Trusting Love (7 page)

Rowdy was by far one of the things that kept her sane. She rubbed his head and smiled at how pleased he looked.

“We did good today, huh, boy? But I’m tired,” she told him and stretched her arms over her head and arched her back to get the kinks out of it from shovelling. The air was so chilly it made her nose tingle when she breathed, but she didn’t mind it. After today’s workout she’d not even need the bottle of Jack she usually used to fall asleep.

At the thought she dropped her arms and considered the light. She couldn’t take a hike now, it was getting too dark and the storm, and snow, made it dangerous. The trees acted as a buffer for some of the snowfall, but not all. But the need to punish herself more, to exhaust her body so her mind would shut up, beat at her.

A ghost of a whisper skittered over her neck and she turned to examine the corner of the barn. Rowdy perked up his ears and a low growl erupted from his chest.

“What is it, boy? You feel it too?”

The next thing she knew, a man appeared seemingly out of nowhere, stood for a second leaning heavily against her barn, then like a slow motion movie, he toppled face first into the snow bank she’d created from all her shovelling.

Rowdy went nuts but with a word from her, he stopped and settled down by her side, his hair up on his ruff and his tail straight out from his body, indicating he was not at all happy with the situation. He growled again, but when the guy didn’t move, he gave her a quizzical look.

“Yeah, how ‘bout that?” she asked softly and walked over to the motionless figure half covered in snow. She spotted blood on his sweater at the same time as she registered the clean-shaven strong jaw and dark short hair and his size. He was big, not heavy fat, but large, possibly over six foot with broad shoulders.

“Hey, mister? Uh, mister?” She nudged him with a boot against his shoulder and barely moved his body. “Hello?”

He didn’t stir. Didn’t even blink an eye when Rowdy barked again.

“I know, but shhh, let’s see what we can see here, okay, before you eat him for your next meal, okay?”

Rowdy huffed a breath but seemed to settle down at her calm tone or because the man hadn’t moved. She hunkered down but kept a firm grip on Rowdy’s collar. He sniffed the man’s face and if that didn’t wake him nothing would. A low worried sound came from Rowdy when he sniffed along the man’s shoulder and side.

Kristen peered over her dog’s shoulder and spotted blood lower on his side. She also caught sight of a gun and a knife on him tucked into his pants. He wore serviceable boots for the snow, the kind of military grey washed cargos so many people wore, but on him they looked like professional gear. She frowned at the thought, and reached out to touch his temple. He was hot to the touch even though he was dressed in only a sweater—no jacket, no hat, no gloves, nothing to protect him from the winter weather.

An ear bud ran from his ear to down his shirt collar. It looked like a com unit, not a pair of headphones.

There was blood on his hand, the kind she imagined a man got on him when a lot of blood was spilt. Maybe his. She hoped his. She hoped not someone else’s. The thought stopped her from turning him, but only long enough to scan the woods. There was no one there, but that didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be. The snow was coming down harder now and his tracks had filled in partly. If someone had followed him, would they be able to find him here?

“Well, we’ll deal with that later, huh, Rowdy? Right now he needs our help.”

Rowdy gave her a soft nudge of his nose as answer and she petted him quickly. If he wasn’t freaked out, she shouldn’t be either.

Eyes back on the man, she gripped his shoulders and shifted him with effort onto his back. He slid down the snow pile and landed awkwardly at her feet, but didn’t wake. He was handsome, in a rough kind of way. He had plenty of scars, so she guessed he was some kind of military or maybe a mobster. Who knew, but right now, his face was pale, almost grey, his wounds had turned his forest green shirt into a ghastly scarlet and he was unconscious. He also, she thought, looked familiar.

She crouched down closer to him, examining his face and with a shock, why he was familiar rushed over her. He resembled a man she’d once known and now, she knew that man was gone. She touched his left eyebrow where a scar had sliced through the shape of it, pulling it slightly upwards. The shape of this man’s jaw was different and his nose was off centre at the top as if he’d broken it there several times and his lips were thinner. Maybe it was his colouring that reminded her of Robert McNeil. Lots of men had black hair. It wasn’t that.

“Well, I suppose we get him inside, huh, boy?”

Rowdy glanced from her to the guy then back again, as if weighing that, then wagged his tail. So, Rowdy wasn’t against the guy completely. Interesting.

She exhaled, realising how tense she’d become. A new layer of snow filled her pathway already. Soon the storm that she’d been hearing about all week would be right on top of them. There was no chance of getting down the mountain now even if somehow she could get the guy in her Jeep. She’d checked her phone an hour ago and it hadn’t worked. No doubt the storm had knocked down power lines and phone lines farther down.

That meant she had to let this man into her house—possibly for a very long time. Dread settled in her stomach at the thought. She’d be stuck in a small cabin with him for days, possibly weeks.

Why oh why did I pick this isolated spot to hide from the world?

She blinked the snow out of her eyes. Hell. She was officially in hell.

“No help for it, we’re going to have to bring this guy,” she muttered and walked off to find the necessary sled, rope, or possibly horse, to help her haul his unconscious body into the cabin.

Robert woke slowly, so slowly he had time to panic over the reasons it took him so long to get his unresponsive body and eyes to listen to his orders. When he got his lids up, he was faced with something he couldn’t process until a bark vibrated through his aching skull, helping him understand that a dog hung over him.

“Rowdy, back away and give him some space. Oh—” The sweet voice broke off and the furry face moved back, replaced with a vision from his dreams. “You’re awake. Good, I think that’s good. You’ve been…”

She dropped her hand from where she’d been fidgeting with something at her neck and waved at his prone body. “Well, um… Did you know you’ve been shot?”

Her words swirled around him making no sense past the double image of her in a summery dress, asking him for help, to the vision of her now, wearing a loose purple sweater that hung down the rounded curve of one of her shoulders. Her dark hair was up in a twist revealing every inch of her beautiful Latin features for his hungry eyes.

How long has it been since I’ve seen her?

Her accent sounded stronger now, the Hispanic flavour of it more apparent mixed with the slower tones of the west he’d grown up with. Or maybe he’d not heard it for so long it sounded that way.

“Can you hear me? I said you’ve been shot.”

He blinked and the world stopped playing games with him. The past disappeared but Kristen still hovered over him. Kristen. Why had he come here instead of the second safe house? Obviously his head hadn’t been working properly. Or maybe he
had
been thinking properly. Walters was a problem. Sonya too, if she had really changed sides. Here at least he was safe from either of them finishing him. But here, he was in as much danger. Maybe even more, he thought, looking into Kris’s brilliant dark eyes.

“Um… Maybe he’s still out, Rowdy.”

“Kristen?”

She’d been about to stand up and at his rough whisper, she sat back with a soft ‘oh’ passing her lips and frowned at him. “You know me?”

It was too late to take back the name, too late to lie, and he was too damn tired to care. He was shot, sick of hiding and holding back everything for the mission that never seemed to end. There would always be another mission, but there might not be another chance like this. He tried to think of all the reasons not to tell Kristen who he was, but the overwhelming desire to have someone—especially this woman—see him and know who he had been, and wanted to be again, burst through every defence he’d set up to keep his desires down and under control.

“It’s Robert, Robert McNeil—”

“Robert McNeil?” she repeated, saying his name with a Latin flare he remembered. “Robbie?” she murmured, shocking him with a nickname he’d not heard in years. His sister used to follow him around calling out for him using that name. Hearing it from this woman sent a slice of something right to his throat.

“How can that be? He’s dead… I mean, you’re supposed to be dead. I know, I mean, I heard—” She frowned harder, looking so adorably caught between surprise and outrage that he might be lying to her, she made him grin.

An unfamiliar feeling of warmth settled over him, relaxing the tension in his muscles and easing something deep within his chest.

“I don’t understand,” she went on, clearly thrown. She even reached out and to his shock, touched his eyebrow over his left eye where the bones there had had to be reconstructed leaving behind a slight scar through his eyebrow. Her fingers were so gentle he barely felt them, but he didn’t dare breathe for fear of stopping her. She’d always, always stayed back from him, her loyalty to Daniel complete—until she’d divorced the stupid bastard. By then Robert had been unable to get close enough to her to do more than watch her from a distance.

“You look different,” she finally said and dropped her hand to her side.

“Yeah, a couple of surgeries saved my life, but they also ruined my good looks,” he joked, for some damn reason.

“Oh.” She sat back and stared at him as if she could see beyond the damage he’d lived through to the man he used to be. He wondered what she saw. His jaw had needed wiring and realigning. The new line of it always caught him off guard when he looked at himself in the mirror. That, and the damage to his nose and left eye, which now was more grey than blue, made him appear like a different man. He’d felt like one too. The drugs, the changes forced on him by the serum and the new looks had made dying a piece of cake since he didn’t
feel
like Robert McNeil when he’d got up from his hospital bed.

Staring at Kristen he realised he felt like himself again. Like he could actually be that man he’d been, before life went to hell.

Does she recognise me under all the changes?

Whatever she thought, she took her time thinking it. He almost squirmed under her dark-eyed stare and caught himself wanting to say something, anything to fill the silence. The only thing that stopped him was what to say. He had too many regrets to even know where to begin.

She exhaled heavily and still looking at him oddly, she finally shook her head in disbelief, saving him from having to start his apologies. He’d have to make amends, though, sooner or later, he’d have to tell her how much he’d let her down. When he did, she might never gaze at him with that banked interest he’d recognised in her eyes all those years ago. Or the simmering passion he knew lurked beneath her surface.

“I can’t believe it’s you. First of all I heard—everyone heard you had been…”

“Killed,” he supplied when she couldn’t seem to. “Didn’t happen. They just made a newer model of me, don’t you think?”

She huffed at that and brushed a long tendril of silky hair off her cheek and behind her ear. “Well, the Robert I knew never fished for compliments, either.”

He choked on a laugh at that. Kristen always had that bit of spunk and teasing. He was glad to see a glimmer remained in the Latin beauty. She’d been shy with her humour, and he couldn’t claim he’d been a close friend, but he’d watched her at a few parties and had seen the way she’d made others comfortable with her quick wit. He’d stayed away from the temptation of her as often as he could, but he knew things about her he doubted anyone, even Kristen knew. The bits and pieces he knew of her and her life, he’d learned from watching her to a degree that bordered on unhealthy at times. Especially when she showed such loyalty to a man that didn’t deserve to open a door for her.

“I’ve never had to rely on my looks, Kris.”

“Oh, that’s such a lie, but it is you, isn’t it? Oh my God! I thought you were some kind of mobster or something…” She looked away from him then back quickly. Her dark eyes glistened but she pulled it back under control and asked, “Who shot you?”

Of all the questions she must have, that wasn’t one he’d expected. And he wasn’t about to answer it either. The men called him a bulldog after a bone when he wanted information, but the woman perched on the bed next to him took ferreting out what she wanted to know to a fine art. He’d heard from a few guys that when her husband had lost at poker, she’d find out no matter how hard Daniel or his friends tried to hide it. He’d always wondered why she’d ended up with a loser like Daniel, especially when the man went through money like most men go through disposable razors. Now Daniel was dead, and Kristen was here—like a gift from God, only he wasn’t ready for her. Not yet. First he had to complete this mission and get himself all set for her.

“Doesn’t matter, Kris. Just get me down off this mountain—”

She shook her head and stopped him in mid-demand. “I can’t. We’re snowed in.”

He processed that and tried to move his body up the bed. A man shouldn’t carry on a conversation with a woman while he was flat on his back. She put a hand on his bare shoulder and stopped him.

“You shouldn’t move. I got the blood flow to slow, but I’m pretty sure those bullets need to come out. We’re snowed in pretty good. It snowed all night and it’s been snowing most of the morning. It probably will be for the next few days at the least. It might be a week before we’re ploughed out.”

He made to rise at that but she touched his arm, stopping him as simple as that. “I’m not sure, but I think moving might not be the thing to do, right?”

“I don’t have a week. I need off this mountain and down to town. Hell, I didn’t know you lived here, but I guess I’m lucky you do. You can drive us down this shit. I’ve seen your crazy driving before.”