She waited until he stood beside her again to say anything. “Where are we?”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Montana, east of the Continental Divide.”
“Huh.” Her gaze traveled over the horizon. “Not what I expected.”
“I’m an enigma.”
“Not quite the word I’d use.”
He’d debated going somewhere closer to D.C. but decided they needed unpopulated and away. “But it’s colder than usual for this time of year, and there’s much more snow than I anticipated.”
“You couldn’t check the weather report before the plane took off?” Her eyes narrowed. “And you’re still not forgiven for drugging me, by the way. That one is going to haunt you. It will circle back around and bite you in the ass. Be forewarned.”
He had a feeling her real level of anger didn’t match her threats. She could have woken up in a rush and come after him. She hadn’t. Not really. It was as if, on some level, she understood how the operation spun out.
“I wanted snow. The easier to hide you in, my dear.” And that was true, so he stopped there and held out his palm to prove he held the hatchet. “My turn.”
He skipped the big show and the perfect form. He’d been throwing things at targets since he could walk. His father, the perfect military man who vowed to raise the perfect future soldiers, would drag all three boys outside and teach them how to shoot at cans and throw knives. The hatchet weighed more, but the technique should be about the same. He squinted, lining up the target as he concentrated, then let go.
As the blade hit, she swore under her breath. “Figures.”
She wasn’t a great loser, but that didn’t exactly surprise him either. He guessed she didn’t get all that much practice. “Why join the CIA?”
“To serve my country.” She didn’t miss a beat. Threw out the answer then reached for the hatchet.
No way was he accepting that answer. “Bullshit responses not allowed.”
She glared. He glared back.
She finally broke the stare-off with an eye roll. “There are men who need to be tracked down and killed. Forget the excuses about hard childhoods and not having enough milk when they were babies or being told the truth about Santa too early or whatever ridiculous excuse passes for a reason not to take personal responsibility these days. Some view human destruction as a game, and those men need killing. They have to be stopped.”
The way she said it mirrored how he would have said it. On this, they were on the same page. “And you joined to stop them?”
“Yes.” She held up two fingers and wiggled them in front of his face. “That was two questions, by the way.”
Before she could say anything, she grabbed the hatchet. Performed the same drawn-out routine. Ended with her arm out and in perfect alignment with the target. With the blade embedded in the pseudo-circle she matched her first near-perfect throw with a second one.
She spun around on the heel of her boot and smiled at him. “Why did you leave the Army?”
“I was done being the government’s bitch.”
Her smile fell. “Now who’s giving a bullshit response?”
He held up his hands in fake surrender. “Totally true. I had been trained to track, to hide and to kill. I did my time and was done. Reached my limit and got out rather than re-upping.”
Maybe it sounded like a line, but it wasn’t. Every word rang true. He’d been raised to join the military and serve his country. There wasn’t an alternative plan, according to his father. Forget college or taking a year off. They had a responsibility, and each one of them, one after the other, lived up to it.
His dad died of cancer before Andy ever joined, but the man’s stern discipline and unbending belief system had rubbed off on all of them by then. It took Gabe years to break free from his father’s oppressive mental hold. Watching him push Andy to the point of cracking with all those “be a real man” comments finally did it.
“How many people have you killed?” she asked, without a trace of judgment.
Still, no fucking way was he answering that one. A number flashed in his mind and he had no intention of sharing it. “It’s not your turn.”
He took off for the target and slid the hatchet out. He barely made it back to the line before turning and letting the hatchet fly. Didn’t even look to see if it hit the circle before he started with his next question. “Who taught you that some men need killing?”
She hesitated as she stared at the handle sticking out from the target. A few seconds passed, then she looked at him again. “My father, but I’m guessing you knew that.”
There might be things she could hide, but not this. Her file outlined some pretty awful family secrets. He didn’t know all the details, but he knew enough. Enough to know her father killed her mother and that he should kick his own ass for asking the question in the first place.
She nodded. “Right, that’s what I thought.”
“Natalie.”
“Technically, that was your three.” She brushed her hands against her jeans and bent down to retrieve her gloves. Slid them on, one at a time, before heading for the steps.
He called out to her. “You have one more chance.”
She didn’t even bother to look around before she hit the door and opened it. “I’m suddenly not in the mood for games.”
Yeah, neither was he.
SIX
Silence might be golden but it was slowly driving Natalie nuts. She’d grown accustomed to the bustle of the office and being on call twenty-four hours a day. Going from being needed and vital to an operation to sitting in a cabin staring at a wall made her want to claw her way through it.
Sure, she had to be on guard in case anyone came after her. Even though she now saw the futility of running from Gabe and his assistance, she wasn’t the type to hide while he took the hits. Not her style at all. But in between those stark moments of tension were long periods of unending boredom that books and cards couldn’t shake.
But now something else worked its way into the cabin. A heated sensation. A simmering just below the surface. They hadn’t said a word since the hatchet game. Hours had passed, and they sat across from each other at the small folding table Gabe set up after he finally got bored with cutting wood.
The soup came from a can, but it was warm and it was food of some sort, so she didn’t complain as she’d dumped it into a saucepan and figured out how to heat the burner. She’d had worse. In survivalist training she’d had to go days on little sleep and dig for worms. The whole deal. It supposedly toughened her, but honestly, she was pretty damn tough already.
In those moments when her confidence faltered she let the memories flood her mind. All the blood. Her mother’s screaming. The knife. Amazing how that could shift her whole world back into perspective.
Despite all the turmoil of the past two months, those old haunting memories had remained blocked. She’d had enough to deal with thanks to the immediate danger. Watching her team walk into a setup on a rogue mission. Being called in to answer questions. Hunting the mole while Elijah and the rest of the team scattered, only to be picked off one after the other. She’d stepped in, thrown her weight around, took risks she never thought she’d take to save the last two—Elijah and Becca—but not before facing down another bloodbath.
It was as if death followed her. But never, during all of those dark CIA days and the ones that followed at the negotiating table, listening to Bast weave his magic with words and schemes that made her think he’d missed his calling by being a lawyer instead of an agent, had she called up the soul-sucking memories from those years before. Not until Gabe stood outside today and asked his question. Now the images ran through her mind until all she wanted to do was forget.
Done with the thin broth, she dropped her spoon next to the bowl with a soft clink and glanced across the table. “Since I cooked, you get to do the dishes.”
“Technically, you opened a can.” He actually grinned at her. Sent all that smoking
heat in her direction.
She never knew she had a thing for beards or big men or quiet talkers until him. But the punch of that combination made her dizzy. And she didn’t get breathless or silly for any man, not before him.
She cleared her throat because she had to. “Same thing.”
“Not really.”
A knocking sound grabbed her attention. It took her a second to realize it came from under the table where she’d crossed one leg over the other. Seemed one foot had taken to a fit of wild jumping. She rested a palm against her knee to stop it. “You’re an expert at cooking, too?”
He leaned back with his arms folded behind his head. “I know my way around most rooms in the house, including a kitchen.”
Prey. That was the only way to describe what set off the wild thumping inside her. She suddenly knew what a gazelle felt like the second before a big cat pounced.
She forced her voice to stay even. “You sound very domesticated.”
“I am.”
“You, the former sniper.” That didn’t make any sense to her. She pictured him going from assignment to assignment, bedding women here and there. Enjoying a country then moving on, with brief stops at what functioned as home for him before heading out into danger again.
The chair screeched against the wood floor as he sat up straight again. “Not to keep throwing the word out there, but technically I’m still a sniper.”
The move put him closer. A table still separated them, but she was ten seconds away from flipping the thing to get to him. The answer was to circle back to a safer topic. Something mundane and not open to debate. “Well, the cooking might help if you ever decide to put the gun away and settle down to start a family, but I don’t think the other skills will.”
“Already did.”
Words screeched to a halt in her brain. “What?”
He rested his elbows on the table and stared her down. “I have a family.”
The air hiccupped in her lungs. So much for thinking anything with this guy would run smoothly.
“You mean your brother Andy?” She’d met him in the office. Actually, knew him from before, back when she knew Andy and Elijah slept together on a regular basis because Eli was on her team and her responsibility. Even knew that when Eli walked out, Andy struggled to deal and ended up in a rough place. She could understand why Gabe might be protective. It seemed ingrained in his DNA.
“I mean my son.”
“I just . . . You mean . . . ”
He leaned in. “Yes?”
He just put it out there. No explanation or anything. Surely he was joking or she misunderstood . . . but he just sat there.
When she just sat there, he continued to stare. Finally, he spoke up again, which was good because she couldn’t find the words. “I have a son.”
That couldn’t be right. She’d read his file and wanted to shake her head in denial, but she could see the truth in his eyes. She struggled to imagine him as a dad. Holding a kid and throwing a ball. All normal, or so she’d seen on television and in movies. Her life had never worked that way. She knew exactly what it was like to have a lethal father, but not Gabe’s kind of lethal. Not the controlled kind.
And a kid meant a wife or a girlfriend. Yeah, that.
A wave of nausea rolled over her. She was going to kick his ass if he really thought she’d be some sort of vacation candy for him.
She dropped both feet to the floor, ready to shove him if needed. “You have a kid?”
“That’s what ‘son’ means.”
Wrong time to be a smartass. She still had that gun he gave her. He’d be wise to remember that. “So, you’re married?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”
“Divorced?”
“Never.”
The game of verbal gymnastics ended right now. A sudden fury on behalf of a woman she didn’t know and envied in a weird way overtook Natalie. “All those passes and comments about getting me into bed—”
“Which is not something I do on a job.”
“—and you have a wife.” Her voice vibrated from the restraint of not launching across the table to smack his smug face.
He shook his head. “No wife.”
The two words had the tension fizzling out, but Natalie’s head kept spinning. Her emotions bounced from anger to relief. Fought with being ticked off for feeling either. He was her bodyguard, and an unwanted one at that. Getting wrapped up in his life, caring, all amounted to a huge mistake.
She’d seen the signs in agents over the years. They got sucked in, and their lives imploded. Of course, she’d moved past implosion a month ago. There wasn’t much further for her to fall.
“I give up. You said not divorced, so is she dead?” Natalie blurted out the question because there really was no way to finesse it. Not now.
“She never existed.”
Something blinked inside her brain. “I don’t—”
He smiled. “You know how babies get here, right? Being married isn’t a mandatory thing.”
Like that, a wave of heat flashed through her. Him, in bed. Sex. Coming inside her. She was never going to survive this captivity that was supposed to save her. “I can’t figure out if you’re joking.”
A nerve ticked in Gabe’s cheek. “I don’t joke about him, ever. Never talk about him on a job either, so this is new.”
That sounded more like the guy she’d come to know. Dependable and clear. “Your file didn’t mention a son.”
“I’ve had some help keeping his existence under wraps.” He grew even more serious. “For his protection.”
“Where is he now?”
“In school.”
Back to curt answers, but that one told her enough. It also deflated her all over again. “You send him away so you can play G.I. Joe?”
His eyes widened. “Wow, so many assumptions in one question.”
Yeah, probably too harsh. Likely unfair. She didn’t care. Not in that moment. Not when she could remember sitting in her room during holidays and having dinners with the staff. She’d been one of the charity cases that the school staff passed around because no one wanted to pick her up and take her home. She didn’t really have one of those.
“Am I wrong?” she asked, hoping she was.
“About almost everything in that sentence, yes.” When she started to ask more, he cut her off. “Is this some sort of payback for the comment about your father?”
The question shut down something inside her. He knew enough about her past to throw her those pitying looks. She’d experienced those her entire life and had no interest in dealing with them as an adult.
Being vulnerable sucked. “No.”
“Because I shouldn’t have gone—”
“I said no.” She jumped up, needing to walk or move or at least get away from him and the table. She scooped up her bowl and held out a hand to him. “You done?”
“I’ll do the dishes.”
Even better. She dropped her bowl, letting it clank against the table. “Good.”
She got as far as the doorway to the bedroom before his deep voice stopped her. “Natalie?”
With a hand on the frame, she stopped but didn’t bother to look around. “What?”
Silence settled between them. For a few seconds he didn’t say anything. “Nothing.”
SEVEN
Gabe stayed outside as long as he could stand it. Walked the perimeter and re-walked it. Spent some time in the shed. Checked coordinates and the satphone for emergency messages from Andy. Nothing.
With his feet almost frozen and the cold sapping some of his strength, Gabe gave up and went back inside. Before opening the door, he knocked in the agreed-upon sequence to give her fair warning. After that dinner, she might shoot him just for fun.
He walked into the dark cabin and relocked the door. An oil lamp cast the main room in a soft light and heat poured out of the woodstove. He should sit his ass down on the small couch and time out a thirty-minute break before he
got up and took watch duty again.
He probably would have done just that if he hadn’t looked into the small alcove by the front door. A doorway to the bed. The mattress just fit, with the edges touching every wall. A small bed in a small space. Going in there spelled disaster. He should walk away. Ignore the need pulling at him to lie across the bed and listen to her breathing.
As if her senses clicked on, she sat straight up. Brushed that sexy hair out of her eyes and squinted. He could see her just fine. Make out every devastating curve despite the covers she had bunched up at her waist. That thermal shirt sure didn’t offer much protection. Not from him.
“Hey.” That’s all she said. A simple greeting.
It pulled him in close. Before he knew it, he stood in the doorway with his knees balancing against the end of the mattress. “Sorry to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” She didn’t even look away as she lied. “I thought you’d keep watch.”
Before dinner he’d gone over all the procedures and the drop spots for her to get to in case danger came calling. She knew about his patrols and the perimeter defense he’d set up. She even spent time watching with her gun ready as he rested for a few minutes while she prepared the soup. He didn’t need to explain what he was doing now, but he did anyway. “I’m taking thirty minutes.”
“Sounds smart.” She slid over, making room for him to basically fall onto the mattress.
This was the part where he should have said “no thanks” and moved on. He knew that as he took off his gun and put it on the one shelf overhanging the mattress. As he put a knee on the bed and crawled up to join her on the pillows.
A few seconds later, he lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t sleep very deep, so you’re fine.”
She curled on her side and faced away from him. “I guess that’s a good trait. Having a kid and all.”
This was the right time to tell her about Brandon. She talked about him like he was in elementary school and abandoned by his father, which probably made sense to her in light of Gabe’s age, but didn’t come close to being right. But for some reason he couldn’t get the words out. Not after seeing the mix of shock and disappointment on her face.
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