CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The snowball hit Chloe smack in the middle of her butt. She dropped the shovel and came up screaming.
“Ahh. I can’t believe you did that!” She shook off the snow and ducked behind the SUV.
Grinning, Wes slipped behind the oak tree and scooped up snow to rearm himself. For the past half hour they’d been working in tandem to get a path dug to and around the vehicle. They’d also made a path between the trees down to the turn in from the road. Most of her pent-up anger expended in all the physical activity, she’d stopped to clean off the SUV, her ass wiggling to some tune playing in her head. The target was just too tempting.
“You chose the wrong girl to pick on!” she yelled, just as a snowball splatted into the side of the tree level where his head had just been.
“Geez, woman!” He ducked further behind the tree. “Where’d you learn to throw like that?”
“Middle school and high school softball,” she said, sounding way too proud of herself.
He stepped out to take a shot at her, only to be nailed in the middle of his chest with another snowball. “What position did you play?” he asked as he clipped her in the shoulder, only to have another zing past him, missing his head by inches.
“Third base.”
She disappeared behind the car again, probably to make more projectiles. He took the opportunity to move three trees to his right and closer to both the car and cabin.
“Just my luck to be in a battle with a markswoman.”
“You started it!” she yelled and another snowball landed with uncanny accuracy on his left hip.
“What are you psychic, too?” He hurled two more shots her way to keep her undercover then zig-zagged his way to his right. Moving ever closer to the SUV, he stopped behind a thick evergreen.
A moment later a snowball hit the branches above him, covering him with snow as they shook. “No, but then, you’re kind of hard to miss.” She laughed and threw another lob, hitting branches higher than the last and dumping more snow on him. “Especially with that tail wagging.”
“Tail?” He glanced down to see Wöden standing behind him, tail wagging like a happy puppy. “That’s cheating.”
“All’s fair in love and war,” she said with a giggle and darted towards the cabin.
“Oh, no, you don’t.”
Taking a sharper angle, he bolted around the SUV. His path cut her off with one well-placed tackle. Careful not to hurt her, he twisted sideways with his arms wrapped around her, landing them both in the snow they’d worked so hard to pile off to the side of the porch.
“Umph.” All the air rushed out of him as they hit the mound.
“Oh, my God. Are you okay? Did you hit your head?” The concern in her voice touched something deep inside him. When was the last time someone cared if he was hurt?
She tried to inch sideways, but he held her still on top of him as he tried to catch his breath. “Just…a…second,” he finally managed.
Suddenly, a wet tongue lapped at his face and dog breath filled his nostrils. “Ugh! Wöden, quit.”
Chloe giggled, then mercifully patted the wolf-dog on the head moving his muzzle from between them. “It’s okay, Wöden. He’s all right.”
The huge animal studied them, first one, then the other, his tongue hanging out of his slightly open mouth. Wes was afraid he might be considering them as his next meal. Then he shrugged as if to say, humans make no sense, wagged his tail and trotted up onto the porch.
Smiling, Chloe stared down at him. “It’s hard to remember he’s part wild animal right now. He seems more like a playful pup.”
“Don’t let his playfulness fool you. Wolves, especially those used to being on their own, can be vicious when provoked,” he said, reaching up to wipe snow from her cheek.
“Are we talking about Wöden? Or you?” She wiggled her hips slightly, pressing into him
“Don’t tempt me, Chloe,” he warned her.
Her dark eyes widened slightly and she wetted her lips. “Surely, you don’t think I’m a danger, do you Deputy Strong?”
“You, counselor,” he said, sliding his hand beneath the wool scarf she’d tied around her head, and into the short dark strands of her hair, pulling her closer, “are the pure definition of dangerous.”
With very little effort he brought her mouth down to his. The softness in her lips sent heat through him. He slid his tongue between them to play with hers as he crushed her to him with his other arm. No other woman had ever made him lose control as fast as this one did. From the way she kissed him back, lightly biting on his lower lip and cupping his face with her hands, her control was just as fragile.
A gust of wind blew past, dusting them with snow from the roof.
She shivered and broke the kiss. Eyes still closed, she leaned back then opened them to stare down at him, her dark gaze full of heat and desire and something else. Reserve. “I think making out in a post-blizzard snow pile isn’t the wisest thing, do you?”
“Are you suggesting we continue this somewhere warmer?” God, he hoped she was suggesting just that.
“What I think is,” she said, struggling to kneel beside him, “that we, and especially you, need to get inside and into dry clothes before either of us get hyperthermia or pneumonia. Unlike my sister, I don’t like taking care of sick people.”
With a push on his bent knee, she was standing beside him and dusting the snow off her legs and coat—his coat, the one he’d given her the day she flew out of the cabin. Knowing she was comfortable wearing it, made him warm in his chest.
He was still lying in the snow watching her climb the steps when realized what she said as she turned.
“Speaking of sisters, I need to give them a call so they aren’t worrying about me.”
Suddenly, he was scrambling to get off the cold ground and catch her before she got to her bag.
Shit. Her phone.
He’d disabled it last night and hadn’t told her.
Chloe held her phone in one hand and the battery in the other, trying to figure out exactly when Wes had disabled her phone. She should be angry he’d done it. Probably would be angry once she figured out the mystery. Her whole life she’d been a puzzle solver, devoured who-done-it novels from the time she picked up her first Nancy Drew book and followed that passion right into law school.
It hadn’t been today. Her bag had been by her bed all day and he hadn’t been alone with it. In fact, she’d put it by the bed last night. Had he come into the room while she slept and taken it apart? No, she would’ve known, she was sure of it.
The cabin door opened and closed to her right, his body filling her peripheral vision.
“Chloe?” he said, hesitation in his voice.
She held up the hand with the battery in it to silence him. Her head cocked to one side, she continued to concentrate on the phone in her other hand. “What I can’t figure out is when you did it.”
“Last night.”
Slowly, she turned to stare at him. “While I was asleep?”
“Yes and no.”
Anger started to seep through her puzzlement. “Exactly what does that mean?”
“You were sleeping like the dead in my car. Thought it best to do it while you couldn’t complain.” He removed his coat and hat, hung them on the peg next to hers by the door then pulled off his boots, setting them right beside hers. In the kitchen, he turned on the oven and took the thawed venison steaks from the freezer bags. Laying them on a platter, he began covering them with spices, dry mustard and a mixture of olive oil, Worcestershire sauce and the juice of a lime. “The whole point of bringing you here was to get you away from the vicinity of your stalker. The last thing we needed was for him to find you through your phone’s GPS.”
“I understand that. You could’ve just asked me to turn it off.”
“Could’ve. However, even turning off the GPS doesn’t mean it can’t be used to track you. Someone who has the skills or enough money to hire a hacker can reactivate it and still trace where the phone is or has been. I didn’t want to take the chance. The only sure way no one could track you was to remove the battery.”
His casual explanation and damned common-sense approach to the problem of covering her tracks stirred the flames of the ire she’d been keeping restrained. She stormed around the kitchen island and poked him in the chest with the phone.
“So, without my permission or an explanation, you just dismantled my phone, leaving both my sisters with no way to contact me and no knowledge that I’m not dead on the side of the road? And no way for me to be sure they’re safe and sound.”
“They’re safe,” he said matter-of-factly, reaching into the old-fashioned potato bin and pulling out two baking potatoes. He washed them thoroughly, poked holes in them with a fork and put them in the oven.
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Bobby is with Gage. He’ll protect her with his life.”
“True. Just as she would him. But did you forget? Dylan is still in Cincinnati. The exact place my stalker is. How do you know she’s safe? Because I sure as hell don’t.” She turned over the phone and started opening it.
“Don’t,” he said, his hand coming down over hers, stilling her movement. “I told you, your younger sister is safe. You need to leave that shut down.”
She stared into his blue eyes—intense eyes laced with concern and said trust me. “Okay, I’ll leave it alone, but only if you explain to me why you’re so sure Dylan isn’t in danger.”
He released her and pulled two tumblers out of his cabinet. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey they’d shared after the wedding and some ice from the fridge, he filled both with a little of the alcohol. “Because I asked a friend to keep an eye on her.”
Chloe blinked. “You what?”
“When it became apparent to me you were in danger, I figured it might overflow onto your sister. I called in a favor and put Bulldog on her.” He handed her a glass, then went back to the leather couch, sitting down and stretching his feet out in front of the fire.
“You have a bulldog watching my sister?” she asked, coming to perch on the opposite corner of the couch.
“No. Not a bulldog. Bulldog,” he said before sipping his drink.
Chloe cast a dubious look his direction and gritted her teeth. This conversation was like trying to get a hostile witness to tell the truth.
“What or who is Bulldog?”
“Bulldog is one of my former team members.”
“Oh great. You’ve got some super-macho-special ops man following my baby sister around. You do know she’s a doctor and is going to get suspicious if she finds your man constantly in her way. She’ll be reporting she has a stalker.”
“First, Bulldog isn’t following her constantly. He has a unique skill set that makes him perfect for watching your sister.”
“And what’s that?”
“He’s a physician’s assistant trained specifically for surgery.”
Chloe nodded, actually admiring his plan. “That’s a good cover. But how will we keep him from hitting on my sister? You’ve seen her. She’s beautiful, brilliant and funny. She has more than one women-don’t-belong-in-surgery male doctor questioning her abilities because she’s beautiful and a few others who would like to get in her bed. How do you know your man won’t make the situation worse?”
The corner of Wes’s lip lifted. “Bulldog bats for the other team.”
Chloe nearly choked on the whiskey she’d sipped a moment earlier. Wes reached over and patted her back as she sputtered. She inched away, batting at his hand to stop.
“But don’t worry, he looks like his namesake and he’s just as tenacious with killer instincts and skills if necessary. He’ll keep her safe. In fact, we talked while you slept in the car and he reported she was snowed in at the hospital last night.”
Chloe relaxed back into the buttery soft cushions of the sofa and deliberated on all he’d just told her. “So the blizzard went as far south as Cinci?”
“According to Bulldog. By the way, he says your sister is a great surgeon.”
“She should be. She dissected every stuffed animal that came into our home. Bobby taught her how to sew and told her she’d have to be better at putting people back together if she wanted to be a doctor. She was tying surgeon’s knots before she finished middle school.” She took another sip of her drink, the warmth from the whiskey and the heat of the fire relaxing her more. “When can I talk to them?”
“I figure Gage might buy your power being out for at least twenty-four hours, so let’s leave your phone deactivated and tomorrow you can call them both,” he paused and she raised an eyebrow his direction. “You can use my phone.”
“Why did you do it?” she asked.
“Because you were tired and needed to sleep. I needed to be sure no one would find where we were going and track you—”
“No. Not that. I get the whole need to be off the grid thing.” And she did. Heck, she kind of liked not having anyone—no clients, no bosses, no junior associates—texting her non-stop. It was relaxing. “Why did you send Bulldog to protect Dylan?”
He shrugged, as if to say oh that. “I told you. You’re family.”
“Because you consider Gage and Bobby your family, and by extension Dylan and me. So that sort of makes us like what? Your sisters?”
Silently, Wes studied her, his blue eyes growing darker. The air around Chloe thickened and her pulse raced. Slowly he moved closer, taking the glass tumbler from her and setting it on the table behind the sofa.
“Trust me, Chloe,” he said, leaning in to cup her face in his big, warm hands. “No way in hell do I think of you as a sister.”
He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her in a decidedly non-brotherly fashion.