Relentless Flame (Hell to Pay) (17 page)

Peter was right. If Jerahmeel thought his power supply was threatened, he would lash out. He’d throw everything at the offender and anyone the offender treasured.

Allie was Peter’s reason to complete his contract. So, when Dante had killed the minion who tried to destroy her, Dante had fallen from the top of Jerahmeel’s most-popular list. It’d take years of good, solid, nutritious kills for Dante to make up for his misstep. He might never get out of the contract at this rate.

Neck muscles tensing anew as he exited the bathhouse, he scanned the park on his way back to the cabin. He hated leaving Hannah alone but was reasonably confident that no one could find them here.

Yet.

If Brandon still tracked them, the trail should go cold in Caldwell, Idaho, where Dante had abruptly backtracked into the forests and isolated high desert of central Oregon.

The knife blade pulsed, reminding him that it hadn’t been fed in far too long. His hands itched to wrap around the handle and plunge it into a criminal heart. But if Dante used the knife to kill, it would act like a homing beacon. Jerahmeel would send Brandon here.

To Hannah.

A twisting sensation in Dante’s chest made him stagger as he stepped onto the cabin porch.

To Hannah.

When he turned the doorknob, it was locked.

His imagination imposed horrible images on his mind’s eye. Hannah laying on the cabin floor, broken and bleeding. What kind of protector was he to leave his charge alone?

Clinging to a vestige of control, he knocked on the door and fidgeted until he heard a light step inside. The deadbolt snicked open, harsh and loud in the twilight.

Gold-flecked chestnut eyes and a cute, freckled nose greeted him. It was a vision he’d be happy to see for many years to come.

Dåre
. Idiot. After she learned about his past and what kind of monster he really was, there would be no future, at least not together. His only goal: give Hannah a future. Nothing more.

Resisting the need to haul her back into his arms, he pasted a bland smile on his face, stepped into the cabin, and relocked the door. Not that a locked door would make much difference if Brandon found them.

The aroma of beef stew and grilled cheese sandwiches distracted him from the maudlin thoughts. Dante’s belly growled. When was the last time his stomach had actually rumbled?

He took a quick glance around the cabin; nothing appeared amiss. He sat down in front of a steaming bowl of soup and a fresh sandwich.

He could get used to this kind of companionship—a dangerous thought.

Happily sated after the meal, he washed and dried the dishes, enjoying the mundane domestic activity. The incandescent light overhead cast the wood interior of the cabin in a warm, yellow glow. The tension in his neck seeped away. He glanced over his shoulder.

Hannah sat on the futon, head bowed.

“Would you like a fire?” he asked.

“That sounds great.”

He had the fire crackling in no time, bathing the cabin walls with flickering shadows. Maybe for tonight, they could pretend that no one hunted them, that her life wasn’t in jeopardy. Maybe for tonight, he could give her comfort without scaring her.

Normally, he’d swagger, flirt, suggest erotic activities, and then sit back and wait for the woman to come to him, but Hannah wasn’t any woman. He wanted to give her pleasure, but do it safely. For her.

He was massive, powerful, wealthy, and long-lived. He could have anything he wanted. Except tonight. It went against everything he’d ever done before, but it was time for a change in approach.

He cleared his throat. “Mind if I sit with you?”

A pause.

“Sure.”

She scooted over and bent her knees under her chin, watching the fire. The shifting light emphasized the dark circles under her eyes.

“Do you still feel it?” he asked quietly, not wanting to startle her.

“Pardon?” She turned halfway toward him.

“The injuries you took from me yesterday.”

“Yes, a little. It always takes a few days for the injuries to completely go away.”

“Where did your ability come from?”

She leaned back against the futon and scrubbed at her face. Dante wanted so badly to take her into his arms that his fingers tingled.

Patience
.

“No one in the family understood my little gift.”

“I’d hardly call it little.”

“I’d hardly call it a gift. It’s caused nothing but trouble.”

“Trouble how?”

“Um, various ways.”

She clamped her mouth shut, and Dante did the same. He wanted to tell her about killing Ray, but not right now. Maybe later.

Coward.

“So when did you first realize you could heal people?”

Sighing, Hannah laid her cheek on her bent knees. The fire flickering made her features appear half animated and half corpse.

“I healed a cut on Mom once. She and I were so shocked, we chalked it up to weird happenstance and tried to ignore it.”

“Did you ever heal anything major like you did with me?” he asked.

She shook her head. “The biggest healing before that was when I was a teenager. Scott was doing something stupid on his skateboard. I heard him scream and ran outside.

“His arm was bent all wrong. When I touched his skin, a sensation like a vacuum sucked all of his pain into my body. Then my arm cracked.”

“It broke?”

“Loudly. It didn’t bend like his arm did, but I felt the pop. Boy, did it hurt.”

“What happened after that?”

“We were totally shocked of course. All of a sudden, he was better, and I had a broken arm.”

She studied the fire and rubbed her shirtsleeve. Dante stretched his arm over the back of the futon, fingering her fine hair.

“So did you go to the hospital?”

“Well, yes, but by then Mom was freaked out about what happened. She made up a story for the doctor.”

“Did she know where your power came from?”

“Not exactly. There was a rumor about a grandmother with strange talents, but Mom didn’t know details. Apparently, no one in our family talked about it.”

“Did anyone else find out about what you could do?”

She bit her lip and then pressed her lips together. “My stepfather. He wanted to use my powers on other people.”

At her tight, closed expression, he held very still. He would not scare her. No surprises, no sudden movements.

“What happened with these other people?”

“I failed.” She raised a finger when he opened his mouth. “End of story.”

Moving slowly to give her time to protest, he ran his fingers over her cheek, careful to avoid the bruises. Such soft skin hiding the tough woman inside. After a few minutes, she dropped her head onto her bent knees again.

She yawned.

“You’re exhausted,” he said.

Her shadowed gaze darted around the cabin. “Yeah, but I don’t want to sleep.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious, with everything that’s happened in the past few days?” She put her head in her hands. “At least if I’m awake, I can see what’s coming.”

As her voice cracked, something cracked inside of Dante.

“Come here,” he said. “Please.”

Jåvlar.
Her fear was unacceptable. Maybe he had nothing to offer in the long term, but he could make her feel safe this evening. He turned sideways on the futon and pulled her into his lap.

Those delicate hands resting on his thighs branded him through the denim, and he gritted his teeth. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and tucked her head under his chin. When she turned her face toward the fire and sighed, the sound melted his soul.

“Sleep. I’ll stay up.”

“You need rest, too.”

Hardly a chance with the growing interest her petite derrière tucked into his groin generated. At least his desire for her distracted him from the knife’s call. For now.

“I don’t need sleep.”

She looked up at him and lifted an eyebrow. “A quirk? Like you run warm and heal quickly?”

Damn it, he wasn’t ready to explain.

He squeezed her upper arms in his hands. “I will keep you safe tonight.”

“You promise no one will find us?”

“No one will hurt you tonight. I swear it.”
Including you,
oåkting
.

She snuggled in closer, challenging his self-control and his promise.

“Nice.” She rubbed her cheek against his T-shirt-clad chest.

“What’s that,
ålskling
?”

“Your voice. It’s wonderful.” She yawned again, bent her arms up at the elbows and grasped his encircling forearms that rested over her chest. “Please keep talking to me.”

If that’s what it would take to comfort her, then he’d do it until the world ended. “What would you like me to say?”

“How about that
Tristan and Iseult
you like to quote?”

“Anything you want.”

He recited as many lines as he could remember from the old story of love found, love lost, and love eternal. Even after her slow breaths stirred the hair on his arms, he continued. He didn’t care if he repeated lines.

Brushing his lips over her silky hair, a delicate floral cloud drifted up, mixing with the smells from dinner and the wood of the cabin. He inhaled her scent—if he ended every night like this in a cozy home, snuggled up with Hannah, they’d make love—sometimes tender, sometimes wild—until her belly swelled with a child beneath his palm.

Although her tiny frame disappeared in his arms, he sensed every inch of her soft body nestled against his. She’d relaxed, trusted him to keep her safe. As long as she needed him, he’d watch over her. He ignored the knife-lust eating at his mind. He didn’t care about all of the other elements of his surreal life right now.

Didn’t care about the minion out there.

He cared only about the woman in his arms.

• • •

Daylight blinded her when she rolled over. For a split second, she panicked, disoriented until she got a good look at the room. The cabin. She lay on the double bed, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets.

The smell of fresh, hot food awakened her stomach with a vengeance. As she stretched sore muscles, Hannah tried to recall how she got into the bed. Recalling nothing more than the memory of falling asleep on the futon in Dante’s arms, she gave up.

After stopping in the bathroom, she shuffled into the kitchen area where Dante industriously flipped more grilled cheese sandwiches and stirred a soup pot. Her heart flopped at the sight of his biceps flexing as he moved from fry pan to pot. He hummed quietly, stopping when he saw her standing there.

“It’s about time you got up.”

“Why? What time is it?”

“Three. In the afternoon.” His wide grin sent a frisson of happiness all the way down to her toes.

“I’ve never slept in that late.”

“You needed the rest.”

At an ominous hiss, he whirled back to the pot, which threatened to boil over. Laughing, Hannah scooted him over with her hip and rescued the soup before it scorched. She brushed her arm against his, enjoying the heat that flowed between them.

See? She could touch him without freaking out. Taking a calming breath, she nudged him with a shoulder.

He didn’t move, but when she glanced up, the intense expression on his face stole her breath away.

Maybe there was hope for more between them. What would he look like without that shirt on? How would those ridges on his chest feel to her bare fingertips? Would his skin be hot to the touch, or would goose bumps pebble his skin when she touched him?

When the typical wave of panic rose up, she held her breath and tamped down the fear until she allowed herself to ponder Dante’s abs again.

One tiny victory.

Clearing her throat, she pretended to care about the food in front of her as she stirred. “Thanks for tucking me in last night.”

“It was my pleasure. Anytime.” He winked.

Now that was back to the old Dante, with the suggestive undertone. Her heart fluttered beneath his avid gaze. He grinned, took his plate and bowl, and followed her to the table.

“Sorry that the meal isn’t very original.” He gestured toward the food.

“If you cook it, I’ll eat the same thing for every meal and be perfectly satisfied.”

She crunched a charred bite of sandwich and washed it down with a swig of water.

He grimaced. “A chef I am not.”

“Then we’re a good fit, as I’m not a picky foodie.”

Chuckling, they tucked back into the meal. After lunch, or dinner, or whatever meal this was, Hannah washed the dishes and Dante dried. The comfortable teamwork soothed her frayed nerves, like they’d done this together a hundred times.

In any other situation, this would be the jackpot. Now? Not so much.

Oh well, she would at least enjoy the companionship while it lasted.

• • •

Dread settled in his gut as he stacked the last dish. No more stalling. He had to tell Hannah the truth about Raymond. Had to tell her the truth about himself.

A half dozen times last night, he nearly woke her up to confess everything. But watching her sleep so peacefully in his arms, her expression finally relaxed, he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her rest. It was well past midnight when he had carried her to bed. Her exhaustion was so profound, she didn’t stir when he had wrapped the fresh blankets around her.

Last night he’d also gotten a good look at her ankle. Whatever happened had ripped skin and shattered bone. The irregular lumps told a tale of excruciating trauma. How did that happen? Who did this to her? Raymond? Someone else?

Several times he’d circled the cabin’s perimeter, checking for anything unusual, listening to the night sounds and smelling for any hint of the minion. Each time Dante had left the cabin, the desire to see Hannah compelled him back into the bedroom to make sure she was safe. For hours, he simply watched her sleep.

Something he’d never done with a woman in the bedroom.

But as much as he wanted to preserve this idyllic situation, he couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t continue pretending that he didn’t know about Raymond. Couldn’t hide the reason they were on the run.

Once she found out that he was cold-blooded killer, that would be the end of the interlude. No more fireside chats. No more domestic bliss. No more Hannah.