Wolfsbane (13 page)

He towered over her, eyes ablaze and nostrils flaring. “I told you. Two phone calls or I would come and bring them with me.”

“Well yes, but I didn’t—”

“Didn’t believe me?”

Mouth dry and words gone, she stared up at him, at the challenge so clear on his rugged face. He’d come? For her?

He took another step, his brow wrinkling then smoothing out. Anger replaced by … concern? “You were crying.”

Dani jerked her gaze away, heart pounding. “You have no right to be here.” She started away but he caught her arm.

“Roark.”

Her eyes slid shut as she felt him draw closer. His cologne—light and yet thick—swirled around her mind as he stood a head taller.

“Are you okay?” His breath brushed against her cheek with those deep, quiet words.

Swallowing the swell of grief over the memories, yet relief that he’d come, she steadied herself. Curse being a hormonal woman—her chin trembled. Which made her angry. “I’m fine.” She tried to pull out of his hold, but his grip tightened. She flashed him a glare.

“This isn’t a game.” The intensity roared back into his words and expression. “Your
life
isn’t a game.”

“Yeah, what do you know?”

“I know a strong, beautiful woman who’s trying to pretend the pain cutting her heart open doesn’t exist. Instead, she cuts open her wrist.”

“Dani?”

She gasped, noticing for the first time her sister standing to the side. He communicated so much through those blue eyes, could she do the same? She shot him a look that said she’d kill him if her sister had overheard. “Alexandra, go inside.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

They waited, locked in a silent duel, as her sister’s steps faded.

“What I did last night was stupid.”

“Ya think?”

She huffed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Enlighten me.”

Dani rotated, grateful when he let go of her arm. She walked along the grass, turning her attention away from the churning in her body to the feathering, glossy leaves against her palm. “When General Lambert called and said I had to go back, everything inside me—all the walls and braces I’d established after what happened …” She drew up her courage and shoulders. Took a deep breath. “Well, they vanished when that call came. When you found me, helped me, I knew I had a second chance. I saw how stupid it was.” She faced him. Put on the plastic face she’d rehearsed since her father remarried. “I’m fine.”

Tension radiated from his eyes. Slowly, that faded and with it, she hoped he’d back off and leave her alone. When he gave her a soft nod, she realized she’d won again. Was it always this easy to make guys think you’d given in?

He smirked. “Sell your sad tale somewhere else.”

“What?”

“I’m not buying it.”

Glancing away, Dani scrambled. He wasn’t buying? Why not? What could she say that would send him on his way? To get rid of him? “Look—”

“I’m not going away. We have a deal. If you break it again, I’m not playing nice.”

“Nice! You call this nice?” That stupid smirk turned her stomach inside out.

“Do you really want to find out?” He narrowed his eyes. “We have a deal—”

“There is no deal. You said two phone calls.”

“And you missed one.”

Dani stared at him. Was he serious?

“You owe me a call.”

Lips taut, she tugged the cell phone from her pocket. Dialed.

A song—“American Heroes”—blasted out. She glared at him.

Another smirk. He slid the phone from his pocket and answered, his gaze never leaving hers. “Metcalfe.”

“I’m a little late,” she said into her phone, “but I’m calling. I’m fine.”

“I’ll give you that—you are a fine woman, but you’re late.”

Heat crawled into her cheeks, unable to look away from the man whose fastidious focus had brought out the worst in her. “So?”

“So, it’ll cost you.” His eyes twinkled.

She shouldn’t smile. She really shouldn’t. But she did. “You’re as bad as my father or any politician.”

Something flashed through his face. He stretched his neck and broke their eye-locked connection. Slowly he lowered the phone and stuffed it in his pocket.

Feeling as if the world had just crashed, she lowered her phone. “Wh–what just happened? What did I say?”

He pursed his lips. “Nothing.” The bright sun pinched his eyes into gleaming slits. “I should go.”

Her heart tripped and fell over his drastic attitude change.

When he stepped back and turned, she couldn’t help what leapt from her tongue. “So you really are like my father.”

Canyon rounded on her. The storm returned.

No way she could’ve known how that flaming arrow had pierced the center target of his soul. Pure adrenaline had shot him through the door
to her home, searching, demanding to see her. When her sister said Roark was out on the grounds, he hunted her down. Though relieved at seeing her alive, he’d wanted to throttle her for not calling.

And now—
now
she compared him to a politician. To her father. The blow hit below the belt.

“Canyon?”

Gorgeous brown eyes peered up at him. Was that hurt? Or confusion? “Wh–what … what did I say?”

He’d been so determined to make sure she was still on this side of paradise, that he hadn’t thought through coming or how seeing her would make him feel.

Range will kill me
.

Dark wavy strands framed an olive-toned face and pinkish lips. He had to get out of here. Before he did something stupid. “Take a ride with me.” Like that.

A smile flitted across her lips. “Yeah, sure.”

He started walking, not trusting himself to talk, and dug the keys from his pocket.

As they passed a ridiculous fountain, she broke the silence he’d created. “Did you really bring the cops?”

“Of course. You gave me your word. When you didn’t call, I took it to mean the worst.” He eyed her.

Her face went slack and a rosiness filled her cheeks, but she said nothing. She’d looked like she was about to say something or like something he said had stunned her. She wasn’t fighting or snapping back. What did that mean?

A shadow dropped over him as they stepped from the crushed gravel path onto the pebbled sidewalk. Canyon glanced up, the ornate home looming over them. Lots of taxpayers had spent years paying for this house. He distinctly remembered her sister saying their father was on a conference call. The last thing Canyon wanted was elbow rubbing with a politician.

“Is there a side way to the front of the house?”

“That way.” She stepped off the path and turned onto another walkway alongside the home.

He should probably say something. But then he’d gotten himself in trouble that way too many times before. Like two minutes ago when he’d asked her to go for a drive. About to round the corner of the house, he heard a door open behind them.

“Danielle?”

No, don’t stop, he silently willed Roark. Pretend you didn’t hear him
.

She stopped. Turned.

Canyon continued a few more paces. Everything in him said to keep going. Don’t show this man that he could control
this
Metcalfe. But Roark … Canyon slowed and shifted, facing the front of the house now but looking back at the father and daughter.

“Where are you going?”

Don’t tell him. Just … let’s go
.

Roark glanced at him, her dark wavy hair glistening in the early sun. “Just out.”

“Mr. Metcalfe, is that you?”

Sucking up his disgust, Canyon nodded. “Senator.”

“What a nice surprise. Is your brother here as well?”

“No, sir.” He would not give this man any information he didn’t need. Besides, he was sure Range would end up hearing it anyway. “If you’ll excuse us …” He started walking.

“Bye, Dad.”

Canyon stalked to the circular drive, keyed into Roark’s steps hustling behind him.

“That was borderline rude.”

He pressed the fob. The Camaro bleeped as the locks disengaged. He held the door open for Roark.

“Nice car. Red—a power statement.” She eased around it and tucked herself into the car.

He shut the door and hurried to the other side. As he opened his door, he caught movement in a far corner window. Senator Roark. Looking down from his pedestal.

Inside, Canyon started the engine and peeled out of the drive. The speed, the sharp corners, helped empty the venom that had dumped into his system at the senator’s intrusion on their morning. Despite keeping his focus on the road, he could also feel Roark’s eyes boring into him.

He didn’t want her quizzing him. “Thought we’d go to the beach.” She’d have to wait a long time to hear the story behind his reaction. That was, if ever.

“Somewhere there’s no stiff-shirted politicians or my father?”

So she understood his basic motives. He’d let her think she had scored a piece of intel on him.

Take her back. You have no business taking her out
.

He slowed as they approached an intersection, backpedaling on this outing. Could he find an excuse that wouldn’t offend her? No. No way.
She’d called him on his treatment of her father. And he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her.

Scrounging for something to say, something to add legitimacy to his being alone with her, he knew he couldn’t mention the conversation he’d had with the Old Man. Too many things were still being meted out. If the team couldn’t secure approval, they wouldn’t go. He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel at the thought of her going into the jungle, without him.

Fifteen minutes of silence delivered them to the beach. He parked and climbed out of the car. By the time he reached her side, she’d already opened the door and planted her feet on the pavement. He held the door all the same.

She gave him a look he couldn’t decipher as they started toward the water. “I didn’t even know you could get to this side of the beach.”

“Most surfers know the quiet spots.”

“You surf then?”

“Every time I can.” He slid his hands into his pockets as they walked the shoreline. “You ever tried it?”

She shook her head. “I prefer being
in
the water, not on top of it.”

He chuckled. “Synchronized swimming?”

With a light backhanded slap, she bristled. “Competitive. Made it to state once. I’ve always wanted to learn to surf, but …” The cool March wind tousled her hair and flipped it into her face. She tucked the strands back as she wrinkled her nose. “Swimming to save my life kind of ruined the water for me though.”

Something strange slid sideways in his gut. “Imagine it would change things for me, too.”

“I doubt you could ride a board as far as I swam.” She laughed. “I make that swim every night in my dreams.”

He heard the opening and debated on pursuing it. Did she want to go there? Could he handle hearing the truth? “Nightmares?”

“Nightmares, daymares. The oddest things trigger them, too. The rattle of keys. A Hispanic person shouting …”

“Are you afraid of going back?”

Roark stopped and stared out over the water. “Terrified.”

“But what if …?” He picked up a twig and snapped it in half, then in fourths. “What if you get a good spec-ops team to go down there with you?”

Derision filled her voice. “Who do you think was with me and my team in the first place?”

“Maybe this new team will be better.” He couldn’t tell her about Nightshade. Not yet. Not unless his follow-up with the Old Man tomorrow night went well.

A disbelieving laugh trickled through the salty air. “Okay. You think that, if it makes you feel better.” They walked for a while along the beach, dodging occasional sunbathers, boards planted in the sand, and kids building a sand castle.

“So, are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Come on. You aren’t that dense.”

“I don’t know,” he said with a chuckle. “Maybe I am.”

“The way you treated my dad.”

Singular focus. She’d come back to his reaction already. Canyon flung the stick pieces to the side. “It’s not something I talk about.”

“I see.”

The hurt in those two little words felt like a meaty wave knocking him from the board. “Sorry, it’s not personal.”

“Wow, that was lame. My father can do better than that.”

Ka-pow
, right in the gut. “Excuse me?”

She stopped and turned to him. The sun sparkled against her eyes, making them appear as pools of melted caramel, like his mom used to make for harvest festivals. “Look, I’ve poured my heart out to you, you’ve seen me cut my wrist, and you came to my house convinced you’d have to rescue me again.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Turnabout’s fair play.”

“I never asked you to pour your heart out to me.” Wow, that was juvenile, even for him.

“I told you all that because …” Her head angled to the side, her gaze dropping to the sand, and she went quiet.

“Because what?”

When she didn’t answer, Canyon grew concerned. Had he missed something? He shuffled closer, touched her arm. “Roark?”

“Never mind.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Besides, I saw the way you reacted when I accused you of being as bad as a politician. Then the way you behaved toward my father—which was quite rude, considering how courteous he was.”