Deadly Valentine

by Davis, Justine; Davis, Justine

  She was grateful when he chose a route down the mountain, but it was still rough going. She’d be glad to get back on level ground again. Heck, she’d be really glad to get back to her regularly scheduled life and never hike all over a mountain again.

  As they trekked on, she contemplated what she was going to tell Colt when he got around to asking what the heck she’d been doing on top of the mountain. As uncomfortable as it might be, she supposed she was better off to just stick with the truth. But in the meantime, maybe she could distract him.

  She asked, “What do you intend to do once you figure out what Peter hid inside your head?”

  He shrugged. “Depends on what it is, I suppose.”

  “What do you think the big secret is?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Some sort of discovery or invention having to do with future weapon systems for the Department of Defense.”

  “Okay, let’s say that’s what Peter invented. What will you do with it?”

  Colt answered heavily, “Hand it over to the right people.”

  “And who are they?”

  “Hell if I know at this point. I’ve got gun-toting killers claiming to be from the U.S. government trying to kill me, and foreign mafia bosses offering me sweet deals to run my own weapons-manufacturing company to make whatever Peter invented. Who am I supposed to believe?”

  She knew the feeling well. She felt like a Ping-Pong ball bouncing back and forth between trusting Colt and being convinced he was a bad guy who’d kidnapped her. She said reflectively, “I suppose at some point you just have to trust your gut.”

  He snorted. “My gut’s so screwed up I barely know who I am, let alone who to trust.”

  They trudged on in silence after that.

  Exactly when the cold crept inside her clothes and wrapped around her in a freezing blanket of misery, she didn’t know. But gradually she realized her feet and hands had gone numb. And then she started stumbling more frequently. Her teeth started to chatter if she didn’t consciously clench her teeth.

  “You okay?” Colt asked.

  “I’m f-f-f-fine.”

  Colt whipped around immediately and grabbed her hands. “Cripes, you’re an ice cube. Count backward from ten to one for me.” She frowned. What for? But dutifully she started. “T-tten. N-n-nine.” A pause. “Eight.” A very long pause while she concentrated hard. “S-s-sev-v-v-ven.” But then she got stuck. For the life of her she couldn’t remember which number came next. She decided to try counting up from one to get to what came next. “Uhh…one. T-t-two—”

  “That’s enough. You’re hypothermic. Bad guys on our tails or not, we’ve got to stop and get you warmed up. Now.”

  Warmth. It sounded like manna from heaven. She realized her teeth chattered uncontrollably, jaw clenching or not. Maybe that was what was giving her the sudden throbbing headache.

  “Stay put. I’ve got to get you dry or you’ll never warm up. I’m going to build a quick shelter, and then I’m getting you out of those wet clothes.”

  She retorted, “As l-lines g-go to g-get a g-girl out of her knickers, that’s p-p-pretty l-l-lame.”

  He laughed quietly as he pulled out a knife nearly the length of her forearm and began slashing at branches on the trees around them. He spoke low over his shoulder. “Honey, if I wanted you out of your clothes, I wouldn’t need to make up some line about you being hypothermic.”

  “Oh, y-y-yeah?”

  “Yeah. Crouch down and wrap your arms around your middle. It’ll help you conserve a little heat.”

  She was fairly certain she didn’t have any heat left to conserve, but she played along. If it made him feel better, she’d curl up in this stupid fetal position. She asked, “Where are we going once we get out of these woods?”

  “Good question. The feds no doubt have the cabin staked out by now. Although how they found the place, I haven’t a clue. It’s as if they had some sort of tracking device on us. But I’m sure I got rid of everything on the car.”

  She mentally gulped and felt the hard plastic of her cell phone in her pocket. She might know how they were being tracked. Earlier, she’d been hoping to be tracked, in fact. But by rescuers, not would-be attackers.

  In just a few minutes Colt fashioned a long, low structure covered in broad overlapping leaves that neatly shed the rain.

  “Your mansion awaits you,” he announced with a flourish.

  She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled inside. The interior was dark and green smelling, and the thick layer of boughs and leaves he’d laid for a floor was pokey. However, it did hold her up off the wet ground. He crawled in beside her and the space went from cozy to cramped. But heat immediately began to roll off his big body.

  “Sheesh, you’re better than a space heater.”

  “I’ve been working hard building this palace. If you’re cold, come share the heat.”

  She huddled up against him, greedily soaking up all the warmth he cared to share with her. In a few minutes her teeth stopped chattering and the shivers cramping her muscles began to unwind.

  Colt spoke quietly. “You want to tell me why I woke up alone in the cabin this afternoon?”

  She sighed. Time to face the music. “You have to understand. All this has happened to me very fast. One day I’m developing film in my studio and living a nice, quiet life, and the next day this stranger I’ve never met before blows into my life. All of a sudden, people are chasing me and attacking me and I’m not sure I fully understand why. Then those men called me your hostage—” Her voice broke as the stress of the past day caught up with her all of a sudden.

  “Ahh. And you believe them?” he asked quietly. “I suppose I can see that.”

  “Believed. Past tense. When they started shooting at me after you joined me, that was a pretty good indication you aren’t the one trying to kill me.”

  His arms tightened around her. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. Things weren’t supposed to go to so bad. I swear I’ll do everything in my power to keep you from getting hurt.”

  She released a slow breath. She believed him. She might even trust him. Which was a strange sensation. She’d learned long ago not to trust men in general—at least not with something personal and important like her heart or, oh, her life.

  “While we’re having true confessions,” she said hesitantly, “I think I know how they found us. I went to the top of the mountain to get cell phone coverage and call for help.”

  He didn’t go tense beneath her. In fact, if anything he relaxed. That was weird. But then he murmured in relief, “Mystery solved.”

  Wow. He wasn’t going to yell at her? That was mature of him.

  He asked, “So, did you get a hold of anyone?”

  “No. I could never quite get coverage.”

  “Too bad. We could use some law-enforcement backup right about now.”

  “You’re not mad at me?” she asked, surprised.

  “No. It’s my fault if I didn’t inspire enough trust in you to believe me.”

  “But I led the bad guys straight to us.”

  He hugged her a little closer. “I’m just as at fault as you are. I didn’t think about them tracking your cell phone signal. These guys are really good and I’m not operating at anything close to full capacity. We’ve got more important problems than pointing fingers at each other over who’s responsible for them finding us.”

  “Speaking of which, what comes next?”

  “Any revelations about jars while you were out here communing with nature?” he asked. “No. Sorry.”

  “After we get some rest, we’ll head for a road and see if we can flag someone down. And then we’ll keep searching for the trigger.”

  “You are single-minded, aren’t you?” she murmured.

  “No. I’m fighting for my sanity.”

  Chapter 6

  S he gulped. Not only did him losing his mind not bode well for her safety, but she worried about Colt personally. He was a decent man. An hono
rable one. It wasn’t his fault he got captured and ended up in the same cell with Peter.

  She spoke quietly. “Those men said they’re from the government. Is that true?”

  His jaw tightened. “Maybe. They seem to be trained a lot like me. If they are, they’re a rogue group or flat-out spies. If we’re lucky and we catch them, we may kill two birds with one stone. You and I would get left alone, and we could rid the government of them.”

  She frowned. “Is there more to this situation than you’ve told me? I feel like I’m missing something. What do you know that you’re not telling me?”

  He sighed. “You don’t need to know that in formation.”

  “You want my help getting Peter out of your head? That’s the price,” she declared. “I want to know everything.”

  He exhaled long and hard. “Peter said you’re a stubborn woman.”

  “Yeah, well, he no doubt thought you were a true blue hero, too. Clearly his judgment stunk.”

  Colt grinned unwillingly. “Good thing my career’s already pretty much wrecked by my little psychiatric problem. My mission in Kyrgyzstan was to rescue Peter. And the reason I think it went to hell—the reason we failed and I ended up captured—is someone on our side sabotaged the mission.”

  “What are you saying?” she asked, shocked.

  “I think someone inside the government wants to get whatever Peter was working on for himself or for whoever he is working for.”

  “Shouldn’t you tell someone? Whoever it is that catches spies?”

  “I did. They’re the ones who told me I was crazy.”

  Appalled, she asked, “Do you think whoever sabotaged your rescue mission and those men chasing us work together?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Did Peter know who they were?”

  Colt stared at her, transfixed. “That’s an excellent question.”

  She shrugged. “It would explain why he went to such great lengths to hide whatever it was he came up with. I think we both agree it must have been a weapon of some kind, yes? After all, Peter did work at a government weapons research facility.”

  Colt was very still. She could actually feel his brain processing information and seeking solutions. Finally, he said slowly, “If you’re right and Peter knew the people who were after his work then and are sniffing around it now, that means the saboteurs and the guys chasing us now must have worked with Peter. Or at least whoever they’re working for must have worked with Pete and been familiar with his work.”

  “Do you know who he worked with?”

  Colt snorted. “Yeah. The jerks who’ve been calling me crazy.”

  “Well, that makes sense. They would need to discredit you so the government quits trying to extract whatever Peter hid in your head. Then they’d need to catch you and extract the secret themselves.”

  “They can try,” Colt retorted grimly, “but I’ll die before I reveal anything to them. My captors found that out the hard way in—” He broke off.

  “What?” she breathed.

  “It just occurred to me that my captors might have been working for the same person or persons as the men chasing me now do.”

  “If it’s all related, what does that mean for us?”

  “It means we have to be very, very careful. If these guys catch us, who knows what they’ll do to us.”

  She gulped. She had no stomach for the kind of torture he’d endured during his captivity. Just witnessing one of his nightmares about it had shaken her to the core. No way could she withstand something like that.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered.

  “Aww, honey. Don’t be. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

  “But what if I don’t feel safe?”

  “Then I guess I’d just have to distract you.”

  That sounded interesting. “How would you do that?”

  “I suppose I’d just wrap my arms more tightly around you—” he demonstrated, drawing her gently, but inexorably, closer “—and I’d breathe in the scent of your hair. Then I’d kiss your earlobe like this…” He nibbled his way down her neck, describing in half-whispered detail everything he was going to do next.

  When he got to the part about slipping his hands under her shirt to feel the warmth of her skin and how her breasts would fill his cupped hands, how he’d knead them until she moaned and arched into him, she reached up reflexively to stop him. Except somehow, her hands ended up tangled in the collar of his shirt, her fingertips tracing the outline of his jaw, her entire body straining against his of its own free will.

  He eased her shirt over her head, kissing his way across her collarbone to her bra strap. He lifted the thin satin with his teeth and pulled it aside, kissing a path of utter destruction in its wake. When the clasp popped open behind her back, she hardly noticed, so breathless was she at the way his tongue was swirling around the frantic peak of her breast through thin, damp fabric, his teeth grazing the sensitized flesh until she arched up off the ground, begging for more.

  As she pressed against him, the clammy cold of his shirt contacted her skin. “Hey, you’re falling behind,” she teased. She stripped his shirt off quickly, baring his big, hard chest to her eager touch. Her pants magically peeled away from her legs and cold air hit her skin, jolting her. But then with a rattle of a buckle and a quick zip, his warm, naked legs twined with hers. Every part of him was solid. Muscular. Overwhelming. This was no lean, androgynous model. Colt was a man’s man. A warrior. Vague alarm vibrated in the back of her head. He was not the kind of man she’d be able to manage easily. Okay, to manage at all.

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re intimidating?” she mumbled against his chest. “Or that you kiss like a god?”

  Smiling against her lips, he murmured, “A time or two.” He deepened his kiss, inhaling her entire soul into him. When her head was spinning and she could barely form a thought, he added, “But none of my men could kiss me back like you do, honey.”

  Smiling, she pulled him down to her. “I hear marines are the best kissers.”

  “I’m no jarhead, in spite of Peter insisting on calling me one.”

  She laughed. “Peter said marines have the best stamina, too.”

  “Now those are fighting words, madam. Clearly, I’m going to have to uphold the honor of the United States infantrymen tonight.” And then he kissed her so thoroughly she couldn’t have answered even if she had been able to string words together into actual sentences in her scrambled brain.

  Colt fought to control his raging need for this woman. Fought to hang on to his mind, holding off panic and hopelessness by sheer dint of will. Neither were impulses he’d ever given into before, not even during the worst of his captivity. Not even when Pete had died and he’d been so sure he was next—

  A stunning thought hit him. He’d been rescued from his captors within a few days of Peter’s death in a mission that had gone ridiculously smoothly. At the time he’d just been grateful to get out of hell alive. But for the first time he had to wonder about the timing of it all. He’d thought it horribly tragic that Peter had died just before help had come. But maybe help had come precisely because Peter had died.

  If his captors had been in cahoots with a colleague of Peter’s, and they’d been using Colt to get Peter to talk about his work, once Pete had died there would have been no point in holding Colt any longer. My God. Had that entire year of hell been an elaborate setup to trick Peter into revealing whatever he’d come up with?

  Disbelief roared through Colt. He’d suffered agonies and insults to the human body that no mortal should ever be forced to endure. He’d comforted himself with the knowledge that he was serving his country. That he was doing the right thing. Being a hero. And it had all been staged to trick Peter?

  Surely not.

  But how could it not all be connected? Particularly after Colt got home and Peter’s colleague, who’d been brought in to consult with Colt’s shrinks, had been so adamant that Peter wasn’t working on anything new or revolut
ionary. Come to think of it, that had also been the guy who first suggested Colt had a screw or two loose.

  “Are you okay?” Layla asked hesitantly.

  “Oh. Uh, yeah.” Holy cow. Here he was nearly making love to a beautiful sexy woman, and he’d gone woolgathering like some senile old man!

  To hell with spies and conspiracies and elaborate ruses. He was alive and free right now. With Layla. He had no idea if he’d be captured and mind-raped soon or not. But the two of them had this moment. And that was all he planned to think about.

  He kissed her with all the desperation and passion he’d bottled up in his soul for the past year. It was a huge to relief to feel it rushing out of him in a violent torrent of need. And Layla, God bless her, absorbed every bit of it, taking everything into herself, smoothing out the raw edges and reflecting it back to him in a glorious display of reciprocated lust.

  In fact, she’d gone so far as to become a bit of wild thing. Her nails scraped across his back, and the wordless, primal sounds she was making in the back of her throat exactly fit the earth beneath them and green leaves overhead. Thank God she didn’t seem to need him to be civilized or suave tonight. He was too edgy, too ragged, to be the kind of cool intellectual she probably went for.

  “What have you done to me, Colt?” she gasped.

  He laughed shortly. “I think you’re the one who’s done something to me. I’m barely hanging on, here.”

  “You’d better keep up with me.” She half laughed. “The reputation of the U.S. army rests on your shoulders.” She ran her hands across those shoulders and shuddered with delight beneath him.

  He half groaned. “I wouldn’t want to let down the whole army and hundreds of years of proud tradition. Do me a favor. If the bad guys show up, punch them in the nose and tell them to get lost for me.”

  “I will.” She grinned up at him in challenge and invitation.

  He was no idiot. He didn’t wait for the lady to ask twice. He groaned as he pressed into her tight heat, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces custom-cut for one another.

  “Oh, my,” she sighed in bliss.

  “I believe there was some question about the strength of a U.S. army man?” he asked lightly. He surged powerfully within her, withdrawing and repeating the maneuver until she was rising up to meet his every thrust, moaning wordlessly and clinging to him as if she never planned to let go. He kept up the steady rhythm until she went taut beneath him, her entire body arching into a rictus of pleasure. She cried out as shudders wracked her from head to toe. She went limp and gazed up at him in something akin to awe. He knew the feeling. But the pride of the U.S. army wasn’t served yet, no siree.