The nighttime meds tended to make her groggy, not think straight. But risking her health by not taking them wasn’t an option.
My God, what was she going to do? Those men Cam killed, were they truly sent to rescue her? And what did Cameron Moore really have planned for her?
He’d kept her alive this long, but the unease of what he’d said about her father settled deep into her chest.
The way Cam touched her …
She shook her pills out of the containers even as she felt his gaze dart between her and the road, palmed them and took them with a full bottle of water. She knew, despite the sleep she’d gotten, that the combination of the meds and today’s events would lull her back to sleep, no matter how hard she fought.
She wasn’t sure how much longer they’d driven when she woke again, but the truck had slowed slightly.
With a swift, right-hand turn, they were on a hidden, obviously private road. Cam actually shut off his headlights before turning onto the road. Halfway up, he stopped the car, got out and walked back. She shifted to watch him get rid of the recent tire-track marks close to the road, and she thought about climbing into the driver’s seat and backing up over him.
But that would solve nothing. She’d be in the middle of nowhere with enemies she couldn’t name.
And with Cam, who might be the biggest enemy of all.
When he got back into the car, he drove the truck through the snow, up a hill that looked like it had no road leading to it.
The house appeared modest—new, well kept … well camouflaged. It wasn’t until Cam headed the truck down a slope into an underground garage that she truly understood the scope of the place.
She took quick note of a lone set of footprints in the snow—very visible and fresh—and saw he had too.
When the garage doors closed behind them, Cam got out of the truck and pressed some keys on a pad mounted to the wall. He motioned for her to get out of the truck too, and after he grabbed her bags, she followed him through a door to the inside of the house.
Home
, he’d called it.
The room they’d entered was a finished basement, with more cameras and security equipment than she’d ever seen in one place, save for Radio Shack. She supposed this was what she’d avoided by living apart from her father after her mother was killed. She couldn’t decide if it made her feel safer, or like a caged animal.
She stared at the monitors, which seemed to be trained on every single available space around the house, as well as the private road they’d just taken. He was paying special attention to one that was now fast-forwarding. “There hasn’t been anyone around except the caretaker.”
He pointed to the man leaving—the footprints she’d seen—and she nodded.
“Sky, let’s go upstairs—we’ll grab some food and you can rest. And I’ll explain. Try to anyway.”
“I don’t exactly have a choice, do I?”
“No, not really.”
A glance at the clock on the computer screen told her it was after midnight—no wonder her stomach was growling. She followed him up the steep stairs into a large, open room with the kitchen on one side, where he began to prepare them a meal, and couches and a fireplace on the other. A vaulted ceiling created the effect of openness, and the caged-animal feeling dissipated slightly. But still she was somewhat dazed and disoriented, as if she wasn’t fully inhabiting her body, but rather, floating above it, surveying the scene.
As if she’d wake up from this bad dream. Maybe even wake up in Cam’s arms, back at the townhouse, or even the motel room.
But how could she ever trust anything Cam said?
Instincts, baby girl
.
Unfortunately, her instincts were crap. The someone she’d trusted had gone to prison. She knew that being in Delta Force meant he was lethal enough. Coupled with the fact that he worked for her father, doubly so. But prison …
It hadn’t bothered her when she was making love to him in the motel. But now, when the betrayal sat between them, fresh and oozing, she wasn’t sure what to believe about anything. “My father always told me not to trust anyone. Looks like he was right.”
Those words appeared to cut right through Cam, and she was glad. Wanted him to hurt the way she did. Wanted his heart to pound and his head to swim … and this was all too much.
He turned his back again to grab the plates, and he quickly walked to the table and served her. She began to eat the food he put in front of her—soup, sandwich. Basic and good, especially as she needed to get her blood sugar up. Keep herself strong. Sane.
“I hope the food’s okay for you. I don’t have much else here. If I’d known I was coming …” He trailed off, took the gun from its holster and put it on the counter behind him. Then he sat. “This wasn’t planned.”
“Not this part,” she shot at him. “But showing up to kidnap me was.”
“Yes, that was,” he admitted, pushed his own plate away and then began his explanation. “I work black ops for your father—or I did, for eleven years. He’d call on me whenever he needed me. And I was so fucking grateful to him that I never said no … not until …”
“If you want me on your side, you’re going to have to tell me everything.”
“Your father blackmailed me into service.”
Did
he want her to know everything? Did he even want her on his side?
He knew the answer, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
“You’re saying my father used you as a secret assassin,” she said slowly. “Something not authorized by the CIA.”
“Yes, that’s what I’m telling you. I thought I was finally free of him, until three nights ago.”
“When he tried to have you killed.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m supposed to believe this just because you tell me?”
“You’re supposed to believe this because, like I said on the first night we met, if I wanted to kill you, I could’ve done so. Many times over. Instead, I’ve been saving your ass. Getting shot at, and I have no idea why.”
“Why don’t you think it’s my father?”
“Because he’d stop at nothing to get to you,” he told her. “The men sent after you were good, but they’re not better than me. Your father trained me.”
She shook her head, pushed her food away and stared at him, as if unable to say anything.
“Dammit, I know you think I betrayed you,” he continued.
“That’s because you did.”
“And I don’t regret any of it … except that I thought about hurting you. But the second I saw you, I knew …” He swallowed. “I knew that I couldn’t hurt you. And Jesus, if I hadn’t been there …”
“You really think those men who broke in, and the ones who followed us, were trying to hurt me, not you?”
“I do. Call it gut instinct, but I’ve gotten by on that for a long time. I’ve been trained to follow it. You’re still alive, and I plan on keeping you that way.”
She sat there, her hands tight on the wooden arms, her expression unreadable. Except her eyes were glittering with a pent-up anger. “Why do you live in a fortress?”
“Because of your father. And if you have any idea where he might be—”
“If I knew where he was, I wouldn’t tell you. You want to kill him.”
“You have no idea what he’s done to me.” Cam’s voice was harsh, and somehow broken at the same time. And his eyes, those brilliant, piercing eyes, were dull with a memory he couldn’t break.
“What could he have done to make you want to kill him? You took an oath when you joined the military—protect the innocent. My father works for the good guys.”
Cam snorted. “If you think that, you’re way more innocent than I thought.”
“I know that sometimes the CIA has to do bad things for the greater good, but they do it to keep us safe. That’s the bottom line, the reason my father’s sacrificed everything—a normal life, complete with a family he can sit down to dinner with every night. So tell me, Cam, what the hell did my father do to you?”
He stared at her steadily for a long moment before he told her, “Your father killed mine.”
S
ky felt as if she couldn’t breathe, but somehow she stood, stared at him, wanting to disbelieve but unable to do so completely.
There was nothing to say that her father hadn’t done exactly that. And while it didn’t make her any less angry that Cam had been planning to use her, at least it helped her understand why.
She hated herself for understanding. For getting sucked in. For falling for this man. And even though a large part of her just wanted to collapse in screaming tears, she didn’t.
Instead, she moved quickly, grabbed the gun from the counter, and pointed it at Cam. “I don’t believe you, Cameron Moore. I think you set this whole thing up.”
“No, you don’t. And that’s probably why you’re so goddamned angry. Because you know!” he shouted at her, pushing away from the table. “Everything I’ve told you about my father, the way he died, the way I lived, that was all true. I always suspected your father, but I never had proof as much as I do now.”
“I’m leaving. Taking your truck.”
Cam stood his ground, appearing bigger to her than he ever had, more powerful, looming in front of her as though bullets couldn’t hurt him. Yet she’d already seen that they had.
“Sky, be reasonable. I’m not letting you leave here—you’re in danger.”
She let out a short laugh and kept the gun pointed at his chest. “That’s a good one. Like I’m safe with you.”
She scanned the room, spotting some rope by the back door. Short of rendering him unconscious, she knew that he could get out of any and every way she could bind him.
There was no way she could hold this gun on him for hours either. He would overpower her the second she made a mistake, let her guard down.
There was nothing left to do but challenge him. And so she put the gun down on the table and walked up to him. “Go ahead.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do what you planned. Go ahead. Keep screwing me over—literally.”
“Sky.” His tone was a warning but she was well past listening, her thoughts in a confused zone. He tried to take her wrist, lead her to the couch calmly, but she was beyond that gentle approach.
Her anger was palpable, heated the room with its frenzy, and even though she knew fighting wouldn’t get her anything but more frustrated, she couldn’t stop. This was the fight she’d started out in the snow. The one she hadn’t gotten to finish before cold and fear overtook her.
That wouldn’t happen now.
She took a step back and then lunged forward, surprising him. Her arm shot out again, and this time she connected, shoved his chin with her open palm. As he reacted, grabbed her wrist so hard his hand made a slapping noise as it circled her arm, her leg shot out for a vicious kick to his gut that made him groan and then curse.
She’d been aiming lower, so he had no idea how lucky he was. But he deserved what he got, with that kick and a second that left him slightly gray and out of breath. He remained still, and it wasn’t until she approached him again to punch and kick and get her aggression out that she realized he’d simply been lying in wait for her.
He wouldn’t come at her—he would never hit her, no matter what she did. But he did grab her wrists and hold them together, before scooping her up and carrying her to a bedroom. Which housed a huge bed.
Her kicking and yelling hadn’t fazed him. No, he had an equally determined look in his eyes as she supposed she did, but he had the distinct advantage in this fight. And the handcuffs.
He got one of her wrists cuffed to the headboard. With the other hand, she ripped at his skin through his shirt and she heard him hiss. She’d hit the knife wound. Good. Because she was fighting for much more than her life.
How much could Cam take? How much would he give? God, she didn’t want to be wrong, but her gut told her that, no matter how angry she was, the feelings between them were real.
He grabbed her flailing arm and held it steady. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You already did, you asshole,” she ground out, and in response, he cuffed her other hand.
She retaliated by trying to kick him, jammed her legs up and slammed them against his gut. He cursed, loud and viciously, and still he was careful with her, making sure not to bump her or jostle her—but she was beyond caring, the fight inside of her was simply too great.
To have found so much—and be losing it so quickly—it was unthinkable.
He wrestled her flat. “Stop it.”
He managed to force her legs down. And she was trapped, totally and completely, arms splayed over her head, taut, legs pinned beneath him; her anger remained, but had turned into something molten.
He was rock hard, shaking from exertion, from fear that he would ultimately lose her, from holding back. “I’m doing this so you don’t hurt yourself. Jesus, Sky, you’re in no shape to fight like this.”
“Don’t you dare tell me what kind of shape I’m in. Don’t tell me anything.”
“I know, when you get your shit together, you won’t want to lose the kidney you fought so hard to get, okay? So stop. Just stop.”
Her breathing was harsh, even to her own ears, and he was right—so right, dammit. And as she felt the tears slide down her face she asked, “How could you do this to me?”
“Do what? Fall in love with you? Because that’s what happened. And if this is what it took to bring us together, I can’t say I’m sorry.”
C
am didn’t know what else to do to stop her tears and his admission seemed to bring on more.
Fuck. He sucked at this. But at least she’d stopped struggling, was looking up at him with those deep, soulful eyes that had sucked him in from the second he’d seen her picture.
Haunted eyes. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She brushed a cheek against her shoulder, did the same with the other one, to try to stop the tears. “I want you to be for real. I want this to be for real. The rest of it … I can’t deal with it right now. So help me forget it—everything but you and me.”
Yeah, he could do that.
“I don’t know if you’re just trying to make up for coming to me under false pretenses,” she admitted. “I can forgive a lot, Cam. But don’t keep up the charade if you don’t feel anything.”
He dipped his head and kissed her neck, letting his lips linger on the soft skin there before he responded. “You melted me, Sky. I was fucking ice before this. Before I met you, things were just getting worse.”