“There aren’t any places open this early. How about you get your finger taken care of and I’ll take care of this?” Waylynn brushed past him, that bright smile destroying the deepest part of him, the part that’d sworn off commitment in order to keep his freedom. She moved the skillet to another burner with a hot pad. Picking up the spatula he’d set beside the oven, she turned back to him and pointed with it. “Go. I promise not to burn your cabin down. Although, it wouldn’t be hard because it’s so small.”
“I’m sensing some hostility toward my top-secret safe house.” He pulled a first-aid kit out of the top drawer of the kitchen and wrapped a bandage around the wound. “It’s not that bad. Come on. Where else can you say you almost got trampled by a moose and her young?”
No reaction. She pushed the burned mess around the skillet with the spatula. Her hands shook and she set the utensil onto the granite. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean... I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I do. I’ve been through all of this before when I was accused of killing my father, but I—”
“Wasn’t expecting you’d have to shoot your boss? I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, Doc.” Elliot tossed the first-aid kit back into the drawer and bumped it closed with his hip. “I never said thank you, did I? Without you, I probably wouldn’t be standing here. Also, how in the hell did a geneticist beat the crap out of me?”
Waylynn stepped into him. Reaching for his wounded shoulder, she brushed her fingers over the fresh gauze and tape. “Matt’s been involved with MMA fighting for years. Said it kept him in shape. I never considered he’d... I never thought he’d be the one to turn on me.” She raised her gaze to his, her hand framing his jaw and one of the bruises on the side of his face. The small muscles there twitched in response to her touch. “I’m sorry, Elliot. For everything. You wouldn’t have been beaten, shot or almost burned alive if it weren’t for me.”
“Don’t forget tasered.” He sure wouldn’t. He snaked his uninjured arm around the small of her back, pressing her against him. Right where she belonged. His smile died. She blamed herself. For all of it. That was the kind of person she was. Forced to grow up too fast after losing her parents, taking on more responsibility than a fifteen-year-old should’ve had to have dealt with. She’d lost an entire childhood—like he had—but she felt responsible because he bet that was the only way for her to keep it together. “Waylynn, you’re not responsible for any of this. Not for the crash, not what happened to me. You are responsible for Matt Stover’s death but nobody’s going to hold that against you. Whoever killed Alexis Jacobs and got your boss to do their dirty work did this. And I’m going to find them.”
“Right. A psychopath is targeting me because I like puppies and rainbows.” A humorless laugh escaped her mouth. She traced a seam in his shirt with her thumb but backed out of his reach. After threading one hand through her hair, she crossed her arms beneath the baggy shirt, accentuating her small frame. Her attention traveled to the front door as she bit her thumbnail. Color drained from her face as she steadily walked toward it and secured the dead bolt. “I feel as though I’m losing my mind. Two days ago, I got a message from Alexis to meet me at my apartment, and now she and my boss are dead.”
Her tightly held control had started to crack.
“You’re safe here.” Spinning her into him, he forced Waylynn to look him in the eye. The outright terror in her expression raised his protective instinct. “I will protect you. No matter the cost. Physically, mentally, I will do anything to keep you safe.”
“I know you will, but for how long? Another day? A week? It could take months to identify whoever framed me, Elliot.” She rolled her lips between her teeth, her gaze drifting to the front door again. To double-check the lock?
“However long it takes, Doc.” He pulled her into him, those blue eyes locking on his mouth for the briefest of moments. “I’m not going anywhere.”
* * *
BEING IN HER life was a death sentence. That was clear now. First her father, then her mother. Now Alexis and Matt. Waylynn forced herself to take a step back, forced herself to take her eyes off his mouth, and suppressed the chaotic need burning inside her to stay in his arms. She couldn’t let Elliot be next. Couldn’t let him become a victim of her genetic code down the line. He was too important. He was...everything.
Her blood heated at the realization. Holy mother of peanut-butter Oreos. Her throat dried. She’d always found him attractive, charming, funny. But now? Now, she couldn’t stop thinking about how much time she’d wasted over the last year. How she’d hidden her crush, how much she looked forward to seeing him every day after work for that beer. The way they recited bad country songs to make each other laugh. They’d almost died in that fire. He’d been shot trying to save her life. In the blink of an eye, she could’ve lost him forever. And she wasn’t going to waste another minute. “Kiss me.”
Waylynn didn’t wait for an answer. Interlocking her fingers around the back of his neck, she crushed her body against his. Hard muscle pressed into her as he wrapped her with his uninjured arm. She notched her mouth higher to meet his lips as she came up on her toes. The difference between their sizes was laughable, but somehow, it worked. Everything about Elliot Dunham defied the fantasy she’d built in her head of the perfect man over the years, when she’d allowed herself to imagine a long-term relationship with a partner. His occupation, his height, even the color of his eyes. But right now, if only for tonight—no, forever—she wanted him. “Am I hurting you?”
“If you stop, I’ll be in a lot more pain than I am right now,” he said.
A smile stretched her mouth thin. She’d tried to stay in control for the last two days, tried not to let herself splinter, tried not to let him see how much she needed him. But it’d all been in vain as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She had no control. Not when it came to him. Sliding her palm down his stomach, she reveled in the strong, muscled ridges and valleys beneath her fingers. His heartbeat changed. Sped up. She’d done that. Despite his insistence of keeping things between them professional, she’d elicited a reaction from him. Because he’d been made for her. No other man had ignited this craving to be touched, to be loved, and she couldn’t get enough.
Pressing her back against the counter, Elliot caged her between him and cold granite, the difference in battling temperatures fighting for dominance. He kissed her deeper, faster, and the ridiculous-sized cabin, the investigation, the fact she’d killed her boss to save his life less than two hours ago vanished. There was only him.
And with a deep trail of kisses down her throat, he had the power to break her. Elliot intertwined his fingers with hers, then raised her raw knuckles to his mouth. One by one, he kissed the wounds, sending small electric pulses through her nervous system. “I don’t care what that bastard said. You’re not a monster, Doc. You’re a survivor. Always have been. Only now it’s written all over your body.”
I’m not a monster. Her words as she’d pulled that trigger drained the burning heat smoldering beneath her skin. She didn’t want to think about that. Not now, not after he’d just started to make her feel. Monsters killed. Deep inside, everyone had the potential to kill, but according to her own research, the odds had increased for her the moment she’d been born. One day she could be Dr. Jekyll, the next Ms. Hyde. “How can you be sure?”
“I’ve met real monsters, Waylynn. You might’ve shot a man a few hours ago, but I’ll tell you right now, you’re not one of them. You’re kind, you’re generous, you put others first and strive to do what’s right. You came back for me in the middle of the fire at the cost of putting your own life in danger.” He smoothed his thumb across her knuckles. “And you can either fight that fact or accept it. You can let that fear control you or take the control and move on with your life. Those are your choices.”
What she wouldn’t give to believe every word out of his kiss-swollen mouth, but the truth remained. She coul
dn’t outrun genetics. Nobody could. Tears burned in her lower lash line, thick salt coating the back of her throat and behind her teeth. Twisting away, she put as much distance as she could between them in the limited amount of space. The fantasy she’d built up inside her head was just that. A fantasy. How could she have been so stupid to let it tint the real world? “There is no choice, Elliot. Not for me.”
“Why not?” A strong hand wrapped around her arm and spun her back into him. “Why don’t you get to be happy?”
“I have the warrior gene!” Waylynn clamped her hand over her mouth, the tears finally falling. She couldn’t hide the truth anymore. Couldn’t live with the weight by herself. Swiping the back of her hand across her face, she sniffled. Control. She forced a weak smile. “So you see? Even if we find the person responsible for framing me, I don’t get a happily-ever-after, Elliot. I don’t get to spend the rest of my life with the man I’ve fallen in love with. I don’t get to have the family I’ve always dreamed of having. Because one day, my DNA will force me to turn on them. Just like my father’s did.”
Elliot suddenly seemed so much...bigger as a sharp edge cooled the gray of his eyes. Dropping his hand, she lost the little bit of body heat she’d been able to hold on to since shooting Matt Stover. Panic flared the longer he stared down at her, unreadable, unmovable. What did he think of her now? What did he see? His throat worked to swallow. “The man you’ve fallen in love with?”
There were two kinds of secrets. The one she’d kept from others and the one she’d kept from herself. But she couldn’t shoulder either. Not anymore. She wasn’t sure when it’d happened. Maybe that first time he’d waited for her after work with a beer and a smile. Could’ve been the moment he’d come running to help her after she’d discovered Alexis in the tub and screamed. Or was it when he’d taken that bullet back at the crash scene to distract her boss from kidnapping her? Did it matter? Wiping her face, a strained laugh escaped past her lips. “Come on now. You’re a private investigator, remember? You’re trained to read people. Isn’t that what you said? You had to have seen it. I’m not that good of a liar.”
Elliot blinked, running his palms down his face. Turning away from her, he kept his body language neutral, but none of that screamed reciprocating feelings and her stomach sank.
What did she expect? He’d made himself perfectly clear. Nothing would happen between them. Living in the commune, spending over a year in an Iraqi prison, being in a committed relationship. They were all the same to him. Prisons. Barriers to his own happiness. She’d cut herself off from any kind of human interaction past a professional level in a sick attempt to protect others. Her throat tightened as rejection took hold. Maybe she should’ve been more concerned about herself. “Elliot—”
“I don’t care,” he said.
Everything inside her shattered.
Smudges of ash darkened the angles of his jaw, hardening his expression. Elliot shook his head. “Wait. That came out wrong. I don’t care about your genetics, Doc. I don’t care if some gene changes you into someone else down the road. I know who you are.” He closed in on her, the scent of smoke and man filling her lungs as he took her beat-up hands in his. “Every second I get to spend with you is better than losing you altogether.”
She swallowed back the salty taste in her mouth. “What?”
“You’re going to make me say it all over again, aren’t you?” That gut-wrenching smile of his rocketed her blood pressure higher. In an instant, it vanished. Smoothing his thumbs across her knuckles again, he softened his stance. “You’ve got blood on your hands, but I don’t see a monster when I look at you. I see my best friend. The woman who means more to me than anyone else in my life. The woman I’ll do anything to keep for myself.”
“You’re not scared of what I might turn into.” Not a question. He had to have read her father’s file, read hers and her mother’s statements after his body had been recovered. Nathan Hargraves had terrorized his family until the day he’d died. Elliot understood the risks, yet he still wanted her. The slight tenderness of her lips from his kiss was proof, wasn’t it? He was willing to break the rule he’d set between them: no emotional attachments. For her. “You don’t have to do this. We can stay friends like you wanted. We’ll figure it out—”
“What’s life without a bit of risk?” Elliot shrugged with his uninjured shoulder.
She couldn’t contain the smile spreading her lips thin, fisting her fingers in his shirt to drag his mouth down to hers. Grazing her bottom lip along his, she nipped at him before pulling away. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Her gut clenched at another sight of that tingling-inducing smile as he pressed his mouth to hers. Her laugh broke free at the sound of her stomach growling. Right. They hadn’t eaten anything in... She didn’t know how long. Waylynn released him. “Well, that certainly ruins the mood.”
“Nah.” Elliot interlaced his fingers through hers and flipped her palm toward the not-so-high ceiling. With his gaze locked on hers, he kissed the overly sensitive skin along the inside of her wrist. “Just postpones it a bit.”
Her nerve endings burned with awareness. Nearly a lifetime of fear for the future drained from her system. Because of him. He’d given her reason not to escape the darkness. Instead, maybe she could learn to love herself there with his help. “All right. Food. Sleep. Then making out.”
Elliot winked at her as he started working on saving the chicken and oil in the pan one-handed. “It’s good to have priorities.”
Chapter Ten
She’d fallen asleep in his arms, both of them too exhausted to do much else after gorging themselves on the bits of chicken and vegetables he’d managed to save. It hadn’t taken more than a few minutes for him to fall asleep with her safe in his arms, her clean, flowery scent clinging to his shirt and boxers. Hints of her perfume filled his lungs now, but, when Elliot reached across the sheets, he discovered it to be a figment of his imagination. The bed was empty. Sunlight streamed through the pane of the massive triangle-shaped window out the back of the cabin. He checked his watch. Noon. He’d been asleep for close to eight hours. And, hell, it’d been the best sleep of his life as far as he was concerned.
Some guys just couldn’t handle a bullet to the shoulder.
Him being one of them.
Running a hand through his hair, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and pushed to his feet. Strapping his arm into the sling the paramedics had given him at the scene after treating him, Elliot rolled back his shoulder to stretch the injury. With pain came clarity. His muscles protested as he moved toward the stairs, but the deafening silence pulled him deeper into the small space. “Doc?”
No answer.
Cold hardwood creaked under his weight as he hit the bottom step. The smell of coffee fought to distract him, but his heart jumped into his throat as he caught sight of her. Lean muscle and strength stretched and contorted into shapes he’d never seen a human body execute. Shadows deepened the ridges and valleys across her exposed midsection and back around her sports bra. Neon leggings left little to the imagination as she balanced precariously on both hands—no support—and lifted the crown of her head toward her toes in an impossible backbend. He’d never seen anything like it. Never seen anything quite like her.
How could someone so beautiful, so strong, believe she’d turn into a monster? Elliot rested his uninjured shoulder against the wall, watching the sweep of her arms and legs in a hypnotic dance.
Floating her legs back to the floor, Waylynn exhaled hard as she turned. She jumped with a small scream, a hand on her collarbones, as she spotted him across the room. She pulled wireless headphones from her ears. “How long have you been standing there like a creepy stalker?”
“Long enough to think you’ve been possessed by a poltergeist. I considered calling a priest to exorcize it from your body.” It was only when she reached for a towel off the back of t
he bar stool that he noticed the sprawl of papers and his laptop open on the counter.
“If there’s one thing I learned cramming through the night during my doctoral program, it was exercise helps me focus.” Waylynn set her headphones on the counter. Small beads of sweat built in her hairline, the bruise along her jawline from where that bastard Dr. Stover had backhanded her more purple than black now.
It’d been a damn good thing Waylynn had gotten to him first. Elliot had wanted nothing more than to finish the job himself after what her boss had put her through. Rage flooded through him at the vile memory, but he forced himself in check. Hell, maybe he needed to exercise, too. The Genism Corporation logo caught his attention on the stack of papers she’d left on the counter. He spidered his fingers over the top one and turned it toward him. Handwritten notes detailed possible suspects within the company, starting at the very top, then navigating to the bottom on what looked like official letterhead. “Look at you taking up the private investigator mantle. Any leads?”
“If I go with the theory someone within Genism wanted to hide the results of our warrior gene trials, no. There are too many suspects to count, and it would take months to sift through it all. Every executive had reason to protect the lab. Money, reputation, the fact Genism is in direct competition with a few other labs for pharmaceutical company contracts. Not to mention military contracts. The list goes on.” She wiped the towel across her collarbones with one hand and moved another sheet of paper out from under the stack with the other. “The only thing I’m certain about is whoever killed Alexis gave Dr. Stover my DNA results so I would be labeled a monster capable of murder. With my past, it wasn’t hard, but framing me didn’t do the job, so they escalated to direct attack. I just don’t know how they got that DNA information. I assigned numbers to each volunteer in the study, including myself when I submitted my blood work. There weren’t any names on the dozens of reports I filed. No way they could’ve read a result and assigned it to a specific subject. Matt didn’t have access to that information.”
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