Intimate Strangers (16 page)

"Wake the fuck up, Hannah. This is the real world."

She ignored his snarling sarcasm, and she gripped the front of his robe even more tightly. "I know about the real world. I know about children so damaged, they cringe at the thought of ever being touched again. Can you imagine never being hugged or having your hand held? Those children fear love, and they fear compassion, because love and fear can be used against them by the wrong people. But those same children must learn to receive love. They need it more than anyone. The children who survive are the ones who make the effort to trust and risk reaching out again, just as you’ve made the effort to restore yourself by walking away from a lifestyle that was on the verge of robbing you of your soul. What happened to you would have destroyed a lesser man, but you stopped it in time, Nicholas."

"Don’t compare me to an innocent child. I knew exactly what I was doing and what I became."

"But you’ve suffered in much the same way as those children."

He stared at her. His features looked as though they’d been etched in stone, but his eyes reflected both shock and a flicker of hope that she spoke the truth.

Hannah slipped her hands around his neck. Tugging his head down, she whispered, "You’re spending way too much energy right now trying to shut me out. You seem to view yourself as some kind of killing machine, but I don’t see you that way at all. When I look at you, I see courage and strength and honor. I also see the toll your past has taken on you, but I also see that others depend upon you and trust you with their lives. It’s clear that you’ve shouldered the burden of protecting Sean and the others because you’re committed to their survival. That requires integrity. You’re living honorably now, and you’re doing what is morally correct, not just for the others but also for yourself. Nicholas, you are making amends for your past. Why won’t you give yourself credit for that?"

"I don’t deserve credit. I don’t deserve anything but your contempt."

"Damn it to hell!" she exclaimed. "You’re an imperfect man, but you still deserve to live your life, not merely exist in some void of self–imprisonment. Someday, I hope you’ll see your own value. And someday, I hope you’ll believe that you’re worthy of being cared about and loved for the man you’ve become, not the misguided person you once were. Until that day arrives, you’ll only be going through the motions of life."

"How can you care?" he demanded, seemingly baffled and angered at the same time by her stubbornness. "How can you defend me, Hannah? How?"

"I’ve met evil, Nicholas, and I know what it looks like. You do not qualify." Her voice held a certitude that brooked no challenge. "Can’t you just accept that I do care about you?" she asked. "Won’t you at least try to accept the fact that I consider you worthy of my friendship and my affection? Won’t you try to build on that with me?"

"I do not understand you."

She smiled up at him. She sensed that she’d finally penetrated the wall he’d built around himself, and she prayed that she’d have more time to whittle away at his defenses. Somehow, someway, she vowed, she would make Nicholas see himself as she saw him.

"I don’t understand why you aren’t furious with me that I took you into my bed before I told you all of this."

"I’ll help you to understand, if you’ll give me the time," she promised him, "but please stop trying to drive me away. Let me be your friend and your lover, even if you can’t let yourself love me. I promise I won’t ever ask any more of you than you’re willing to give. Not ever, Nicholas."

He planted a hot, heart–stopping kiss on her lips. "A better man would send you packing, but I want you." His arms closed like steel bands around her slender body. He drew her close and buried his face in the curve that joined her neck and shoulder.

"Then have me, Nicholas," she invited. "Have all of me." She silently vowed to love him until he believed himself worthy of being loved. And then she would continue to love him—until she drew her last breath.

He drew her up and into his arms, and he carried her to his bed. Sprawled on her back, she opened her robe and shoved it aside before she unfastened the sash on his. She trailed her fingers from his chin to his groin, and then she smiled when she heard the moan that escaped him as he sank down over her.

His hands trembled as he clasped her head and met her gaze. "I need you, Hannah. I need you so much more than you will ever know."

She stroked the side of his face with her fingertips. Turning his head, he sucked her fingers into his mouth and sent an opening salvo of sensation spiraling through her body.

"And I need you as much as you need me," Hannah confessed as he scalded her skin with his body heat, claimed her mouth with heady, hungry kisses, and then entered her with incredible gentleness for a man of his size.

I will always need you, just as I will always love you, Hannah silently promised a long while later as Nicholas drove her beyond the brink and into yet another stunning climax.

An experienced pilot, Nicholas skillfully landed his helicopter the following morning in a small, snow–covered clearing adjacent to one of several primitive log cabins that Sean often used for shelter. The pre–arranged and very remote location suited both men, primarily because the area was accessible only by air or on foot.

Nicholas had permitted the old logging trails that crisscrossed his property to become overgrown with vegetation as a means of discouraging the use of off–road vehicles by tourists or other curiosity seekers. He knew that Sean, like a few of the other men who resided on his land and personified the definition of true survivalists, required the serenity of the isolated terrain for the peace of mind it offered.

Defensive and unpredictable in the presence of strangers, Sean now viewed the so–called civilized world as a threat on a variety of levels. As well, he perceived himself as a deadly threat to ordinary people. Nicholas knew that the simple act of prowling the land for days and weeks at a time had evolved into a form of psychological therapy for him, a process he’d once rejected while still hospitalized despite repeated urging from Nicholas.

As he checked the cockpit controls and released his seatbelt and shoulder harness, Nicholas recalled how desperate he’d felt several years earlier while trying to deal with Sean’s wildly fluctuating moods and lethal behavior. Each medical facility Nicholas had taken him to had drugged Sean into a mind–numbed state. Infuriated by the callous treatment of his old friend, he’d finally decided to transport Sean to his northern Nevada refuge and allow him free rein.

Much to the collective relief of his fellow ex–mercenaries, Sean had found in the towering pines, unforgiving terrain, and jutting mountain peaks what the doctors and psychiatrists had failed to provide—a sense of belonging and the means by which to cope with the self–hatred that often filled his heart when he remembered the acts of violence he’d committed against others.

Although Sean rarely articulated his feelings, Nicholas knew that he now experienced at least limited relief from the demons that tormented him and memories of the torture he’d endured at the hands of others. Like Nicholas, he’d also been imprisoned during his years as a mercenary. The grotesque conditions of a Central American prison and the torture he’d barely survived had damaged his soul and broken his spirit before Nicholas had successfully rescued him.

But unlike Nicholas, Sean Cassidy’s mind still remained a captive of the past. No one among his friends expected him to regain the ground he’d lost as a person, least of all Nicholas, but they were all dedicated to his day–to–day survival until God or the natural environment relieved him of the burdens he carried.

Nicholas exhaled quietly before he removed and set aside his headset. He glanced at Hannah, who responded to him with a wide smile. Seeing the optimism and hope in her bright green eyes and animated face gave him pause and filled him with guilt. Ignorant of his reluctant agreement with Sean, Hannah was destined for disappointment if she expected to see her brother again.

Taking her glove–covered hand, he squeezed it before exiting the helicopter and walking around to her side of the aircraft. He lifted her out of the helicopter, steadying her when she lost her footing on a patch of snow–dusted ice.

Hannah looked eagerly in the direction of the cabin, but she frowned just a few seconds later. Nicholas knew she’d finally registered the absence of signs of habitation in and around the cabin.

"There’s no smoke coming out of the chimney." She shivered as a gust of cold wind buffeted her body, adding color to her cheeks.

Nicholas nodded, his expression grim. "I noticed."

She turned, extricating herself from his steadying hand. "May I go inside?"

"Of course. There aren’t any locks on the door, so you won’t need a key. Take your time. The weather’s on our side today."

Her attention fixed on her destination, Hannah carefully made her way through the low drifts of snow that stretched across the clearing to the front of the log cabin. She pushed open the door, pausing once she stepped inside. The starkly impersonal quality of the interior of the one–room dwelling surprised her. She eased the door shut behind her, then leaned back against it.

Her gaze slowly traveled over log walls, curtain–less windows, planked flooring, a rudimentary kitchen with a water pump, a table and two wooden chairs, and a narrow bed topped with a stack of neatly folded blankets. She tried to picture Sean in such a barren environment, but she had trouble summoning the image.

Noticing a stack of well–thumbed paperback books, she sighed with relief because she recalled his love of books. A cupboard without doors displayed countless jars of homemade jams and vegetables, prompting her to wonder if both Sean and Nicholas enjoyed the friendship of the same creative cook.

Hannah ventured deeper into the room, absently fingering the sealed envelope tucked inside her jacket pocket. She paused behind one of the chairs, studying the native stone fireplace that dominated one wall of the modest cabin. The workmanship seemed vaguely familiar, although she couldn’t have said why.

Despite the logs, bits of kindling, and crumpled newspaper that filled an old woven basket positioned on the hearth, Hannah detected no scent of a recent fire. She pivoted full circle, searching out some hint of Sean’s presence. In the end, she found nothing beyond the stack of old books.

Sadness bloomed within her. Her throat ached and her eyes began to sting with the threat of tears. Shoulders slumping, she accepted the fact that the brother she remembered, the young man who’d laughed easily, played football like a pro, and teased his younger sisters without mercy, had indeed become the man Nicholas had described. A man she no longer knew. A man she might never know again.

Hannah tugged the sealed letter Nicholas had encouraged her to write that morning from her pocket. She placed it beside the lantern that sat in the center of the wooden table. Smoothing her fingertips across the front where she’d written Sean’s name, she whispered, "Please stay safe, big brother. I love you."

Nicholas caught Hannah as she burst out of the cabin. He saw her grief in the tears that trailed down her cheeks. He held her through her brief struggle to free herself, a subsequent wounded–sounding cry of anguish, and the sudden slump of her body against his own. While she wept, he silently cursed both himself and Sean.

Although he tried to comfort her, he felt a sense of helplessness that he’d never before experienced. She finally eased out of his embrace, wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands, and headed in the direction of the helicopter without saying a single word.

Nicholas followed her, alarmed by the depth of her despair and her silence. He caught her easily, sliding his hands around her waist and tugging her back against his powerful body. They stood in the center of the clearing, and this time she didn’t fight him. Instead, she rested the back of her head against his shoulder and exhaled shakily.

"Why did this have to happen to him?" she asked so softly that the wind nearly obliterated the sound of her voice. "Why?"

Nicholas doubted that she really expected an answer, so he didn’t try to provide one. He simply held her, aware that Sean watched them from the stand of trees at the edge of the clearing.

They stood there for a long while, neither one moving, neither one speaking until the wind picked up and the cold drove them back into the helicopter.

Hannah finally met his gaze as he leaned toward her from his side of the cockpit and made certain her seatbelt was secured correctly. "I’m so cold," she whispered. "Please make me warm again, Nicholas."

He paled before jerking a nod in her direction and starting the engine of the aircraft. The weather cooperated by remaining crisp and clear as they returned to the landing site hollowed out of the side of the mountain he called home.

Nicholas lifted her out of the helicopter and carried her down the steep trail that led to the house. After helping Hannah out of her heavy jacket, boots, and gloves once they entered the kitchen, he cared for her as a parent would a small, defenseless child. He guided her into the nearest chair, made a quick trip to the bar, and returned with two brandy–filled snifters.

"Tell me exactly what you need, Hannah." He settled into the chair across from her as he spoke.

She lifted bleak eyes to his face. "You. I need you, Nicholas. Just you."

"What can I do?" he asked.

"You’re here. That’s what I need right now, because I wouldn’t be able to deal with this without you." She took a sip of the brandy before she lowered the snifter to the table with shaking hands. Finally, she asked, "Isn’t he lonely?"

He spoke without thinking. "We’re all lonely, but it’s different for each one of us. As for Sean, he needs the silence and the open spaces in order to survive."

"But who would help him if he became ill or was injured? Would you even find him in time if he had an accident?"

"We all look out for each other, Hannah. The system’s been tested many times, and it works. Trust me on that, please."