by Nicole Helm
He hit a few buttons, finding a way to forward the text message to Laurel with the number on it. Then he deleted it from Addie’s phone, since he didn’t want her looking at it.
“Has he ever come after you? Or is it always his goons?”
“Uh, goons, as far as I know. Usually only one per town.”
Noah nodded. “We’ll need to get him here, then.”
“Noah, he killed my sister. Well, he had her killed. If he comes here, he will have more people killed. Not just me or Seth, but you and your family. He’s capable, if he wants to be.”
“You don’t know how deeply sorry I am about that, Addie. Sorry you had to go through it, sorry someone lost their life. But if you run away, it doesn’t end. As long as he has something to come after, he’s coming after you. Stopping him is the only answer.”
“What if we can’t?” There wasn’t just a bleak fatality in her tone, there was genuine question.
“I have stopped bad men before. I am not afraid to do it again. We have good and right on our side.”
“Good doesn’t always win.”
“It will here.” Because he’d made a promise to himself, growing up in the midst of all that bad, that he would make sure good prevailed once he had the power. “Now, instead of arguing, let’s discuss our plan.”
Addie pushed her fingers to her temples and he took stock of how much sleep had helped her. She wasn’t shaking and didn’t look as pale. While there were still faint smudges under her eyes, they weren’t that deep, concerning black they had been early this morning when they’d arrived at the cabin.
She was more mussed than usual, but that didn’t detract from how pretty she looked in the middle of the dim cabin. Like a source of light all herself.
Get yourself together.
She dropped her hands from her temples. “Before we plan, you need to sleep. I don’t know what time it is, but I—”
“I caught a few hours once Seth settled,” he said, nodding toward the portable crib they’d brought. “I’m fine.”
She stared up at him, much the way she’d been doing since he’d told her she was under his protection. Not as if she didn’t believe him, but as if he were some mythical creature.
He wanted to be able to be that. Someone she could trust and believe in. Someone who could save her from this. He only prayed he could be.
“Are you hungry? Let me make breakfast. Or dinner. Or whatever meal. I’ll make something. That’ll be the first step.”
“Addie.” He gently closed his fingers around her arm as she passed. “You’re not the housekeeper here, okay? You don’t have to cook or clean.”
She looked at his fingers on her arm, then slowly up at him. “If I’m not the housekeeper here, what am I?”
Mine. That stupid word that kept popping unbidden into his head. She stepped closer to him then, like last night, when he’d thought he could kiss her and it would be okay. When he’d been driven by relief instead of reason.
She reached up with her arm not in his grasp. He should let her go. He didn’t. She touched his jaw as she had last night, her fingertips lightly brushing across his beard.
Her tongue darted out, licking her bottom lip, and oh, hell.
“You were going to kiss me last night before Ty came in,” she said on a whisper. A certain, declaratory whisper. “Right?” she added, and if he wasn’t totally mistaken, there was hope in that “right?”
He might have been able to put her off if not for the hint of vulnerability. Because what was hope but a soft spot people could hurt and break? He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the directness of the question. “I was thinking about it.”
“So, you could do it now.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, no matter how much his conscience told him not to give in to this. Protecting was not taking advantage of. Fighting evil with good was not giving in to something he didn’t have any right to want.
But she was close, the darker ring of blue around her pupils visible. The hope in her eyes too tempting. Her lips full and wet from where she’d licked them.
It didn’t have to be a distraction. It didn’t have to be wrong. It could be the start of something.
What? What are you going to start on this foundation? What do you have to offer?
Since the last question sounded a little bit too much like his father, he pushed it away. He wouldn’t be driven by his father’s voice.
He leaned closer, watching in fascination as her breath caught, and then she, too, leaned forward.
His phone trilled, which startled him back to reality. They were in a serious, dangerous situation with her child sleeping a few feet away. She was scared and out of sorts.
Now was not the time for nonsense. He glanced at the caller ID, frowned when it was Laurel’s number. “It’s Laurel.”
Addie nodded.
“What?” Noah greeted.
“Bad news,” Laurel said in her no-nonsense cop tone. “He’s gone.”
Before Noah could demand to know what that meant, Laurel continued.
“We did some questioning, but two armed men broke into the station. We’re small and understaffed and... Well, three deputies were injured. Badly. They’re...” She paused, and though she kept talking in that same efficient cop tone, Noah could tell she was shaken.
“Are you okay?”
“I’d gone to get dinner for everyone,” Laurel said bitterly. “Hart got the worst of it. He’s in surgery. The other two should be okay, but it’ll be... Well, anyway, I need you to be on guard. Three men, at least, are now on the loose and likely after Addie and Seth. I’ve called in more men, but we don’t have an endless supply of deputies.”
“We’re boarded up. Armed. You keep your men.”
“There could be more of them.”
Noah tried not to swear. “I’ll be ready.”
“Everyone in Bent has been told to be on the lookout for out-of-towners and immediately report it to us. Aside from Carsons and Delaneys, no one has the full story—I didn’t want anyone doing anything stupid. So you’ll have warning if someone’s coming your way, but I’m stretched so thin now here and—”
“I’ll handle it.”
“We’ll all work together to handle it.” She paused again. “You know, my brother—”
“No Delaneys.”
She sighed heavily. “Addie is a Delaney, moron. We’re all in this together. If you dare bring up the feud right now, I swear to God...” Then she laughed. “Oh, you did that on purpose to get me riled up about something else.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered. Except she’d sounded sad, and sad wasn’t going to do anyone any good. “I gotta go.”
“Keep your phone on you, and be careful.”
“Uh-huh. Keep me updated.”
“Will do.”
Noah hit End and looked at Addie, who’d moved into the kitchen, her back to him, as she hugged herself. He wasn’t sure how much she’d heard, but clearly enough to be concerned. He could try to put it lightly, but he thought after the whole almost-kiss thing, they needed the straightforward truth. “He escaped.”
Addie leaned against the tiny slab of countertop in the minimalist kitchen. “How?” she asked, her voice strangled.
Noah didn’t want to tell her. He even toyed with the idea of lying to her. But in the end, he couldn’t. If they were going to win this, they needed to be open and honest with each other.
“Someone helped him. A few deputies were hurt in the process.”
She whirled on him then, all anger and frustration. “I can’t have this, Noah. I cannot have people’s lives on my head.”
“They’re on the mob’s head. Beginning and end of that story.”
She shook her head and marched over to the living room, purposefully keeping as much room
between them as possible in the tiny cabin. “I’m packing Seth up and we’re running. You can’t stop me.”
She paused over Seth’s crib, clearly warring over the idea of picking him up when he was sleeping.
Noah parked himself in front of the door, picking up the rifle he’d rested there. “You’re not going anywhere.”
She glanced back at him, her expression going mutinous. “You can’t keep me prisoner here.”
“Watch me.”
Chapter Eight
Addie was so furious she considered walking right up to him and punching him in the gut.
Except Noah was so big and hard her little fist couldn’t do much damage, if any. And that was the thing that had dogged her for a year.
She had no strength and no power. She couldn’t win this fight. She could only put it off a little while.
And everyone trying to help her was going to die.
Her knees gave out and she fell with an audible thump onto the couch, guilt and uselessness washing over her.
“Don’t... Don’t cry. Please.” Noah grumbled.
Which was the first time she realized she was crying. Not little slipped-out tears. Huge, fat tears. She sobbed once, tired and overwhelmed. It was easier when it was her and Seth against the world. She didn’t have to deal in hope or guilt. All she had was run.
“Addie, honey, come on.” She felt the couch depress and Noah’s arm go around her shaking shoulders. “Please. Please stop crying. You’re not a prisoner. You’re just... We’re just lying low, that’s all. Together. Hell, you have to stop crying. It just about kills me.”
He sounded so desperate, she wished she could stop. But she was just so tired, and the truth was she wanted to let Noah handle it. Believe him. But the man who’d tried to steal Seth away had escaped, and people had been hurt, and all those people would have been fine if she’d never come here.
“Those men are hurt because of me. You’re in this cabin because of me. You should have let me run. I’m only trouble.”
His strong arm pulled her tighter. “You’re not trouble. You’ve been a victim, and you’ve been brave and strong for a long time. Let someone take the reins.”
“I’m hardly brave. I’m sitting here crying like a baby.”
“You escaped a madman for how long?”
She blew out a breath. “But I can’t beat him.”
“Maybe not alone. Together we will, and I don’t just mean me. You’ve got Laurel and Grady and everyone. The whole town is with us. That doesn’t make what you’ve managed to do less. Addie, look at him,” he said, gesturing toward the crib and Seth. “He’s perfect.”
“He is.”
“You did that.”
“No, I didn’t.” He’s not mine. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but Noah’s rough hand cupped her cheek.
“Promise me you won’t try to run off. Promise me you’ll trust me on this. We are in this together, until you’re both safe.”
He was touching her so gently, looking at her so earnestly, asking for a promise she didn’t want to give. She even opened her mouth to refuse the promise, but something in the moment reminded her of before.
Noah believed her. From the beginning. Without hesitation. If she had done that with Kelly, maybe everything would be different.
Grief threatened to swamp her, but she couldn’t change the past. What she could do was change her future.
Trusting him to help was what she had to do. And maybe anyone who got hurt along the way... She hated to even think it, but it was true.
She would sacrifice a clean conscience for Seth, so if people got hurt, as long as Seth was safe, she couldn’t let it matter.
“Okay. Okay.” She nodded, even as his hands stayed on her cheek. “I promise we’re in this together.” No matter what guilt she had to endure. It was for Seth. If she could remember that...
It was hard to remember anything with Noah’s big, rough hand on her face. She’d long since stopped crying, but he was still touching her. And he was not a man given to casual touches.
Yet it didn’t feel like the other two moments. Those moments that had been interrupted, where everything in her had stilled and yearned. There was some lack of softness on his face.
But unlike those other two moments, this time he did close the distance between them. His mouth touched hers, and for all the ways Noah had clearly resisted this moment, there was nothing tentative about it.
He kissed like a man who knew what he was doing. His lips finding hers unerringly, no matter how much beard separated them. There was nothing she could have done to prepare herself for that wave of feeling. Something so warm and sweet and bright she thought she couldn’t name it.
But the word hope whispered across the edges of her consciousness as she reached out for him, wanting to hold on to something. Wanting it to be him.
When he pulled away, all too quickly in her estimation, he searched her face, relaxing a millimeter, and somehow she understood.
It wasn’t a real kiss. It wasn’t loss of control because passion so consumed him. “You did that to distract me,” she accused. She should be angrier, more hurt, but all she could really be was bone-deep glad he’d done it.
Now she knew how much more was worth.
He pressed his mouth together, though she thought maybe under the beard was some kind of amused smile. “Maybe,” he rumbled.
She crossed her arms over her chest huffily. “It didn’t work.”
His mouth quirked that tiny bit. “Yes, it did.”
Her heart fluttered at his easy confidence. She didn’t understand this man. Gruff and sweet, with so many walls, and yet he could kiss like he’d been born to do it and knew what kind of effect he had on her.
She was torn between kissing him again—much deeper and much longer this time—and eliciting more of this almost-smiling, certainly half-teasing man out of him.
But a loud bang, something like an explosion outside, had them both jumping. Addie was afraid she’d screamed, but in the end it didn’t matter. Noah was on his feet, rifle in his hands, and she had already swept Seth up against her chest.
Noah’s mouth was a firm line under his beard. Without a word he took her by the arm and propelled her around the couch. He shoved a narrow table against the wall out of the way, and then as if by magic, pulled up a door in the middle of the floor. An actual door.
“It’s a cellar. Cramped and dark, but it can keep you safe if you’re quiet. Go down there.”
“But what about you?”
“I’ll handle it. I promise.”
“There could be—”
He slapped his phone into her palm. “Call or text everyone. You stay here and safe and let them come to my rescue, got it?”
Remembering her earlier promise to herself—anything for Seth—she swallowed and nodded. She turned to the dark space the pulled-up door allowed and did her best to ignore fear of dark or cramped or not knowing as she felt her way down a shaking length of stairs.
Seth wiggled and fussed against her, but was mostly content when she held him hard and close.
“Good?” Noah asked.
“Peachy,” she muttered, and then she was plunged into darkness.
* * *
NOAH’S HEART BEAT too hard and too fast, but he focused on keeping his breathing even. He kept his mind on the facts he had.
Someone was outside and trying to get in. Addie and Seth were safe in the cellar if he kept them so. The boarded-up windows made no entrance into the cabin undetectable. He had the tactical advantage.
Except he couldn’t see who was out there or how many, and though he knew the general vicinity that loud bang had come from, he didn’t know exactly what had caused it or what kind of weaponry the undetermined number of men had.
He knew how to fight bad men, but he’d
never had to fight off a possible group of them. He’d have to figure it out. Seth and Addie were counting on him.
The door shook in time with another large bang. And then another. He realized grimly there was also a banging coming from the back of the cabin, so there were at least two of them. Trying to get into the cabin from two different directions.
He needed to create some kind of barrier and he needed to make sure he kept both men—if it was only two—far away from Addie and Seth. He didn’t want to leave them alone to draw the men away, but if she called Laurel, there would be help on the way.
Because the cabin had been used as a hideout for the Carson clan for over a century, it had all sorts of hidden places and secret exits. Maybe he could sneak out and pick off whoever was out there. Based on the banging, he had a better idea of where they were than they had of where he was.
It was a chance he’d have to take. He couldn’t let them get inside. There would be too many ways he could be cornered, too many ways Seth making noise might give Addie away. And he had to know more about what he was dealing with so he wouldn’t be caught unaware.
He strode to the kitchen, gripped the rifle under his arm and gave the refrigerator a jerk. He didn’t push it all the way out, in case he needed to hide this little secret passageway quickly. Instead, he yanked the wallboard open and shoved his body through the narrow opening.
There was a crawl space that would lead him outside—one of the sides he hadn’t heard banging against. And if he miscalculated, well, he pulled his rifle in front of him. He’d use that to nudge the door open, shoot first and ask questions later. Whatever would keep Addie and Seth safe.
On his hands and knees, pushing the rifle in front of him, he squeezed his too-big body through the too-small space. He nudged the door with the gun, then frowned when it didn’t budge.
After a few more nudges—harder and harder each time—he finally got the small door to move, but just enough to see what was blocking it.
Snow. Far too many inches of snow. He pushed the rifle behind him, army-crawled up to the slight opening he’d made and got as close to the crack as possible so he could look out.