CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Winters was more than aware of Mia curled into the crook of his arm. More than aware of her melodic breaths and the occasional quiet snore that played wrecking ball to his convoluted thoughts. She was beautiful and enticing, guarded and tortured. Hell if he’d let her use her excuses tonight. Heat of the moment, I don’t think so. He didn’t fall for that bullshit. No, when they’d been in bed, they’d been on fire, and it wasn’t just an adrenaline high. He didn’t know what the fuck it was, but it was more than a fast and furious lay, his typical pump and dump.
Warmth continued to roll through him even though she had long since closed her eyes. His tongue was thick, and his jaw was clamped together so tight he should have a headache. Heat of the moment? The accusation killed him.
He had her earlier, in a way he’d never experienced before. Sex, yeah, that was fantastic. But it was iced with a little something more. Something with a flash and bang to it. The hell of it was he wanted more. Like an addiction. And then in the shower… What did he expect going in there with her? He was short a condom, and only by some amazing grace did she give him release. Even now, he craved Mia again. Once wasn’t enough. Twice wasn’t either.
He should have put them in the car, driving to Virginia. But there wasn’t a chance of kick starting the road trip again if she wanted to sleep next to him. She was his for the moment, all gathered up in his arms like an innocent angel.
He smiled, remembering her panic in the bathroom. It took him a stupid second to realize he wanted her fast asleep in his arms. That realization shocked him clear out of his towel. Her adorable face was alarmed, and she tried, in vain, to scurry away from him in bed. It was cute to watch her try but far more fun to ease her worry.
This was a memory to keep. A memory to store for dark days when he needed hope and belief to survive. He was smart enough to know once in a lifetime when it smacked him across the face.
Winters eyed the oversized fuel and food signs passing on the highway. “Coffee?”
“No.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Nope.”
Daybreak turned into harsh afternoon glare, bearing down at him through the windshield. Hours passed in the trashed-up car, and other than a sideways glance, Mia had all but disconnected herself from him like he was a plague-infected pariah. He was ready to pop red smoke and call in for an extraction team. What the fuck did I do wrong?
She was distracted, disengaged, and detached. More focused on the passing scenery and overhead road signs than any amicable gesture he lobbed at her. He could’ve sung show tunes a cappella, and she wouldn’t have noticed.
Shit. He didn’t know the first thing about the morning after. And, as by evidence of her withdrawal from him, he didn’t always ace everything he tried. So much for thinking he was a stud.
What did it matter if the woman didn’t live for his every thought? So what if she wasn’t hungry? For food or for him. What did he even want from her anyway? Doe-eyed looks or good morning, let’s-go-again kisses? Well, he got none of those. Just a curt good morning, and a very matter of fact re-dressing in her dirty, torn clothes. He chuckled. She did a hell of a job piecing her shirt back together. If she hadn’t been so formal, teetering around like a proper marm, he might have told her so.
“Are you going to tell me what I did that was so wrong?” He scrubbed his hand over his face, hating that he even asked.
“You didn’t do anything.”
“Yet, here we are. One-syllable answers and the silent treatment. You don’t seem like the type to play games, Mia.” He paused, waiting for any sign of life. “I’m glad to see the glacial attitude has returned.”
Sarcasm wasn’t helpful, but screw it. He exited the highway. The last chance for fast food would be a passing memory in seconds.
“I’m not. Look, Colby…never mind. Nothing is wrong. I’m just tired.” She shrugged and dug at her fingernail like her life depended on it.
“I call bullshit, but you can fess up to me later or tell me why you’re ignoring me. Either way, you’ll tell me.”
She didn’t say anything. Her hands were crossed in her lap, and if he didn’t know any better, she was a tight squeeze away from white-knuckled.
Winters let her ignore him. It gave him time to plan his afternoon with Titan. They had a shit ton to hash out, starting with the NOC list and ending with Mia’s sweet ass no longer in the line of danger.
He barreled down the familiar roads, tapping the steering wheel. Her safety was paramount, and there was nothing they could do to protect her without engaging the enemy. They needed to cut the head off the beast, not deal with the pansy teams that kept up their mediocre attacks.
He cleared his throat. “You’ve got about five seconds, Mia, to fess up. Three. Two. One. All right, we’ll talk later.”
The car slowed, and they pulled up to a brick fenced property with a wrought iron gate. Old, thick trees lined the property, and a green canopy was draped over the driveway. It was nice to be home, but even better that she was there with him. Though that struck him as odd since she hadn’t strung a sentence together with more than three words in it since she fell asleep in his arms the night before.
“When you said home, did you mean estate?” Mia’s jaw hung open.
“The good guy business pays well. I like my privacy, and it’s safe.”
“I can tell.” Her jaw still gaped.
It would’ve been a lie if he denied the masculine pride coursing through him at her reaction. She was impressed and, for the first time when it came to a woman, he cared.
“You can make yourself comfortable while I meet with the team for a while. I promise you, there’s nowhere safer. And my mom will whip up a mean meal. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes. The works. You can meet Clara.” He snuck a glance at Mia. Open up a little, would you? He shook his head. Now, he sounded like a whiny teenage girl. Awesome. “Are you overwhelmed yet?”
“No. Not overwhelmed. Just do what you need to do so I can get back to my life. Please.”
He shook his head again. Her life would never be the same for the simple fact that she’d been kidnapped, and she saw violence firsthand. She was a psychologist. She should know that. That stuff messed with minds. He lived through it all the time, and it was a heavy, dark burden.
“I’ll get it figured out.”
Winters rolled up to the front of the white colonial house. His mom opened the door with a baby on her hip, waving the young child’s arm. She was mouthing hellos for Clara toward the car, but the baby looked more interested in tearing her silver-haired bun out of place.
He caught Mia cringing, and her hands ran the length of her thighs. “Oh God, Colby. This is a bad idea. Horrible. I don’t even have shoes on. What is your mother going to think? I’ve worn these clothes for days. I can’t let her see me like this. I can’t let anyone see me like this.”
“Well, you can’t hide in the car. And she won’t care. Hell, she won’t even notice.”
“Of course she’ll notice. I’m not wearing shoes. My shirt is basically scotch taped together. Anyone would notice.”
“This is the most you’ve said in hours. Since you woke up.”
A flush crossed her cheeks. All he wanted was for her to lean into him. To kiss him. He wanted her to stop torturing him. That wasn’t too much to ask.
She was the therapist. Maybe she compartmentalized or whatever. Boxed up their night and forgot about it. Other than the blush on her face and neck, Mia didn’t seem the least interested in him or having another go at it in the future. It was infuriating.
Unable to hold back, his hand glanced off her pink cheek with a caress. Something he was getting much better at since they’d met. She was so soft, and whether she’d acknowledge him as a man or not, he couldn’t stop from stroking her.
He took her hand, squeezed it, then got out of the car. He kissed his mom on the cheek and swept the baby into his arms, holding her up over his head. Clara giggled and kicked in excitement. Her blonde curls and smile warmed his heart every time.
He heard Mia walk up from behind him. Her bare feet shuffled on a few loose stones on the driveway, and her arms wrapped across her stomach.
“Mom, this is Mia. Mia, my mom.” Winters made the introductions, momentarily ignoring both women and focusing on Clara. It’d been far too long since he held her. It was an automatic; he held the baby, and the world sank away. His eyes slipped shut, and he drank in Clara’s hug, her innocent scent of shampoo and baby powder.
After a long hug, he saw his mother extend her hand to Mia, confusion and surprise on her face. Funny how similar the expression was to when he knocked on his mom’s door, baby in tow.
“Mia, nice to meet you. You can call me Judith.”
Judith flashed an inquisitive eye at her son, having never met any client or woman in his life before. Most certainly not at his house, with his daughter. A flush heated his face, imperceptible to anyone but his mother. He wasn’t a mama’s boy. Never had been. But their relationship had changed to friend-like, or even mentor-mentee, after he arrived on her doorstep, holding a baby two-handed like she was a nuclear bomb, and kicking along the bag of diapers Child Protective Services gave him.
He had been terrified. And his mother, bless her heart, didn’t call him on it. She simply started to help. She could diaper the hell out of a baby, showing him that while it seemed duct tape was the only way a diaper would stay secure, the tabs on the side did just fine.
She knew Titan Group skirted the edge of legal. She knew that he was in danger each time he left for a job. He told her as much. But hell, he’d made some major changes after Clara arrived. Decisions were now made on more than mission-critical information. He had to base them on a baby. He had to get home to Clara at the end of each op. He had to establish routines and schedules. And he had to plan for a babysitter. It was comical. Shopping for formula and smashed peas while wearing tactical gear was quite possibly his latest favorite pastime. The looks he got were nothing short of alarmed. If he were feeling particularly in need of a laugh, he’d smear on camouflage face paint.
Nothing in his life had been stable until Clara came along. And even now, stable was a stretch. But for Clara’s sake, he did what he could to provide her a settled home. And his mother was his saving grace.
She didn’t appear to notice Mia’s bare feet or tattered clothes. But, oh, he knew better. She was discreet. That was for sure. The woman didn’t miss a beat. Lord only knew what she thought, and he was certain to hear about it later. Would she go the interrogation route, or infiltrate behind enemy lines, asking Mia subtle questions?
Maybe he should have placed a warning phone call. Right now, that was a blinding flash of obviousness. Too late. He hadn’t wanted to do that in front of Mia, and after everything that happened the last time he left Mia alone to call home, he sure as shit wasn’t going to do that again.
With the baby on his hip, Winters watched Mia stand next to his mother. His mom’s head tilted a degree sideways. One eyebrow raised slight enough so that only he noticed. It was a warning sign of the impending Q & A session.
Mia, on the other hand, had to work her blinkers and fight off her wide-eyed observation of him and Clara. Her demeanor made him uncharacteristically warm and hazy. Or was that fuzzy? It was such a bizarre feeling. He couldn’t define it.
“Mom, would you mind cooking up some lunch? I’m dying for something home cooked, and I think Mia could use a real meal. I think she’s had a bag of pretzels in the past twenty four hours.”
Mia’s face flushed. “Oh, I can help. I don’t need to be tended to—”
“You’d never know it, but Mia’s been shot at a few times, not to mention a nasty bout with some tear gas. Though that was my fault.” Truth be told, he was proud of his girl for taking it like she did. Winters winked at Mia but still spoke to his mom. “I think she could use some of your famous cooking. And, Mia, you need to rest. I’m going to need your help later. So eat, then sleep. I have to head out for a while, but we’ll take care of it all. Is that okay?”
Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again, but nothing came out. Her fingers touched her lips, a gesture as lost as the words she couldn’t find. She shuffled a bare foot back and forth on the driveway, then nodded. Pebbled rocks bent to the will of her painted toes.
His mom started back into the house. “Colby, I’ll let you get your friend settled, and I’ll be in the kitchen. I might have some clothes that’ll fit, Mia, if you want. I’ll leave them at the foot of the stairs. I’m sure Colby will direct you to the nearest shower.”
“Yes, thank you.” She smiled, conveying her appreciation.
Winters balanced Clara on his hip, and, with his free hand, took Mia’s chin, directing her gaze to him. His stare tracked her, despite Clara’s every attempt to remove his sunglasses. “You need to relax. You’re not an imposition or a headache. If anything, you’re a pleasant surprise.”
“Pleasant isn’t how I’d describe myself right now.” She swallowed hard enough that he could see it. Her fingers pleated the bottom of her torn-and-repaired shirt.
“Here I go. I’m an old MP3 stuck on repeat. What’s wrong?”
Mia sucked her bottom lip and remained quiet. Had she been through interrogation resistance training?
“All right, doll. I’m going to show you around. You have the roam of the place, comfy bed, and a hot shower. Mom will stay here with Clara while I’m gone. She’s more than happy to help you with anything you want. Really, she’s easygoing. I promise.”
Winters dropped his hand from her chin and interlaced his fingers with hers. Clara squealed and grasped at the rough hair on his face. With a lesser degree of hesitation in her drudging gait, Mia followed him into the house and into an expansive foyer with marble floors and rich colored wallpaper. She immediately eyed his security system panel next to the front door and security cameras.
“Don’t let it bother you. It’s for safety and protection. I can be paranoid about my family’s safety. I’m a big believer in ‘you can never be too careful’.”
“Colby?”
He turned to face her, squeezing her hand tight. “Yeah?”
Mia sighed, but it sounded like the nervous whimper of a scared puppy. A scared, cute puppy. “I don’t do family well. I don’t have one. I don’t know how to handle one. I—uh—can’t remember the last time I held a man’s hand, walking around his house, with his mom in the kitchen.” Mia’s palm went clammy in his hand. Her gaze bounced round the room, maybe looking for an escape route.
Well, shit. That was her problem? Never in a million years would he have guessed that. But he’d keep that to himself.