beauty. Of which he’d always had an abundance. Didn’t change the fact that he was a hard-ass, son-of-a-bitch who’d just compromised her whole world. And, quite probably, her life.
“Derek,” she repeated, sharply this time. “Don’t fade on me now. I need to know why you’re here, all of it, and what the hell happened to you.” She leaned over him again, and debated on doing a quick once-over with her hands to see if he was bleeding. He was lying in an awkward position, and she wished she had more light so she could get a better idea if he was suffering from any obvious fractures or dislocations. She refused to feel bad for her rough treatment of him earlier, but though she was still furious with him, it wasn’t in her to totally disregard his condition. Besides, she needed him to be alert so she could get information out of him. He’d sounded pretty out of it, which made her worry that he’d suffered something more than just a good ass-kicking.
She tried not to think about how he’d let himself even get in that position. He was better than that. But then, she’d been better than that, too. Sometimes, even the best weren’t good enough.
She started to slowly move his arm, hoping she could ease him over to his back, when she realized that the reason he was lying so awkwardly was because his wrists were bound behind his back. Shit.
She scooted around behind him, staying low to the floor, well below the line of view through the window. The cords wrapping his wrists together had been tied off neatly and thoroughly. A professional job. Her gut squeezed as a dozen new questions formed. He’d managed to loosen the bonds slightly, but from what she could feel of the skin around the cords, he’d paid a price for that, too.
She shifted her gaze to the rest of him, but had to run her hands down his hips and legs to get a true read on the rest. Her hands didn’t come away sticky, so no bullet holes, but his ankles had been bound as well. Which meant he’d made it to her house and up onto her porch in his current condition. That explained the weight of his body thudding against the door, and why he’d rattled the knob rather than simply entering the cabin using the skills they all possessed.
It also made her wonder where the hell the beating had occurred. It couldn’t have been that far away. She fought the sick dread that realization brought. Had he escaped? Or been left for dead? And just how imminent was the threat to her?
There was no way he could have been remotely stealthy getting from wherever he’d come from, to her door, in his current condition. Which meant anyone could easily follow his trail, literally to her door.
She glared at him, wanting to beat the ever-loving shit out of him, all over again.
“I have.” His confession ran through her mind. He’d been here, either in the area observing her, or physically in her home. Why? They didn’t work on home soil. Obviously it had something to do with CJ, if a semi-lucid statement made by someone in his condition could be believed. Maybe he wasn’t in his right mind. From the beating, or who the hell knew why. But, for whatever reason, he was on American soil, in the middle of nowhere, bound, beaten…and presently unconscious on her living room floor. So she’d better figure it the hell out, and fast.
How long had he been watching her? Could he have really been here, inside her cabin? He was a highly trained agent, but so was she. She’d like to think that she’d have noticed, either way. Hell, she should have felt it. She had truly gone completely soft. She’d wanted to distance herself from that hyper-aware, excruciatingly cognizant world she’d been a part of for far, far too long. And, apparently, she’d been even more successful at it than she’d known. At the moment, she didn’t feel all that victorious.
He let out a soft groan just then, and moved his head slightly. She shifted back around to the front of him. “What happened to you?” She leaned closer, close enough to see his eyelashes flutter and his throat work. “Derek. I need to know what was done to you. Who beat you? Why? Come on, you got yourself here, so you can’t be too bad off.”
She, of all people, knew that for the colossal lie that it was. Adrenaline and the will to survive could give a person near superhuman abilities, but even those wore off at some point. “You’re not safe yet,” she told him, trying to keep desperation from entering into her tone. If she let so much as a speck of panic filter through the anger right now, the past would barrel right through all of the mental barriers she’d worked so hard to build and refurbish. She simply couldn’t let that happen. Her life—her soul—depended on it. “And, thanks to you dragging your body onto my front porch, leaving God knows what kind of trail, neither am I.”
He worked his jaw, making a guttural noise, then followed with what sounded like a hoarse whisper. She was forced to lean closer still, and push her hair back so she could put her ear right next to his lips. She was furious and sick to her stomach with fear, and far and away yet from coping with even the first shred of what all this was going to do to her. So it was a damned inconvenient time to look at those lips and remember the thoughts she’d once had about them. Private thoughts—intensely private—that she’d shared with no one, ever. Not even CJ, who’d routinely made up fantasy scenarios about what they could do with and to their gorgeous, tough-as-nails boss as a way to pass the time during the more stultifying moments of whatever case they were on. And there were always plenty of those moments. She’d blamed her partner for her own vivid, highly erotic daydreams. But, truth be told, she’d done quite well with those long before CJ had started her frivolous game.
Thoughts of her former partner definitely weren’t helping her maintain, so she blanked out the fantasy scenarios, CJ, her own past life, and what had led her to leave it—as well as the man who had run it, and her—then did her damndest to look at that same man, now lying half-comatose on her cabin floor, as if he were nothing more than another problem to be solved, another mission to deal with.
And the only way she had a hope in hell of doing that was to revert to who she’d been before, or who she’d been trained to be, and completely disassociate her newfound inner self from the proceedings. It was the only way she could focus, so she could think, so she could analyze, so she could solve. It had been second nature to her once. It was the only thing that had kept her alive three years ago.
And it was how she’d stay alive now.
She willed the calm to come over her, a chilling calm that did little to soothe her raw nerves, or ease the acid eating her gut, but she knew that was merely a matter of time. They would smooth eventually. She couldn’t stay angry, couldn’t feel betrayed. Emotions of any kind clouded critical thinking. Critical thinking was paramount if she wanted to solve this problem, and live long enough to solve another.
When he didn’t speak again, she turned her own lips to his ear. “Only for CJ,” she whispered, curling her fingers into two tight fists. For a brief moment, she let the deep-seated anger, the hatred, the bitter fury and resentment flood through her. She’d never once allowed herself to feel anything so powerful as that toward anyone. Not even her captors. Especially her captors.
It should have rattled her more than it did. It exposed an alarming weakness. Hatred was a toxic poison that always did more damage to the one experiencing it than to the one it was directed at. In her line of work, that damage was often lethal. But, in that one instant, it felt good, so damn good, to channel all the horror, the fear, and the terror, into one black, twisting funnel of venomous fury and aim it directly at him.
Captivity had taught her the true nature of the precious gift of life. Her life. She, better than anyone, understood just how mighty a gift that was. One that she had a right to enjoy for herself. So, how dare he? How dare he take from her the one and only thing she’d ever asked for, or wanted, strictly for herself?
She shouldn’t have given in to the temptation, even for that one, blinding moment, knowing it could consume her whole if she let it. But, for the length of that instant, she didn’t regret it.
She rocked back on her heels and slowly uncurled her fists, feeling each finger as it relaxed and steadied.
“I’m in this now,” she said, her voice low, toneless, dead, as she cleansed herself of the last of the dark rush. “You’ve left me no choice.” She ran her gaze