He looked over at her to see if she was buying his story. From the sour look on her face, she wasn’t.
“I know that’s who you say you are, but most tech junkies I’ve met don’t have sniper rifles in their bedroom. Not to mention a closet full of military gear.” She looked at him like he was growing two heads. “I’m not an idiot, Trevor.”
“Yes, I was in the military. Where do you think I learned how to run logistics for a company?” He had to make her believe the story he was selling, otherwise she’d be toast.
She nudged her horse forward, making him wonder if she just couldn’t stand being so close to him any longer. He wanted to reach out and pull her back to him, to tell her to stop thinking what she was thinking, that she was wandering down a dangerous path—but he couldn’t.
“I know you’re not telling me something, Trevor. You don’t have to keep lying to me. I want to help.” As she spoke, he couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t looking at him.
They rode in silence as they moved off the property and onto public lands, Sabrina leading the way, for at least three miles. He didn’t know exactly where they were going, but it didn’t matter; he needed all the time he could get in order to make a decision about what to do with her.
If he were smart, he would take care of the problem that she was becoming with a single shot. He’d hate himself for it, but he needed to protect his family. They had to come first—they always came first. The dedication and loyalty they had for one another was the reason they had survived in the business as long as they had. He couldn’t let a woman come between them.
And yet there was something about her that he was inexplicably drawn to. Sabrina was the last thing he had expected when he’d learned that she was the family’s housekeeper. She didn’t seem to fit the bill of someone who would want to make her living by cleaning up after people. She seemed like the kind of woman who would find that monotonous. If anything, she seemed like a fit for a job like a district attorney or something...a job that would require she be able to speak her piece and then back it up with statistics and charts.
He could imagine her up in front of a judge and jury, arguing for the greater good. She’d definitely put him on the spot about that gun...and in doing so, she seemed to understand that she was going to draw scrutiny. And yet she still had the strength to face him head-on. That ability both captivated and terrified him.
“Sabrina,” he said, finally breaking the silence between them as he rode up alongside her, “don’t be upset with me. I’m sorry about what happened with the gun. I made a mistake. Just know it was made with the best intentions.”
She sighed, letting the clatter of their horses’ footfalls against the rocky scree path fill the air. “I appreciate your apology, but I don’t like feeling like I’m being lied to. And if you’re like me...or if you’re feeling what I’m feeling...” She reached over and took his hand, the simple action surprising him. “You have to understand that all I really want is for you to open up to me.”
He wanted to do that, to tell her everything about who he was, what he’d seen and where he’d been. He wanted someone to tell his fears to and his dreams, but that wasn’t his life. It wasn’t something he could offer another person. His life was complicated, so much so that regardless of what his heart wanted, he couldn’t risk bringing another person in.
And yet he couldn’t deny that he was feeling something for her—something he hadn’t felt for a woman in a long time.
Not for the first time since her death, Trevor wished he could go to Trish to ask her advice. She would’ve known exactly what to do and the kinds of questions to ask. He missed her so much. His brothers and Zoey were great, but none of them had a relationship like he’d had with Trish. With her, he’d always been able to talk about anything—even feelings. He didn’t delve into them often, and now that Trish was gone, he wasn’t sure he was really up to talking about feelings ever again. They were just so damned complicated, especially when it came to the other sex.
“Sabrina, have you had a lot of serious relationships? I know you said you’d had a rough time with the last guy you dated, but have you dated anyone else for a long time?” Ugh. That had not come out at all like he’d wanted it to. It sounded so stupid.
She glanced over at him with a cheeky grin on her face. “I do know what a serious relationship is, Trevor.” She laughed. “And yes, I’ve had a couple serious relationships. Why?”
“When you were in these relationships, did you always tell them everything?”
The grin on her face twitched. “What are you getting at, Trevor?” Her voice lost its playful edge.
He’d struck a nerve. She must have been hiding something about her love life. Maybe that’s why she had come to the middle of nowhere to disappear. He’d dated enough in his lifetime that he could certainly understand the desire. There was nothing worse than heartbreak.
At least he wasn’t the only one with a secret.
“I’m not saying that I think you’re a liar or anything,” Trevor said. “I’m just asking if there are things you choose not to tell—” the person you love.
He didn’t dare finish his sentence. He was already close to implying that their relationship was something more. She didn’t love him; she barely knew him. And yet...ever since they’d met he hadn’t wanted to be without her. It was like her presence both comforted him and made him question everything. It reminded him of the first time he’d fallen in love, but then he’d been merely a teenager—he couldn’t go back to being the boy he once was. He’d had too much happen in his life, too many heartbreaks and failed relationships. He couldn’t allow himself to repeat his mistakes.
Her grin reappeared. “I admit nothing.”
“Admit it or not, we both know that no relationship is completely without secrets. Sometimes in order to keep a friendship or relationship, or to make another person feel better, we omit things. It’s human nature.”
“Human nature or not, what you did at the shanty was more than just omitting a detail.” She paused. “But here’s the deal, I don’t want you to lie—ever. I don’t want you to omit anything. I want to be able to trust you.”
Here he’d been worrying about trusting her, and apparently she’d been worried about trusting him as well. That made him chuckle. Maybe they were more alike than he thought.
As they moved higher up the mountain, snow dusted the scree. Even in August and September, snow was common in the high country, and it wasn’t unheard of to get fresh snow in the higher elevations every month of the year.
Though he had brought a few essentials, in case of emergency, he didn’t have enough supplies to last more than a day or two at most. When it got dark, and colder, the snow was likely to become a problem.
He didn’t want to put Sabrina at risk. If something went awry, or if he got hurt, he didn’t want to burden her with all that it would take for them to survive.
He thought back to his days in Afghanistan. At that time, he’d just gotten into the private security game with his family. They’d been at it for some time, but he’d finally reached an age at which his father agreed to bring him along. Being out there, in the countryside of a foreign nation where he didn’t speak the language or know the customs, had been intimidating. It hadn’t taken him long to learn that what they did tended to get people killed.
He winced, remembering the al-Qaeda hit man who got gunned down right in front of him for failing to light his commander’s cigarette. Later his brothers had explained to him the commander had done it as a show of force, as a reminder that they were to do as he wished and play by his rules. The man had died because they were there.
He’d had to stay at that camp, pretending to be a bodyguard for the al-Qaeda commander, for two months. Luckily, he had gotten out of there alive. It had been one hell of a welcome into STEALTH.
After he left, they had traced the terr
orist group coordinates thanks to the implanted GPS trackers in the weapons they had supplied. Some of the guns had spread as far north as Mirzaki and as far south as Bahram Chah. With the information they had accumulated, they gave the coordinates of the largest and most active terrorist cells to the DO, or directorate of operations. The next day, eight of the ten cells had been wiped off the map.
It wasn’t the easiest or the cleanest way to track the movements of their enemies, but it had been highly effective. They were proof that boots on the ground were truly their government’s most effective weapon. He was sure that they had saved thousands of lives.
What he’d done then was a thousand times more challenging than what he had to do now. And yet finding himself alone with Sabrina seemed to create an entirely new level of difficulty. Maybe it would be easier if they just dispelled the sexual tension that reverberated between them. If they just kissed, things would get easier, and hell...maybe he could go back to focusing on the task at hand. He kept finding himself thinking about them, about her, trust and feelings and not thinking about where they were or what they needed to be looking for. At this rate, unless the hunting camp had been built right in the middle of the game trail, he doubted he would notice it.
“Do you want to turn back?” he said, his breath making a cloud in the cold.
Her cheeks were red, like they had been nibbled at by the chill of the later afternoon. “No, I’m fine.” Her words were slow.
“Let’s take a little break.” When they came up to a flat clearing, he got off his horse and held out his hand to Sabrina. Her fingers felt like ice.
He had to build a fire before hypothermia got the better of her. It had to be in the twenties, with snow starting to accumulate around them. While the snow would prove helpful in tracking, he had to get his head on straight before he was ready to continue.
Heck, maybe he was right in thinking about turning back. She was cold; he wasn’t at the top of his game.
She hugged her arms around herself and did a little two-step move as she tried to get warm.
Yes, fire first.
He tied the horses up to a couple of pines and set about collecting anything dry that would burn. He made his way back to her with a collection of pine needles, pitch wood and branches. She had built a little teepee-shaped stack on the ground with her own collection of fire starters. A tendril of smoke was already puffing from the top of the stack, and there was a split log sitting beside it.
She looked up at him as the fire got going. “Oh, hey, thanks,” she said, motioning to his redundant work. “You can set those right there,” she said, pointing to the log.
Sometimes she had a way of making him feel so inept.
He dropped the kindling within her reach. She had her hands up, warming them.
“Where did you learn to do that?” he asked.
“Anyone worth their salt knows how to start a fire.”
He raised a brow. He wasn’t sure she was entirely right, but the comment intrigued him. She was definitely from a military family. Most people were vaguely curious about that kind of skill, but when it came to practical use, few had actually gone so far as to learn how to do it—especially in a wet environment.
“Did your dad teach you?”
“Are you asking me that because I’m a woman?”
“No.” He sighed. “I’m asking because my dad taught me. When we came here for vacation, my dad loved to take us all out and spend time in the woods like this. When we got older, we were allowed to set our own camps, just so long as we were within yelling distance.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be all defensive. It’s just...”
“You’re a feminist. There’s nothing wrong with it. I can understand why you don’t want to be underestimated.”
“I don’t know if I’d call myself a feminist or not. There are so many stigmas with that...but I do know that I’m tired of being put on a lower tier because I have ovaries.”
He laughed, the sound echoing through the surrounding woods. “You are hilarious.”
“There’s nothing funny about being treated like you’re not capable or that you should be subservient to a man. I think I should stand beside whomever is in my life, not behind him.”
“That’s not why I think you’re hilarious,” he said, picking up a log and moving it over by the fire so they could sit down together. “I guess hilarious is the wrong word. I just think you are amazing.” He patted the spot next to him on the damp log. “I’d love to have you at my side.”
She smiled, but it looked like she was trying not to. She sat down beside him. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She leaned against him, putting her head against his shoulder.
The action surprised him. He could make out the smell of the horse on her skin and the floral aroma that perfumed her hair, and the effect was perfect—a woman and a warrior.
“What about you?” she asked.
“Huh?” He tried to sit still, not quite sure if he should let her simply lean against him or if he should make a move and put his arm around her. The last time it hadn’t ended so well.
It wouldn’t be to his advantage if he made a move and it resulted in them riding back in silence. It would be one heck of a long ride.
“Were you really in the military?”
“Uh.” His body went rigid. She had just given him a speech about opening up and being honest, but he wasn’t ready for her to start asking questions. “I was in the army.”
“So you were toying with me about Schofield being a marine base?”
He gave her a guilty smile. “Maybe a little?” He tried to sound cute and semi-repentant.
“I see. Okay.” She nodded. “When did you get out?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been out for about eight years. I only did a four-year tour—that was more than enough time.”
“What didn’t you like?”
He didn’t want to answer that question. Something about it was so private. It was like in telling her, it would bare some of his soul. And yet... “I loved the travel, but I found that it was too political for my liking.” He thought of all the times he had traveled in order to fulfill contracts and take out foreign leaders.
She was quiet for a long time. He leaned over and put the log on the fire.
“Chad didn’t send hot dogs with you, did he?” she asked with a chuckle.
The reminder of food made his stomach rumble. Though he wanted to sit there forever with her, he got up and grabbed his go bag. Coming back, he dug through it. “Here, I’ve got a granola bar. And there’s vodka.” He pulled out a silver flask.
“Vodka?” She laughed. “That sounds like the meal of champions.”
“The granola bar is complex carbs. The vodka—aside from being the beverage of the gods—is great for medical purposes as well as for relaxing.” He tried to sound serious, but his voice was flecked with playfulness.
“I see. In case we needed to get drunk and eat carbs, we’re totally covered. You don’t have a steak in there, do you?”
“I wish.” He laughed as he sat down beside her and she put her head back on his shoulder.
Handing her the flask and a bar, she took them and then opened the canteen’s cap and took a long swig. As she handed it back, he followed suit. The vodka burned on the way down. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but being this close to her it felt like it was called for. Maybe, for once, he could just relax around her.
They munched on their bars and he threw the wrappers into the fire, watching as they melted into nothing. It could have been the alcohol, but he was mesmerized by the flames as they danced. They were so beautiful, and he was reminded of the fleeting nature of it...and the life that succumbed to its force. In a way, Sabrina reminded him of the flames. She was so wild, free and alluring. He could have happily gotten lost in her for hours.
She reached
over and into the breast pocket of his jacket, took out his flask and took another pull. Reaching back over, she slowly put it back, letting her fingers move over his chest. His body sprang to life, and as she touched him, he longed for more.
He took her cheek in his hand, caressing her fire-warmed skin. “I was serious when I said you are amazing. You...you are something special.”
She looked at him and he watched the flames dance in her eyes. As their lips met, it was as if the entire world lit up around them.
* * *
IT WAS HAPPENING. Really happening. Sabrina couldn’t remember exactly how they had gotten there. As his tongue caressed her bottom lip, she gave herself to the moment and decided not to dwell on it.
He held the back of her neck, his thumbs caressing her cheeks as they kissed. The world dissolved around her. The only thing existing was him, his lips, his warm touch on her cold face and the feel of his breath against her skin.
If she could, she would live in this moment forever.
Unfortunately, he pulled back, ending it far too soon. His cheeks were flushed, and there was a thin gleam of sweat on his skin even though it was bitterly cold.
“I...we...” she stammered, trying to be logical about what had just transpired between them, but all she could think about was how she wanted more—so much more.
Instead of saying anything, he reached into his go bag and pulled out a hatchet.
“Uh,” she said, looking at the gleaming blade. “I didn’t think the kiss was that bad. In fact, I was hoping you’d want to do it again.”
He laughed as he put the blade behind his back and out of sight. “Crap, sorry! That’s not it... I was just going to build us a little shelter.”
“We kiss and you think shelter?”
He was such a dude. There she was thinking about feelings, and he was thinking survival.
Hidden Truth Page 8