In Safe Arms (4 page)

Ignoring the biting pain in her shoulders, she turned her attention to her surroundings. The open fireplace was neatly stacked with wood, the country style furniture, dust free. And on the mantelpiece, a row of trophies gleamed in the subdued light.

Someone looked after the place.

A few minutes later Nate was back, taking her arm again and pulling her to her feet. ‘Come on.’

‘Where are we going now?’

‘The bathroom.’

Josie stopped. ‘I don’t need the bathroom.’

‘I do.’ He flexed the fingers of his injured hand and propelled her forward with the other. ‘I stink of blood and petrol.’

He led her down a wide hallway, walls decorated with black and white portraits of Australian pioneers, attired in old-fashioned mountaineering apparel.

‘The living room is in the centre of the house, with a wing at each end. Three bedrooms and a bathroom this way, garage, kitchen and laundry on the other side. It’s a mirror image.’

Barely pausing to draw breath, he pressed on. ‘This is my safe house. As of now, it’s your safe house too. It’s crucial you learn the layout.’

When he stopped outside what was obviously the bathroom, Josie hung back. If Nate Hunter thought he could railroad her like this, he had another thing coming.

‘Who was that man, the one who killed Mulvaney?’ She wanted to add “the one who ordered the hit on me”, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

‘Mitch Kennett.’ He spoke the words like they were a bad taste in his mouth. ‘The viper.’

She’d heard of Mitchell Kennett, had typed his name into Court documents when the firm represented Mulvaney. But she’d never seen the chapter leader of the Altar Boys before. Not even in a photograph.

Now she’d seen too much.

‘You could have arrested him without your I.D.’

He gave a curt nod, expression turning wary.

‘Why didn’t you?’ She’d worked in criminal law long enough to know the instant Kennett was charged he’d be off the streets. She’d only be called on to testify if he pleaded not guilty, and what were the chances of that? Both she and Nate were witnesses. Surely Kennett wouldn’t defend the charges.

Nate’s face was a canvas of steely determination. ‘Because I plan on landing a much bigger fish than Kennett.’

‘No!’
It was an instinctive response, the denial her mind’s way of protecting itself against one too many shocks. He couldn’t be serious. She’d been thinking once she was safely tucked away, he’d go back into the city and arrest Kennett. But his loaded words made it clear that wasn’t his intention.

A strong sense of foreboding stopped her from taking even one step inside the bathroom, and though she dreaded his answer, she forced herself to ask the question. ‘How long will that take?’

‘I have a chance to take down a major player.’ He reached inside the room and flicked on the light switch. ‘But if I end the operation now, we might as well give the grub controlling the drug trade the key to the city.’

Relieved as she was that Nate Hunter had turned out to be an undercover cop, right now, it wasn’t enough. Not when he was operating in his own best interests, not when he was intent on taking her prisoner while he chased someone higher up the food chain.

‘So, what am I, collateral damage?’

‘I’m trying to stop you becoming that.’

Josie’s stomach gave a sickening lurch and her head began to swim. ‘What about my family — my job? Allegra? My friends?’

The kids
.

In her mind’s eye, she saw the disappointed faces of her tiny students. The annual concert was in two weeks.

He said nothing, just stared at her as if trying to read the emotions on her face.

‘I have to let people know.’ Her voice ascended like notes on a scale. ‘They’ll be beside themselves. At the very least, we should tell my parents.’

She jumped as he reached out and grabbed her upper arms. ‘We
can’t
. Yes, they’ll be beside themselves,
yes
, they’ll be sick with worry. But people are stronger than you think. They’ll cope.’

Josie shook her head and swallowed the painful lump in her throat. ‘So, you lose nothing?’

‘I’ve already lost two years.’

‘You chose that. I didn’t.’

He gave her a light shake. ‘You forfeited your choice when you accepted that call. You should have killed it the instant Mulvaney appeared on the screen.’

‘Easy to say in hindsight.’ She looked away, and though her insides trembled, she refused to let his authority overpower her. She might have been drawn into Nate Hunter’s undercover operation, but that didn’t mean she’d bloody well let him stomp all over her.

For God sake calm down. Lead with your best foot
.

She needed time to think, to sort it all out in her head.

Bringing her gaze back to his, she copied his mannerism and cocked her head in the direction of the bathroom. ‘So — what’s all this about? If you want me to wash your back — I’m shackled, remember?’

The corners of his mouth twitched. ‘Just the way I like you.’

‘You
don’t
like me.’

He let her go, resting his hands lightly on his hips and looking more like a bad outlaw than any detective she’d ever seen. ‘Are we going to do this every time I give you an instruction?’

Josie drew in an unsteady breath. He needed her co-operation. Surely that gave her some leverage. She lifted her chin.

‘How long have you been a detective?’

‘What is this, twenty questions?’

Nothing would be gained if she didn’t push him. He might be older, and the law, but she was a person too — with rights. ‘How long?’

‘Too long.’

The jaded response came quickly, and he closed his eyes for a beat, like he’d revealed too much. ‘Twelve years, okay? When you knew me, I was recently back from the States, between assignments. I filled in time working for Luke, until they called me up for this job.’

Before she could ask another question, he cocked his own head. ‘In you go.’

Satisfied she’d managed to stand firm against Nate Hunter’s dominance, Josie brushed by him and stepped into a stunning marble bathroom, double the size of a regular bathroom. Two shallow steps led to a Roman style Jacuzzi spa built into one corner, a fully enclosed two person shower alongside it. A collection of curved vases and urns made an eye-catching display at one end of a long, marble vanity. Gold fittings arched over twin white sinks.

And there were mirrors — lots of mirrors.

The room was such a departure from the rest of the house, it piqued her interest, said something about the leather clad detective standing next to her, though she wasn’t sure exactly what.

‘You hold parties in here?’

He rolled his eyes and gave her an exasperated look. ‘I haven’t
been
here for two years.’

Josie wanted to ask him who looked after the place, but she wanted the zip ties off more. Pressing her lips together, she watched him drag a piano style seat with curved legs from underneath the vanity unit. Large enough for two people to sit side by side, he put it in the centre of the room and pointed to it.

‘Sit down there. Face the door if you’re shy.’

Choices, Jos. You always have choices
.

She stayed on her feet.

‘Please yourself.’ Looking fed up, he reached down and unlaced a boot, pulling it off and dropping it on the floor. The second one landed on top of the first, quickly followed by his socks. Next, he dragged the black tee-shirt over his head until he was standing in nothing but the leather pants. With a casual flick, he tossed the shirt on top of the pile.

‘Still watching?’

Bristling at his overconfidence, she perched on the edge of the stool, more to get out of his way than anything else. ‘You think I’d turn my back on a man with a gun in his pants?’

He smiled properly for the first time, white teeth splitting the dark tan of his face and softening the worry lines that hadn’t been there two years ago. ‘Smart thinking, princess.’

‘I’m a
secretary
. Nothing “princessy” about that.’

He stowed the pistol behind one of the urns and opened the shower door. ‘Last chance, p
rincess
.’

Heat warmed Josie’s face but she kept her eyes fixed on the broad expanse of his back as he leaned inside the cubicle and turned on the water. His skin was the colour of milk coffee, smooth, marked only by the movement of muscles visible beneath the surface. His hair fell in a thick black curtain around his shoulders.

‘I’ve seen my share of boys.’ She affected a bored tone, ignoring the inner voice reminding her Nate Hunter was a
man
. ‘So unless you have something unique — get on with it.’

He unzipped his pants and let them fall to the floor, and she was glad he couldn’t see the telltale flush heating her cheeks, couldn’t see what a fraud she was. His legs were long, well-muscled and covered in a fine smattering of black hair, his nicely rounded butt neatly encased in a pair of black swimmers.

‘Lucky for you I’m wearing my budgie smugglers.’ He disappeared inside the cubicle, groaning as he stepped underneath the jet of steaming hot water.

The sound of raw appreciation did strange things to Josie’s insides, and she couldn’t drag her gaze away as he tipped back his head and turned his face into the spray.

‘Why are you wearing them?’ She needed to interact, needed to get the goddamn ties off.

‘I swim every morning.’

His shoulders were testament to that.

‘Well, you’re showing your age, detective. Gen Y call them dick stickers.’

‘Gen Y.’ A disgusted snort from inside the steamed up cubicle. ‘And that’s
senior
detective to you.’

A woody, oriental fragrance drifted towards Josie on a cloud of steam, and she closed her eyes and inhaled the intoxicating aroma of body wash. It was a small comfort, the sandalwood and vanilla an invisible balm for her shot nerves.

‘Did you mention my name when you spoke to the police?’ he asked suddenly.

Josie opened her eyes. His tall frame was a motionless silhouette behind the glass. ‘No. I wasn’t sure it was you.’

There was a long pause. ‘Didn’t want to believe I’d crossed over to the dark side, eh?’

Josie rolled her eyes, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. ‘Oh
joy
. A thirty-something Star Wars fan.’

Through the smoky glass his body appeared to relax as he turned off the taps and reached for a folded towel from the rack above his head. ‘I’ll thank you for keeping my confidence when we’re out of this mess.’

His conviction that they’d somehow come through this settled Josie’s nerves a fraction more, and this time she averted her gaze while he dried himself behind the thin veil of steamed glass. She wanted to ask specifics, but Nate Hunter had concealed his occupation from her until the last possible moment. He’d tell her more when he was good and ready.

‘We have a small window of time.’ He opened the shower door and strode out, long hair slicked back, white towel hanging from narrow hips. ‘The bikies will go to ground, making the police our greatest threat. They’ll trawl through the camera footage and track the vehicles coming from the vicinity of the wreck.’

Josie studied him from beneath the awning of her lashes. His chest was covered in a light smattering of curly black hair, his body naturally athletic, buff, in an unpumped kind of way. ‘Won’t they trace the number plates?’

He scooped his pants up off the floor, whiskey eyes sweeping over her. ‘The ute has false plates.’

She sighed. ‘Course it does.’

Heat radiated from his body as he opened a drawer and took out a pair of scissors.

‘If I undo the ties, will you cut my hair?’

Josie blinked, taken aback by the unexpected request. ‘Okay.’

‘Stay still.’ He came around behind her and fiddled with the ties. ‘We need to move quickly. The people I know around here think I’m in Canberra, working for the Government. I can’t be seen looking like this.’

He trusts you enough to put a pair of scissors in your hand?

Josie turned and spoke over her shoulder, amazed how the shower had improved his mood. ‘Do the Altar Boys know your real name?’

‘No. I’m Nate Jordan to them, or Bolt. I retain my first name in case I bump into someone I know.’

There was a snip and her wrists were free. She winced, bringing her hands to the front and rubbing at the raised welts. ‘At least I met the real Nate Hunter.’

Josie’s remark caught Nate completely off guard, and something akin to grief slugged him hard in the chest.

The real Nate Hunter?

He barely knew who that was anymore.

Like any other job, he’d started this one with a desire to protect the community, get the drugs off the street, and put the people who manufactured them behind bars.

So how had he gone from that — to
this
? He should have eased Josie’s anxiety a lot sooner, cut the ties before now. For Christ sake, he was in his own safe house, he was armed, and she was half his size. The chances of her getting away from him were slim.

But the violence culminating in Mulvaney’s shock death tonight was becoming the norm. And the soul destroying loneliness of being undercover was hardening him.

He felt tarnished by association.

Desensitised.

Despite that, it was magic to be home, even with the operation going catastrophically wrong. He could breathe up here in the mountains, be himself. And it was nice to talk to someone other than his controller. Someone from his real life.

Even the annoying princess, who once upon a time, had imagined she’d fancied him.

Nate threw the pieces of plastic into the waste basket. ‘Your wrists are swollen. Hold them under the cold water.’

He straightened, knee cracking where he’d come off his bike on a road trip to the Hawkesbury River eight months ago. The Altar Boys had an interest in a pub up there and they’d gone to collect their share of the cash.

Memories of that day flashed through Nate’s mind as he turned on the tap. The instant loss of control as the tyre blew, the frantic scramble to get out of the path of the other bikes.

Josie’s gasp brought him back to the present. She was leaning over the vanity, face white, hands beneath the flow of water.