ELEVEN
Natalie knew her skill set. Handling touchy males about even touchier subjects with any degree of tact was not one of them. Still, Gabe needed something, and for whatever reason she wanted to help. Blame the close quarters, or maybe the waning resistance to him the more time they spent together.
He stormed around the cabin and had been doing so ever since sending their watcher away. First Gabe washed the dishes. Actually, that came second. He had to create dirty dishes first and accomplished that by making coffee and oatmeal and not touching either.
The answer probably went something like: gently nudge him into conversation and, once he relaxed, circle around and ask him the more direct questions. Screw that.
She sat down on the couch’s armrest. “So, I guess Rick is a dick.”
Other than the brief stiffening of his shoulders, Gabe didn’t show much of a reaction to the comment. “Understatement.”
Since that didn’t work, she circled around and tried again. “You seem close to Andy.”
“I am.”
At this rate she’d run out of questions in about two seconds and he would not yet have said ten words. Men at work used to whine about difficult women all the time. Talk about a pot-kettle situation.
She sighed because it was either that or yell, and she guessed that wouldn’t help the situation one bit. “Talk to me.”
He turned around and faced her then. “About what?”
Yeah, no question about it. He was in full-on showdown mode. She hated the curt answers, the barely talking thing he did in general. The scruffiness, the rough hotness—forget all of that. Right at this moment his mood struck her as especially annoying. “Don’t be an asshole.”
He didn’t even blink. “It was a legitimate question.”
Right. “You and your brother Rick work in the same field and—”
“Wrong.”
Anger radiated off him. She knew it was directed at some feud with his brother but still felt caught in the crossfire. Whatever plagued him now and drove him and Rick apart qualified as the type of thing that should have been in her file on him but wasn’t. That meant the fight was new or so deeply personal that no one talked. Both options piqued her curiosity. “Correct me then.”
“He’s on the government payroll.” Gabe leaned against the counter and gripped the top on either side of him. “I’m not.”
She knew all about Rick and his black-ops career. The guy had a go-to operation for off-the-book infiltration and extraction jobs. Nasty stuff. Not something a guy with deep emotions and a bright-line sense of right and wrong could pull off. Word was Rick didn’t let either get in his way. He’d been seriously injured about eighteen months ago and came back twice as lethal.
“Is that why we hate him? His job choices?” she asked, trying to make light of an obviously heavy subject.
Gabe’s grip tightened until his knuckles turned white. “No.”
Could be Rick’s mind-set and personality clashed with Gabe’s. She could see that. Gabe talked tough and absolutely qualified as lethal, but something about him said bone-deep decency to her. He’d followed orders and gotten the job done, killed when necessary, but she had a hard time imagining him torturing someone under the guise of information-gathering and enjoying it.
But then this kid issue hovered. She didn’t get that part of his life at all. Abandoning a son he never disclosed in the first place didn’t fit in with the guy she thought she knew, so maybe she didn’t know anything at all.
Except the stubbornness. He didn’t bother hiding that trait. “Gabe¸ honestly, it would be easier to talk with a tree.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I don’t want to talk.”
That would be consistent with his personality. Still, she didn’t intend to let him get away with the lame excuse. Not when they had days, possibly weeks, to get through with nothing but each other and a few elk for company. “We’re stuck in here. We may as well burn through some time.”
For a few seconds he just stared at her. Stood stock-still and toured his gaze over her, his frown deepening with every second. “Do you want me to fuck you? Is that what this is about?”
The icy words crashed over her, and she held back her flinch. She morphed from half-amused and wanting answers to fighting off the urge to punch him. Hell if he didn’t deserve it. “I don’t know Rick but from your description of him it’s starting to sound like you’re a lot alike.”
Gabe pushed off from the counter and came toward her. “Sorry, do you want me to use a prettier word?”
Every syllable slashed into her. Ripped and tore until she expected to see blood puddle on the floor. She shouldn’t care. She had protective walls to keep shit like this out. But something about him attacking, about him using sex and what they’d shared as a weapon, struck against something deep inside of her.
“I want you to drop the attitude.” That qualified as an understatement, but she went with the comment anyway. Much more and the tension would skyrocket.
“We are not friends.” He took another step.
She refused to get up. To show any sign that the words landed with the force he intended. “True.”
“If the plan is for me to spill my guts for your entertainment, forget it.” He stood right in front of her, blocking the light behind him and looming over her seat.
“Understood.” He could not be clearer, and she could not hear one more thing.
Fighting with her need to battle back, she stood up. If he wanted to piss all over someone, he’d need to find another target. He’d slipped into nonsense mode, and she refused to follow right behind him. It was as if he thought no one else got the crap stick when it came to family. Wrong.
She got up and snagged her jacket off the peg by the front door. Her palm touched the knob before she felt him behind her, bearing down, breathing hard and filled with fury.
With a hand on her arm, he turned her around to face him. Grabbed the coat out of her hand and threw it over the couch. “Where are you going?”
“Wherever you’re not.”
His head snapped back and his eyes grew wide. “Now you’re sensitive?”
“What the hell does that mean?” She sensed the load of sarcasm headed her way but pushed. If he had something to say, he should just say it.
“You played the cold fish for weeks before we got to this cabin. You’d barely look at me.” His eyes flashed with fire. “Now we get here and you get bored. You figure out there may be a division between the MacIntosh brothers and you move in.”
She put a hand on his chest and shoved. Used all her strength and barely moved him. “I think you have cabin fever.”
“Maybe this amuses you, but I’m not an assignment.” He pointed his finger right in her face. “You are. You are the file. My personal life is off-limits.”
She slapped his hand away. Seriously thought about kneeing him in the groin. Maybe that would put his life and this fight back into perspective for him. “You think you could be blowing this out of proportion?”
“You know what? You stay in here.” He reached around her for the doorknob. “I’ll head out for a few minutes.”
She stepped away. Let him open the door before she took the shot. “And people think I’m the runner.”
The door slammed shut with a loud whack as he turned around to face her again. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“Tread carefully, Natalie.” His voice stayed deadly soft.
He needed a wake-up call, and she decided to be the one to deliver it. “What are you going to do? If you think I’m afraid of you, sorry.” She shook her head as much to make her point as to drive the horrible memories of her past away. “The days of me cowering in a corner for any man are over.”
He went still. “What does that mean?”
Her words ran right over his. “Honestly, I will shoot you before I let you physically hurt me.”
“I would never do that. You have to know—”
&n
bsp; “Stop talking.” A swirl of energy caught her. She felt a great crashing inside her. It was as if the emotions she had long suppressed—fear, frustration—boiled up and spilled over, wiping out everything else. “I’ve been terrified by the best of them, and you don’t even register on the scale.”
The color drained out of him. Shock and something that looked suspiciously like guilt moved behind his eyes. “Your dad.”
Wasn’t that convenient. “Oh, I see. My personal life is open to interrogation but yours isn’t.”
“Natalie.” He reached for her.
She took a step back, just out of touching range. “Don’t.”
“Fine.” He held up both hands. “Tell me what to say. What you want me to do.”
“Nothing.” And she meant it. He couldn’t reach back and erase the words or stop the firefight he’d set off inside of her. But he could redirect it. “Actually, one thing.”
Her fingers went to her belt and the button underneath for her jeans. He didn’t comment. Didn’t try to stop her or help. Part of her wondered if he knew what she wanted. That she needed him to help burn off the raging inside her.
She just said it. “Sex.”
No feeling, no emotion. She craved bodies sliding against each other. Friction. A true burn-off of energy and a few minutes to forget everything.
She got her zipper down and reached for his pants. With a finger tucked in the waistband of his jeans, she pulled him closer—brought his body right up against hers—and he didn’t fight her.
Forget smooth. Her hands jerked and tugged until she had his pants open. The whole time he stood there, letting her undress him. When her fingers slipped into his briefs, he put a hand over hers. Before she could say anything, he stepped away from her.
The move had her falling back against the wall as rough breaths rocked her body. Her mind went blank. She forced it to stay that way before feelings of vulnerability and failure seeped in. She’d made a pass, a serious one, and he was pushing her away. In terms of ego, this amounted to a killing blow.
Then he was in front of her again, pants still open, holding a condom. “Tell me what you need.”
Relief whooshed through her, almost dropping her to her knees. “You. Inside me.”
“Done.” Instead of ripping at her clothes, he dropped to his knees.
The jeans slid down, and her underwear went with them. When he stood again he lifted her now bare legs and wrapped them around his body, low on his hips. Tore the condom package open with his teeth then held it out to her.
“I’ve dreamed of fucking you against the wall.” The scratchy edge to his voice suggested he wasn’t kidding.
Good, because neither was she. The need swamped her, and it took all of her control not to press him against her, condom or not.
She forced her breathing to slow. She wanted to draw out every second and knew once he slid inside her the world would flip and her brain would shut down. “Make it happen.”
He smiled as he placed the condom in her palm and went to work moving her thighs as he tugged and shoved his jeans and briefs, finally getting them down far enough to release his cock. He put his hand between them and rubbed his hand up and down his length, letting her watch as he grew thicker, longer.
Forget control and common sense. She wanted this to happen. Anything to wipe out the argument of the last few minutes and the black memories of all that came before.
She removed his hand and slid the condom over him. Took her time even as her insides screamed to hurry. The pleas echoed in her head but she didn’t say them out loud. Not when he felt so good. Not when his finger slipped up inside her.
But she didn’t need foreplay. She wanted fast and hot and sweaty. Tugging on his head, she pulled him in for a kiss. Their mouths met, and light exploded behind her eyes. All the aching crescendoed and her body melted into his.
He balanced her back against the wall as a hand went to her thigh and held her legs still. When his other palm slapped against the wall, he started pushing into her. Not sweet and not gentle. No, this was a taking. He went from letting her lead to overwhelming her. His scent, his breathing. The strength of every muscle and all that attention focused on her. It all ramped up as he plunged in and out, rubbing their bodies together until the friction had her fighting for breath.
Still, he moved. In and out until her shoulders knocked against the wall. Her vision blurred, so she closed her eyes and let the sensations wash over her. His rhythm didn’t falter. He pounded forward, and her body took off. She met every thrust. Dug her fingernails into his back and held on for the amazing ride.
When his chest shuddered she knew he was close. In her mind she wanted the spiraling to continue. To ride out this euphoric feeling. But her body had other ideas. The pulsing started and her hips shifted forward. Right as his orgasm hit, he skimmed a hand down between them and rubbed on the spot sure to make her control implode.
One touch and she joined him. Her breathing ticked up and her chest heaved. Every muscle moved without a signal from her brain. Instinctive and freeing. She dropped her head back against the wall and let the tremors jump through her. She could hear his low moan and feel his body lean heavier against her. She knew he’d found his release. She still rode out the thumping aftermath.
Minutes passed. She opened her eyes, and slowly the room came back into focus. Her muscles had turned to liquid. His body anchored hers to the wall or she would have fallen onto the floor in a pathetic heap.
The sex didn’t erase the harsh words or violent memories, but something had changed. The air buzzed with attraction rather than anger. The aftereffects of sex left a charge running through her body but the instinct to run away, to strike back, had disappeared.
“I was in the room.” Her words slipped out. She half hoped he was too far gone to even hear her. But then she realized that’s not what she wanted. Something inside her drove her to tell him her secrets. To open the door, just a bit, and let him peek in. Not long and not forever, but for a second. So he’d understand. “When he killed her.”
Gabe exhaled and his warm breath blew across her neck. “Fuck.”
That might have been the perfect response. No pity, and he didn’t launch into a game of Twenty Questions. Instead, he lifted his head and looked down at her with clear eyes.
“He was evil and dangerous. Spent his life hurting her. Liked to do it in front of me—said it would teach me how to be an obedient wife one day.” Without even trying Natalie could call up her father’s grim voice and all those lectures.
“Sick fucker.”
“He was that.” Natalie let her legs slide down Gabe’s until her feet touched the floor. But she didn’t let go and he didn’t step back.
“You tried to protect her.”
“Yes.” She knew he’d get it. With who he was and how he stepped forward, he would have done the same thing, even as a kid. She was sure of it.
His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb traced her mouth. “And he punished her for that.”
Natalie tried to swallow, to say something, but couldn’t. She just nodded. The guilt knocked into her and her knees started to buckle, but the weight of his body resting against hers held her up.
“The police report said you were asleep upstairs,” Gabe said.
Because the officers on the scene protected her. Engaged in a conspiracy of silence meant to quiet the whispers and keep her from the torment of hours of interrogation and all the second-guessing that would follow.
She didn’t share that piece or how she’d come to understand that gift as she got older and tried to repay it once or twice in her cases. Skipped right to his ability to read between the lines of her official report when no one had ever done that before. “But you knew that wasn’t true. That I’d seen more.”
Gabe nodded. “You would have heard the noise. You would have investigated and rushed in.” He kissed her forehead then let his rest against hers. “Is the scar on your stomach from him?”
She didn’t even know he’d seen it. Time had faded the angry red to a soft white. Low on her abdomen. A slice that spilled blood and marked her forever. “From that night.”
Gabe lifted his head. His gaze searched hers. “Did you kill him?”
No judgment. He asked it like he might ask what she wanted for breakfast. The question should have shocked her. With anyone else she would have rushed to deny and change the subject. But the way he held her, looked at her, wrapped her in this cocoon of safety . . .
For the first time since that night, the words spilled out of her. “I had to make him stop.”
Memories flashed in her mind. Red splashed everywhere. Her mother’s sobbing as she tried to reach for the cord and bring the phone hanging on the wall crashing down. Her father’s shouting about how her mother deserved this. How he should let her die.
Then the knife was right there. Natalie remembered looking down and curling her fingers until the handle pressed tight against her palm. The first slash made his eyes pop open wide. The next one drove him to his knees. All while her mother begged her to stop.
She didn’t know she’d been lost in the whirl of the past until Gabe gently touched her. Placed a palm against each cheek and lifted her head so she could see directly into his eyes.
“Yes, you did,” he said, as if willing her to believe.
The words didn’t make sense at first. “What?”
“We’re the same on that score. We don’t kill lightly, but sometimes we have to.” Then he kissed her. A soft peck on the mouth, likely more for comfort than anything else.
“Yes.” Exactly that.
“But the haunting never stops.”
He would know. He’d killed. In the name of God and country, maybe, but he’d still taken lives and he wore that with a dignity she appreciated. “But the pain did.”
He shot her a lopsided smile. “Good. Some of it.”
The sounds of the cabin and forest came roaring back to life. The hum of the lights and the knock as the wind hammered a loose shutter against the outside wall. The strangeness of the moment hit her. The smell of sex still lingered in the air. Gabe’s strong hands and sweet touches. Both of them basically naked from the waist down.
Mine Page 11