Whispers in the Dark

Nathan played along, grinning his delight over being afforded privacy. He made the appropriate jokes about getting away for a few days, took the keys and then hurried back out to Shea.



The road leading back to the cabins was narrow and dusty. The moon shimmered over the water, reminding him of home. In other circumstances, he’d be thrilled to be on the lake. Throw back a few beers with his brothers. Do a little fishing. Be lazy and talk about old times.



In truth he wasn’t looking forward to a reunion with his brothers. They were going to be understandably pissed that he’d taken off. Not just taken off on his own, but appropriated a KGI jet in the process. Yeah, Sam was going to have a kitten over that one.



But if they could help him keep Shea safe, he’d take whatever ass kicking they wanted to dole out.



He parked behind the cabin so the jeep was out of sight. Then he gathered his gear, motioned for Shea to get out, and they headed toward the dark cabin.



Soon they were inside. It was a little musty but otherwise clean. It had all the basics, but Nathan didn’t plan to be here long enough to worry over whether the kitchen was stocked.



His first priority was to see to Shea. She looked shell-shocked. Her eyes were glazed, whether in pain or confusion, he wasn’t sure.



“You need to hit the shower,” he told her. “I need to take a look at those cuts. One of them looks pretty bad.”



She lifted the backpack that contained the new clothes they’d purchased and shuffled toward the bathroom. Exhaustion and adrenaline letdown radiated from her. Imminent crash. He saw it coming a mile away.



He followed her inside the bathroom and found her sitting on the closed toilet seat, her shoulders sagging. She looked so damn vulnerable, but he knew her to be anything but. Okay, so maybe she was vulnerable, but she definitely wasn’t a shrinking violet. She was a big surprise in a little package. Fierce and unafraid to get the job done.



His admiration for her grew with every passing minute he spent with her.



He tossed his bag onto the counter and then knelt in front of her, gathering her hands in his. “You okay?”



She nodded. “I will be. I promise. I’m not freaking out on you, Nathan.”



He smiled. “I never thought you were. Can you take that shirt off? I need to get a look at those cuts. You caught several shards to the back as well. Cut ribbons into your shirt.”



She glanced up in surprise and then tried to turn to look over her shoulder. It didn’t surprise him that she didn’t realize the extent of the cuts. She likely hadn’t felt a thing at the time. But now that she was coming down, she would start feeling the discomfort.



Carefully he peeled away her shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her breasts bobbed free of constraint, soft and so plush. He stood and glanced down her back, relieved to see only knicks and shallow cuts along her shoulder blades.



There was one cut in the curve of her neck, running over the ridge of her neck. That was the one he suspected needed stitches. The rest could be cleaned, medicated and allowed to heal without dressing.



“You’ll be okay taking a shower on your own?”



She gave him a disgruntled look and then waved him away.



“When you get out, stay undressed long enough for me to take care of those cuts.”



She nodded and rose to turn on the shower. Taking his cue, he left the bathroom and went into the living room to call his brothers.



He turned on his cell phone, ignoring the cacophony of notifications of voice mails, missed calls and text messages. Still, the most recent message, from Joe, caught his eye and he clicked to read the full text.



You’re pissing me off, bro. We’ve never worked like this. You’re holding out on me. Since when did we ever keep shit from each other?



Joe was right, and it didn’t make Nathan feel any better to know he’d hurt his twin. Joe might sound all pissed off, but deep down he was hurt over Nathan’s avoidance and, worse, his refusal to tell Joe what was going on.



He sighed. It would end now, but it might not be enough to make up for the last months in his brother’s eyes. It had taken him the entire drive to work up the nerve and figure out exactly what he wanted to say and in the end, he still didn’t know how to explain it all. He had to just believe his brothers would take his word on faith.



He punched in Sam’s number, irritated with how nervous it made him to make that call.



“It’s about goddamn time,” Sam snapped as he answered the phone. “What’s going on, Nathan? Are you all right? And where’s my goddamn plane?”



Nathan grinned at the pissiness in Sam’s voice, because despite the anger, there was a deep thread of worry and relief coming through loud and clear. He thought of all the things he’d decided to say, but the only thing that came to his lips was the simple truth.



“I…I need your help, Sam.”



“Was that so goddamn hard?”



Nathan’s brow wrinkled. “What the hell are you talking about?”



Sam sighed. “Was it so goddamn hard to ask your family for help?”



“Look, I know I’ve been difficult. I’m sorry.”



“I don’t give a shit about that. Tell me what you need. Are you okay?”



“I’m fine. Really. But Shea’s not. She—we—need help.”



There was a long silence. “And Shea is…?”



“She saved me, Sam. She’s the one who sent Van the emails. I can’t even go into all she did for me. You’d never believe me anyway. But she’s in trouble and we need help.”



“Tell me where you are,” Sam said sharply.



“In a cabin on Lake Talawa. About eleven miles south of the Oregon border. Last cabin on the path past the sign for the campsites. Place is called Wilderness Camping ‘with all the modern conveniences,’ or something like that.”



“Sit tight. And don’t move.”



The line went dead and Nathan ruefully put the phone down. Just like Sam. Few words. To the point. And always with the orders.



He fiddled with the phone for a moment, contemplating the urge to call Joe. Guilt weighed heavily on him. The one person he should have called first was the one person who’d have to receive the news from Sam.



He tossed aside the phone again because what the hell was he supposed to say? Joe would have to understand. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t, but right now Nathan’s focus was on Shea. It had to be. Shea didn’t have the support network that Nathan had. She had no one. Just him and, by proxy, his family.



The bathroom door opened and Shea padded out, a towel wrapped around her slender body. In that moment he felt like the biggest asshole on earth because he wasn’t thinking about tending her cuts. All he could think about was pulling the towel away and wrapping himself around her as tightly as he could.



His dick agreed because, as she neared him, it swelled painfully against his jeans.



She stopped in front of him and then moved into his space, positioning herself between his splayed knees. She was so close, he could smell the scent of her soap. Light and floral. He leaned in closer, inhaling as his mouth hovered just above where the towel covered her breasts.



He touched her legs and then ran his hands up her thighs underneath the towel until he cupped her rounded bottom. Only when he glanced higher to see the ragged edge of the more serious cut on her shoulder did he let his hands fall.



“You make me forget what I’m supposed to be doing.”



She leaned toward him, allowing the towel to slip the barest amount. If anything, it made her look even more alluring and vulnerable, standing before him, her eyes soft, her curves barely hidden by the scrap of damp material barely clinging to her body.



Her lips hovered just above his as she stared down at him. And then she pressed her mouth to his. Warm. A shock to his senses.



She framed his face in her hands, and it took him a moment to realize that the towel had slipped down her body and pooled at her feet.



Oh hell. A warm, lush, naked woman coming on to him? Nothing in the military had prepared him for an onslaught like this. The never-surrender thing went right out the window, and he started waving the white flag like a dog wagging his tail.



Her back bowed inward as she pressed her breasts forward until his chin was buried in the valley. Her fingers trailed through his hair and then she pulled him upward to meet her lips once more.



Damn it, he was trying to do the right thing here.



He reached up to catch her hands. “Shea, baby, I need to bandage those cuts. Put some antibiotic ointment on them or something.”



She pulled away from him and stared down with eyes drenched in emotion. Need. Pulling at him until it was impossible to deny her anything at all.



“I need you,” she whispered. “I was so scared today, Nathan. I’m still scared. I’m sick with worry. Right now I need you to love me. I need you to touch me so I’ll feel safe again. Being with you eases me in a way I can’t explain.”



He was at a loss to describe how affected he was by her words. She needed him. Yes, she needed protection. Someone to help her, to care about her. But it was more than that. She looked at him like he was the only man she saw, as if there was no one else who could do for her what she wanted and needed.



Scarred, worn, his sanity questionable, and she wanted him still.



He pulled her against him, enjoying the sensation of her bare flesh against him. He loved her smell. How silky her skin felt against his fingers. How she was plump in all the right places. He loved every curve and swell. How delicate she appeared and yet she was a force to be reckoned with.



The perfect package. Far too perfect for someone as damaged as he was. Even as he recognized the disparity between them, he wanted her. He had to have her. She completed him in a way no one ever had or would, and so he held on to her, because the thought of being without her was another kind of hell. Worse than being held captive and tortured.



He rubbed his cheek along the top of her breast, before nuzzling down to her nipple. He tugged it between his teeth and gently sucked until it formed a turgid point on his tongue.



He loved the way she melted into his body. Loved the way she fit him. She made the most beautiful, erotic sounds. Every little gasp and moan had him so hard that he could barely breathe. Hell, he’d give up breathing if she would keep making those sweet sounds of contentment.



She ran her hands over his shoulders and then gently pulled away. Her nipple slipped from his mouth, wet and glistening, puckered and straining forward, a temptation for him to latch back on.



“Undress for me,” she said, her voice as silky as her skin. “I want to see you. You have such a beautiful body.”



He shook as he stood. He’d never felt so unsteady on his feet. Her words soaked into the darkest parts of his soul, bringing light that chased the shadows away.



He’d come home feeling ugly. Tarnished. Not the same man who’d left. He felt…dirty. Unworthy. Not just on the surface. The scars were the tangible results of his shame. But deeper, below those scars, lay the self-loathing and doubt. But with Shea, he felt…whole. He didn’t feel the shame that so frequently pulled at him. Or the frustration over the anxiety and panic that still plagued him at the most unexpected times.



With her, he felt like he was on top of the fucking world. Like he was her damn hero. Like he mattered.



He loved her for that. God, yes, he loved her, and if that didn’t fuck everything up, he didn’t know what did.



“What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.



He caught her gaze, saw that she was staring up at him intently. It puzzled him because she always seemed so in tune with his thoughts. She resided in his mind as well as his heart, and yet she stared at him as if she truly didn’t know the direction of his thoughts. Hell, maybe they were too scattered for even her to sort out.



“I…” No, he couldn’t tell her that yet. He’d sound as crazy as everyone thought he was.



He could think it. He could act on it. But saying it aloud made him feel so goddamn vulnerable. Shaken. And scared. Hell yes, scared. Not things he wanted to experience again.



Instead he began to undress, his gaze holding hers. He may not be able to say the words, but he could tell her with his eyes. His hands. His mouth and his body. He wasn’t worth a damn with words anyway. He much preferred action.



He pulled his shirt off first and tossed it across the room. He fumbled with his fly next, his fingers clumsily glancing off the button. He bent as he rolled the denim down and picked up one leg and then the other to kick out of the jeans.



When he straightened, the hunger in her gaze gave him a jolt. She boldly stared, caressing as though she were physically touching him. No inch of his body was spared her scrutiny, but this time he didn’t shy away. He didn’t try to hide from her.



There was no revulsion in her eyes, only lust. Desire. And something deeper that he didn’t dare speculate on.



She stepped closer so their bodies touched. Then she placed her palms over his chest and rubbed lightly up to his shoulders and then down his arms, her fingers glancing over the ridges of his muscles.