So why then did she blithely go with Dante?
Right now, this virtual stranger was the only thing keeping her out of Brandon’s cruel hands. What choice did she have? Sit around and wait for Brandon to arrive? No thanks.
What about Scott? Had she written him off so quickly? No. She loved her brother. They had suffered together in Philly and escaped together. But he was an adult now. He’d been making his own choices and rejecting her input for years. Aside from wallowing in her guilt, there was nothing left to do.
Speaking of guilt, what about her job? Her life in Portland? She’d torpedoed all of it. Now she had nothing and no place to go. She couldn’t have done a better job of destroying her life if she’d doused it with gas and lit a match.
What if she could go back and pick up her life?
No. Too much baggage with Scott’s crap. Too dangerous back there if this Brandon guy was as bad as he seemed.
As they passed through forested hills on winding chip-seal roads, she, too, stared out the window. They hadn’t passed any other vehicles in the past half hour.
The silence in the vehicle amplified the emptiness echoing in her aching head. She glanced over at Dante and cringed at the black scowl. Waves of heat rolled off of him. A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts, but she wasn’t about to ask him to adjust the temperature. She concentrated on remaining inconspicuous.
Maybe he was worried about their situation. Made sense. But she’d seen worried Dante. This emotion was different. This Dante appeared ready to rip the steering wheel off the column.
He was probably mad that she dragged his friends and him into her mess. Understandable. She blinked hard and tried to focus on the scenery.
By early evening, they descended west from the mountains into John Day, Oregon. The town itself was a dusty collection of buildings, nestled into a wide spot in a river valley. Along the river, swaths of trees, their green leaves tipped with early fall gold, contrasted with the terra cotta hills rising on either side of the river. Inhaling the dry, pungent scent of pine and juniper mixed with the wet, green river, she sighed. A far cry from Philadelphia. And from Portland.
She couldn’t relax. Was she safe with this man who looked about to erupt?
The way she saw it, there weren’t many other options.
“We’re here.”
Her heart skidded at his rough voice, too loud in the vehicle.
“Where’s here?” she asked.
“Where we’re going to stay hidden for a while.”
She flinched at his icy tone but kept her hands folded in her lap and held still while he pulled up to the ranger station. The sign read “Clyde Holliday State Park.”
“Stay here.” He slammed the door shut.
The state park, nestled between a bend in the river and the main highway, provided a relaxing backdrop for the setting sun. Any other time, this place would make a perfect rustic vacation. Any other time but now.
When the driver’s door whooshed open, she flinched and grabbed the handle of her door.
“Just me,” Dante said between gritted teeth. “We’re checked in as the Pages, in case anyone asks.”
“Pages?”
“Best I could come up with on short notice. All I could think of was the bookstore.” One corner of his mouth quirked upward before settling back in a firm line.
Lies and a fake identity. Familiar territory.
“Are we ...?”
“On a cheap honeymoon? Yes.”
Warmth flooded her cheeks. “Oh.”
He pulled into the gravel parking area. Hefting the bags of groceries and supplies he’d obtained earlier, he kicked the Hummer door closed and lifted his chin.
“Come on.”
She limped behind him from the vehicle to a small cabin a few hundred feet away. The river rushed by the front of the cabin, replacing highway sounds with the murmuring rapids. Inside the cabin, knotted floor creaked beneath her feet, and she inhaled the rich aroma of past fires in the grate.
Cozy cabin.
Handsome man.
Too bad he looked like a man whose life had been ruined.
By her.
“Hannah?”
The weight of his voice dropped like an anchor into her stomach.
Breath caught midway up her throat as she slowly turned back toward him. Dread, like a lead apron, made her movements sluggish.
“Um, you look tired,” she said.
“I guess. It’s fine. I don’t really get tired.”
She flinched at the flat tone.
He stepped once toward her then stopped.
“Have I done something wrong?” she asked.
“Of course not.”
Although the corners of his mouth rose up, his ice-blue eyes remained hard.
“Then why are you treating me like a burden you’d rather be rid of?”
“What?”
“I realize it’s been a pain helping me. Geez, you got beat to a pulp for your kindness.”
“I wasn’t beaten up that badly.”
“You were almost dead there for a minute. Look, if you can drop me off somewhere or help me get a rental car, I’ll be out of your hair.”
“You’re kidding.”
Hot shame burned a path up her neck. Why had she thought this man felt anything more for her than pity and compassion? Inflated sense of duty motivated Dante. She wouldn’t blame him for wanting to be rid of her after everything he’d withstood.
“I’m serious. You’ve got better things to do than go on the run from ...”
“From what?”
He stepped closer, and intense heat radiated again.
How’d he do that?
“Stuff catching up with me, I guess.”
“What stuff?”
Brandon must have something to do with Ray, fulfilling Ray’s desire for revenge. It was the only logical explanation. “I’d rather not say. I’m only sorry you’re mixed up in my mess.”
“I’m mixed up in your mess?”
“Well, sure.” She motioned to the bags of groceries, his still blood-tinged clumps of hair, and the foreign, if not pleasant, rustic surroundings. And can’t forget about the maniac tracking her down.
He loomed over her. “There’s nothing else I’d rather do.”
Temper flared from a place buried deep down inside, an emotion she hadn’t experienced in a long time. “Excuse me, are you making fun of me?”
He lifted her chin, his warm finger an immutable force. The compassion in his kind expression hurt more than an accusation.
“I would never tease you.”
He brushed her lips with his thumb. At the tingling transfer sensation, she slid the block into place and relaxed into his hand.
Chuckling, he added, “Well, not in this predicament. I might find other reasons to tease you, but not about this situation.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that I have to work very hard to kiss you when we’re standing toe to toe.” He bent down.
She forgot to breathe.
He tilted her head up to him and kissed her deeply. The angle of his mouth changed, nudging her mouth open. Encouraging. Demanding. For a moment, she stood there, stiff, uncertain if this was still part of a joke. Then she answered in kind, pouring her fears, her pain, her regrets, and her past, all into the kiss. Dante pulled back, wiping her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.
“Tears?”
She hadn’t realized. His touch drew out long-suppressed emotion. Emotion she couldn’t explain. Wouldn’t explore.
“Just stressed with everything going on.”
He folded her into a bear hug, wrapping her in his heat, his strength. For a moment, she relaxed in the cocoon of his body. As she melted into his chest, she slid her arms around his back, enjoying the long, firm muscles there. A girl could get used to moments like this.
“Well,” he rumbled against her ear. “Maybe we should think about dinner.”
“Good idea.”
His eyes had darkened to a blue-gray slate, his expression hungry, but not for food. Until he blinked and the color returned to ice blue. “Any chance you can put some food together while I clean up? I never got to it earlier today.”
Because Brandon was tracking her down, and Dante had continued to help her while she slept earlier. Shame rushed through her. How much more would Dante sacrifice for a near stranger until he walked away? He had to be nearing the point where normal folks would throw in the towel. If he did leave, she wouldn’t blame him.
In the meantime, at least she could feed the guy.
“How about canned soup and sandwiches? Not exactly gourmet.”
“Sounds perfect.”
After a long, inscrutable stare, he left her alone in the cabin.
She turned the lock on the door.
Chapter 12
Two cold showers and a dose of dread later, Dante emerged from the bathhouse, clean, but without any ideas for how to resolve their situation. At least a fresh T-shirt and jeans had helped relax his tense muscles.
He had to tell Hannah what he’d done to Ray and why, but doing so required full disclosure of Dante’s true nature. Assuming she didn’t run away from that information, then he’d have to explain why Brandon, that sick bastard, hunted her. It was Dante’s fault. Jerahmeel was pissed about Dante killing the minion who’d tortured Allie last year. While Jerahmeel hated to interfere directly in Indebted affairs, he hated to be interfered with even more.
Peter was right. If Jerahmeel thought his power supply was threatened, he would lash out. He’d throw everything at the offender and anyone the offender treasured.
Allie was Peter’s reason to complete his contract. So, when Dante had killed the minion who tried to destroy her, Dante had fallen from the top of Jerahmeel’s most-popular list. It’d take years of good, solid, nutritious kills for Dante to make up for his misstep. He might never get out of the contract at this rate.
Neck muscles tensing anew as he exited the bathhouse, he scanned the park on his way back to the cabin. He hated leaving Hannah alone but was reasonably confident that no one could find them here.
Yet.
If Brandon still tracked them, the trail should go cold in Caldwell, Idaho, where Dante had abruptly backtracked into the forests and isolated high desert of central Oregon.
The knife blade pulsed, reminding him that it hadn’t been fed in far too long. His hands itched to wrap around the handle and plunge it into a criminal heart. But if Dante used the knife to kill, it would act like a homing beacon. Jerahmeel would send Brandon here.
To Hannah.
A twisting sensation in Dante’s chest made him stagger as he stepped onto the cabin porch.
To Hannah.
When he turned the doorknob, it was locked.
His imagination imposed horrible images on his mind’s eye. Hannah laying on the cabin floor, broken and bleeding. What kind of protector was he to leave his charge alone?
Clinging to a vestige of control, he knocked on the door and fidgeted until he heard a light step inside. The deadbolt snicked open, harsh and loud in the twilight.
Gold-flecked chestnut eyes and a cute, freckled nose greeted him. It was a vision he’d be happy to see for many years to come.
Dåre. Idiot. After she learned about his past and what kind of monster he really was, there would be no future, at least not together. His only goal: give Hannah a future. Nothing more.
Resisting the need to haul her back into his arms, he pasted a bland smile on his face, stepped into the cabin, and relocked the door. Not that a locked door would make much difference if Brandon found them.
The aroma of beef stew and grilled cheese sandwiches distracted him from the maudlin thoughts. Dante’s belly growled. When was the last time his stomach had actually rumbled?
He took a quick glance around the cabin; nothing appeared amiss. He sat down in front of a steaming bowl of soup and a fresh sandwich.
He could get used to this kind of companionship—a dangerous thought.
Happily sated after the meal, he washed and dried the dishes, enjoying the mundane domestic activity. The incandescent light overhead cast the wood interior of the cabin in a warm, yellow glow. The tension in his neck seeped away. He glanced over his shoulder.
Hannah sat on the futon, head bowed.
“Would you like a fire?” he asked.
“That sounds great.”
He had the fire crackling in no time, bathing the cabin walls with flickering shadows. Maybe for tonight, they could pretend that no one hunted them, that her life wasn’t in jeopardy. Maybe for tonight, he could give her comfort without scaring her.
Normally, he’d swagger, flirt, suggest erotic activities, and then sit back and wait for the woman to come to him, but Hannah wasn’t any woman. He wanted to give her pleasure, but do it safely. For her.
He was massive, powerful, wealthy, and long-lived. He could have anything he wanted. Except tonight. It went against everything he’d ever done before, but it was time for a change in approach.
He cleared his throat. “Mind if I sit with you?”
A pause.
“Sure.”
She scooted over and bent her knees under her chin, watching the fire. The shifting light emphasized the dark circles under her eyes.
“Do you still feel it?” he asked quietly, not wanting to startle her.
“Pardon?” She turned halfway toward him.
“The injuries you took from me yesterday.”
“Yes, a little. It always takes a few days for the injuries to completely go away.”
“Where did your ability come from?”
She leaned back against the futon and scrubbed at her face. Dante wanted so badly to take her into his arms that his fingers tingled.
Patience.
“No one in the family understood my little gift.”
“I’d hardly call it little.”
“I’d hardly call it a gift. It’s caused nothing but trouble.”
“Trouble how?”
“Um, various ways.”
She clamped her mouth shut, and Dante did the same. He wanted to tell her about killing Ray, but not right now. Maybe later.
Coward.
“So when did you first realize you could heal people?”
Sighing, Hannah laid her cheek on her bent knees. The fire flickering made her features appear half animated and half corpse.
“I healed a cut on Mom once. She and I were so shocked, we chalked it up to weird happenstance and tried to ignore it.”
“Did you ever heal anything major like you did with me?” he asked.
She shook her head. “The biggest healing before that was when I was a teenager. Scott was doing something stupid on his skateboard. I heard him scream and ran outside.
“His arm was bent all wrong. When I touched his skin, a sensation like a vacuum sucked all of his pain into my body. Then my arm cracked.”
“It broke?”
“Loudly. It didn’t bend like his arm did, but I felt the pop. Boy, did it hurt.”
“What happened after that?”
“We were totally shocked of course. All of a sudden, he was better, and I had a broken arm.”
She studied the fire and rubbed her shirtsleeve. Dante stretched his arm over the back of the futon, fingering her fine hair.
“So did you go to the hospital?”
“Well, yes, but by then Mom was freaked out about what happened. She made up a story for the doctor.”
“Did she know where your power came from?”
“Not exactly. There was a rumor about a grandmother with strange talents, but Mom didn’t know details. Apparently, no one in our family talked about it.”
“Did anyone else find out about what you could do?”
She bit her lip and then pressed her lips together. “My stepfather. He wanted to use my powers on other people.”
At her tigh
t, closed expression, he held very still. He would not scare her. No surprises, no sudden movements.
“What happened with these other people?”
“I failed.” She raised a finger when he opened his mouth. “End of story.”
Moving slowly to give her time to protest, he ran his fingers over her cheek, careful to avoid the bruises. Such soft skin hiding the tough woman inside. After a few minutes, she dropped her head onto her bent knees again.
She yawned.
“You’re exhausted,” he said.
Her shadowed gaze darted around the cabin. “Yeah, but I don’t want to sleep.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious, with everything that’s happened in the past few days?” She put her head in her hands. “At least if I’m awake, I can see what’s coming.”
As her voice cracked, something cracked inside of Dante.
“Come here,” he said. “Please.”
Jåvlar. Her fear was unacceptable. Maybe he had nothing to offer in the long term, but he could make her feel safe this evening. He turned sideways on the futon and pulled her into his lap.
Those delicate hands resting on his thighs branded him through the denim, and he gritted his teeth. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and tucked her head under his chin. When she turned her face toward the fire and sighed, the sound melted his soul.
“Sleep. I’ll stay up.”
“You need rest, too.”
Hardly a chance with the growing interest her petite derrière tucked into his groin generated. At least his desire for her distracted him from the knife’s call. For now.
“I don’t need sleep.”
She looked up at him and lifted an eyebrow. “A quirk? Like you run warm and heal quickly?”
Damn it, he wasn’t ready to explain.
He squeezed her upper arms in his hands. “I will keep you safe tonight.”
“You promise no one will find us?”
“No one will hurt you tonight. I swear it.” Including you, oåkting.
She snuggled in closer, challenging his self-control and his promise.
“Nice.” She rubbed her cheek against his T-shirt-clad chest.
“What’s that, ålskling?”
Relentless Flame (Hell to Pay) Page 13