Chill (7 page)

Luke waited until he could no longer hear her crashing through the brush. Until Isabella Kopas had been utterly and completely swallowed up in the Alaskan outback.

A black car circled behind the bar, and its headlights flashed near Luke.

He pressed the gun harder into the back of his captive’s neck, certain the Dumpster would keep them shielded from view. But he could feel the tension building in Nate’s body, and Luke knew his prisoner would not stay submissive for long. And if Nate had known who was holding him pinned…he wouldn’t have played possum for even a second.

Jesus.
Nate holding a gun on a woman. What had he become? The man had once been Luke’s best friend. Before all hell had broken loose.

No time for regrets. Luke had to vacate. Nate would recognize him if he so much as coughed, let alone showed his face.

Luke swore under his breath, quickly scanning his surroundings for an option. He had to get out without being seen. Without crossing the line that separated him from his birthright.

The easiest choice was to knock Nate out.

His muscles flexed, itching to do it. He was still enraged by the look of stark terror and utter capitulation on Isabella’s face when Nate had stepped out of the darkness.

Luke’s blood might have run black, and there might have been bloodstains on his hands, but there would never be any new ones. And he knew all too well that he couldn’t afford to cross the line into violence, not even slightly.

Because he was, in the worst way possible, his father’s son all the way to his core, as evidenced by the pulsing desire within him to make the man before him pay.

Luke suddenly realized his finger was closing down on the trigger of the shotgun, and he instantly released it.
Shit.

The black car disappeared back around to the front, and he knew he was out of time. The guys inside would get free, the car would come back, his prisoner would snap at any second.

With a muttered curse, Luke looked around again and figured out his best option. He pulled Nate off the wall and shoved him toward the Dumpster. The stench was rotting and putrid, and Nate balked.

Luke pressed the gun toward Nate’s neck. A door slammed and Luke jerked his head around as he heard voices on the back porch.

Time was up.

Luke grabbed Nate by the collar of his shirt and threw him into the Dumpster. He slammed the lid shut and slid the lock.

Nate started yelling instantly, and Luke slipped out of sight as Nate’s comrades came running.

Luke glanced at the woods, but he couldn’t risk drawing their attention to where Isabel had gone.

So he went the other way.

A branch snapped back and slashed across Isabella’s cheek. She gasped at the pain and pressed her palm to her burning skin.

Her shoulder was aching, and her legs were shaking.

She was so cold.

But she was also sweating. She had a bad feeling her shoulder had gotten infected and she was running a fever from it. But she couldn’t stop running. Not yet. She had to keep going. If she stopped, she was so afraid she would never start again.

How long had she been out there?

She stumbled over a rock and fell, her hands barely catching her. She dropped her head, succumbing to exhaustion for just a minute. Just to rest for a second. She was just so tired.

Wearily, she sat down and leaned back against a tree trunk. The ground was frigid, sucking the heat of her body through her jeans. The bark was rough, and her sweater snagged on it. She shivered and hugged herself, trying to hold in her body heat. Her stomach was trembling now, and there was a layer of perspiration on her forehead.

She was definitely getting an infection. She needed to get out of the woods. Find a doctor. Get help.

But which way was out?

She let her head sag back against the trunk and closed her eyes to listen. No sounds of cars whizzing by, to indicate she was near a road. But also, no footsteps of an approaching enemy.

Just the wind grazing gently through the treetops. The creaks of branches. The scuttle of little feet on the ground. Nature. Alaska. She could smell wet dirt, and dampness in the air, as if a storm were coming, or had just swept through the area. Or both. She’d never smelled nature like this before. Never smelled anything so fresh and clean. She could almost feel all the grime slipping off her soul…

Something tickled her cheeks, and she slapped at her face.

Wearily, she opened her eyes.

A thick black sludge of night. No lights. No people. No homes.

Just utter isolation.

Solitude. Fear. Exposure.

Exactly like the first night she’d gone back to the apartment she’d shared with her mother after her mother had died. She’d huddled in the corner of the floor in the darkness, so terrified, so alone—

Panic threatened to overwhelm her, and Isabella shuddered and hugged her knees to her chest.
No. I will not think about that again.
“On the plus side,” she said aloud, her voice startling in the silence. “I’m probably pretty safe out here from the bad guys. So, that’s a bonus. And it’s always good to break in new clothes.” She forced herself to smile. “Adventure is always a good thing.”

How many times had she gone through this exercise in her life? Silly little things to take the edge off enough that she could function. “And Nate didn’t shoot me right away, so there’s something else that’s going well.”

His hesitation had told her he wouldn’t shoot her until he had the necklace and everything she knew
about it. She had it hidden in her pants, but how long would that work? She should stash it for later retrieval. She sighed and leaned her head back against the towering pines. What if she concealed it up there? Marked the tree somehow? If she could make it up there—

Isabella stood and slung her bag across her shoulders.

She grabbed the bottom branch, then gasped when pain shot through her injured shoulder. Her head spun, and she let go of the branch, staggering under the agony. She knelt in the damp pine needles, clutching her arm while she fought to stay conscious under the onslaught of pain.

Her head spun and she let herself collapse to the ground. She would give the pain a moment to subside.

Then she would get up and soldier onward. It was pretty obvious she couldn’t afford to stop again.

But as she let the cold forest floor seep into her body, she had a bad feeling she wouldn’t be able to start again. That she’d reached her limit.

“No!” She braced herself on the ground and shoved herself to her knees. “You will not give up.”

She grabbed a branch and pulled herself to her feet, gritting her teeth against the agony.

And then she began to walk again.

She didn’t even know what direction she was going.

She just went.

Luke moved silently through the forest, staying just out of sight and sound of Isabella as he followed her progress.

He’d slipped past her stalkers and headed into the woods after her. Not to make contact. Just to make sure she was all right.

He’d picked up her trail easily enough, and he’d caught up after about thirty minutes. He was keeping vigil to see if the others were following her, but as far as he could tell, they hadn’t ventured into the woods.

Isabella had evaded them, and he’d been surprised by how far she’d made it by the time he caught up.

He was equally surprised by how long she’d continued to press on, even when she began stumbling from exhaustion.

She was a survivor.

A woman who wouldn’t sit down and let the bad guys take her, unlike—

No.

He wasn’t going there. He wasn’t revisiting memories.

Isabella let out a squawk of pain, and Luke jerked his attention back to her. She was on her knees again. Her long hair was tangled, her clothes muddy.

He swore and forced himself not to go to her, but each time she stumbled, it was getting more difficult. “Come on,” he whispered. “You can do it.”

There was only another mile until she’d hit a road. If she could make it there—

“Get up, you lazy dog,” Isabella muttered. “This is the perfect way to burn off all the junk food you’ve been eating the last three days. Feel the burn, dammit!”

Luke grinned as she surged to her feet again. “Atta girl,” he said quietly. “You can do this.”

But as he watched, she began to sway.

Dammit.

With a feeling of certain impending doom that he was going to damn them both, as well as Cort and Kaylie, Luke acknowledged that without him, she was done.

And that was something he couldn’t live with.

No other woman could die because of Marcus, no matter what the circumstances. “Damn you, Marcus.”

Isabella staggered and her knees began to buckle, and all hesitation fled.

Luke was by her side before she hit the dirt.

Luke caught Isabella just as she started to fall. Her body was lean and curvy as he scooped her up.

She tensed instantly and leapt out of his arms. Her eyes were wide as she stumbled backward to get away from him. “No!”

He held up his hands. “It’s Luke. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She stared at him, her black eyes unreadable in the darkness. “Luke?” she repeated. Her voice sounded foggy with confusion and exhaustion. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know.” He walked over to her. “You okay?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. I needed the exercise.”

Luke frowned and pulled out the penlight he kept stashed in his pocket whenever he was flying. It was tough as hell to fix an engine in the dark without a light. He flashed it over her face and narrowed his eyes at her ashen skin tone. “Let me see your shoulder.”

She pulled back farther. “My shoulder?”

“I can tell it’s hurt.” He gestured impatiently, trying to keep it professional. Not so easy when she was calling upon every protective instinct in his body. “Let me see.”

She hesitated, and for a moment he thought she
would resist. Then she grabbed the cuff of her sweater and pulled her arm out of the sleeve.

Luke averted the flashlight as Isabella pulled her sweater half off to reveal her shoulder. But even with the light redirected, he was viscerally aware of her bare midriff, of the shadows of her bra across her breasts.

“Ready.” Her voice was throaty and trembling with nervousness.

Instead of inspecting her shoulder, Luke gently cupped her chin, his fingers gliding over the softness of her skin. “Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you. Relax.”

She stared at him, and after a moment, she took a shuddering breath and nodded. “Okay.”

He smiled and thumbed the scratch on her cheek. “Good girl.”

She pulled her chin out of his grasp. “Just look at my shoulder.”

Luke raised his brows at her resistance, then grinned. Yeah, the woman had pluck. Damn if he didn’t like pluck.

Isabella closed her eyes as Luke released her chin at her command. The moment he stopped touching her, she was consumed with raw regret at the loss of physical contact. Yet at the same time, she shuddered with intense relief.

How long had it been since a man had touched her in such gentleness? It felt so good, so amazing. To feel the heat of his fingers on her skin.

But at the same time…it terrified her. After falling so hard for Daniel, she didn’t want to put herself out there again. She couldn’t do it. Not for any man.

And Luke was all male. Elemental, raw and rugged.
Everything she responded to…which was why he terrified her. Her need for Luke was so much more intense than what she’d felt for Daniel, and even the little of herself she’d offered to Daniel had burned her so badly. She’d been unable to see what was really going on because she’d been so desperate for what he’d offered her. All he’d wanted was to get his hand in Marcus’s till, and she’d been so needy to belong to someone, to have a home, that she’d refused to see the truth until it had almost been too late.

And that was nothing compared to the intensity of her need for Luke. For his touch, for his kiss, for his arms around her, for him to protect her…

But she couldn’t trust her reactions anymore. For God’s sake, she’d even been wrong about Zack. His invite to Marcus’s birthday had turned into a near abduction. No more trusting men, especially not in Marcus’s world. They all wanted something from her, and she was going to make sure she controlled the situation. Luke had so much baggage, so much pain and so much hatred for Marcus that he was the last one she could afford to fall for.

“I’m going to move your sweater up so I can see your shoulder,” Luke said.

“Okay.” She tensed when his fingers brushed her arm as he lifted her sweater aside. God, it felt good to be touched. She wanted to lean into him and just breathe in the feeling of his skin against hers.

Light flashed as he turned his beam on her arm.

For a moment, he said nothing.

She twisted around to try to see her arm, but her sweater was in the way. “Is it infected?”

“Someone shot you.” It wasn’t a question. It was
a statement. His voice had gone hard. Low. “Jesus, Isabella.”

She shuddered at the violence in his voice, an icy chill that sounded exactly like Marcus at his worst. “I know, but how does it look?”

Luke flashed his light to the side, so both their faces were lit up. He looked grim. “You need antibiotics.”

She sighed. “I thought so.” Not good. So not good. “Do you know anywhere I can get them?”

Instead of answering, Luke laid his hand across her forehead. His hand was so cool against the raging heat burning her up, and this time, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning into his touch. It just felt too good.

“Fever.” His voice was grim.

“Felt like it,” she whispered, resting her head against his palm. She was too exhausted to fight her need to lean on him. “I’ll pay you to take me to a doctor who won’t report my visit to anyone.”

“No, thanks.”

He wouldn’t even help her get to a doctor?

He began to pull her sweater back down.

Tears of exhaustion filled her eyes, and she pulled out of his grasp. “I can get dressed myself.” She tried to work her arm into the sleeve. She didn’t want him touching her anymore, not now that she knew he wouldn’t help her even get to a doctor. God, she was so exhausted…No. She could handle this. She would find a way to do it on her own.

She struggled to get her arm in, but moving it was too painful. She sucked in her breath at a stab of pain, and he silently caught her forearm and helped guide it into her sweater. His touch was gentle but firm, not giving her the chance to fight it.

Not that she could.

She needed his help, and she had to be smart enough to take advantage of what was offered, even while making sure not to count on it. He’d already said he wasn’t going to help her. He was leaving. Period.

At least he was honest about it. That was a point for him over Daniel and Zack.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

She nodded. To her surprise, as she began to walk, he fell in beside her. He said nothing, and the tension built. Why was he staying with her?

She stumbled, and he caught her arm and righted her almost before she’d lost her balance. “Thanks.”

He gave her a grim smile, but said nothing.

She resumed walking and he again stayed beside her. He caught her again when she tripped. After the third time she stumbled, he cupped her elbow and didn’t let go. His grip was strong, and he somehow absorbed her instability each time her legs wobbled. She felt as if she were being supported by a steel beam that would never falter.

She’d never felt protected like that before. It felt as though even a tornado wouldn’t be able to move a hair on her head because Luke would block the wind for her. How did he make her feel like that? Especially when he wouldn’t commit to helping her?

He was so tough, he was exactly what she needed right now. Not just because he was Marcus’s son and because of his background and expertise, but because he was so solid. A rock.

“Luke?” God, her head hurt. She was cold. Hot. Sweaty. Trembling.
Focus, Isabella.

“Yeah.” His grip tightened on her arm, and she realized she had just stumbled again.

“I would make it worth your while to help me.” She tripped again, and this time she would have gone down if Luke hadn’t caught her.

Without a word, he picked her up and turned her so she was tucked against his chest, front to front. Too intimate, and she started to pull away.

“Stop fighting.” His grip tightened behind her back. “Put your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. It’s easier to carry you this way. Unless you think you can walk another mile.” His voice was calm and businesslike with none of the intentional seduction Daniel always had used on her.

His professional attitude eased some of her tension, and she realized he was right. She couldn’t walk anymore, and he clearly wasn’t trying to cop a feel. She would take it. Cautiously, she slipped her arms around his neck and locked her feet together behind his back, still holding herself stiffly so her breasts didn’t touch his chest. “Where are we going?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Luke anchored his hands beneath her bottom and began to stride out through the forest. His grip was secure and his step was steady and direct. Despite his claim, she sensed he knew exactly where he was going and what he was planning.

It felt good to be taken care of.

Until he ditched her. Unless she could convince him to take her money, there was nothing keeping him around to assist her. “Luke,” she said. “I—”

“I’m not taking money.”

“But—”

He squeezed her to silence her. “I’m not getting involved in anything relating to Marcus Fie.” His voice was cold and hard. “I’m going to get you safely out of Alaska, and that’s where it ends. I don’t want money.”

It was getting difficult to hold herself away from him, and she cautiously let herself relax against his chest. The heat from his body warmed her, and she closed her eyes. “I appreciate that, but getting me out of Alaska won’t make me safe.”

He said nothing, but his grip tightened.

“Your dad—”

“He’s not my father.”

She nestled her face into the curve of his neck. The gentle sway as he walked was soothing, and she could almost imagine she was somewhere safe, in the arms of someone who actually loved her, who would never leave. “Fine,” she mumbled. “Marcus, then. He’s—”

“He’s irrelevant.” Luke shifted his grip on her, tucking her even more tightly against him. Creating a cocoon of warmth and safety. She hadn’t felt safe since she’d left Marcus’s party three days ago. Hadn’t relaxed. Had barely slept.

But in Luke’s arms…he was keeping an eye out for her. She could rest, for just a few minutes. She should rest. Take advantage of the moment.

“Why?” she mumbled, too exhausted to keep her head up any longer.

He moved his head, and his cheek brushed her hair. “Why what?”

“If you hate Marcus so much, why are you helping me?”

It had been so long since Luke had held a woman.

And it felt so damn good.

“Luke?” Isabella’s breath teased his neck. It was warm and gentle, a seductive tease across his skin. “Why are you helping me right now?”

Luke ground his jaw at the question. A part of him didn’t want to tell her about how truly bad Marcus was. He could already tell she held an affection for the bastard, and on some level, he felt like a jerk stripping her of that belief. Isabella Kopas was clearly tough and a survivor, but at the same time, the way she was huddled against him made her seem so vulnerable. He wanted to protect her, not shred her world with a truth he sensed would rock her. He could feel the heat from the fever burning up her skin, and her body was shaking against his. And a bullet wound…Jesus.

The moment he’d seen her injury and realized what it was, he’d known he was in. Regardless of whether Isabella had invited this fate by aligning herself with Marcus, he was simply incapable of walking away from a woman who was endangered by Marcus.

“Why do you hate him?” Her question was muffled against his neck. “He’s a good man.”

Luke closed his eyes for a second at her tone. He could hear the genuineness of her statement. She really did believe in Marcus.

And that delusion would kill her, as the bullet wound showed.

The truth might hurt her now, but if it saved her life, if he could save
one
life with what he had gone through…it wouldn’t atone for those who had died—nothing would—but it might take one bit of the edge off the pain. He decided to be honest…to a degree. There was no point in lying about who he was anymore. Isabella knew Marcus personally, which meant she’d known he was Marcus’s son the moment she’d laid eyes upon him. If the truth could save her life, he needed to do it. “He killed my mother.”

Isabella stiffened against him and she lifted her head to look at him. “What are you talking about? I thought she died on vacation.”

“Yeah. Vacation.” Suddenly, he was back there again. Eight years old, stashed on some Caribbean island with his mom. And then the men had come. With guns. His mother dead. Sprawled across the floor.

“Luke? You’re hurting me.”

Luke immediately loosened his grip, startled to discover he’d been crushing Isabella against him. A bead of sweat trickled off his brow, and he shook his head to flick it off. He stopped walking and pressed his face into her hair, breathing in her scent. The hint of lavender, the perspiration, the musty scent of real woman. He narrowed his mind until he was entirely focused on the scent spreading through his body. He drilled his attention down like he did when he was engaged in an experiment, or flying in bad weather. Utter focus.

Isabella squirmed in his arms, and Luke lifted his head from her neck. “You okay?” he asked.

“You’re wigging me out.”

He grinned, hoisted her higher on his hips and resumed his trek toward the road. “Psychotic Alaskan redneck?”

“Something like that.” But she sighed and put her head back on his shoulder. It was actually more like she let her head flop back down because she couldn’t hold it up anymore. “Why are you helping me get out of Alaska? And for free?”

Her repetition of the question triggered something in Luke, and he frowned as it registered. It wasn’t a casual question. Isabella needed to know why he was helping her. Why was it so important to her?

“Luke?”

“I won’t allow another woman die at the hands of Marcus Fie,” he snarled. His mother first. Then Anna.

Anna had been what changed it all for him. Anna had been the point of no return. Anna had been a tragedy that still made his very soul turn over at night when he tried to sleep. Which was why he avoided sleep as much as possible.

Isabella tensed against him. “You sounded like Marcus when you said that,” she said. “The Marcus that scares me.”

Luke stopped in his tracks, stunned at her words. “I did?”