putting the shovel away in the shed, Cian made his way back inside the cabin, locking the door behind him. He couldn’t hear the water running, so he knew Sayre was out of the shower. The sound of a hair dryer clicking on told him she’d be busy for a while longer, so he washed his hands in the kitchen, then went through the French doors that opened onto a small deck and took out his phone. After scrolling through his contacts, he called Brody’s cell phone number.
Within two rings, the Runner answered the call. “Where the hell are you? I thought you were bringing her back.”
“That’s still the plan,” he said in a low voice, unsure how much of this shit storm he should explain over the phone. “But it looks like we’re staying here tonight.”
Brody exhaled a rough breath. “I told you she wouldn’t do it.”
“Yeah, well, she doesn’t have a choice. We ran into some trouble, which I’ve handled, but this place isn’t safe enough for her in the long term. I need her in the Alley, with all of your full security measures in place.”
“I’ve sent Michaela up to Shadow Peak with our kids, since you wouldn’t tell me what’s going on. And I’ve told Jillian to stay up there, as well, right now. The others are going to stay down in South Carolina until we know it’s safe for them to return with their families.”
“That’s good,” he murmured, wondering what had kept Jillian behind. Had the witch had a premonition that her sister would need her?
Brody’s next words pulled his attention back to the conversation. “Max and Elliot have been out on a Bloodrun, but they’ll be back in the morning. And the mercs have been working a job over in Tennessee, but they’re expected back in the next day or two. So we’ll have security covered, and I’ll have the scouts from up in Shadow Peak double their patrols. But we need to know what we’re dealing with.”
At the mention of the mercs, Cian’s already tensed muscles coiled even tighter, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. The mercenaries were four badass warriors who had worked with Eli Drake for years, and had decided to stick around once Eli had returned to the Alley and married Carla Reyes, the only female Runner in the group.
“This silence is getting kind of tiring, man. You there?” Brody asked.
“Yeah, I’m here,” he muttered, keeping a careful eye on the surrounding forest.
“You ready to tell me what’s going on?”
He swallowed so hard he could feel the movement all the way down his throat. “This...it’s not something I want to get into over the phone, Brody.” Hell, it was something he’d rather avoid altogether. But that wasn’t going to be an option. “And before you try to argue, don’t. You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”
Brody’s deep voice was gruff with frustration. “Yeah, well, it was easier to trust you before you disappeared for five years.”
He bit back a guttural curse, knowing there wasn’t anything he could say to that particular piece of truth. Part of him was eager to prove to his friends that he was still the same man he’d been before, while another part kept wondering what the point would be, when he would only leave again when it was all said and done.
“Cian, man, I’m serious. You better talk to me or you won’t be welcome back in the Alley. I hate to say that, but I don’t know where your head is anymore.”
He scrubbed his free hand down his face, his insides knotting. So many emotions roiled through him, clashing like warring, blood-drenched sides on a battlefield, that it was impossible to keep them straight. “I swear I’ll tell you everything when we get back. I just...” He worked his jaw as his words dried up, hating that he couldn’t simply avoid this problem forever. With a tired sigh, he said, “In all honesty, Brody, I need some time to figure out how to say it all.”
Silence met his admission, followed by a rough, quiet burst of words. “It’s that bad?”
“Yeah. But I won’t leave you in the dark. I give you my word on that.”
“Then we’ll talk when you get back,” Brody muttered. “But I need to know if Sayre is okay. Jillian gave Mic and me an earful for not warning the girl that you were coming for her. Jilly’s been trying to get her on her cell phone, but Sayre won’t take the calls. Just texted back that she was fine and would be in touch later.”
“She’s good. Pissed, but she’s all right.”
“Okay then. You need any backup on the road when you head back?”
Unable to resist having her all to himself for just a little longer, he said, “Thanks for the offer, but I think we’ve got a few days before we need to worry.”
“Then keep me updated.”
“I will. And stay sharp. There’s no reason for you to see any trouble when she’s not there, but it’s better to be safe.”
“On it,” the Runner murmured, then disconnected the call. Shoving the phone in his pocket, Cian walked back inside just as the bathroom door clicked open, releasing a wave of warm, Sayre-scented air into the cabin. He couldn’t see into the hallway from where he stood, but what was probably her bedroom door snapped shut a moment later. He debated going back outside for a smoke, but decided to simply wait her out, loving the way that intoxicating scent was filling his lungs, working its way through his system.
He spent the next moments looking over the titles on her bookshelves, surprised she was into gritty suspense novels, many of the books ones he’d already read. He lost track of time as he walked around the room, soaking up all the telling details like a sponge with water, hoarding them in his mind. They were like tiny clues that he needed to unlock the mystery of her life, his brain cataloguing everything from the scent of her candles to the type of pen she’d left sitting on top of a notebook. The sofa was off-white and deep, his mind easily picturing her cuddled up among the matching throw pillows with a book, while the evening sunlight touched on the feminine curves of her body. The sensual slope of a shoulder. The lithe shape of her thighs. He stood in the middle of the room, each breath drawing more of her provocative scent into his lungs, while his hands flexed and released at his sides. His tension just kept winding tighter...and tighter, until he nearly stumbled from the jolt of hunger that slammed into him when she came back into the room a few minutes later.
Christ, he thought as he got a good look at her. Is she trying to kill me?
The cutoffs had been exchanged for a pair of jeans that hugged her curves like a second skin, her tight black T-shirt molding to a pair of breasts so perfect they made his mouth water. Her skin was still dewy and pink from the shower and the sun, and he had to physically hold himself back from her. Had to fight the animalistic urge to yank her against him and run his tongue up the slender column of her throat, taking all that salty warmth into his mouth. Summer heat had never looked so good on a woman, and he knew he needed to get out of there before he did something stupid.
“Shower’s all yours,” she told him, her gaze focused on the base of his throat instead of his eyes.
“Thanks.” His voice was gruff, but he couldn’t help it. She’d taken a step toward him, bringing her into the last wash of sunlight that spilled through one of the front windows, the shimmering beams highlighting the strips of gold buried in all those waves of strawberry-blond. He wanted to search out every strand...wind the long skeins around his fist...and hold her tight. Pull her to him. Into his arms. Until she was trapped there.
And that’s my cue to get the hell out of here.
Grabbing the leather bag he’d left by the front door, Cian headed toward the bathroom without so much as another glance in her direction. But it was hardly any better once he was alone in the tiny white-tiled room. Her scent lingered in the steamy air, and he pressed his shoulders against the door as he dropped the bag on the floor, his head pressed back against the wood as he squeezed his eyes shut and clawed on to every ounce of self-control he could find.