Hunter (Decorah Security Series, Book #20): A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novel

by Rebecca York

“That’s possible,” he conceded.

  When he stared into the distance without saying more, she touched his arm. “What are you thinking?”

  “About living in the guest cottage with you. I think they wouldn’t have let me do it if they were planning to let you leave afterwards.”

  A shudder swept across her skin.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered.

  “No. It’s best to be honest about the danger.”

  “Staying is more dangerous to you than trying to escape. But—”

  “But it’s not going to be a piece of cake,” she finished for him.

  “It has something to do with eating?”

  She laughed. “Sorry. That means it’s risky.”

  “You’re right. It’s not a piece of cake,” he repeated.

  She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment. “If anybody can get me out of here, you can.” She couldn’t hold back another laugh. “Because Beckton and his team taught you everything they know.”

  “Damn right!”

  She raised her face toward him. “I’ve never heard you use that kind of language.”

  “I’m experimenting.”

  “You’re loosening up.”

  “Is that good?”

  “Yes.”

  He bent toward her, his free hand gently stroking her arm, her shoulder. “We have a little time together before we have to leave. There are so many things I want to talk about.”

  “You’ll have to make a choice,” she said, wondering what he would decide.

  “Can I ask you questions?”

  “Of course. I like answering your questions.”

  He reached for a lock of her hair, wrapping it gently around his finger, playing with it. “Is making love and—and the sexual climax—always that good?” he asked.

  So, he had been thinking about their lovemaking. “I don’t think so,” she answered. “Only when a man and a woman—” she stopped, swallowed. “Well, I can only speak for myself. For me, it was wonderful because my feelings for you are very strong.”

  After the easy give and take of a few moments earlier, his reaction wasn’t quite what she’d expected. She’d thought he’d be pleased. Instead, he looked sad.

  Raising her head, she searched his face, knowing she should say what she really meant. “Why do you think I can’t—love you?” she asked.

  “Love,” he said softly. “You should not love me. I’m not a real person.”

  “Of course, you are!” Her hand opened and closed spasmodically, then settled on his arm. “Don’t say things like that,” she ordered, holding on for dear life. “Genetically, you are a man named Ben Lancaster. Maybe you even have some of his memories.”

  He made a dismissive sound. “It’s not that simple. What about the other men Dr. Swinton is growing in his tanks?”

  She shivered at the memory, then watched as his face took on a sad, angry look.

  “I am like them. And none of us has a soul,” he said with sudden vehemence.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hunter’s words brought a strangled feeling to her throat. “Where did you get that idea?” she managed.

  “Dr. Swinton said it.”

  “The bastard!” she hissed. “He knows that raising men in laboratory tanks in order to send them off on dangerous assignments is morally wrong. He’s frightened by the consequences of what he’s done. So, he’s shifting the blame to the victims.”

  “Yes, I come from his laboratory, and I’m not a human being,” Hunter said.

  She cupped her hands over his naked shoulders, feeling the flesh and muscle and bone. “You’re a better human being than Dr. Swinton,” she said with conviction. “When you saw me standing on the dock, and you knew Reid was going to set off the explosives, you could have moved out of danger. Instead, you came running toward me.”

  He swallowed. “Yes.”

  “So why did you do it?”

  “I—” His features took on a look of remembered pain. “I saw you standing there, and I—I couldn’t let him kill you. What happened to me didn’t matter. I had to save you if I could.”

  She folded back his hand and brought it to her mouth, stroking his flesh with her lips. “You put my welfare before your own. If you had no soul, you wouldn’t have done that,” she said with conviction.

  He raised his face toward hers, his expression achingly hopeful, and she knew that he wanted to believe her.

  “Swinton may be an expert at doing illegal biological experiments,” she said. “But I have a lot more experience with people. I’ve worked with all kinds. Good and bad. Moral and amoral. I know what kind of man you are. You are good. Moral. Honest. Intelligent. Giving. All the things I value.”

  “That can’t be true.”

  “It is. Or I wouldn’t have wanted to make love with you.” She kissed his fingertips.

  He sat staring into an unseen distance, and she wasn’t sure she had convinced him. All she could do was scoot closer to him and lay her head on his shoulder.

  Emerson and his men had done their best to damage Hunter. Yet there was a deep well of strength—of resilience within him. She knew it was true, or they wouldn’t be sitting here talking so intimately.

  “Who do you believe?” she asked softly. “Swinton or me?”

  After a long time, he answered, “I want to believe you. More than anything. But—”

  She lifted her face to his, found his mouth. At first, he held himself like a man turned to stone. Then, with a strangled sound of wanting, he began to respond. She gave him a long, desperate kiss, her hands moving over his naked chest and shoulders

  “Hunter, never doubt yourself. Never doubt that you are a good man. A normal man, and an extraordinary man, too. Very few people could have survived what they did to you. But you have. And from now on, everything will be better for you—for us.”

  There was still uncertainty in the depths of his dark eyes.

  She pulled his mouth back to hers, and her hands began to move urgently over him again, trying to show him the truth of her words. Trying to show him how much she cared.

  A sigh of gratification went through her when she felt him surrender to his need for her.

  “Yes. Make love with me,” she murmured.

  This time, there was no way either of them could go slowly. This time was hot and sharp and full of the desperation of two people caught in a trap that might destroy them both.

  ###

  A rumbling vibration made her raise her head and look anxiously around.

  Beside her, Hunter sat up, his gaze fixing on the door.

  “What is it?” she asked. “What’s happening?”

  “One of the alarms I set out while you were sleeping. We must leave here—quickly.” He pulled the cover from a screen that sat on a low shelf and stared at what looked like a round green target—with a series of concentric circles. At the bottom left, several small blips moved toward the central area.

  “Four men,” he said, watching the screen. “They are heading straight in our direction. Maybe somebody dug into the old records and found out about this place.”

  She felt a shiver go through her. After they’d made love again, Hunter had urged her to get ready to leave. She was dressed, except for her shoes, which weren’t quite dry. Now, she pulled them on.

  “We must assume they are looking for us,” he said as he checked the packs of supplies he’d gathered earlier.

  Handing her the lighter one, he silently moved the bar away from the door.

  “We can’t use a flashlight. Someone might see,” he whispered. “So, stay close to me.”

  “You can count on it,’ she murmured, following him down the tunnel and waiting while he scanned the immediate area before they both slipped outside into the cool evening air. He closed the door and used another lock he’d found inside to reseal the entrance.

  She looked around her in the gathering darkness, half expecting an attack from someone poised on the rocks above
their heads, but she saw no one.

  Quickly and silently, he led her down the path they’d taken earlier. There were large rocks and tree roots underfoot, and she would have fallen several times if he hadn’t been gripping her arm.

  It was hard to keep up with the pace he was setting, but she didn’t voice a complaint. About halfway down the trail, she heard feet, then a gruff voice.

  Hunter went stock-still, his fingers digging into her arm as he brought her to an abrupt halt.

  “This must be the place,” a man said.

  “Anyone home?”

  “The door’s locked,” the first speaker answered, and she knew he was talking about the shelter they’d vacated only minutes earlier.

  “I guess it’s another dead-end.”

  “Maybe they were here. I’d like to look for footprints, but it’s too dark to see much.”

  “All right; we’ve got another couple of hours before we can report back to the Chief of Operations. Let’s head back toward the lake,” another voice ordered. “See if we can spot anything along the shoreline.”

  The feet started down the path—coming directly toward them. Kathryn went rigid as she stared at the rock walls hemming them in. Now what? Run for it? They’d never make it. At least, she wouldn’t, she silently amended. Hunter could probably get away if he didn’t have to wait for her. But she knew with absolute certainty that he would never leave her. He had vowed to get her to safety, and he would do everything in his power to keep his promise.

  He tugged on her hand, and she came out of her trance, following him around a boulder. He pulled her into a crevasse on the far side, shielding her body with his and pressing her into the shadows. She buried her face in the front of his shirt, breathing in his familiar scent, trying to match his apparent calm, though her heart threatened to pound its way through the wall of her chest as the search team moved closer and closer.

  To her vast relief, they didn’t leave the trail, didn’t stop as they descended to the lake.

  In a few minutes, Hunter tugged at her hand again and whispered, “We will go the other way.”

  “That was no accident. They came straight to the shelter.” she said.

  “Yes. After McCourt’s men failed to find our bodies at the lake, someone must have searched the old records for places where we might hide.”

  They retraced their steps up the hill. Before they reached the shelter, Hunter led her down a branching path. In the fading light, it was even slower going than before.

  When they reached the bottom of the hill, she stood dragging in air.

  “We can’t stay here long,” he said in a barely audible voice.

  “I know.”

  “But we can take a shortcut through the woods,” he added as he scanned the area and began to edge forward into the forest.

  He moved with caution, stopping to listen every few minutes, but they met no more patrols. She was starting to relax when she saw flashlight beams cutting through the gloom.

  Hunter went stock-still, then swiftly pulled her behind the trunk of a tree as the lights and the sound of moving feet drew closer. Swallowing a little moan, she melted against him, resisting the urge to close her eyes. Unable to look away from the lights, she watched them approach, feeling like an animal being stalked.

  She felt Hunter’s muscles tense as he prepared for a confrontation. But at the last moment, the men passed a few feet to their left and moved into the distance.

  The air frozen in her lungs hissed out. Stratford Creek might not be a military base anymore, but it looked like Colonel Emerson commanded a small army. “That was pretty close,” she said, when she dared to speak.

  “Yes. Lucky for us none of them has a night scope.” He made a low sound. “I should have made a better evaluation of the situation. We have less time than I thought.”

  Before she could answer, he started off again, moving faster, but watching to see if she could keep up. When he heard her breath coming in little gasps, he slowed his pace.

  “I’m sorry. This is hard for you.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “You can rest here for a little while,” he said, gesturing toward a dark hulking building just visible against the night sky. Cautiously, he led her to a high window. “I need something in here. I can get it—if you boost me up to the window.”

  She eyed the building. “What is this place?”

  “The garage where they store auto parts and vehicles that need repair. There is no guard.”

  We hope, she silently added. After their two close calls, she wanted to beg him not to go inside, not to leave her alone. But she knew her best option was relying on his judgment, so she made a cradle with her hands and boosted him up to the window frame. She watched him open the window, then disappear into the darkness beyond. Straining her ears, she thought she heard him drop to the floor inside, but she wasn’t even sure of that.

  After standing and staring into the opening for several moments, she decided it was foolish not to take his advice and get as much rest as she could. Sinking to the ground, she pressed her back against the cold metal wall and tried to relax.

  But all her senses were on red alert.

  A dry twig cracked in the underbrush, and she went rigid. Then the sound of movement through the woods receded, and she figured that some nocturnal animal was as wary of her as she was of it.

  Minutes dragged by, and she felt her tension mount. Then she saw the figure of a man running toward her. For an awful moment her heart blocked her windpipe—until she recognized Hunter’s shape. As he drew closer, she saw he was holding a set of license plates.

  “We will put these on the car we take,” he said. “That will make it harder for anyone to figure out which one we have stolen.”

  “How did you think of that?”

  He gave a low laugh. “They taught me to be devious—to use tricks to hide myself.”

  “Good.”

  “Now we must go to the motor pool, where the working vehicles are kept.” He hesitated. “We could circle around the main buildings, but we’ll lose time. It would be faster to go straight across the compound.”

  “Won’t there be people?” she questioned.

  “Yes. But they will not be looking for us there. And they will not recognize us.” He pulled two jackets and caps from his pack and handed one set to her. “Put these on. In the dark, we will look like men who work here. We will walk as if we have somewhere to go—but not as if we are afraid of being discovered.”

  She nodded as she donned the jacket and twisted her hair into a knot before pushing it under the cap. Hunter looked at her critically, then reached to tuck in several wayward strands that had escaped her attention.

  He stroked his finger against her cheek, and she turned her face to brush her lips against his hand.

  “We will be away from Stratford Creek soon,” he said in a gruff voice.

  “Good. I don’t like it here. The only good thing about it was meeting you.”

  His face contorted, and he gave her a quick, rough embrace. “It is the same for me.”

  Before she could say more, he turned and started toward the end of the garage. Her eyes widened as they rounded the corner. She hadn’t known how close they were to the center of the action. Now, she saw they were only fifty yards from several low buildings where lights shone through the windows.

  Hunter started off at a purposeful pace. Trying to imitate his masculine gait, she strode along the road, swinging her arms briskly and keeping her eyes straight ahead.

  They came to a sidewalk, and he stepped onto the pavement. She followed, feeling exposed and vulnerable. When a man emerged from one of the low buildings and stood at the top of the steps, staring into the darkness, she imagined he was looking directly at them. She wanted to dart around the side of a building, but she realized that would be a fatal error, so she forced herself to keep pace with Hunter. To her relief, they walked on past the watcher without being challenged. But before she could relax,
she saw two men coming directly toward them on the sidewalk. And each step closer seemed to increase her heart rate.

  She barely heard Hunter over the roaring in her ears.

  “This way.” He gave a little tug on her arm. Stopping short, she followed him onto a side road, fighting not to turn and look over her shoulder to see if they were being followed. Several minutes later, she spotted a parking area ahead of them, surrounded by a chain link fence with razor wire at the top. Moving onto the grass, Hunter stopped under the shadows of some trees and ran his hand over her arm. “You did perfectly.”

  She let her body relax against his. “I’m scared spitless. How can you act so calm?”

  “I was trained for espionage.”

  “But even trained agents have nerves.”

  “What happens to me is not important,” he said dismissively.

  She turned him toward her, clasped his shoulders, wished she could see him better in the darkness. “It is to me.”

  He didn’t answer, and she added, “You’re going to have to adjust your thinking.”

  “Right now, I have to get you away from Stratford Creek.” He paused, and she heard him swallow. “If anything happens to me, you must try to escape. This time I am giving you an order.”

  “I—”

  “Do not go to Colonel Emerson,” he clipped out. “Do not trust him.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Kathryn,” he said in a thick voice, folding her close. “What I feel for you is very strong. If it is possible for a man created the way I was created to love, then I love you.”

  “Hunter,” she whispered, holding on to him for dear life.

  “This isn’t a good time to speak of my feelings. But I want you to know. In case I don’t get another chance to tell you.”

  “You will,” she vowed.

  “You make me want to believe that.” For several heartbeats he clasped her tighter, then eased away from her.

  She shivered as the warmth of his body left her. When she saw him watching her closely, she stood up straighter, determined to show him she wasn’t going to fall apart.

  “Wait here. I will put the plates on a car and come back for you.”

  She gave a tight little nod and watched him walk toward the parking lot. As he drew abreast of the gate, a guard stepped out of a small building.