by Zoe Chant
They came out into a large clearing just a few minutes later. Helen stared at the looming shape in the middle of the clearing. "That's not a car," she said faintly. "You told me you were a driver!"
"Sort of a driver, I said," Tom said. She could hear the grin in his voice. In spite of the circumstances, it made her smile.
She took a few cautious steps towards the big black helicopter. "I've never been in one of those before."
"It's fun, you'll like it," Tom said. "Come on. We should get out of here before they catch up to us."
Tom helped her clamber up into the cockpit before he took his own seat. Helen watched him curiously as he flicked switches and pushed buttons. The helicopter came to life beneath his hands. The rotors started up, the whupping of the blades turning into a steady roar.
"Put these on!" Tom yelled, pushing a headset into her hands. Helen settled the big headphones over her ears. The roar dimmed to background noise.
"Ready to go?" Tom asked. His voice came in loud and clear over the headphones.
"Yeah," Helen said faintly. The helicopter's powerful lights illuminated the clearing around them, but beyond the circle of nights, the night was pitch black. She couldn't help but worry about hitting some unseen obstacle, flying in the darkness like this.
Tom did seem to know what he was doing, though. The helicopter rose smoothly into the air. Helen instinctively clutched at the dashboard. Tom caught her hand for a moment, giving her a quick reassuring squeeze, and then went back to his instruments.
Helen stared out the window in wonder. Beneath them, the woods were dark and still, but she could see Mountainville in the distance, a small pocket of glittering lights in the darkness, and, as they rose higher, the closest cities spreading out to the horizon as webs of light.
"Oh, it's beautiful!" Helen said. She'd been on night flights in planes once or twice, but looking out of a tiny airplane window couldn't begin to compare with the view the helicopter's enormous glass front gave her.
Tom gave her a smile. "Isn't it? I love flying. There's nothing else like it."
"Where did you learn all this?" Helen asked, meaning not just the flying but also the incredible fighting skills he'd shown earlier.
"I used to be a SEAL," Tom said.
For a second, Helen got an incongruous mental image of Tom as a cheerful water animal, and then her brain jumped onto the right track. Right, SEALs were that crazy elite unit in the Navy, the guys who did all the really dangerous stuff.
"I didn't know SEALS trained as pilots, too."
Tom laughed. "They don't. I started out as a pilot, though. I spent a lot of time ferrying SEALs around. But it didn't feel right, being up there in the air watching everything from a distance, while those guys went out and risked their lives fighting on the ground. That's when I decided to sign on with the SEALs myself."
"Wow," she said. "And then you met Mr. Glenn and started working as his bodyguard instead?"
"Something like that," Tom said. He hesitated for a moment. "I'm not a bodyguard, technically. I usually work on the GPS system for NavTech."
That seemed like a big change, from elite soldier to programmer; but Tom sounded so uncomfortable with the topic that she didn't want to keep asking about it. It wasn't any of her business, really, and he'd already done so much for her. She didn't want to push him.
Tom pulled out a small pouch from beneath the dashboard. A first aid kit, she realized when Tom took out a bandage. But she was fine, she thought confusedly. He'd already taken care of her wounds back in the mansion, and thanks to him, she hadn't gotten hurt in the attack…
Tom held one end of the bandage between his teeth and started wrapping the other end around his left biceps. Helen realized with a jolt that the darker patch she could just barely make out on his jacket in the dark had to be blood.
"Oh my God, are you okay? Did you get shot?"
"It's fine. Just a scrape," Tom said. He let go of the bandage for a moment, and then cursed quietly when it immediately started unraveling again.
"Are you sure?" Helen asked anxiously. "Here, at least let me help…"
She took the bandage from his hand. Tom twisted around in his seat so she could reach better. When she tugged the bandage tighter, he hissed quietly between his teeth.
"Sorry, sorry," Helen said, wincing.
"It's fine."
"This is all my fault…"
"It's my own fault. Should've dodged more quickly. Seriously, don't worry about it, okay? I'm just glad I got you out of there safely."
"Thank you," Helen said quietly. The words didn't feel like anywhere near enough. He'd saved her life. He'd gotten hurt because of her.
"My pleasure," Tom said easily. He twitched his shoulder carefully. The bandages held. Finally Tom nodded in satisfaction, leaning back in his chair.
"So do you want to tell me what you did to piss off the Italian mob?" he asked."Steele—Ryan— gave me the broad outline, but I was more worried about getting to you as quickly as possible than getting the full story."
"It wasn't anything I did! I was just trying to have a nice quiet dinner…" Helen said. She told Tom about her confrontation with Amodeo in the restaurant.
"Can you believe, after all that, not one single person in that restaurant was willing to testify? Not even Marco?" Helen looked down, shaking off the remnants of the vivid memory that had risen up while she'd told Tom the story. She could still feel the barrel of the gun on her forehead, that cold, deadly circle of metal.
Tom stared at her. "That was one hell of a brave thing you did," he said.
Helen laughed incredulously. "Brave? I was terrified out of my mind. If I'd known who he was, or if I'd known he was going to pull a gun on me, I'd probably still be hiding under my table and whimpering instead of saying a single thing to anyone."
Just thinking about what had happened, her hands shook all over again.
"I don't think you would have," Tom said. "You know who he is now, and you still agreed to testify. Not a lot of people would be willing to do that."
"Yeah, but someone has to and no one else is doing it, so I have to do it myself. That doesn't make me special."
"You have no idea how special you are," Tom said. He was looking at her with something almost like awe, so much sincere admiration in his eyes Helen could hardly bear it. She wasn't special, and no one should look at her like that. Especially not Tom, who was a fighter pilot and bodyguard and actual hero.
Oh, and also he was piloting the helicopter, and probably shouldn't be looking at her at all.
"Eyes on the road!" Helen snapped, than realized what an absurd statement that was. "Um, I mean, eyes on the… air. The… whatever the thing is you should be looking at so we don't crash out of the sky!"
She peered out the window, but there was nothing but darkness beneath them now, no lights to navigate by.
"Just the instruments, pretty much. I can't see much more out there than you can," Tom said with a smile. "The autopilot's doing most of the work right now." He tapped one of the displays in front of him. "You can see our altitude here…. Over here's our airspeed, and that's the radar..."
Helen watched with interest as he explained the read-outs and instruments. It was a lot of info to keep sight of all at once, but Tom seemed perfectly comfortable with it.
Impulsively, she leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm so glad Mr. Glenn sent you, Tom," she said.
***
Thomas Glenn, you're a colossal idiot. Tom cursed himself for the hundredth time. He looked over at Helen from the corner of his eyes, trying not to get caught staring. God, she was so beautiful. Her hair was still snarled and tangled from her flight, and he badly wanted to run his fingers through her honey-golden curls, and smooth them out for her. He couldn't stop thinking of the glimpses of her body he'd gotten when she'd first opened the door to him, her torn pajamas clinging to soft, luscious curves, her generous breasts and the perfect curves of her belly and thighs. She was all w
rapped up in his jacket now, but in some ways that was even more appealing: seeing her in his clothes, surrounded by his scent.
He could still feel the spot where she'd kissed his cheek, seared into his skin.
Beautiful and kind and brave. And he'd lied to her.
Damn it, what had he been thinking? He hadn't been thinking at all, that was the problem. Helen had called out to every one of his senses from the first moment he'd seen her: shivering with cold and fear, her eyes wild, clutching a kitchen knife as if her life depended on it—and still the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen in his life. His bear's instincts had started clamoring at him the second the door had opened, and hadn't yet stopped. It's her, she's the one! She's our mate.
When Helen had told him she'd never date a rich man, he'd panicked.
Tom had always prided himself on his steady nerves. He never panicked. Not in a board room negotiating a billion dollar deal, not in Afghanistan under a hail of bullets. But in that moment, facing the idea that his mate might reject him without even giving him a chance, he'd frozen. He'd barely been able to think.
And that's when he'd blurted out that stupid lie about being a bodyguard.
God, he was an idiot. He needed to come clean, obviously. But Helen had been through so much tonight. If he told her now, it might destroy her trust in him. If she decided to run away from him, or worse, if she got scared but felt forced to stay because of the threat of Amodeo…
He'd tell her tomorrow, Tom decided, ignoring the way his bear grumbled unhappily at the idea of saying anything that might drive his mate away. She deserved to make the decision for herself, and if his money meant that she didn't want anything to do with him… Well, he'd try his very best to win her back. He'd been a SEAL once; he'd never failed a mission. He'd win his mate's heart, no matter what it took.
At the horizon, the sky was starting to light up a pale pink color. The sun was about to rise. In the distance, the house was finally coming into view. A circle of lights lit up the landing pad.
Helen leaned forward to look out the window. "Is that where we're landing? Looks pretty small from up here…" she said, swallowing hard.
Tom looked down. The landing pad did look tiny from a thousand feet in the air. He was so used to it he never thought about it anymore, but suddenly he vividly remembered the first time he'd landed on an aircraft carrier. The enormous ship had seemed as small as a child's toy from the air.
"Don't worry, it's perfectly safe. I do this all the time," Tom said. At least this landing pad wasn't going to suddenly rise up ten feet on the swell of an unexpected wave, the way the ship had, once... He'd still managed to bring the helicopter down safely that time, but it had been a nerve-wracking landing, and the chopper had come terrifyingly close to toppling over on the heaving deck.
That probably wasn't the most reassuring story he could be telling her right now. Tom decided to save that tale for another day.
The landing went perfectly smoothly, but Tom could see from the corner of his eyes that Helen was clutching the dashboard with white-knuckled hands. Once they were finally safely on the ground, Tom let himself give in to impulse and took one of her hands into his, giving her a reassuring squeeze.
"We're here. You're safe now," he said.
I'll protect you. My mate, his bear thought fiercely.
Helen smiled at him. "Thank you so much. Have I even said thank you yet? You've saved my life. Thank you, Tom."
"It was very much my pleasure," Tom said.
"Am I going to meet Mr. Glenn at the house?" Helen asked. She looked apprehensive.
"Um. No, he… he had to go take care of an emergency," Tom said, hating himself. God dammit, why had he ever gotten himself trapped in this stupid lie?
He hopped down from the cockpit and quickly walked around the helicopter so he could help Helen down, too. Helen went white the moment she hit the ground, a small sound of pain escaping her.
"Your feet?" Tom asked.
Helen nodded.
She'd scratched her soles pretty badly during her barefooted escape through the woods. Now that the adrenaline had worn off and exhaustion set in, every one of those scrapes and bruises must sting like hell.
"It's a bit of a hike up to the house…"
"I can do it," Helen said quickly. Tom's heart thrilled at her courage. His bear rumbled approvingly. But concern quickly took over when Helen took the first step and gritted her teeth, obviously trying to stop herself from making another pained sound.
"Let me carry you," Tom said.
"Oh God, no, I'm way too heavy for you. I'll manage," Helen said immediately. In the brightening light of sunrise, Tom could see the vivid blush on her cheeks.
"You're not too heavy for me. I used to be a SEAL, remember? I've carried packs that weighed more than you."
Helen laughed shakily. "I really doubt that," she said. She took another careful step, her lips thinning.
Tom's bear grumbled unhappily. Help her!
"Please. Let me help," Tom said.
Helen hesitated. He could see that she wanted the help; she was just too polite to want to bother him. The bear's protective impulses were threatening to drown out anything else in his mind. He couldn't watch his mate take even one more painful step.
Tom stepped forward and swung her up in an effortless bridal carry. "See? You're not too heavy for me in the least." To prove his point, he started walking up the hill towards the house at a brisk clip. His instincts urged him to get his mate safely behind the walls of his den.
Helen yelped with surprise, then laughed. "You're crazy!
Helen gasped when they reached the top of the hill. Tom stood still, watching the look of wonder on her face as she took in the view.
In front of them, a tall cliff dropped steeply towards the ocean, the jagged white stone shining pale pink in the soft light of dawn. The sun was just beginning to crest the horizon. The first rays shone on the house atop the cliff, lending a golden glow to the pale yellow walls.
The house… well, it was a mansion, although Tom didn't like to think of it like that. It was an old Victorian house, with turrets and gables and lovingly handcrafted shingled walls. The kind of house no one built anymore these days.
He'd never meant to buy a mansion. All he'd wanted was a nice big private patch of land where his bear could roam around without fear of discovery. But when the realtor had shown him this place, he'd instantly fallen in love with the beautiful old house with all its comfortable nooks and crannies.
They were planning to tear it down, the realtor had told him. The previous owner had let it fall into disrepair, and no one was willing to pay for the renovations. A banker was interested in the land, planning to tear down the old house and replace it with a bunch of luxury condos. Tom shuddered all over again at the mere idea of it, tearing down a beautiful work of art like this house, this home that people had lovingly built with their own two hands.
He'd bought the house that same afternoon.
And that's how he'd ended up living in a mansion. It was ridiculous, if he really stopped and thought about it. Sometimes he'd look around at all that empty space, and shake his head at the excess of it. This was a place to raise a big family, far too big for one lonely bachelor.
But all that would change now that his mate was here, his bear insisted happily. He wasn't going to be alone anymore, knocking around all that empty space by himself… and maybe some day soon there'd be kids running through those empty halls…
He was getting way ahead of himself. Tom firmly yanked his wayward mind back to the present. He needed to take this one step at a time, and first of all that meant getting Helen inside, cleaned up, and into a warm bed. They were both exhausted.
Tomorrow, he'd have to confess the truth to his mate, and then…
No. Don't think about it now. Don't worry about her reaction. Now was what mattered; the future would take care of itself.
And yet, carrying Helen over the threshold in his arms like a husband m
ight carry his bride, Tom couldn't help the tiny, hopeful thought of Someday… in the back of his mind.
The first thing Helen did was call Isabella and Ryan, just a quick call to let them know she was all right. After that, Helen took a hot shower while Tom rummaged through his drawers for a pair of pajamas. Of course with her being quite a bit smaller than him, nothing he owned would really fit her, but just for tonight, it didn't matter that she'd swim in his pajamas. And he couldn't help but feel a little thrill at the thought of wrapping her up in his own clothes. He put the clothes in front of the bathroom for her.
"Come join me in the kitchen when you're done!" he called over the sound of the shower.
He made hot cocoa on the stove, with fresh milk and a huge pile of chocolate shavings. Like most bear shifters he had a sweet tooth, and this was one of his favorite indulgences. The sugar would help steady her nerves, and the warm milk would help her fall asleep. After what she'd been through tonight, Helen would probably end up with nightmares no matter what he did, but if there was anything he could do that might help even a little, Tom wanted to at least try.
Helen came out wrapped in his terrycloth bathrobe. On her, it was large enough that the hem trailed behind her on the floor like a train. She clutched the waist of his overlarge pajama pants with one hand, trying to stop them from sliding down. Tom felt the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile at the adorable sight she made, and quickly turned back to his pot of cocoa. He didn't want her to think he was laughing at her.
"Sorry, I know I look ridiculous," Helen said.
Tom shook his head. If only she knew how far that was from the truth... All he wanted was to unwrap her slowly from all those layers.
"You don't look ridiculous at all," was all the said, trying to keep it neutral. He didn't want to come on too strong and scare her.
Helen peered into the pot over his shoulder. "Mmm, that smells amazing."
"Secret family recipe," Tom said with a smile. He poured her a big mug.
Helen cradled it in her hands, warming her fingers and inhaling the sweet steam with her eyes closed. She took a cautious sip, and gave a moan of bliss that made Tom's cock stir hungrily.