Duty At What Cost?

by Michelle Conder

When the car stopped it was a good excuse to refocus her thoughts. Glancing outside, she could see they were on some form of airstrip, but it was too dark to make out exactly where they were. The only source of light was coming from the open rectangular door of Wolfe’s private plane.

  Wolfe waited for his men to flank the car before opening the door. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the darkness. He was so fierce. So sure. He braced himself against the car as he leant down and beckoned to her. ‘This way.’

  Careful of her injured palms, Ava scooted across the soft leather, still warm from his body. The softly falling rain chilled her bare shoulders and arms as she stepped out of the car.

  Immediately Wolfe moved into her space and lifted her into his arms.

  ‘I can walk.’

  ‘My way is quicker.’

  His tone told her he was readying himself for an argument, but frankly Ava didn’t have the energy and wasn’t sure of how capable she was of making it up the steps under her own steam anyway.

  She sighed and rested her head against his chest, her eyelids too heavy to stay propped open. No doubt he was taking her back to Anders, but she’d much prefer a tropical island far away from the outside world if she was given the choice.

  Once on his plane she kept her eyes closed, and only opened them when she felt Wolfe gently lower her onto a soft mattress.

  The doctor Wolfe had sent to her at Gilles’s was waiting and Ava struggled to a sitting position, with the reams of fabric from her torn and dirty gown twisting around her legs.

  He followed Wolfe’s instructions and checked her wristbones before efficiently sticking a number of plasters over her scraped palms. ‘These will feel stiff and sore for a couple of days, due to the bruising beneath the scratches, but they should heal fine.’

  ‘Check her left hip. It’s bothering her.’

  Her eyes flew to his. How did he know it hurt? ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘Check it.’

  Ava only flinched once during his gentle ministrations, grateful when he deemed it only a light bruise.

  ‘What about you?’ She glanced at Wolfe but he was busy checking an incoming message on his phone.

  ‘I’m fine. Thanks, Jock. Tell Stevens to get us airborne as quickly as possible.’

  It was only after he said it that Ava became conscious of the whine of the aircraft. Seconds later they were racing towards the sky.

  Her eyes traced the smudges of dust covering Wolfe’s sandy-blond hair and moved down over his snowy-white shirt beneath the leather jacket.

  ‘You’re shivering. Here.’ Wolfe pulled a brand-new white shirt out of a small closet, his movements as clipped as his tone. ‘I don’t have anything for you to wear and both your clothes and your lady’s maid are back at the hotel. Can you get changed yourself?’

  ‘Into a shirt?’

  ‘It’s all I have here.’

  Ava stared at it, the events of the night crashing in around her. Tears pricked behind her eyes and she bit her bottom lip. Hard. She felt scarily vulnerable and needy. The feeling brought both Frédéric’s and her mother’s death into sharp focus inside her mind.

  ‘Come here,’ he said gently.

  Wolfe gripped her shoulders, but Ava was afraid if she gave in to the comfort he was offering she would break down completely and never let him go. She shook her head. ‘I need to use the bathroom. I’m filthy.’

  He looked as if he wanted to argue but then released her. ‘Bathroom’s through there.’

  As the enormity of what had happened hit her full-on Ava had to concentrate to make her legs carry her the short distance across the plane.

  Once inside the pristine bathroom, she used the amenities and eyed the shower stall despondently. It would take too long to shower with her hands bandaged, but she would love to just wash the night away if she could.

  Don’t think about it, she ordered herself. Then maybe it will all go away.

  She felt like crying.

  Reaching around to the side of her gown, she let out an impatient growl as her clumsy fingers fought to drag the zipper down. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing and a sob rose in her throat. The once beautiful gown sagged and fell to the floor and it took all her effort to remain standing. Crying over a dress when someone was trying to kill her...when someone had killed her brother... Pathetic.

  Telling herself to get a grip, she kicked off her heels and stuffed her arms into Wolfe’s shirt. She knew immediately by the linen smell that he’d never worn it, and that made her want to cry even more.

  Dashing at her useless tears to hold them back, she nearly screamed aloud when she couldn’t even do the simple task of sliding buttons into buttonholes. Her fingers were hampered by the thick bandages and the length of the shirtsleeves that dangled past her wrists and refused to stay pushed up her arms.

  ‘Oh, damn, damn, damn.’

  ‘Ava? Are you okay in there?’

  Ava stopped cursing and stilled. ‘Oui. Fine.’

  The door opened regardless and Wolfe stood framed in the doorway, with his hands on his hips. He’d changed into a clean shirt that hung out over soft denim jeans. Magnificent didn’t even begin to describe him.

  * * *

  Wolfe felt as if someone had just tried to squeeze every drop of blood out of his heart as he took in the sight of her standing in the middle of the bathroom, pale and regal, clutching the sides of his shirt together, her torn gown like a puddle of blood circling her bare legs and feet. Tear-marks tracked down her dirty face and her lower lip was trembling as she tried to hold herself together.

  He’d never met another woman like her. One who faced life’s challenges with grit and determination. One who wasn’t afraid to face the truth about herself and, when she set her mind to something, just gathered her courage, rolled up her sleeves and got on with it.

  Something tugged in the region of his heart. She was beautiful and strong and...special. The word anchored inside his mind and wouldn’t budge. It didn’t help that she looked as sexy as hell in his shirt.

  ‘I can’t do up these damned buttons,’ she complained, her voice rough as she worked to hold back tears, her brow furrowed.

  ‘Oh, baby...’ Wolfe didn’t have a lot of experience dealing with female tears but he acted purely on instinct as he stepped into the room and closed his arms around her. Something satisfying was released inside him when she buried her head against his chest and sniffed. It felt as if she belonged there, but he immediately dismissed the rogue thought. That kind of thinking was totally against his rules.

  Her arms slid around his back and he ignored the bolt of discomfort that shot up his spine as she inadvertently touched muscles that had been crushed when part of the wall of her gallery building had landed on top of him.

  ‘Do you know why I chose Paris?’

  Her soft voice was muffled against his shirt front and she reminded him of the bunch of newborn kittens he and his brother had once found abandoned in one of the back sheds on their farm. He and Adam had secretly fed them until they had grown too big to be contained. His father had wanted to drown the lot of them, but both of them had begged him to reconsider. Then they had made signs and taken the kittens to the local mall, and stayed all day until the last one had been given away.

  The stupid memory made him feel suddenly vulnerable, and he cleared his throat and smoothed his hand up and down Ava’s back to distract himself. ‘No. Why?’

  ‘It’s my mother’s city. She grew up here. After she died my life became like something out of a Dickens novel. My father didn’t know how to deal with a teenage daughter so he didn’t. Since Frédéric had been sent to military school, I...I...’

  ‘You had no one.’

  ‘No.’

  A raw sob ripped from her throat and, remembering her stoic reaction to the news of Frédéric’s death, Wolfe guessed that she had probably never let herself grieve the loss. The futile destruction of her gallery would be just one more injury for her to try to c
ope with.

  The need to comfort her overrode any sense of self-preservation he had left. Gathering her close, he cradled the back of her head and soaked up her tears, absorbing as much of her pain as he could. When the storm had passed she shifted even closer and every muscle in his body tensed in response.

  ‘You must think I’m a weak foo— Oh, my God. Why did you not tell me I looked like this?’

  Wolfe glanced over his shoulder and saw her horrified reflection in the small bathroom mirror. He eased her away from him and pushed her mass of hair back from her face. ‘Really? I thought you were just going for the Panda of the Year award.’

  ‘Yes. With dreadlocks,’ she scoffed, dashing at the dusty tear-smudges on her cheeks with the back of one hand. The other was holding her shirt blessedly closed.

  ‘Here, let me.’ Still taking most of her weight, and trying not to think about how good she felt leaning into him, Wolfe reached around her and wet a facecloth with warm water. He tilted her chin up and gently wiped as much of the grit and smudges from her face as he could. His muscles knotted as he thought of how close she had come to dying, but he forced himself to relax. Right now her needs took precedence over his rage.

  She must have sensed the change in him because she gave him a half-hearted smile and started fumbling with the tiny buttons on his shirt.

  Damn, he was going to have to do that for her, as well.

  Gently knocking her hands aside, he reached for the top button of the shirt. ‘Let me do that. It will be quicker.’

  Her beautiful red-rimmed eyes met his and sweat broke out on his forehead. He needed to think of something else.

  First, remove the dust cover, then release the tension on the recoil spring.

  Okay, he started disassembling an AK47 in his head. That was definitely something else.

  His fingers felt feeble as he forced the buttons into their holes and he paused when he accidentally brushed the sweet-smelling skin between her breasts.

  Slide the hammer back.

  What the hell were these buttons made of anyway? Plasticine?

  Gas tube off—

  No, idiot. Adjust the front sight post first.

  Oh, what the hell.

  There was no way cold hard metal could compete with the memory of the weight of those round breasts in the palm of his hands and he gave up, giving his mind permission to conjure up the bumpy texture of her nipples when they were aroused into tight peaks, their colour, their flavour...

  Finally reaching the last button, and completely disgusted with himself, Wolfe was glad he didn’t have that useless AK47 handy or he might shoot himself with it. He’d been as good as useless to her tonight anyway.

  With professional detachment he ignored the question in his head about whether she was wearing panties and lifted her into his arms, hoping to God she couldn’t feel his thundering heartbeat. He strode into the plane’s bedroom and placed her quickly on the turned-back bed.

  About to tell her he’d leave her to rest, he realised she hadn’t moved, but sat huddled right where he’d put her.

  ‘Ava...’ He said her name on an exhalation. She looked so washed-out and unhappy he couldn’t stop himself from placing his knee on the bed beside her and rubbing his hands over her shoulders. ‘Baby, lie down.’

  She shook her head and her lower lip wobbled again.

  ‘Come on, Princess. Time for sleep.’

  He eased her down on the pillows and smoothed her hair back from her face, determined to let that be the end of it.

  ‘Wolfe?’ Her voice, barely a whisper, was laced with fatigue and shock. ‘Could you stay with me? I mean...just for a minute.’

  Could he stay with her? Sure. Should he stay with her? No.

  Wolfe closed his eyes and held himself still. It would be a monumental mistake to say yes. He wanted to stay. All too much. Which was why he shouldn’t.

  ‘Okay.’ His hand slipped to the side of her face, caressing the cool skin of her cheek, her jaw. Before he had time to think about it he eased in beside her and leaned his back against the headboard. Without a word he gathered her close and felt her whole body sigh as she arranged her limbs to slot perfectly against his own—as if he’d been made specifically for this purpose. Specifically for her.

  A sensation of warmth spread inside his chest and a lump formed in his throat. Without being truly conscious of it he stroked her back. ‘Sleep, Princess. I’ll be here.’

  Had he really just promised that?

  After promising himself he’d keep as much physical distance from her as possible?

  Well, yes, but there was time to re-implement that plan once he had her on his island. His house wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to get lost in, and once he had her safe he’d be able to lock himself away and get to work.

  So, yes, he would stay for now, give her the comfort she had sought and failed to receive as a lonely teenager, and then he’d get up. Pore over the intel his team would have sent him about the bomb. He had a suspicion he knew who was behind the attack on her life, given the people he had deliberately leaked Ava’s bogus itinerary to, and it was time to find out if his instincts were correct.

  Releasing a slow breath, he willed his pain-racked body to fake relaxation. Earlier, when he had spotted Ava in front of her building it had been like running over moon grass instead of smooth pavement trying to reach her. His instincts had been screaming that he should have sent somebody over to check the gallery earlier that night. He hadn’t—another slip-up—and he’d nearly lost her. Hell, a newly minted grunt could do a better job of protecting her than he had.

  She made a light snuffling sound in her sleep and he realised he’d been stroking her hair. He untangled his fingers and pulled his hand back, wincing when a strand caught in one of his chipped fingernails.

  Seriously, it was time to stop mooning over those blue, blue eyes and the honeyed taste of her mouth and remember she wasn’t a goddamned date.

  He cursed low under his breath as he realised he’d given himself this same pep talk once before. Then it had been as effective as trying to milk a cow while wearing gardening gloves. Something else he and his brother had tried once. And what was with all these childhood memories streaming into his consciousness as silent and insidious as floodwater?

  His gaze slid to Ava’s face. A soft wave of her hair had fallen across her cheek and he gently moved it back. The lump in his throat returned with interest.

  Dammit, he had to pull back. If he didn’t do white picket fences he certainly didn’t do bluestone rock with a moat and a drawbridge! But there was nothing he could do to stem the flood of feeling her near-death had opened up in him. He’d do anything to protect her. He knew it. And it was only sensible that he hated that feeling.

  About to move off the bed, he felt her arm stretch and settle across his waist. Helpless to do anything else, Wolfe watched her sleep.

  CHAPTER TEN

  AVA HADN’T HAD any time to feel embarrassed over her crying stint. Once they’d landed Wolfe had hustled her from the plane and led her to a waiting Jeep. She knew instantly that they weren’t in Anders, where she had assumed he had been taking her. It was the humid night heat and the smell of eucalyptus in the air.

  ‘Where are we?’

  Wolfe stopped beside the black Jeep. ‘An island.’

  Ava gave a short laugh. ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘No. Why?’

  She shook her head, wondering if she was still dreaming. ‘No reason.’ She knew she must have been dreaming that Wolfe had sat with her during the whole flight and stroked her hair. Ava hesitated before preceding him into the car. ‘Which island?’

  ‘Cape Paraiso. It’s a small private island off the west coast of Africa.’

  She studied the carved planes of his profile in the starry sky, noting the sense of ownership in his voice. ‘Yours?’

  ‘It was on sale. Get in.’

  Ava already knew that Wolfe hadn’t grown up wealthy, which meant he was a se
lf-made man, and she couldn’t help but like how unassuming he was about his success.

  She stifled a yawn as the car zoomed along a rough track. She gingerly held on to the door to stop herself from sliding against Wolfe’s solid frame, but he didn’t even notice as he scrolled through some sort of document on his phone.

  ‘Do you have any ideas as to who is responsible yet?’

  He glanced at her briefly, his expression guarded. ‘I’m working around the clock on it.’

  Ava let him read. The wind was up and it rustled through towering hardwood trees. The glint of the moon shone silvery streaks on the inky ocean. She could just make out a solid stone house that looked to be set into the side of a cliff, and as they drove closer she saw that it was finished with a tiled roof and acres of glass.

  When the car had pulled into a short circular driveway Wolfe jumped stiffly from the Jeep. Her eyes followed him as he walked around the front of the car. If she wasn’t mistaken he was very much a man in pain. She remembered the blood on his torn jacket before he’d changed out of it and reluctantly acknowledged that she had become so absorbed in the horror of what had happened she hadn’t thought about his injuries at all.

  Wolfe hovered by her side.

  ‘I’m okay. I can walk.’

  After a brief pause he nodded. ‘Follow me.’

  The tiles were cool and slightly gritty with sand beneath her bare feet, but Ava had only a moment to admire the massive front door before she was inside a foyer-cum-living area that could comfortably house his plane and the Jeep and still have room to spare for an ocean liner.

  ‘Wow!’

  ‘You like it?’

  Ava glanced at him. ‘It’s enormous.’

  ‘The size is deceptive. This is the largest area because of the aspect. Are you hungry?’

  Her hand went to her belly and she shook her head. ‘I couldn’t eat anything.’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll take you to your room.’

  She followed him along the narrow hallway.

  ‘This corridor leads to the bedroom. The other one leads into the kitchen, gym and pool area. The house is all on one level so I doubt you’ll get lost.’