Ryder watched them climb the stairs, and Mena shuddered at his side. She took a deep breath, but she didn’t look up. “We need to go to your place soon,” he said after a moment.
She nodded, and her spine stiffened under his fingers.
He patted her, then moved away, giving her a minute to finish pulling herself back together.
“This sucks,” she said after a few seconds, but she didn’t sound as if she were about to burst into tears anymore.
“Yeah, it does.” He studied the photo collage over the sofa, which consisted mostly of pictures of Jason, from his birth until the last year or so. “We need to make sure everything that can be connected to you gets packed away.” He swung around and found her glaring out the front window. Better than crying, he supposed.
“We should have set up a trust and bought the houses through it in the first place,” she mused. “Nothing with names on it. We talked about it a long time ago.”
He nodded. “It would have helped, I imagine.”
“Can we do it now? In case we’re ever able to come home?” She turned to look at him again. “Set up something and sell the houses to it, I mean.”
“I’ll look into it.” He didn’t point out returning would only keep them in danger, no matter whether it was a week, a month, or even a year from now. As long as she was the Medusa, the Harvesters would hunt her.
Mena chewed on one corner of her lower lip as she walked past him.
He trailed after her, watching as she put together a couple plates with sandwiches on them, fruit cups in the center, some cookies on another plate. When she caught his gaze, she shrugged. “Jason’s going to want lunch, and maybe Danny would like some, too.”
He watched her climb the back stairs, the sway of her hips making her skirt float around her booted ankles. His imagination slid up further, recalling those long legs wrapped around his waist.
Blood surged downward, and he shut off that train of thought. Now was not the time.
As he spread peanut butter onto another slice of bread, he realized he hadn’t actually seen her legs yet. Or the rest of her.
It was a problem he’d remedy later.
Grinning, he stuck the knife back into the peanut butter jar just as she returned. He winked. Something of his thoughts must have shown in his face, because pink washed up her throat and into her cheeks, where it deepened.
His grin widened. Definitely later.
Philomena refused to cry. Not now, when Jason could see her. After he’d eaten, she helped him sort through the things he kept in his ‘most important things’ box normally stored under his bed--a metal wind-up soldier she’d given him when Ryder was still in the Army, a picture of himself in between her and her mother from a couple of years ago, a couple of pretty rocks. Little boy treasures. Her heart hurt.
She bit her lip when Ryder jerked his head toward the door later, then gathered her laptop and purse and carried them into the kitchen.
“How much more does Danny have to do?” she asked when he followed her into the room.
“Most of the windows are linked. He just needs to finish the last bedroom, then wire it all into the main system.” He leaned against the wall, folding his arms on his wide chest. “Are you ready?”
“No.” She met his gaze. “But I have no choice, do I?”
He shook his head.
“Then I’m as ready as I’m going to be.” She swallowed down the lump threatening to block her airway. “Let me say goodbye.”
Jason sat on the couch with his box in his lap, and a small pile of other things on the cushion beside him. “It’s too hard to choose, Aunt Phila,” he complained.
She smiled at him, ruffling his dark hair. “I know. But everything won’t fit into the box. That’s why you have to decide which ones would make you very sad to leave behind. To never have again.” She leaned closer and inhaled the clean smell of him, soap and peanut butter and fresh air.
He sighed. “I know.” He lifted his head. “What’s in your box?”
“You and Grandma.”
He laughed. “Your box isn’t big enough.”
“Are you saying I’m too big, young man?” Aggie asked from her rocking chair, where she was making a list on a legal pad.
He giggled some more. “No, Grandma.”
Philomena wrapped her arm around him. “I’ve got to get going, buddy,” she whispered. “I’ll see you soon.” I hope.
He pushed his box aside and slid his arms around her neck, tight. “I’ll miss you the most.”
She shut her eyes. “Nope. I’ll miss you the most. You need to promise to take care of Grandma, okay?”
“Course I will. I’m the man of the house, right?”
“You bet. But maybe you can let Danny help, too.” She released him before she squeezed him too hard. Or couldn’t let go at all. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Every night?”
She nodded, her chest aching as she got to her feet. “You know it.”
Her mother met her in the middle of the room and hugged her tight.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” she whispered around the lump clogging her throat.
“Curse that Athena,” Aggie muttered.
Philomena laughed, as she was sure her mother intended. “I’ll talk to you soon, too.” There was so much more she needed to say.
Her mother leaned away. “I know, Philomena, my girl.” She cupped Philomena’s face in her hands. “Take care, and do what Ryder tells you to do.”
She laughed, a little wildly. If her mother only knew...
He was waiting when she turned around, understanding in his face. He held out one hand, and she hesitated. This was the point of no return. Literally.
He waited, his hand steady.
Reluctantly, she slid her palm over his, only slightly reassured when his warm fingers wrapped around hers. Dimly, she heard him tell Jason they’d call later, then give her mother a quick goodbye. She just kept thinking she might never see this house. She might not see her family again.
By the time they got outside, she was shaking.
Ryder touched her chin. “I need you to be able to drive your car to your place, Mena. Can you do that?”
She nodded, but she wasn’t absolutely sure she could even stop her hands from trembling long enough to get the key in the ignition.
“I’m going to follow you there.” He kissed her, hard, startling her back to the present, then searched her face. “Smart girl.” A hint of a smile curled one side of his mouth. “Let’s go.”
She climbed into her car and fumbled the key into the ignition, relieved when the engine started. Inhaling slowly, she concentrated on the familiar ritual of reversing out of the driveway and steering along the narrow, winding road to her own house.
The cottage sat away from the road, only a few scattered trees near the house, though the forest wasn’t too far across the meadow out back--just far enough so no one could find easy hiding. She pulled the car into the garage and climbed out, taking her things with her. Ryder waited at the door, and she hit the button to close it just before she walked out, for what she feared was the last time.
She pushed the thought away.
“Is your code still the same?” He guided her to the front door of her house.
She blinked. “The same as what?”
He smiled. “The same as it’s always been.”
“You’ve never been here.” She’d made sure of it.
His smile widened. “Not with you, no.”
Her eyes rounded. “With Mom?” She might have to kill her mother.
He didn’t reply, just took her keyring from her, unlocked the front door, and punched in her alarm code.
She glared at his back as he moved further inside. “When?”
“We need to get your stuff and get out, Mena.” He continued on to the kitchen.
She dropped her things onto the table in the entryway, annoyance surging through her. “How many times?”
He didn�
��t answer, but she heard the refrigerator open.
Damn the man. She strode along the short hall and found him twisting the top off a water bottle. “Ryder.”
He just shot her an amused glance as he took a long drink.
She growled and spun away, to her bedroom, where she shut the door, hard.
The man was impossible.
She fumed as she yanked a carry-on suitcase from the top shelf of her closet and opened it on her bed, then dragged open several drawers on her dresser.
When he strolled into the room, she glared. “Get out.”
“Might go faster with an extra pair of hands,” he said mildly.
She huffed out a breath and turned her back on him, yanking a handful of underwear from one of the open drawers.
“Mm, nice.” He plucked a pair of blush-tinted lace panties from her fingers. “Is there a bra that matches those?”
She snatched them off his long fingers and dropped them into the suitcase, ignoring the heat climbing her cheeks at his question. Then realized she had indeed also grabbed the matching bra in her next handful. She shut the first drawer and lifted a couple sweaters from the next drawer.
“You do own jeans, right?”
She elbowed past him to get to her closet and heard his soft laugh. She took out a few of the long skirts she favored for the easy access to her dagger and dropped them into the suitcase on top of the sweaters.
“Mena.”
She glanced over her shoulder and found he’d rummaged in another of her drawers to come up with a sheer, green, lacy negligee. Electra had sent it for one of her birthdays, years ago, and she’d tucked it into a drawer where it had stayed. Until now. It looked ridiculously feminine dangling from his big hand, and the images it brought up in her head were x-rated.
“You’re packing this, right?”
She shut her eyes for a second, knowing from the heat in her cheeks that she was as red as one of the sweaters she’d put into the suitcase, then she snatched it from his grasp. “No.” She dropped it into the drawer and instead pulled out a long flannel nightgown with buttons to the chin.
He laughed when she put it into the suitcase, but she didn’t care.
She did pull a few pairs of jeans from another dresser drawer, and then returned to the closet for another pair of boots, a calf-high pair of soft brown leather ones that had a sheath for her dagger along the side of the right one.
When she got back to the bed to drop the jeans into the case, the negligee lay on top of the flannel nightgown, and she growled.
Ryder just smirked.
“If you can wear it, you can take it,” she ground out.
When she put her boots on the bed beside the suitcase, he caught her wrist and tugged her closer. “Smart girl, you know I’m not wearing it,” he whispered, brushing her lips with his before he released her.
Philomena whirled away and stomped into the bathroom to gather necessary toiletries. And make her racing pulse slow the hell down.
Her reflection in the mirror over the sink confirmed the high color in her face she’d felt with the rush of heat a few minutes ago. She realized her eyes were dark, the pupils enormous against the green outer rings. She ran some cold water and splashed it on her face.
As she dragged the hand towel over her face, she paused, catching her reflection’s gaze.
He’d pissed her off on purpose.
She straightened, considering, and rehung the towel, her pulse easing a little. Just when she was getting ready to flip out over having to leave her home and her family, he had pissed her off to distract her.
She turned away from the mirror and picked up the small handful of things she’d taken out of the medicine chest, feeling a reluctant smile tug at one corner of her mouth.
“Bastard,” she said clearly when she stepped back in her bedroom and found him sprawled over the double bed, making it look very, very small.
He blinked. “What?”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
After a moment, his expression cleared to a blank slate. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She just hummed her dissent, and then set about repacking the suitcase more neatly. She did, however, drop the negligee onto the bed. He didn’t need to see her in a skimpy piece of lingerie. He was tempting enough when she was fully clothed.
Too tempting.
“Have you got everything?” He propped his head on one hand, dark eyes following her around the room.
She made one last trip to the closet, removing the small metal box there. Her own ‘box of important stuff’--birth certificates, family photos, passports, more than one for her. Just in case. She tucked it into the carry-on, and then stood for a moment, hands on her hips. Had she forgotten anything else? Anything desperately important? She didn’t think so.
When she turned around, Ryder had sat up and zipped her bag. “I think that’s it,” she said.
He nodded. “Let’s go, then.” He got to his feet and hefted her suitcase.
“What will happen to everything?” She paused in the entry to gather her coat, purse, and laptop bag.
“Danny will have a crew come in and pack anything personal, anything with direct links to any of you. Store everything else separately. Then we’ll figure out what to do with the houses and cars.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “It’ll be all right, Mena.”
She noticed he didn’t promise she could return, however.
It was best he didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.
Ryder glanced over periodically to check on her as he drove. They’d been on the road for three hours, and dusk had given way now to the winter’s night, the dark sky dotted with stars and a sliver of moon. Mena had sat quietly, mostly staring out the side window of the truck, occasionally shifting position. By now her busy brain had probably conjured up a million ways this could go very wrong.
“We’re nearly there.”
She started, looking over at him. “Nearly where?”
“Where we’re going.” He flashed a quick grin when she rolled her eyes. “A nice little resort with honeymoon cabins.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
He couldn’t help that his grin widened. “I didn’t think it would be nearly as easy to secure an entire hotel without having to talk to management as it will be to secure an individual cabin.”
She stared at him for a long time. He could feel it, even after he shifted his gaze back to the road ahead. He’d steered them off the interstate a while ago, and now they wound into the Pocono Mountains toward their destination. Finally, she sighed and put her head on her hand, elbow resting on the truck door.
He still grinned, though to himself now. It was true. He’d made the reservation yesterday, before he’d taken her up against the side of his truck, before he’d had to kill the Harvester. Not because the setting would be romantic, but because it would be safe. Now, though, he wasn’t especially unhappy about the romantic part either.
He steered the truck off the road when he saw the sign illuminated by the headlights, then followed the winding drive to the main lodge. The structure was impressive, built of enormous logs, and standing two stories high, the front side mostly glass. A stone chimney towered along one side of the building, issuing steady puffs of smoke. He turned the truck off. “Let’s get checked in, Mrs. Michaels.” He pushed open his door, not waiting for her response. He met her at her door and touched her chin. “We’re newlyweds, baby. You’re supposed to look happy, not like this is the worst day of your life.” He bent and kissed her quickly. Hard. It was enough to put a hint of color in her face and make her eyes darken.
Catching her hand, he towed her along, up the three wide steps to the lodge porch and in the double doors to the registration desk. While he took care of checking in, Mena stood quietly at his side, looking at the enormous stone fireplace on the opposite wall, her gaze sliding over the golden logs of the walls. She even summoned up a pretty good smile for the older man behind the desk
when he spoke to her, but Ryder could see she’d just about reached her limit for the day.
Outside, he put her back in the truck, then drove along the lane at the side of the lodge to their cabin. It was a smaller, less-windowed version of the main building, with a stone chimney reaching past the pointed roof, though no puffs of smoke emitted from this one. Not yet, anyway. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll take our things in, then call Jason and get some dinner.”
She nodded and pushed her door open.
He met her there, tugging their bags from behind the seat, then caught her hand to tow her along to the cabin door, lit by a small lamp overhead.
He flipped on the light switch just inside the door, illuminating a nice little room. If you could ignore the giant heart-shaped bed with a shiny red cover on it that dominated the space.
Mena’s eyes widened, then she started to laugh, covering her mouth with one hand.
Ryder felt his lips curve as he kicked the door shut behind them. He continued into the room with their bags.
It got worse, he discovered, his gaze drawn to the clear, wineglass-shaped tub in the opposite corner with curved stairs leading up to it.
He dropped the bags beside a cushy-looking armchair and glanced at Mena, who gasped for breath between bursts of laughter. He set his hands on his hips, his gaze flitting over the oversized couch near the fireplace, the tiny television in the front corner, and a small table with two chairs opposite them, then the door at the back of the room. He stuck his head in, relieved to see a real bathroom with a shower.
Not that he’d mind getting Mena into the glass tub. His brain obliged him by summoning up images of her in a froth of bubbles.
His blood heated.
When he turned around, she’d sunk onto the sofa, still giggling as she wiped tears away.
“Looks like fun,” he said gruffly, moving toward her.
Her laughter spiked again. “You’re kidding, right?”
He stopped walking at the end of the sofa, his gaze sliding over her face. At least there was some color in her cheeks now. “No. There’s quite a selection of scented bubbles on the vanity in the bathroom, too.” He winked at her when she collapsed back once more, her giggles uncontrollable and probably bordering on hysterical.
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