“Yeah, I know. It’ll keep. Put some antibiotic ointment on it for now.”
Really? Granted, she didn’t have that much experience, but were all men as nonchalant about being shot or was this just a Hunter thing?
She applied the cream to the puncture wound and to the burns and scrapes on his shoulders, then dug through the first-aid kid and bandaged the most vulnerable spots.
“That’s the best I can do.”
Hunter shifted his body. “Thanks. You did great.”
“What about the bullet?”
He grimaced. “I hadn’t wanted to bring anybody else in, but I can’t afford to be out of it, and bullet wounds are notorious for getting infected.”
Gingerly, he rolled to his side and sat up.
He slipped a phone from his pants pocket and pressed a code into the keys, then placed the phone against his ear.
“Fabiano.”
Thank God the medic had answered. “It’s Hunter.”
“What the hell’s going on? There are rumors everywhere. Some say you’ve gone AWOL. Some suggest PTSD, or even rogue.”
Hunter stilled. “What are you talking about?” This wasn’t part of the plan.
Something tugged at Hunter’s pants. He glanced down, and his son’s mischievous smile grinned up at him. His heart overflowing, Hunter held out his finger and Brandon grabbed hold, squeezing tight, standing up, if not a bit wobbly. The little guy had quite the grip. He tugged Hunter’s finger into his mouth and started chewing.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re into, bud,” Doc said, “but it’s hitting the fan here. I’ve never seen the place so chaotic.”
“I need your help.” Hunter rubbed his temple. “And I want you to keep Leona out of it.”
She’d be furious, but Doc’s information made the decision easy. Hunter would do everything in his power to keep Leona from coming to him. First, she hadn’t been in the field in years; second, her husband would probably take out a hit on Hunter if he involved Leona in something that was looking more and more like a cluster of trouble.
“What are you into, Hunter?”
“She’s risked enough for me. I can’t let her do more.”
“You know I’m there. What’s wrong?” Doc barked the question.
“I’ve got a slug in my back. Bring a medical-surgical kit and keep yourself under the radar.”
“How bad?”
Hunter shifted his shoulder. If the bullet had hit his lungs or anything vital, he’d already be dead. Still, he couldn’t afford to take any chances. He didn’t know how long it would take to get Erin and Brandon to safety. He couldn’t chance any more complications. “I haven’t bled out, so that’s good, right?”
Doc let out a violent curse. “Where are you?”
“Are we secure?”
Doc paused. Hunter listened for the clicks indicating his teammate had encrypted the call.
Hunter rattled off the coordinates. “You’ll need a boat.”
“Don’t die on me until I get there.”
“I’ll try to avoid it,” Hunter said, and smiled down at his son.
Brandon let out a loud laugh, the giggle echoing through the room.
“Was that a baby?” Doc asked, his tone shocked.
“Maybe. Just get here.”
“You must have some story to tell. I’m in Virginia. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Keep it low profile. It’s more important than anything I’ve ever asked.” Brandon grabbed Hunter’s leg and hugged him. Hunter couldn’t stop his eyes from burning as he touched his little boy’s hair. He cleared his throat. “You get me?”
“We’re a team. When have I ever let you down?”
Never.
And that wouldn’t change.
Hunter ended the call and met Erin’s gaze. “Help is on the way.”
“So you say.”
She paced back and forth. “Look, I’m glad you’re not dying, but I don’t understand any of this. What are we doing here? Why can’t I just take you to a hospital? Those guys who tried to kill us are dead now.”
“They’re not the only ones after you, Erin. I thought you’d accepted that.”
“Why should I believe anything you’ve said to me? I’m barely processing that the man who abandoned me in Santorini whom I had finally gotten over isn’t the man sitting on that bed just three feet away with a bullet in his back.”
“I’m sorry that this happened to you, but the danger hasn’t ended. Not yet.”
She raised her hand. “Look,
Hunter—
if that’s your real name. I’m stuck in the middle of a swamp with our one-year-old son, waiting for some unknown doctor to dig a bullet out of you, and you tell me I’m still in trouble.” Erin let out a long, slow breath. “You know something? I realized when I called your so-called company and they’d never heard of you that you were a liar. I’ve accepted that. Now I realize not only are you a liar, but your life is a lie. And I don’t know if I can ever trust you. About anything.”
She scooped up Brandon, stalked to the door, shoved aside the chair and slammed outside. Hunter stood there for a moment. Great. What was he supposed to do now? How could he make her understand?
Truth was, he couldn’t. Not without revealing more than he’d ever intended.
“What a mess.”
He had to tell Erin just enough to scare the hell out of her and make her embrace his plans for her and Brandon, without giving her enough information that she’d end up expendable.
“How am I supposed to convince her to do this?” he said to the empty room.
It wasn’t every day you asked someone to give up her life, her dreams...everything.
The trill of the cicadas outside grew, and the underlying cackle of a heron pierced through the noise. A shriek of laughter sounded from outside, cutting through the chattering of the birds, but the joy didn’t make Hunter smile. It just opened the scar where his heart had been.
“Brandon, no,” Erin screamed.
Hunter leaped to his feet and raced to the door. He slammed outside. In the dim light, a blunt-nosed alligator at least fifteen feet long hissed at Erin.
She’d climbed onto the porch rail, her face white, with Brandon in her grasp.
The prehistoric beast opened his mouth, looking at them like a snack. It lunged and snapped. Hunter leaped between Erin and the jaws of the beast.
“Make noise,” he shouted at Erin.
She shouted and banged a stick on the porch railings. Brandon squealed, his little forehead furrowed, unsure if this was supposed to be fun.
“Where did it come from?” Hunter shouted.
The alligator lunged at them. Hunter narrowed his gaze. He could poke the gator’s eyes, but he didn’t want to get in a wrestling match so close to the water. The huge animal could drag him into a death roll way too easily.
“We were about ten yards from the east side of the porch,” Erin said, her voice shaking.
Hunter glanced in that direction. Sure enough, nestled in a small area near the water, he caught sight of the tops of three eggs. “Get inside,” he shouted. “She’s defending her eggs.”
Erin backed toward the door slowly and disappeared with Brandon into the shack.
Hunter slipped between the slots on the porch toward the eggs. The gator followed, her mouth wide. He paused near the nest. The alligator scrambled at him, its movements jerky and fast, but intent.
“Okay, Mama. I’m not planning to hurt your babies.”
He sprinted around the backside of the shack, the gator behind him. He’d put some distance between him and the monster jaws when his foot sank into the swamp.
The animal closed in.
Ten feet, five feet. Hunter tugged his foot free. The alligator snapped. Too close. He squinted in the faint light and grabbed a stick. With a quick move, Hunter jabbed at the animal’s eyes.
The move stunned the beast. It backed away, then stilled. Hunter didn’t hesitate. He sprinted around the building.
Once out of the alligator’s line sight, he eased toward the front of the house, quiet so as not to attract the animal’s attention. Gators had excellent hearing.
As the final rays of sun vanished, the alligator grunted several times, hissed and, through the night, returned to her nest and circled, lying in wait.
Hunter’s movements silent, he opened the door, walked in, then barricaded his little family inside.
Erin sat at the kitchen table, shaking, Brandon securely in her arms.
“She was protecting her nest,” Hunter said, studying her pale face. “Are you both okay?”
She cuddled her son. “I’ve been kidnapped by a man who I slept with but didn’t know his name and trapped inside a shack by a prehistoric reptile. What do you think?”
“Not your usual day, huh?” Hunter tried to smile.
“Thank you,” she said. “Even if it’s your fault we almost got eaten.”
Hunter didn’t want to admit how scared he’d been, seeing Erin and his son facing the beast. She could have plucked Brandon in one bite.
He sank into a chair at the table, his legs shaking. “We’ll just stay inside.”
“How long?” Erin asked. “I’m assuming you have a plan. What is it? When do I get my life back?”
Hunter leaned forward. “I’m sorry, Erin. You don’t.”
Chapter Five
The roar of swamp sounds pelted Erin’s ears. She couldn’t have heard Hunter right.
“Say that again,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry, Erin. You don’t get your life back.” Hunter leaned forward in his chair. “I wish there was some way to make it happen, but—”
Erin had never been more thankful to be sitting down. Her arms weakened. She set Brandon at her feet. He crawled across the floor toward the duffel bag, tugging on the secure straps.
“Why? What did I do?”
“You’re brilliant.”
She leaned back in her chair. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“You saw your prototype as a way to affect small groups of cells, deliver radiation directly to cancer tumors and maybe as a way to treat not only cancer, but other types of diseases.”
She nodded and the rush of excitement sent a tingle through her body. She gripped his arm. “It works, Hunter. You don’t understand. All the preliminary tests have worked. The treatment could save lives.”
“Others see your cure as the perfect assassination tool. Efficient, undetectable, untraceable.”
Erin shook her head. No. This was wrong. It couldn’t be true.
Hunter let out a long, slow breath. “There are men out there who have made killing their means to an end. Your invention is the perfect means. They want it.”
Erin sagged in her chair. She could see the truth on Hunter’s face. “Can’t you stop them? You or the CIA or whoever you work for?”
Hunter squirmed. “They know about your research. They won’t stop until they have the technology, understand it and can duplicate it.”
This couldn’t be happening. The flicker of the kerosene lamp in the corner of the room bathed the shack in pale light. She rose and paced back and forth. “It’s not that easy. You need special material, special equipment that’s not at your standard hardware store. I could destroy the prototype. I have it—”
“In your laptop bag. I know.”
Erin whirled to face him. “How—?”
“I’m very good at my job. And there are others who are even better. Unfortunately for you, they’re on the wrong side. Whether or not the prototype exists doesn’t matter. They want your brain—and your skills. And they’ll use anyone to get you.” He stared right at their son.
Insides trembling, Erin picked up Brandon. She snuggled her son closer. He grabbed her nose and she looked into his innocent eyes. There had to be a way out of this. She turned to Hunter. “What can I do?”
“The men who almost kidnapped you today set it up so that the police think you’re dead. Soon enough the news will hit.” Hunter paused, then met her gaze. “I want you both to stay dead. Permanently.”
At the stark words, Erin’s knees trembled. She shook her head. “No. I can’t. I have plans. For me, for Brandon.”
Hunter crossed to her and reached to cup her cheek. She shrank away from his touch.
He backed off and she relaxed just a bit. “I know it’s a lot to take in,” he said. “If I could come up with any other choice, believe me, I would. I want both of you to be safe and happy.”
“Then leave us alone,” she whispered. “Make this go away.”
“That’s not possible.” Hunter paused. “Look, I need to rinse off the grime and change out of these clothes. It’ll give you time to come to terms with what has to happen.”
Erin couldn’t feel anything. How had this happened? How had her dreams turned her world into a nightmare?
Hunter touched her arm. She didn’t even have the energy to pull away.
“I won’t be long,” he said, gathering a shaving kit and a set of clothes from the duffel. He snagged a water bottle from the refrigerator and disappeared into the bathroom.
She couldn’t stop a tear from running down her face.
“Mama?” Brandon’s lip quivered. He patted her cheek.
“Oh, cutie, what have I done to both of us?”
* * *
H
UNTER
CLOSED
THE
DOOR
TO
THE
bathroom behind him, leaving a shell-shocked Erin alone with her thoughts. He hated that bewildered expression on her face. The stench of failure soured his mouth, but he couldn’t come up with another option for her. Or for him.
He took several swigs of water, then unzipped the leather pouch. He swallowed three ibuprofens, unbuttoned his pants and slipped them off over his muddy shoes. The movement pulled at his wounds. His body felt disconnected from his head. He guzzled down another drink, then turned his back toward the cheap mirror hanging over the sink.
A small whistle escaped as he surveyed the damage. Erin had done a good job with the dressings, but his back was a mess. He shifted his shoulder, testing it. Sharp pain radiated out. His head spun.
He grabbed hold of the sink to steady himself. That bullet needed to come out. Soon. He looked longingly at the showerhead. What he wouldn’t give to have the water beating down on his back, easing away the tension, not of the pain, but of facing Erin’s palpable disappointment.
Without a choice, he stepped into the tub and cleaned himself the best he could. The bandages didn’t need to get wet.
By the time he had dressed, his head had begun pounding again. He stepped into the main room of the darkened shack. Erin stood at the stove, stirring a pot, a now-clean Brandon at her feet. The fragrance of chicken soup wafted through the room, and Hunter’s mouth watered.
She glanced over her shoulder. “You don’t look so good.”
He ran his fingers through his dark, wet hair. “I’m clean.”
“How bad is it?” she asked. “Really.”
“I’ll survive until Doc gets here.”
She set a bowl of steaming chicken and noodles in front of him, then took out a box of crackers. “Maybe this will help,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze.
Hunter sat down. With each spoonful, he studied her stiff back. She set a jar of baby food in a pan of simmering water for several minutes but didn’t turn around. She tested the baby food, then let it heat some more.
He couldn’t take the silence. “What are you thinking?”
She didn’t budge. “That I want to wake up in the morning and have this day to never have happened.”
Brandon crawled over to him and placed his small hands on Hunter’s knee. He touched the baby’s hand. Hunter could understand Erin’s feelings, but he couldn’t agree. While every moment he spent with them made him want more, how could he regret any time spent with his son?
Hunter ruffled the boy’s head. “How you doin’, sport?”
With a grip Hunter could barely fathom, Brandon pressed himself to his feet, arms solid but legs unsteady.
“Brandon stood up. By himself.” An inordinate pride rushed through Hunter. “Isn’t he young for that?”
At his words, Erin turned, her eyes shining with love when she watched their son. She grinned for the first time since Hunter had walked through the front door of her house. “He’s right on track,” Erin said. “According to research, he’ll start walking between eleven and fourteen months.”
“Hear that, sport? You’re doing great.” Hunter took a cracker and downed it.
At the move, Brandon’s eyes widened and he reached his hands up. “Yum. Yum...yum...yum.”
A strange dread clamped around Hunter at his son’s eager expression. “What does he want?”
“Don’t panic. He’s just hungry.” Erin emptied the baby food into a bowl. “Come on, cutie. Ready to eat?”
At his mother’s questions, Brandon tried to whirl around. He almost made it. He wobbled, then sat down. Hard. Hunter bit back a curse and leaned over. “Brandon! Are you okay?”
The boy’s face screwed up, and Hunter’s heart raced. Was his son going to cry? The boy didn’t get the chance. Erin scooped him up and kissed his belly. “Oopsie-daisy. Did you fall down?”
The almost-cry turned into giggles. With an efficient move, she sat down and plopped Brandon in her lap. “Let’s get you a full tummy and put you to bed.”
His meal forgotten, Hunter couldn’t take his eyes off the image of Erin and their son. Her tenderness, her care, the utter devotion on her face tugged at something deep within him he could barely define. He wanted to hold his son; he wanted to take care of them both. He wanted a life. With Erin.
The reality of their situation hurt Hunter’s heart. Maybe Erin had been right in her wish. Would it have been better to never have experienced today?
Brandon spit out some of the horrid-looking puce food. She laughed and wiped his face, then met Hunter’s gaze over Brandon’s head. Her expression softened a bit. “Do you want to feed him?”
Being in the thick of a firefight hadn’t made his heart race as fast as her question. “I don’t—”
She didn’t let him finish, just rose and handed him the baby. Brandon’s lips stuck out, and he reached for his mother.
“He doesn’t want me.” Hunter couldn’t stop the disappointment that shadowed his spirit at the rejection.
“It’s all about dinner,” Erin said. “Be careful. The spoon is bigger than he’s used to.”
Hunter balanced his son on his lap. He took a small amount of the unappetizing dinner and offered it up with a horrified fascination. Shockingly, the baby sucked in the puree and grinned, opening his mouth wide for a disgusting view. “Better you than me, sport.”
With each spoonful, Hunter got a bit more comfortable. Even when Brandon grabbed Hunter’s chin with sticky fingers, he couldn’t stop smiling. He met Erin’s gaze. “Thank you.”
The simple words elicited a tender smile from Erin. Hunter took the gift for what is was, a temporary reprieve. Soon enough reality would set in, but for now the world was good.
Erin studied them both and tugged at her ruined clothes. “Will you be okay with him if I take a shower?”
“Of course. How hard can it be?”
She quirked a brow, but nodded and vanished into the bathroom with the clothes they’d purchased earlier in the day. The shower turned on and Hunter dug into one last spoon of Brandon’s dinner. “We’re all alone, sport. We can handle it, right?”
Brandon smacked his lips and finished up his dinner.
“Your mommy is one tough cookie. Don’t tell her this, but I’d give anything to run away with you guys.” He took the damp rag Erin had left him and wiped Brandon’s face. His son’s forehead crinkled. “I know, I know. But the women like guys without food stuck to their face. Remember that.”
Brandon reached for the crackers and Hunter grabbed one and placed it in his son’s hand. He chewed on the cracker, making a gooey mess, and leaned back against Hunter’s chest.
A thickness closed his throat. “How am I going to let you go, sport? I didn’t have a dad, so I don’t know how to be one, but I’d do my best to teach you right from wrong. And how to throw a football like a guy, not a girl.”
Brandon stuffed his fist in his mouth and burrowed deeper into the crook of Hunter’s arm. The baby’s eyes drooped. Hunter laid his lips on his son’s hair and closed his eyes, taking in the baby scent, committing each touch and smell to memory. This moment would have to last him a very long time.
An irritating ring interrupted Hunter’s bittersweet thoughts. Brandon’s eyelids flew open. His tiny mouth frowned. He sat up and looked around, and gripped Hunter’s hand hard.
With a quick tug, Hunter pulled the phone from his pocket and stared at the screen.
Leona.
He should have known, but after what Doc had said, Hunter didn’t want Leona anywhere near this situation. He had to protect her almost as much as he had to protect his family. He had to cut her off, give her plausible deniability until he discovered exactly what was going on. He powered off the phone and stuffed it back into his pocket.
He just prayed she understood the message and backed off.
Brandon squirmed in Hunter’s lap, frantically searching the room. The baby’s eyes filled with tears. He reached out his arms and clasped Hunter’s fist over and over again. “Mama. Mama...Mama...Mama.”
Hunter jiggled the boy. “It’s okay, sport. I’m here.”
Brandon opened his mouth and let out a high-pitched, eardrum-bursting cry.
Frantic, Hunter stood, ignoring the agony piercing his shoulder. He held his son, bounced him and whispered to him. He tried everything. His goofy face only made Brandon cry louder. Crazy voices scared him. Bribery didn’t work.
He could imagine what his teammates or Leona would say if they’d witnessed his utter incompetence.
Finally, when the hiccups took over and huge tears slid down Brandon’s cheeks, Hunter couldn’t stand it any longer. He knocked on the bathroom door.
The sound of water pounding down didn’t stop, and neither did Brandon’s screams. Out of options, Hunter turned the doorknob slowly and pushed open the bathroom door.
He froze. Erin’s silhouette arched beneath the spray. Through the white curtain he could see the outline of each and every curve. He should have looked away, but he couldn’t. She tilted her neck and let the waterfall of water wash over her head.
She was more beautiful and sensual than he remembered. Her breasts were a bit fuller than they’d been on Santorini, and her curves made his mouth dry with want.
“Your mommy is hot, sport,” he whispered to Brandon, who had quit screaming at least. The baby leaned toward the shower. Clearly, he knew his mother.
Erin bent down, flipped off the water and thrust the shower curtain aside.
Her eyes widened. Hunter’s brain went numb.
She grabbed the towel on the edge of the sink and whipped it around her body. “What are you doing?”
“Brandon wouldn’t stop crying,” Hunter said, barely able to speak. Lame, but his blood had left his brain, pooling low in his belly. His body thrummed with awareness that he shouldn’t feel, couldn’t feel.
He stood his ground when his entire being urged him to pull her into his arms. Silence reigned between them. Seconds passed, and memories slid over Hunter of more than one shared shower in an island paradise.
Erin’s cheeks flushed; her lips parted and her tongue bathed her mouth. She remembered.
Oh, boy.
Just one step, and he could kiss her. He leaned forward.
“Mama.” Brandon tilted his head and looked at Erin with a grin.
The moment was gone.
Erin tucked the towel more tightly around her, unwilling to meet his gaze. “Yeah, he seems very upset.”