Cold in the Shadows 5 (31 page)

He unlocked the door and swung it wide. The interior was all plaid and honey-colored pine, with a big fireplace and exposed logs on one wall. It looked clean, but was chilly. He left Audrey standing by the door and hiked up the thermostat.

He went over and undid the strap on her helmet, eased it up off her head. Her hair tumbled out in a tangled mess. Those violet eyes of hers squinted at him, bruised with exhaustion and despair. He hated seeing her this way. “Go get into bed. I’m going to go buy supplies. I’ll be back in an hour. Do you need any help?”

Her nostrils flared as she appeared to gather her inner strength. “I’ll manage. Buy toothpaste.”

He nodded, wishing this was all over, but secretly glad she was still here with him. Which made him the most selfish bastard in existence.

All he said was, “Lock up. And stay away from the windows.”

*     *     *

A
UDREY STUMBLED HER
way into the bathroom and shut the door. The effort of clinging to Killion’s back all night and not falling off the world’s most dangerous means of transportation left her feeling shattered. But, even now, every time she closed her eyes, she still saw Gabriel Brightman’s brains spattered all over his bedroom wall.

Nausea boiled inside. She was too empty to cry. She felt numb and hollow. Like someone could stick pins in her, and she wouldn’t feel it at all. How had her life gone from worrying about her mother’s overprotectiveness to running for her life in less than a week? How had she become so dependent on a man who didn’t even trust her?

She’d seen the guarded look in his eyes when he’d gotten in the car after they’d escaped Brightman’s mansion—the calculation. He’d honestly thought she was capable of doing
that
. She grabbed onto the commode and threw up what little she had in her stomach. After a few moments she stood and washed out her mouth with cold water. Then she turned on the faucet in the shower and stripped off her clothes.

Patrick Killion was a chameleon. His in-need-of-a-trim sun-streaked blond hair and confident swagger perfectly fitted the biker he was currently pretending to be.

The same way he’d been the perfect honeymooner in Jamaica, and the perfect cat burglar in Louisville, the perfect operative when stealing the plane in South America. He could play whatever character was required at any moment.

Did that include lover?

The idea made her shrivel up on the inside. She stepped into the hot spray and felt the water wash over her skin, warming her frozen flesh. She found soap and scrubbed at her body.

Killion was the only constant she’d had in her life since the day Hector Sanchez had stabbed her. He’d mistrusted her because he thought she might be a killer, but she’d
seen
him kill people—and she’d still fallen for the guy.

Water pounded the top of her head. She was in love with him, she realized in growing horror. Hot tears flooded her vision, and she sobbed. She was in love with a government agent who could kill as easily as any cartel hit man. She wiped her eyes and pulled herself together.

What did she really know about the guy?

He was clever and resourceful. Not afraid to take chances. He carried a gun and was a good shot. He was closed-mouthed and secretive. He had a family he rarely saw.

He worked alone.

But he inspired loyalty.

He was cynical and cold.

But she’d seen in his eyes that his heart was breaking because his friend had been caught up in this mess and had lost her life.

She closed her eyes and swallowed.

He worked alone, but he wasn’t as isolated as he made out. He had a network of support. Friends who’d drop everything and ride to his rescue on helicopters and private jets. And he’d stuck by her side not just when he thought she was guilty, but also when he’d decided she was innocent, when the best course of action for him and his mission was leaving her behind in protective custody.

He was cynical and detached, but his touch had been molten hot, and she’d never felt more cared for by a lover or satisfied in bed.

She wished she knew how to defend herself, both from the bad guys and from the emotional pull she felt toward Killion.

Abruptly she turned the taps off and dried herself with a towel, squeezing the excess water out of her hair. She ran her fingers through her disastrous tangles, trying to release any knots. Then she washed out her underwear so she’d have something clean to put on later.

As much as she’d blamed Killion for her problems it was probably Devon Brightman who’d set this up. He was the only link between her and Gabriel apart from Rebecca, and Rebecca was dead. Rebecca and her brother had never gotten on very well. After she died his attitude had changed toward Audrey—or at least it had appeared to.

Devon had been lying and setting her up for years. It was the only thing that made sense. She dragged her T-shirt back over her head and headed into the bedroom. Then she curled up under the covers and sank into oblivion.

*     *     *

K
ILLION CAME INSIDE
the cottage, which was now thankfully warm, and dropped his supplies on the small kitchen table. He’d bought a new backpack, a phone, laptop, enough food to get them through a few days, and some toiletries, including hair dye and scissors.

The cabin was quiet as a church, and his heart raced with worry until he saw his favorite biologist lying under the covers in the bed.

She was still alive. They were still fighting for survival though the odds weren’t looking good.

He eyed the empty half of the bed, then turned away. He shrugged out of the heavy leather jacket and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair, put away the groceries that needed refrigerating, and stuck a chair under the main door handle—just in case. Then he stretched out on the couch and pulled a blanket over himself.

He closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.

*     *     *

A
UDREY CAME ABRUPTLY
awake in a cold sweat and sat straight up in bed. Her hands were shaking with the residue of some unknown fear. She heard children’s laughter outside and adults joining in. Innocent fun.

She looked at her watch. It was just past midday. She frowned. The bed was empty. Had Killion come back? Had he been caught? Had he abandoned her?

She used the bathroom, dragging on her clean underwear before sliding into her jeans. She hurried into the other room, her heart pounding at the idea of him not being there…

His leather jacket hung over the back of a chair, and a bag of purchases sat on the table—including toothpaste and a new toothbrush. She glanced into the living room. Killion was sprawled out on the couch, feet hanging over the end. A weird ache hit her in the chest. Tension fell away.

The horrible fuzzy feel of her teeth drove her back to the bathroom to clean them. When she came back to the kitchen she tried to move as quietly as possible, but he stirred anyway. He stretched his arms over his head and groaned. “There’s coffee and bacon in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

Her stomach growled at the mention of food. She didn’t remember the last time she’d eaten a proper meal.

Rather than speaking she found a pan and got the bacon out, putting it on the burner before figuring out how the coffee-pot worked.

Killion headed past her, presumably to the bathroom. They didn’t speak.

She found mugs and plates and cut open four white rolls. The aroma of coffee and bacon filled the air, making her mouth water, reminding her of simpler times. She patted the fat off the rashers and poured two coffees, realizing she didn’t even know how Killion took his. Then she turned around and found him standing right behind her, wearing nothing but jeans and wet hair.

Startled, she spilled her coffee over the back of her hand. She set down her mug and sucked the scalding liquid off her skin.

“You okay?” He stared at her through slightly red-rimmed eyes, clearly assessing her wellbeing and sanity. “I mean apart from the running for your life with the world’s biggest asshole?”

“Why do you do that?” she asked quietly. “Why do you make yourself out to sound so much worse than you actually are?”

He shook his head and for once looked vulnerable. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“This isn’t fighting, Patrick. This is talking.” Emotions were clearly still too close to the surface. She rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Any way I find it.” He picked up both mugs and put them on the table. Then picked up the plates and found paper napkins while Audrey turned off the stove.

They sat and dug into their meal as if they were starving. The taste blew her mind, and she closed her eyes and smacked her lips together. “Best meal ever.”

When she opened her eyes, Killion was eyeing her hungrily, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. A curl of sensual desire shot through her. Why she wanted this particular man was an enigma. It didn’t matter how much biology she knew, down to the most complex biochemical pathway, the rules of attraction were still a mystery.

“Do you think Parker’s okay?” she asked, trying to ignore the pull.

“Parker’s fine.”

“How do you know?”

Infuriatingly he just shrugged.

“He could be hurt.”
He could be dead
.

“Alex Parker can take care of himself.”

“Don’t tell me, he’s got your ninja warrior skills.” She crossed her arms over her chest, wondering if she was the only person involved in this whole saga who didn’t know how to fight. “What should I have done?” she asked suddenly.

He frowned, clearly not following.

“That night when you attacked me and zip-tied me so fast. How would you have avoided being tied up?”

One side of his mouth curled into a wicked smile. He took a sip of coffee and answered her seriously. “Firstly, the outside light being off should have been a big warning.”

“But in the real world that stuff happens.”

He shrugged. “There are all sorts of real worlds. Once I got hold of you from behind you should have targeted vulnerable places to attack. Eyes, nose, throat, dick. Shoving your straight arm or elbow into a jaw or nose can kill someone if you get the right angle. Grabbing my balls was a good move, but you should have squeezed harder.” He grinned, and her pulse sped up a little. “Depends on what you want.”

“I want to not be strung up like a Sunday roast by some asshole.”

His brows hitched. “I thought you said I wasn’t an asshole?”

“I said you shouldn’t call yourself an asshole.
I
can definitely call you an asshole.”

“Good to know.” He was trying to pretend he wasn’t amused.

Dammit.

He climbed to his feet, went into the living room, and moved the coffee table to the side of the room. He motioned her toward him.

“So you come into an environment where you can’t see a thing and both your hands are full. First rule is always keep your weapon hand empty.”

“I don’t carry a weapon.”

“That tongue of yours should qualify,” he muttered irritably. “Which reminds me—teeth. Teeth are a hell of a weapon and people forget that.”

She grimaced at the idea of biting any of the men who’d attacked her recently. Well, except…

Killion came up behind her and she was so completely aware of him as a man that she was shocked when he grabbed her roughly around the middle.

“Fight back, Aud.”

She got her mind off sex and remembered what he’d told her. She launched her fist in the direction of his face, felt him jerk away. Then he manhandled her easily to the floor, grabbing one wrist and pinning it with his knee to her back. Exactly as he’d done that first night.

She realized something else. He’d done his best not to hurt her that night, just as he was doing now.

“Let me do it to you,” she said. “I want to see how you get out of it.”

He nodded and lay face down on the floor.

She placed her weight on his lower back and tentatively took his arm, and promptly found herself flat on her back, staring up into his grinning face.

“What did you do?” she asked, slightly breathless.

“Just swiveled my body and used the momentum to knock you off balance.”

Dammit. “So I’m just supposed to accept the fact that if I’m attacked I’m at someone else’s mercy.” That idea was infuriating.

“Fuck, no—unless there’s a reason to believe fighting back is going to get you seriously hurt. Sometimes it’s good to wait for the right moment.”

He was sitting on top of her chest, crotch close to her teeth.

“How about I take a bite out of this?” She raised her head and opened her mouth to demonstrate.

“Hell, yeah.” He shifted back an inch. “That would get them off you pretty damn quick. Inner thigh is highly vulnerable, too. Once they’re off use your legs. Kick them as hard as you can.” He shifted off her and lay next to her on the floor. “Bottom line is you weigh one-ten soaking wet and I’m a good one-eighty. I have a big weight and strength advantage just ’cause I’m a male. And that’s not me being sexist, it’s basic biology, which I know you’ll appreciate.” He stared up at the ceiling for a few beats of her heart, then reached out and took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. Her mouth went dry. “You didn’t stand a chance against someone with my training.”

And yet, he hadn’t hurt her. She hadn’t had a single bruise from the encounter. She lay next to him, aware of his warmth, his scent flowing over her. Of a sense of peace and acceptance for everything that had happened between them. She’d forgiven him, she realized. She knew he did what he did out of conviction and loyalty to his country. How could she not admire that?

She sat up. The man looked ridiculously sexy just lying there watching her. She ran a finger over the waistband of his jeans, stopped on the button.

“I never stood a chance against you. Not from the moment you picked me up and carried me away.”

His hand stopped her finger’s happy journey. “Don’t romanticize it. I kidnapped you, let you almost bleed to death in the back of a stolen aircraft, refused you medical treatment and then struggled to keep you from succumbing to a terrible fever. Don’t have any illusions about how many times my actions almost got you killed.”