he was the one to kiss her. He swept inside her mouth without hesitation, and she committed every ounce of her being to him in that moment. No turning back. No letting the past interject between them anymore. The Declan Monroe she’d married had died that night in their home after a fatal shooting. She’d always love him—always have memories of him—but right now, she had a second chance.
And she was going to take it.
Snowflakes burned against her exposed skin as he deepened the kiss. He discarded the shovel and his hold strengthened around her back, molding her against him. The shooting, Michaels’s involvement with the Hunter, the nightmares, it all vanished as Declan’s fingers pressed into her spine.
“We almost died out there, and those were the most terrifying hours of my life. I thought I was going to lose you all over again.” She brushed her fingertips down his throat, over his Adam’s apple. “I don’t want to waste another minute being afraid, Declan.”
He trailed his fingers along the back of her arm, every inch prompting new desire. Lacing his fingers with hers, he tugged her to the entrance of the snow fort he’d built. “You never have to be afraid with me at your side. I’ll take a hundred more bullets, hang upside down for eternity and fight for you until my last breath if it means I get to be with you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Caught in the Crossfire Page 11