by Cindy Dees
He sat back and took a sip of wine. Well, now. So she was playing games with him. Why wasn’t he surprised? The meal’s relaxing effect evaporated like a drop of water on the surface of the Sun. He knew better than to let down his guard around this woman.
If he’d learned one thing from their wide-ranging dinner conversation, though, it was that she was no dummy. He’d have to proceed carefully. Appear to play along with her game. See where it led, and keep his eyes open for the trap before she sprang it on him. He needed more information.
“What kinds of legitimate businesses does Eduardo invest in to hide his assets?” he asked.
She shook her head in the negative. Damn. Better lay on more relaxation. He smiled and refilled her glass of wine. He gazed out at the handful of skiers dotting the slope and sipped his wine while he planned his next move.
He leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs out more comfortably. Hopefully he looked at ease, even though his gut felt like a wet knot being yanked tighter and tighter.
“Okay, let’s try something easier,” he said lightly. “Why me?”
She studied him for a long time, her eyes black pools of doubt. Finally she answered, barely louder than a whisper, “Because I trust you.”
The words exploded over him like a sonic boom, and sharp pressure built up in his ears and behind his eyes. He gripped the edge of the table while the now-familiar tidal wave of darkness roared toward him. Instead of fighting it this time, he tried a different tactic. He didn’t grasp for the memories he sensed lingering behind the veil of black. He squashed his curiosity and merely let the moment roll over him and through him in hopes that this time it would pass him by. It worked. Barely.
He cleared his throat, realizing she was frowning at him. Crap. More relaxation. ASAP. “And why exactly do you trust me?”
Her eyebrows knit into a frown. “Shouldn’t that be obvious, given our past?”
Crap. What was their past?
She reached across the table and put her hand on top of his. “Are you all right?” she asked in concern, looking him directly in the eyes.
“Hell no, I’m not all right,” he bit out.
She flinched at the lash in his voice, but bravely she didn’t retreat. He wouldn’t have guessed she had such backbone. “What can I do to help?” she asked quietly.
He sighed, the moment of uncontrolled anger past. “Damned if I know.”
Compassion softened her expression until he thought he might crawl right into that sweet, melting gaze of hers. “Don’t worry, Dutch. I know you’ll take great care of me.” She pushed back her empty plate and propped her elbows on the table. “Tonight is about relaxing. Let’s talk about something else. Where did you learn to ski?”
“Montana. Big Sky Country.”
“I hear it’s beautiful. I’ve never been up there.”
He smiled fondly. “It’s God’s own backyard.”
She commented, “Ever consider being a professional skier? You looked pretty fast on that downhill run today.”
Embarrassment warred with his curiosity over just what had happened up there during his blackout. “Did I…” He didn’t quite know how to word it, so he just barged ahead. “Did I say anything, do anything, before I went down that hill?”
“You looked really surprised to see me, which was kind of weird since you were there to meet me. Then you turned and headed straight for the downhill course. I was startled because just about nobody tries it.”
He snorted. “For good reason. I nearly broke my neck out there. Why’d you go down it?”
She looked away, then answered reluctantly, “I was worried about you. I got the feeling you might get into trouble on that run.”
Rather than delve too deeply into her concern for him, which unaccountably made him uncomfortable, he asked, “Where did you learn to ski so well? It’s not like Gavarone has ever seen snow.”
She teased, “We took lots of vacations to Switzerland when I was a kid. And I have an apartment there now.”
Switzerland. As in the home of secure international banking. That was an interesting, albeit not surprising, choice of residence for a woman with money to hide.
She interrupted his speculations. “Hey, you started asking questions again. It’s still my turn.”
“Sorry. What else would you like to know about me?”
“Tell me about Charlie Squad.”
Now, there was a touchy question. Where to begin? And how much to say to the daughter of his enemy? “We still do what we always did. We liaise between the air force and the Special Forces teams from the other branches of the U.S. military. To do that, we’re trained the same way they are and can do a broad variety of special ops missions.”
“Do you still operate in six-man teams where each guy has a particular specialty?”
“Why do you ask?” he retorted.
“I always wanted to know what you did for Charlie Squad. You never told me.”
He smiled without humor. “My specialty’s hard to define. I plan missions. I solve problems…creatively. When we’re stuck, I’m the guy who leads the team through a brainstorming session to figure out how to get unstuck.”
“So, Mr. Thinker. Have you figured out what you’re going to do with me after I hand you everything you want on my father?”
“Of course,” he answered lightly. “I’m going to kill you.”
Her wineglass shattered on the hardwood floor with a musical crash.
Chapter 4
Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God.
She should’ve known that was what he’d say. But to hear the words spoken aloud. With such calm certainty…
She shuddered. Of course, it wouldn’t really matter if he killed her or not. Once her father decided she was in need of killing, nothing and nobody would stop him. One way or another, her life was forfeit. She’d known that when she’d started this fiasco. But to die at the hands of a man she’d once loved—that was a cruel blow.
He almost acted as if he’d forgotten the way she used to moon over him like a love-struck calf. Was he playing some sort of sick cat-and-mouse game with her emotions? If so, it was working.
Frankly, it was a minor miracle he hadn’t killed her already, regardless of what information she might have on Eduardo. She briefly considered showing him her ace in the hole, the bit of information she planned to hold until last. But it wasn’t time. Not yet.
I’m going to kill you.
His words tolled like a death knell, announcing her demise. She should cut her losses and walk out that door this second. Except she had nowhere left to go. Contacting Dutch had been her last-ditch attempt to stay alive long enough to save her sister. Did she dare brazen it out with Dutch and pray like crazy he never followed through on his deadly promise? She knelt on the floor and dabbed clumsily at the obscenely red spill of wine with her napkin.
Dutch towered over her with a roll of paper towels. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll get it.”
She sat back on her heels, too rattled to stand. She watched him mop up the wine and pick up the broken pieces of glass. Quick. Efficient. Thorough.
With a last sweep of paper towel across the floor, he announced, “There. All gone.”
Just like her when this was all over. He moved with lethal grace to the kitchen and disposed of the mess. She still hadn’t mustered the strength to stand when he came back. He reached down and pulled her effortlessly to her feet. He looked into her eyes, and somehow she found the strength of will to meet the iron resolve in his sapphire gaze. So. The battle was joined. The rules of engagement were understood. This was a duel to the death. To her death, to be precise.
She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. His gaze drifted to her neck. And then lower, examining her in leisurely fashion, as if measuring her for a take-down. Everywhere his gaze touched her she burned with icy fire, and her shivers intensified. Thankfully he stepped away, and she remembered to breathe again.
He held her cha
ir for her and she sat down weakly. The combination of terror and intense awareness made it impossible to look up at him, even though she felt his gaze boring into the top of her head.
“I’m not going to hurt you tonight,” he said abruptly. “You asked for my protection and I’m giving it to you. For now.”
But the day would come when he’d turn on her. She couldn’t bear to think about it. She had to leave him. Now. She’d just have to come up with another plan to save Carina. Hysteria swirled around her in a dizzying haze barely held in check. She was trapped. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
“What’s next on the agenda?” she asked, doing her best to mask her agitation.
He jerked his head toward the bedroom. Her brain skipped like a scratched record. He wanted to go in the bedroom with her? The idea fired her imagination in shocking ways.
He remarked, “You need to relax and get a good night’s sleep. Your nerves are frazzled, and you’re not thinking clearly.”
No kidding. For a second there, she’d thought he meant something else entirely. She’d actually hoped he meant something else.
She went into the bedroom with its stone fireplace, picture windows and huge bed. Four normal-size adults could sleep in the thing. She jumped as she sensed a movement behind her.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I just need some clothes.” He opened his suitcase, pulled out a sweat suit and headed for the door.
“Where are you going to sleep?” she asked.
“On the couch in the living room.”
She frowned. “It’s not nearly long enough for you. I’ll take the couch. You stay here.”
“Not a chance. Nobody’s getting past me out there. You’re safe tonight. Get some sleep.”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been truly safe. Even before she escaped her father’s clutches, she’d never felt secure. His enemies, including agents of the various governments he’d flouted, were always waiting to strike. Like the man standing before her now.
“Julia? Are you all right?”
She jerked her attention back to him. He stood so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. No, she wasn’t all right! “I’m fine,” she managed to force out.
His eyes flashed their disbelief, but he merely stepped back politely and said, “Sweet dreams.” His deep voice sent a shiver down her spine. Her cheeks burned.
Startled by the power of her reaction to him, she nodded wordlessly in return. The door closed quietly. She turned away from the knotty-pine panel. Shedding her clothes quickly, she dropped her nightgown over her head. The silk caressed her skin the same sensuous way she imagined his fingers would have if things had been different. She crawled beneath the fluffy down comforter, and its flannel duvet cradled her in gentle warmth.
Restless, she rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Regret pierced her. In another time and place, she’d have loved nothing more than to spend the night with James Dutcher. But it wasn’t meant to be. Their worlds had collided before, ending any chance they might have had now before it even began.
She’d catch a nap for a couple of hours, and then she’d leave. As tempting as it was to let him take care of her, she dared not stay with him. He was too smart. He’d figure out what she was really up to, and when he did, she and Carina were as good as dead.
It was dark and silent when she woke up. The mountain outside the window was a black silhouette against the night sky. The bedside clock said it was 3:20 a.m. Perfect.
She climbed out of bed and, shivering, pulled on clothes. She grabbed Dutch’s car keys from the bureau and her purse, which contained a few toiletries and her all important cash. Having met him again, having seen his intention to kill her, she simply couldn’t stay. She had no right to put Carina’s life further at risk. Her little sister had suffered enough. Julia would find some other way to save her.
Carrying her shoes, Julia eased the bedroom door open and tiptoed to the living room in her socks. A red glow came from the remains of the fire, casting a hellish light in the wide space. She made out Dutch’s long form stretched out on the couch, as magnificent as a dragon sprawled in his fiery lair. Even asleep, danger radiated from him. Holding her breath, she eased across the floor one careful step at a time. Cold seeped through her socks before she finally drew close to the door. She reached cautiously for the knob.
“Going somewhere?”
She jumped violently and spun around. Dutch loomed directly behind her, his expression stony. How in the world had he gotten right up to her without her hearing a thing?
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” she replied bravely.
“Care to tell me where?” Even roughened with sleep, his voice was cool and deadly.
“No, not particularly. I’ve got to get away from my father’s men, and I don’t want to endanger you any more than I already have. I’ll just be going now.” She again reached for the doorknob.
His large hand landed with heavy finality on the door beside her head. “That’s a bad idea,” he murmured. His breath touched her warmly in stark contrast to the chill pouring off him. There it was again. That strange pull between them. Something about this man called out to her, an odd vulnerability within his steel. It made her want to wrap her arms around him and hold him, even though on another level he scared her to death.
She turned under his arm and stared up at him. His face was an intersecting series of harsh shadows, his eyes pools of black. She ached to reach up and smooth away the frown from his forehead. His fathomless gaze narrowed and sexual awareness abruptly rolled off him. In waves that all but drowned her. His presence was overpowering even though he didn’t move a muscle. He made her feel so small. Fragile. The sensation was thrilling and frightening at the same time. Lord, it was tempting to bury herself in all that strength and masculine appeal. To solve the intriguing mystery that was Jim Dutcher.
“It’s for the best that I go,” she murmured.
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“Do you really have to ask?”
He leaned even closer, his mouth by her ear. His chest all but touched hers, and her breasts tingled at the tantalizing nearness of his body. The lingering remnants of his aftershave smelled warm and sexy.
He murmured in a lover’s endearment, “You’re responsible for my brother’s death. When you called me you had to expect that I’d want to hurt you the same way you hurt me. And it’s not like I came looking for you. But now that you’re here, I’m damn well going to see justice done.”
A icicle of dread speared her. He wanted to hurt her the same way she’d hurt him. Oh. My. God. She’d been right. If he ever found out about Carina, he’d have the perfect tool to do exactly that—kill one sibling for another. She could never let him find out about her fight to save her sister! If he did, he’d do whatever it took to get Carina killed. It would be the perfect revenge.
A violent shudder rippled through her. Pull yourself together! She dared not give away just how scared she was. He’d leap all over her fear and use it to his advantage.
How could she be so drawn to him one second and so afraid of him the next? It made no sense whatsoever.
His other hand landed on the door beside her head, trapping her between his powerful arms. “What aren’t you telling me, Julia? I need to know everything if we’re going to nail Eduardo before he nails you. What is it?” he demanded softly.
She stared at him in dismay. Busted. As usual, he’d read her like an open book. But now she knew she could never answer that question. Ever. She replied, “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want your help.”
She felt him absorb her refusal to answer like a physical blow. She closed her eyes against the pull between them. She felt like a paper clip in the presence of a high-powered magnet. The haven of his care, the companionship of another human being in her solitary flight from death, his sheer masculine sex appeal were darned near irresistible.
She understood his anger. Could accept it. But she
had to get over the past. Had to let go of the feelings for him she’d carried around inside her for all these years like a secret pearl hidden deep within the closed shells of her heart.
She jumped when he trailed a finger down the length of her neck. His voice caressed her like black velvet. “You look like a caged swan. Give me a chance, my desperate Odile. I’ll keep you safe.”
She blinked at the reference to the black swan from the ballet Swan Lake who was tragically manipulated by her evil father. An apt analogy. She let out a slow breath. Even his intelligence was seductive. How was she supposed to get over him?
He pushed away from the door and took a step back. “Come to bed. It’s late and your feet must be frozen. Let’s get them warmed up.”
There it was again. That natural compassion he lapsed into whenever he forgot to be furious at her. It sent her pulse pounding completely out of control. She shivered, but not from the icy cold seeping between her toes. The inevitability of doom settled around her, but she was powerless to fight it. She followed him back to the bedroom and let him tuck her into bed like a child.
But she lurched when he started to climb in beside her. “What are you doing?” she exclaimed.
“Keeping an eye on you. I’m a very light sleeper. If you get out of bed again, it’ll wake me up.”
“But—”
“No buts. I’m not letting you run away before Eduardo’s behind bars.” His voice rang with hard finality.
She subsided against her pillow. A tiny corner of her heart sighed in relief. Was she relieved he’d made her stay because he’d protect her, or was it something else entirely? Something to do with the overwhelmingly male vibes rolling off him as he lay beside her, and the way something instinctive and female inside her responded? She lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, beside a man she wanted desperately. A man who had the reason and the resolve to kill her.
What in the world was she supposed to do now?