in cold weather.” Jane hit the button to disengage the magazine and pulled back the slide to clear the chamber, just as Sullivan had done with his own gun. Faster than she thought possible, the guarded curiosity in Sullivan’s eyes changed to something dark, primal. She clenched her lower abdomen. Air stalled in her throat. She focused on the gun in her hand. “Besides, you won’t be gone that long. I’m sure I can manage to take care of myself for five minutes.”
“Of that—” he secured the Glock he’d taken from under the desk in his shoulder holster, eyes scanning her from head to toe “—I have no doubt.” Sullivan disappeared out the door without looking back.
The goose bumps along her forearms receded the longer Jane stared after him. There was no denying it now. She’d seen the way he’d looked at her, the way he’d held on to her earlier. He wanted the intel she’d called in a few favors to get, the one with his real identity inside. Because there was no way that man wanted her for any other reason. No matter how deep he’d buried his past, she’d uncovered the truth and she’d known the second she confronted him with it, she would pay for using blackmail. What was he going to do? Torture her with desire until she gave him everything she had on him and his family?
Jane leaned against the countertop, Sullivan’s service weapon comfortable in her grip. Now that she thought about it, torture by desire was one of the better ways to go. Especially with a six-foot-four, muscled, powerfully built SEAL. A smile pulled at her lips. Crap, she imagined that outcome between them all too easily. The heat, the explosion of passion, the—
The front door slammed open and her muscle memory hefted the gun up. She aimed, ready to pull the trigger. Adrenaline pumped fast through her veins as Sullivan swung his head around the thick, wooden door. Jane dropped the gun to her side, heart beating a mile a second. She could’ve shot him. “You scared me to death. Do you always barge into a room like that?”
Sullivan stomped his boots on the mat at the door, then headed straight for the burner phone on the kitchen counter. He brushed against her, but instead of heat penetrating through her jacket like before, she only felt cold. Something was wrong. Stabbing the pad of his thumb into the keypad, he brought the phone up to his ear, those sea-blue eyes glued on her. Darkness etched into his expression, and Jane took a step back to give him some space. “The bags are gone.”
The guns, extra ammunition, food, tracks, everything was gone. Looked like Jane’s mysterious stalker had tracked her back here after all. The phone rang once in his ear before Elliot Dunham, his private investigator, picked up.
“Go for Dunham,” Elliot said.
Sullivan checked his watch. “How far out are you?”
“Five minutes.”
“Make it three. The bastard knows we’re here.”
“See you in two.” The revving of a car engine echoed in the background before the line disconnected. As an operative on the Blackhawk Security team, Elliot would understand to come in hot—armed and ready for a fight. Sullivan had swiped the private investigator off the Iraqi streets right after Sullivan’s discharge from the SEALs. The man had a knack for finding and recovering classified documents, digging into a person’s life, discovering those secrets his target didn’t want the world to know about. Like a pit bull with his favorite chew toy, Elliot never gave up and never surrendered. Most likely a side effect of his con artist days; each case a long con. With a genius-level IQ, he dug deep, he got personal. At least until the job was done. Then he disappeared to start fresh. It hadn’t been difficult to recruit him either. Only a few phone calls that could put Elliot back into an Iraqi jail cell.
His next call was to Anchorage PD to report the tow truck that’d nearly rammed them into the Gulf of Alaska. A minute later, Sullivan tossed the phone onto the counter and rubbed at his face.
“Is Elliot bringing supplies?” Jane stared up at him, arms wrapped around her small midsection. Her shoulders hunched inward as though she felt the weight of someone watching her. Which Sullivan bet was familiar by now.
The same weight pressed in on him, too, but they only had to wait a few more minutes. Then they could get through her case files and find out who exactly had turned Jane into a target. After that, they’d come up with a plan. “I make every member of my team carry extra guns, ammo and food in case of emergency.”
“Do you think whoever is after me is out there, right now, watching us?” Jane’s voice trembled. She was scared. And rightfully so.
Whoever had taken their bags had wiped any evidence of their existence from the snow. There weren’t a whole lot of men who possessed that kind of skill, Sullivan being one of the few. His father had ensured his sons knew how to hunt their prey properly, before the old man had turned into the sick psychopath he became known for. But right now, in this moment, Sullivan wasn’t the hunter. He felt like the prey.
A soft ringing reached his ears, and Jane extracted her cell phone from her jacket pocket. Frowning, she put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
He couldn’t hear the response from this distance and, while eavesdropping on his client’s phone calls was technically part of the job, Sullivan wouldn’t crowd her. I needed you. Those three small words had been circling his brain since they’d left her mouth.
“Who is this?” The color drained from Jane’s features.
Sullivan’s instincts prickled at the alarm in her voice. He stepped into her personal space, forcing her to meet his gaze, then reached for her phone. He hit the speaker button, holding the phone between them. “Who the hell is this?”
“He can’t protect you, Jane,” the voice whispered across the line. Her name on the bastard’s lips tightened the muscles down Sullivan’s spine. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done.”
Memorizing the number on the screen, Sullivan gripped the phone tighter. He couldn’t peg an accent due to the whispering, no dialect to pinpoint where her stalker originated from. “Come within three hundred feet of her and I will tear you apart. You tried to kill her once. Won’t happen again. Understand?” His voice dropped low—deadly—as he studied the fear skating across Jane’s features. “Don’t call this number again.”
He moved to hang up the call.
“Always the protector...Sullivan.” Laughter trickled through the phone.
Sullivan’s thumb froze over the end button. A shiver spread across his shoulders. The line went dead, only static and crackling from the fireplace filling the silence.
In a split second, one of the burner phones he kept on hand was at his ear, ringing through to Blackhawk Security’s head of network security. The line picked up. “Elizabeth, trace this number.” He recited the number he’d memorized from the call. “I want a location as soon as possible. Send it straight to the number I’m calling you from.”
“You got it, boss,” the former NSA analyst said.
He hung up. Sullivan’s gaze lifted from the phone as Jane backed away. The terror etched into her expression urged him toward her. Without hesitation, he reached for her. “Jane...”
Eyes wide, mouth slack, she shut down her expression, and Sullivan dropped his hand. “He’s here. He’s watching me. He knows you’re with me.”
That had always been a possibility. Stalkers liked to keep tabs on their targets. The bastard had most likely been the one responsible for taking their gear, too. She’d known the risks going into this, but Sullivan wouldn’t remind her of them now. In this moment, he needed her head on straight. Focused. “You hired me because I’m good at my job. He’s never going to get close to you. You have my word.”
“Thank you.” Her chin notched higher. Jane shifted her weight onto her toes as though she intended to kiss him, and right then, all too easily,