That made two of them. The rush of relief stole some of the stiffness from Gabe’s shoulders. Since the alternate plan involved knocking her out, he’d been pretty damn grateful she got thirsty or nervous or whatever caused her to reach for that bottle.
“She’s careful.” He admired that. Admired so much about her.
“Really worried there for a few minutes that I’d have to listen to a lengthy discussion of the type of sex you preferred.” Andy shivered. “Not interested in that, by the way.”
At thirty-six, Gabe was six years older than Andy but sometimes felt like the grandfather of the company. He kept them on task. So, treating his brother to a front-row seat of the attraction kicking his ass was not Gabe’s idea of a good time. “She was testing boundaries. A smart strategy, actually.”
Andy smiled. “Boundaries?”
Enough standing around and talking nonsense. That wasn’t Gabe’s style anyway. “Do you want to die today?”
“Are you tough all of a sudden?” Andy pressed in the code and unlocked the door again. Opened it to the private area leading to the emergency stairs and the helicopter waiting on the roof. “To be honest, I was more concerned she’d get the drop on you, then I’d get stuck trying to get her out of town.”
“You’re hysterical.” Gabe followed his brother out the door and down the long hall.
“I’m not sure why you think I’m kidding.”
He held her close with her head tucked under his chin. The smell of her shampoo, something floral, filled his senses. “I can handle her.”
“Uh-huh.”
Unable to reach out and punch in the code, Gabe stopped at the door to the exit. Looked down at her face and that mouth. “Meaning?”
Silence pounded around them. Andy didn’t make a move for the door or say anything. The quiet had Gabe’s head snapping up. He looked at Andy, shorter with more of a runner’s build. He worked with a quiet confidence, but this time something else moved in his eyes. Concern, maybe?
They didn’t have time for this. The helicopter would take them to a private airstrip, then they needed to get on a jet and disappear.
Gabe was about to bark out orders when Andy piped up. “You’re looking at weeks alone with her in a snowed-in cabin.”
A fact that gnawed at Gabe. The close proximity would test the limits of his control, but he could not admit that. “I’ll refrain from strangling her.”
Andy’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe, but will you be able to keep your other body parts away from her?”
Good fucking question. “She’s a job.”
Andy typed in the code and the emergency door opened. “You keep telling yourself that.”
That was the plan. Gabe just hoped he could stick to it.
TWO
Natalie stood at the window and watched the snow come down. More snow. Buckets of it fell every minute, or so it seemed. She knew because she’d been watching since she woke up fifteen minutes ago.
Exhaustion still pulled at her muscles and clouded her head. She didn’t panic or wonder what happened. She knew the answer—Gabe.
He’d drugged her to get his way. Not that she blamed him for using whatever means necessary to get a job done. She’d been in his position in the past and used the same knockout tactic. Back then if she couldn’t extract someone from the field with permission, she did it the hard way. Well, the hard way for them, not her.
Still, being on the receiving end ticked her off. Being dragged to who the hell knew where didn’t sit well either. From the topography and weather, she knew she’d been asleep for some time. She now saw towering trees and snowcapped mountains in the distance. No other houses were visible for miles. She had the eerie sense he’d stolen her away to the wilderness, leaving her dehydrated and woozy. And that meant being out of it and unable to fight back for a long time.
Yeah, he’d given her something that jacked up her system. It could take her some time—she had no idea how much—to regain her equilibrium. Until then she’d be vulnerable to all sorts of dangers. The type she normally handled with ease, from assassin attack to the simple task of regulating her own body temperature.
That’s what she got for leaving the CIA on bad terms. A farewell gift that included having her life flipped inside out while she waited for the fallout in the middle of nowhere.
First step: find her so-called bodyguard and set down some ground rules that included no drugs unless she was the one administering them. And if she found the opportunity to punch him, she just might grab it. Paybacks were a bitch and he should know that.
Nothing moved in the towering trees weighed down with thick white powder. Every now and then she’d hear a whoosh and snow would tumble, adding to the piles already covering the ground. The place didn’t work for her. It was too quiet, too isolated. Someone could approach through the makeshift forest around the small cabin. That meant she needed to move. Make a plan, probably find viable transportation.
Not that she was dressed for tracking and running. She stood in jeans and hiking boots. Gabe would have to explain that part since the last time she remembered she’d been wearing a suit. Blue, most likely. Probably had her hair pinned up, which she did for work. Now it rested on her shoulders and spread down her back.
Forget about the rest of it. The man was going to get his ass kicked for stripping her. She glanced down at the gun in her hand. Maybe more than an ass-kicking, but at least he left her a weapon. She’d just need to be clear that didn’t exactly make up for the rest.
She looked out over the bright white landscape and squinted, searching the ground for footprints. The gray sky, so thick with clouds and cutting off any natural light, made it hard to judge the actual time of day. But she could guess, because over the years and through numerous assignments she’d developed an innate sense about this sort of thing.
She’d spent months at The Farm and later been dropped in the middle of Germany for survivalist training. Spent time in the desert and Arctic. She’d seen it all, which made the idea that she needed a bodyguard to watch over her so strange. Early in her career she had played that role. Once she came out of the field and took an administrative job at the CIA, she watched over her team. From a distance, but she still thought of them as her responsibility and did anything to keep them safe, which was how she ended up getting fired. With all that time acting as the protector it was difficult to switch roles and accept being the protected.
Not that she could see her supposed bodyguard right now. His ability to blend in surprised and impressed her. He wasn’t exactly small. He had the big, burly, bearded thing down. Not her usual type. Not even a little, which made her wonder why the look worked for her now. Or did before he drugged her . . . the jackass.
Blocking out the mental image she’d stored of Gabe and the fogginess in her brain, she wrapped the oversized flannel shirt around her and reached for the doorknob. It turned in her hand, which both stunned her and didn’t. Leave it to Gabe to keep her guessing. To act as if she were free to go but trap her in a place that made leaving nearly impossible . . . or so he thought. Looked like he underestimated her. Good. She hoped he kept doing that.
The snow now bordered on sleet and made a clicking sound as it fell to the ground. Ice crackled in the trees. People who loved winter would appreciate this scene. She didn’t. She grew up in the south and craved heat. After years in D.C.’s humidity, venturing out in several feet of snow just added to how much she hated what her life had become.
She stepped out on the small porch. The frigid air blew around her, whipping through her clothes and chilling her skin. It took only seconds for her to know that the drugs really had dropped her body’s defenses, ratcheting up the shock against her skin. A thought tugged at her, that she should stay inside, but she blocked the tiny voice in her head. She’d been in deep-freeze shooting situations. Owned special gloves. She didn’t have them on her now, but she had skills.
The bitter cold cut through her as she moved around, going down one ste
p then the next, from the porch to what probably constituted a lawn in non-snow season. Her boots crunched against the layer of ice covering mounds of white. Snow pelted her face. She glanced around, checking for any sign of her protector, the former sniper turned bodyguard she didn’t want. Only the quiet sounds of the forest echoed back to her.
She took a few more careful steps and rounded the cabin to peer into the wall of trees crowding around the side of the building and stretching out as far as she could see. Her hand tightened around the Glock. Numbness settled in her fingers. She flexed them to keep the blood running, careful not to touch the trigger. She’d seen more than one blood-soaked accident caused by fingers contracting, poor gloves or a bad grip. The cold brought death.
The eerie quiet had her on edge, waiting. A wave of tension crashed over her. She’d insisted the CIA wouldn’t come after her now that she retired, but she never believed it. She only shared those denials to keep from getting stuck with a bodyguard. That didn’t work out so well. But on her own she’d be faster. In charge. Not beholden to a six-foot-two mountain man.
She ignored the biting cold and took a few more steps. Then froze. The slide of footsteps echoed back to her. She heard . . . something. Faint. Almost like a scratching. Her body snapped to attention and her brain switched to analysis mode. If they were coming, if people wanted to take her out, they’d go down with her.
A heavy thump sounded behind her and she spun around. She tried to lift the gun but her muscles suddenly weighed too much. A hit knocked her wrist and the weapon flew. Her instincts kicked in and she switched to autopilot. The world blurred around her. She concentrated on the figure moving into her view, not focusing on a face but, instead, seeing a target.
Adrenaline pumped through her, making her forget about the chill and the drugs still slowing her mind and her movements. She landed a roundhouse kick then pulled back and slammed her foot into a hard stomach. A heavy grunt registered but she didn’t let up. Fighting off the lethargy weighing her down, she struck out with the heel of her hand, aiming for a chin. Knowing she suffered from a height and weight disadvantage, she readied to launch a quick third attack.
Before she could raise her head and size up her attacker, he crashed into her. Strong arms wrapped around her in a crushing hold. The band tightened across her chest as her body took flight. A blanket of white whizzed by her and she saw the ground coming. Knowing didn’t lessen the hit. Her body slammed into the packed snow. Actually bounced.
The air left her lungs as hundreds of pounds of furious male pressed her deeper into the cold snow. Determination fueled her muscles. She thrashed and hit and kicked.
Hands tightened around her wrists and trapped them against the ground. “Natalie, enough.”
The rough voice stopped her, and the haze cleared. She looked up into the dark eyes of Gabe MacIntosh, the man charged with protecting her. His broad shoulders blocked the view of the world around her.
Black hair, slightly too long with a bit of curl at the edges. The brooding expression and quiet dignity that matched the mystery winding around him. Retired military, current owner of a security company. Right now with the rich scruff around his mouth he looked more lumberjack than professional rescuer.
And she hated that she noticed any of it.
“What’s wrong with you?” She spit out the question over the rage building inside her.
His intense glare didn’t let up. “You pointed the gun at me.”
He had to be kidding. She tried to lift her hand and punch him, but he had her arms pinned to the ground on either side of her head. The landscape came into focus as the killing frenzy pulsing through her eased. But the anger still simmered. “Because you snuck up on me.”
Those dark eyes narrowed. “Are we really doing this?”
Sometimes he used too few words and she had no idea what he was saying. “What?”
“Fighting about nothing.”
The minutes ticked by and she became aware of the hard body balancing against her and the scent of the outdoors on his skin. She stood five eight in bare feet and up until recently held a position that required her to stay fit and battle-ready at all times. Not exactly petite and certainly not weak. Still, he overwhelmed her. Being this close to him set off a battle between her brain and her body. He was a distraction. He tried to be helpful, but deep down she still believed heading out on her own and going into hiding without any contact with her old life was the only way to survive.
She struggled to remember what she was saying. “You are the one who—”
“You wouldn’t have heard me if I wanted to sneak up on you.” His frown eased. “I let you know I was coming.”
“A normal person would have called out my name in warning.”
“Never said I was normal.”
“No argument there.” She’d known him for about five weeks, and he’d been anything but.
At first, he followed her around as her lawyer, Sebastian Jameson, negotiated her extraction agreement with the CIA. Gabe never said a word back then. He slid into the background and watched until she could sense him. Until his presence made her jumpy. But Bast had insisted on the extra layer of protection.
Those days passed with each one stretching longer than the one before. The more Gabe hovered, the more she’d fought her awareness of him. The towering frame. The rough exterior. That face and those eyes that followed her everywhere.
She’d pretended she wasn’t aware of him. All through the negotiations as he stood by the door, she’d tried to mentally block him. When Bast finished the deal, Gabe took over and started planning. He switched from quiet but determined watchdog to drill sergeant, issuing orders and making decisions as if she didn’t get a vote. She’d been planning to put an end to his dictatorial reign when he drugged her water bottle, scooped her up and brought her here . . . wherever “here” was.
He shook his head. “You even wake up arguing and difficult.”
Not the first time she’d been called either. Still . . . “Excuse me?”
“Makes me sorry the drugs wore off so soon.”
The idea of nailing him in the gut tempted her. Lower would work even better. “Since you knocked me out against my will, changed my clothes and dragged me out here, you shouldn’t try taking the high road.”
“Had to be done.”
Typical. He thought he knew what she needed. She decided to remind him of a very basic fact: “I am trained.”
“True, but I’m better.”
When it came to stalking his prey, he likely was. Snipers excelled at shooting, but the real skill came with the ability to move in and around without anyone knowing where they were. Not that she was ready to concede anything to this guy. “Get off me.”
“No.”
The bruising cold of the ground contrasted with the warmth of his body. He wore an outfit similar to hers, jeans and a flannel shirt, but heat poured off him. Forget the dropping temperatures and never-ending fall of snow. None of it appeared to affect him.
She shifted her hips and felt the bulge in his pants and the way it pressed against her. Not erect, but the man was not small and seemed to have an issue with personal boundaries. That only made her more determined to impose a few. “Are you so hard up for sex that you tackle random women?”
“No.”
“I can feel you.”
He didn’t bother to lift up or move. Didn’t spend one second hesitating or looking guilty. “I would think so, since I’m basically on top of you.”
It was hard to argue that point. She started to buck her hips with the idea of knocking him off balance but changed her mind. The friction could take them in the wrong direction, and she needed every ounce of concentration right now.
The icy cold of the ground seeped into her bones. The combination of the drugs and the dropping temperature had her body in freefall. She’d start losing feeling soon, much faster than she normally would, and if she didn’t get inside and dry, she could be in huge trouble. The wea
ther appeared to have no impact on him. He stayed warm, got hard. Never even shivered. Of course, no one had messed with his body or brain to get him out here.
She decided to go with the obvious problem. “Your dick is against my thigh.” She could feel all of him everywhere. The muscles across his chest and his flat stomach. For a big guy he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.
“Where should it be?”
The way he acted, like it was no big deal and not a threat in any way, had her thinking he might have even fewer people skills than she did. “Not on me.”
“Sorry about that.” Nothing more. Not even a shift to the side.
“That’s your response?”
“Yes.”
The whole he-man thing should have pissed her off. Instead, confusion had her brain cells sputtering. He didn’t take any crap but didn’t flinch when she fought back. She couldn’t intimidate him. He didn’t resort to stupid insults like the ones she used to hear whispered behind her back at the office.
She couldn’t put the pieces together in her head, but she could fall back on the denial that served her so well in the past. “I don’t want your protection.”
“So you keep saying.”
His exasperated exhale blew over her, but she ignored his frustration. “You should listen then. I’m not great with repetition.”
“Fine, I heard what you want.”
“And?”
“Tough.” He sat up and moved back. Still straddling her thighs, he pulled her up and got her back off the ground.
Her instincts told her to take a shot. Knock him back and run. But she didn’t. She sat there and waited to see his next move. Might have had something to do with the very real sense that Gabe was not a guy many people got away from easily.
Her gaze wandered down his chest to the bulge at the front of his jeans. “You think we’re going to sit up here, have sex and wait for bad guys to come snooping around?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up, not in a full smile but close. “You seem obsessed with sex.”
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