Shadows (Black Raven Book 1) (31 page)

He’d apologize to her for what he’d done the night before, then he’d leave Last Resort.

As the phone call with Minero ended, he said to Ragno, “Give me some time on my own.”

“Wait. I’ve got your answer regarding potential properties that can be considered a lake house. There are two. One in Florida and another in Seattle.”

“Send agents to both properties. ASAP. Figure out if there’s anything at either property that can be useful to finding Barrows.”

“Maybe Barrows is at one of the houses, sitting on a pier, fishing.”

He chuckled. “Let’s keep those positive thoughts going.” He focused his attention on Skye, took the earphone out of his ear and put the device in his pocket. He turned off the watch’s receiver and transmission switches. As she backed her chair away from the table, he asked, “Still craving outside air? I need to make a quick stop, then we can go for a walk.”

Figure it out.

The words were more than a faint thought, more than a memory of her father’s voice. They were loud, as though he stood next to her, yelling in exasperation. Now that the phone call with the Marshal was over, she couldn’t keep her exhaustion at bay, nor did she have the energy to sort through the racing thoughts that were turning her brain to mush. She knew what he’d be telling her.

Figure it out.

She couldn’t figure her way out of this one. She was trapped. Stuck somewhere she shouldn’t be, when she should be figuring out the next step in the cataclysm scenario. Either it was on, or it was off, and she was overdue on Firefly Island to figure it out. If her father had sent her another message, it was there. At the lake house. Waiting for her. If cataclysm was still in play, she needed to be acting on it. Not baking cupcakes, pretending for Spring’s benefit that the only thing that mattered was that the agents holding them hostage had a pretty dessert to go with their dinner.

Cataclysm. Run. Now.

Instead of running anywhere, Skye had grabbed a jean jacket from her room before she stopped in the kitchen to tell Spring where she was going. Upon seeing the leash in Skye’s hand, Candy had danced around her feet, either with excitement or a very full bladder.

Cool February air enveloped her as she and Sebastian stepped outside. The sky was partly cloudy. For the moment, the sun was hidden. Three black Range Rovers were in the concrete courtyard, all pulled to one side. Six agents were in the courtyard. Two agents were close to the front door, two were further out, and two were positioned on the far edges. All stood at attention as she and Sebastian stepped outside.

The only thing that mattered to Skye was that she was breathing fresh air. She relished the freshness, taking deep, cleansing breaths. On either side of the courtyard, the property was dense with pine trees. Their tangy fragrance tickled her nostrils. She inhaled, exhaled, and drew in another long breath, as she slipped on her jean jacket.

“Warm enough?” he asked. As she buttoned the jacket, his eyes scanned her arms, her chest, traveling up her neck, to her face, and finally, meeting her gaze. His gaze was just as intense as the look he’d given her the night before, when she’d been naked, underneath him, and his eyes had travelled her body, as though he was memorizing every detail. In the soft lamplight of his bedroom, the look had been sensual. In the daylight, the look was raw and hungry and, having experienced exactly what he was capable of delivering, a warm flush burned her cheeks as she met his gaze.

Yes
, she thought,
if he requested a do-over, the answer would be yes.
Anytime, anywhere, and it didn’t much matter what was going wrong in her life, because he’d made her forget her sorry situation with just a touch.

“I could find you a heavier jacket,” he said. “We keep plenty of extras here. Temperature’s dropping. Forecasters are calling for a winter storm.”

He wore a short-sleeved polo shirt and no jacket and didn’t seem bothered by the cold. After the phone call, he’d slipped into his bedroom and had come out with his gun, which was holstered on his belt. She pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair, shook loose the braid, and slipped the skinny elastic band on her wrist. He watched her hair fall around her shoulders, before his eyes rested on hers.

She said, “I’m warm enough.”

“There’s a trail.” He pointed to a path, that was to the right of the safe house. “It’s a short trek along a small lake. Sound good?”

She nodded and headed in the direction he pointed. She didn’t care where they walked. She only cared that they were outside, and she could breathe. Maybe outside air would clear her brain.

Figure it out.

There was no way
out, but there had to be a point to the walk. Everything Sebastian did had a point, and aside from his capability for mind-blowing sex, she didn’t really like any of his points. But she wanted to be outside so badly she didn’t care about his motives. Sebastian took Candy’s leash, her tail was wagging, and she high-stepped in stride with Sebastian, as though she’d been trained to walk with him. The man had a way with females, even wayward puppies, who couldn’t walk in a straight line when anyone else had her on a leash. Skye had offered Spring the opportunity for the walk, but her sister was content in the kitchen, smoothing the first layer of icing onto cupcakes. Doctor Schilling was baking another batch. One Black Raven agent walked about ten yards in front of Skye and Sebastian, two agents followed behind. Far enough away to be out of earshot, close enough to offer protection if needed. If the other three who had been in the courtyard were anywhere around, she didn’t see them.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said quietly, getting to the point the minute they stepped onto the trail.

Oh, dear God, please don’t let him talk about what we did.

Actually having a conversation after the fact wasn’t something she was used to, particularly after she told a man that they could act like it never happened. The path was covered with a light frost, that had settled on the ground overnight. The thin layer of frozen moisture crunched underfoot as she continued along the path, but he stopped walking.

He shot her an inquiring, far too penetrating glance. “Skye?”

She could feel his eyes on the back of her head, burning into her. She walked fast, putting distance between herself and him.

“Did you hear me?” He caught up to her, walking in stride with her on the narrow trail, bending to dodge a branch.

“No apology is necessary.”

“I took advantage of you,” he said, “and I never should have done that.”

She stopped walking, cringing on the inside as she turned to him and stared into blue eyes that had the depth of oceans, with an expression as sincere and focused as any that had been directed at her in years.

“Please,” she said, unable to cavalierly come up with any words to brush off such honesty. “Please don’t apologize.”
Just be a jerk. Don’t make me actually like you. Please. It’s too hard to resist you when you’re charming. And if I don’t resist, I’ll just get hurt.

“I was an ass,” he continued. “I never take advantage of women in desperate situations, and I did that last night. I apologize. You deserved better.”

She shook off the urge to say thank you. Not one of the men she’d ever been with before had told her that she deserved anything more than what they’d dished out. She shook her head, immediately correcting herself with wisdom she’d fought hard to attain. What she had let them dish out. Men had only treated her as a one-night, one-week, or one-month pastime, because that is exactly how she had always allowed herself to be treated.

Toughen up,
she told herself. So he was sorry. Big deal. So he was telling her that she deserved something more. So he was saying something that no one else had ever told her before.

So what? So nothing.

“I enjoyed it. Very much, as a matter of fact. I said it wouldn’t count for anything. It was sex,” she shrugged, “between two consenting adults. I said we could act like it never happened, and I meant it. It’s better that way, don’t you think?”

“I know too much about you,” his eyes held hers. “Things you haven’t told me. Things I’ve learned from my cyber group-”

“Hackers,” she corrected him.

He nodded, with a shrug. “You know the type of information that’s out there. Medical records, school records, no one lives totally off the cyber grid. My people know more about you than they should, and so do I. Unless you’ve changed one hell of a lot in the last few years, since you saw your last psychologist, your tough-girl, casual-sex lines are bullshit, and we both know it.”

She kept walking. He walked beside her as the path approached a lake, where swirls of mist floated up from the clear water and evaporated into the fresh, clean air. They continued along the path, with the lake on the right, woods on their left.

He continued, “It’s all a defense mechanism for a woman who experienced heart-wrenching grief in losing her mother at a vulnerable age.” As he said words that sounded exactly like what her counselors had told her over the years, anger bubbled up from her gut. She stopped walking and turned to him. He stopped walking as well, and continued, “You’re a mature woman, who has an ingrained defense mechanism, borne from being a lonely teenager, who missed her mother, whose death inspired a fear of loving anyone for fear of losing them, either through death or abandonment.”

Her embarrassment and anger mixed into a toxic cocktail inside her. She slapped him. Hard.

He didn’t try to stop her. He glanced at the agent who had been walking in front and who was closest to them. The man turned to them and took a step closer. Sebastian gave him a slight no headshake, then his eyes returned and locked on hers.

“You bastard.” She’d never slapped anyone in her life. Her handprint formed a faint red outline on his face, while her palm stung from the contact. She didn’t regret doing it. She only wished it made her feel better. “You have no right to know so much about me. Are you now going to tell me I should grow the hell up?”

“Hell no. I’d never be so judgmental. And you’re absolutely correct. That’s why I’m apologizing. I knew better, and I conveniently forgot what I know. I agree,” he said with a curt nod as her handprint reached its peak before fading. “I deserved that slap.”

“That psychologist was an idiot, anyway.”

He gave her an eyebrow arch and a slow headshake. “You lost your mother when you were thirteen and she left you with a two year-year old sister. Your father, on good days, had to be distracted and absent-minded. I had a childhood that was beyond shitty, but I didn’t have to assume responsibility for a child with special needs. I only had myself and my mother to worry about. I can’t imagine what you went through.”

“My childhood ended years ago. I don’t need your sympathy or your pity.”

He frowned. Sparks of anger filtered through his eyes. “This isn’t about your goddamn childhood. It’s about now. If your dad’s fathering was anything like the convoluted, mind-puzzling rants and speeches that he’s delivered to the rest of the world, it’s amazing that you’re capable of living normally, yet you do more than that. Yesterday I wondered why someone with your brilliance turned your back on your father’s business, or anything else your MIT degree had you trained for, and opened a coffee shop.”

She saw an understanding in his eyes, and knew he didn’t need an answer. Damn him.

“Though I don’t have intel that confirms this, I’m guessing that you saw what your father’s brilliance has done to him and you didn’t want to be like him, did you?”

She shrugged, not wanting to acknowledge the reason why she didn’t follow her father’s footsteps quite so starkly. “I wouldn’t put it that way. I’d say I decided to be productive in a different way.”

“Well, I’d say you excel. Creative Confections was beautiful, and you created it out of thin air. It was perfect for Spring, until all of this happened. Last night I pushed you to the breaking point on purpose, because I was trying to get information from you, but I gave in to this…
thing…
that I obviously can’t control when I’m with you. I never lose control. But there’s something about you that pushes my body into sexual overdrive, and I did it, even when I knew your words were bullshit.”

The only thing she paid attention to was the very first sentence.
He’d pushed her to the breaking point on purpose.
“So you were fucking me…” she cringed with the harshness of the words, becoming even angrier when he didn’t flinch. “…you fucked me on the outside chance I’d talk to you in some post-coital, confidence sharing? Was it all an attempt to manipulate me into giving you information, one that you might have screwed up by falling asleep the minute you came?”

“You weren’t exactly complaining,” he said, jaw clenched in frustration. “Hell. I’m not trying to argue with you. I wasn’t manipulating you by having sex with you. I did it because I wanted it.” He paused. “I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I’ve tried to tell myself it’s because I’ve gone a few months without sex, but it’s not just that. Hell, I’ve gone without sex for longer stretches before, and haven’t lost control. There’s something about you. Something about your eyes,” he paused, “your voice, your body. The way you’re so wonderful with your sister. The way you’re cocky, the way you try like hell to be a tough girl, the way you jump into action without a plan. Even the way you lie like shit, with a straight-faced, big-eyed broadcast that a doozie is coming. Dammit.” He drew a deep breath, shook his head, and said, “Forget it. I don’t know why the hell I want you. Maybe I just do. If we had the chance, I’d do it again right now. Chalk it up to proximity and sudden horniness. Hell. I knew better last night, and I certainly know better now. I crossed a line that I never cross. I’m sorry.”

Please shut up.

She didn’t want to like him. Instead of focusing on the nice words that he said, instead of acknowledging the sincerity with which he delivered the apology, the way he was complimenting her and telling her how attracted he was to her, she focused on his earlier words.
He’d pushed her to the breaking point on purpose.
“Is this apology just another psychological game?”

His cheeks flushed. He frowned, then started walking again. The agent who was in the lead had moved a wayward tree limb out of their way and was holding it as they passed. “No games. No manipulation. Maybe yesterday that was an option, but not now.” He drew a deep breath, touched his fingers to his temple, shook his head, mumbled “hell,” and dropped his hand. The gesture was quick, but it was enough to tell her that his headache was back.