CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hunt’s plan was already backfiring. Ten minutes in the air, and Hunt knew agreeing to let Kelsey accompany him on this quick trip to California had “bad news” written all over it.
She hadn’t done anything wrong, she hadn’t said anything wrong. He just didn’t like how close she was in the cramped cabin of the small plane. And he definitely didn’t like that citrusy scent he kept picking up every time she moved. The one that left him light-headed and completely distracted him from the reason he was on this damn plane in the first place.
Since the flight had been last-minute, they’d been stuck with whatever seats they could get—two in the back of coach. He’d spent most of the two-hour flight reading e-mails and writing replies on his phone, doing anything he could to keep his hands and mind occupied so it wouldn’t wander to the woman flipping through a magazine at his side. But he knew he’d failed miserably when he had to retype an e-mail to Alec for the fifth time, explaining where the hell he was taking his friend’s little sister.
“What if your family gets home while you’re gone?” Hunt asked, sending the last e-mail to his outbox as they started their descent into Palm Springs.
“Then they get home before me.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said with a frown. “What are you going to tell them if they get back before us?”
“The same thing I always do when it comes to them,” she answered absently, flipping a page in her magazine without looking his way. “Whatever the hell I want.”
She’d been full of sass ever since he’d tried to talk to her in her loft after the nightmare with Benedict. He was sure some of that snarky attitude was spurred on by anger she was still feeling toward him because of Gen. But another part of him wondered if this was all a mask. If pulling out the tough-girl Kelsey image he often saw her use with her brothers was her way of proving to him she was strong and resilient and didn’t need anyone all because he’d witnessed her at one of her most vulnerable moments.
His frustration with her waned as he looked at her sitting next to him in her designer white slacks and trendy blue blouse, her blonde hair falling straight and sleek around her face as she continued to flip through her magazine. He already knew she was strong and resilient. Anyone who’d lived through what she had, not just in her childhood but with Benedict, couldn’t have come out sane on the other side if they weren’t resilient as hell. Why did she feel like she had to prove that to people? Why couldn’t she just relax and be herself?
She’d been herself with him in the rubble, he realized, thinking back to their conversations in the dark. She hadn’t hidden her fear then, hadn’t pretended to be hard as steel as she was doing now. Even when she’d come to him later that night in his bedroom, when he’d opened his eyes to see her standing in the doorway, and he’d realized she hadn’t wanted to be alone, she’d been herself. Nervous, yeah, but soft around the edges and without all the barriers she had up now, willing to let him see a glimpse of the sweet and special woman she was inside.
He liked that woman. Liked her a lot. And every time he thought about that woman, he couldn’t help but remember the way she’d felt pressed against him—warm and curvy and perfect—and just how hot it had been when she’d pressed her lips to his and kissed him.
She glanced sideways at him, her brow dropping. “What?”
“What do you mean, what?”
“You have a weird look on your face. Are you feeling all right, Hunter? You’re not about to get sick, are you? Should I call for a barf bag? I might have agreed to this little trip, but I did not agree to play nursemaid.”
He frowned again because her snark was back stronger than ever. Looking toward the seatback in front of him, he gripped his phone and told himself that was a good thing. It would keep him from doing something stupid while they were on this trip. It would definitely keep him from kissing her again.
Except, now all he could think about was how he could coax the real her out from beneath all that armor. And if he succeeded in doing that, then all guarantees meant nothing, because there was no way he could resist the real Kelsey McClane if she decided to show herself.
As they unloaded from the plane, made their way through the airport to grab their bags, and rented a car, Kelsey didn’t miss the fact Hunt did just about anything to keep from looking at her.
She wasn’t sure what to make of that. Was he upset by the joke she’d made on the plane? Angry she’d tagged along on this trip? Frustrated she wouldn’t sit back at his beach house and wait as he’d told her to do? She didn’t think any of those things could be causing his mood, but she couldn’t be sure. Hunter O’Donnell was still a mystery to her. One she told herself not to try to figure out, but which her brain couldn’t seem to ignore.
Questions spun through her mind as he climbed into the driver’s seat beside her, typed in the address on the GPS, and clicked his seatbelt. “I’m going to drop you at the hotel first so you ca—”
“No dropping me anywhere,” she said, realizing he was trying to brush her aside already. Just like her brothers. Just like Julian. “We came down here to surprise Foster. We’re going out to his place first. We’ll check into the hotel later.”
Hunt frowned as he slid on his sunglasses but was careful not to meet her gaze as he glanced over his shoulder and backed out of the space. “I really don’t think that’s a good ide—”
“I don’t care if you think it’s a good idea or not. I’m the client. I get what I want.”
He glanced sideways at her. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his sleek Ray-Bans, but the clench to his jaw told her loud and clear he wasn’t happy. Too bad. She wasn’t particularly happy at the moment either.
“I’m not your enemy, Kelsey. I’m here to help you.” Glancing back toward the windshield, he maneuvered the vehicle out of the parking structure. “Sometimes it’s okay to let people help you, you know. It’s even okay to ask for help.”
His comment made her spine stiffen. She knew that. Why was he telling her that? She didn’t need a lecture from him.
She crossed her arms over her chest as they left the parking structure, refusing to answer that comment. Late-afternoon sunshine shone through the windows. Desert mountains rose around the Coachella Valley, and palm trees lined the streets. Kelsey loved the green of Oregon, but she could see how appealing the warmth of the desert could be. It was beautiful with its vibrant colors and jagged peaks. Beautiful and calming in a way she hadn’t expected.
Her gaze strayed to Hunt beside her as they left the city, and a twinge of guilt passed through her for the way she’d been treating him. Was that what was eating at him? Her bitchy attitude? She had been pretty hard on him lately. But he’d hurt her with that whole girlfriend thing. She had every right to be upset about that. Any woman would be.
Except he’d said the woman wasn’t his girlfriend. And you even admitted to yourself he might have been telling the truth.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and looked out the passenger window at the tumbleweed blowing by. She didn’t like being a bitch. It didn’t make her feel good. But she liked being taken advantage of even less. There was only one way to find out the truth.
She focused on a mountaintop far in the distance. “So your girlfriend the other morning—”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“So you said. But she called herself your girlfriend when you were in the lobby with her, and you didn’t correct her.”
From the corner of her vision, she saw the way he tensed. But he didn’t turn to look at her, and she made more than sure she didn’t look at him either. Was afraid if she did she wouldn’t be able to get through his conversation.
“Gen is not my girlfriend,” he said calmly.
“Then what is she?”
“Nothing. Nothing more than a fling. She’s a flight attendant. We met on a trip and hooked up a few times. That’s it.”
“That’s it?” Kelsey didn’t buy that. She’d seen the woman. She’d been busty and built and had “sure thing” written all over her.
“Yes, that’s it. I’m not dating her. Last time I saw her was three months ago. We weren’t serious.”
“Not serious? And she just conveniently shows up at your apartment at four in the morning?”
“I told her not to come down. I broke things off with her. Neither of us has ever been serious about the other. She dated lots of guys besides me.”
“When?”
“When what?”
“When did you break things off with her?”
He shifted in his seat and gripped the wheel tighter. But he still didn’t look at her, and the tick in his jaw answered her question long before he did. “When she called to check on me.”
“After the bombing,” she guessed. “When I was at your apartment.”
When he didn’t respond, another wave of stupidity washed over her. She focused on a fence post, calling herself a complete moron for even entertaining the idea—again—that he was different. “I see.”
The vehicle slowed, and Hunt pulled to the side of the road. Shoving the car into “Park,” he turned to look at her. And even though she could tell from his expression that he was ticked, she still didn’t look at him. Couldn’t, because it just made her feel more stupid.
“Look,” he said in a way that told her he was working to stay calm, “I didn’t plan what happened between you and me. And I didn’t officially break things off with Gen earlier that night in the hopes something would happen between us. If you remember, you’re the one who came to my room. Not the other way around.”
Her face heated with both embarrassment and mortification. She tightened her arms across her chest. “I remember. And you don’t have to bring that up now. Can we just go, please?”
“No, we can’t.” He tugged off his sunglasses and pinned her with very focused, very serious brown eyes. “I know you’re mad at me, but I didn’t set out to hurt you. Yes, Gen called me earlier in the evening and said she wanted to come down. I told her no, not because of you, but because I wasn’t interested. And I broke things off with her over the phone because I realized I’d let things drag on way too long, even if it was nothing more than a casual fling. She didn’t listen, obviously, but that doesn’t change the facts. She was not who I wanted to be with that night. You were. And not because I was trying to score or get lucky or take advantage of you, but because I really like spending time with you. When you’re not ready to bite my head off, you’re sweet and compassionate and real. Qualities I don’t see a whole lot of in my job. And when you actually drop your guard and let me see the real you for five damn minutes, you make me absolutely cr—”
The abrupt end to his rant brought her head around. Her stomach tightened as she stared at him in his white button-down rolled up to his elbows, loose khaki pants, and casual boots, wondering why he’d stopped. Wondering even more what he’d been about to say. “It makes you what?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“Nothing.” He shoved his sunglasses on and quickly shifted into “Drive,” pulling back onto the highway with a sputter of gravel. “Forget I even said anything.”
Silence filled the car. A silence she should have been thankful for. Only she wasn’t. Because in the silence, everything he’d just said was suddenly swirling in her brain, mixing with what she’d seen in his eyes just before he’d looked away.
Honesty. She’d seen absolute honesty in those deep-brown irises. He liked her. He really liked her. Maybe not the bitchy her, but the real her. The one she didn’t let many people get close to. But on the heels of that honesty, she’d also seen fear. A great big giant dose of it that had caused him to pull way back before he’d said something he might later regret.
Her pulse picked up speed. Her skin grew hot. Knowing he was scared—of her—set off a weird tremor deep inside her. One she didn’t understand or particularly like. One that made her rethink everything she’d said to him over the last day—the last few days that had brought them to this point.
“I don’t know what we’ll run into out here,” Hunt said, his voice once more even as he turned the vehicle onto a gravel road. “So if I say stay in the car, I mean stay in the car.”
He was back in security mode. Their earlier conversation was over, which should relieve her, only it didn’t. All she could think about now was what he’d said, what he’d been about to say, and why a strong, take-charge guy like him could ever be scared of a weak, nobody woman like her. “I will.”
He glanced sideways at her, his jaw tight, and even though she couldn’t see his eyes she knew they were filled with skepticism.
“This is your area of expertise.” Releasing her arms, she folded her hands in her lap. “I’ll just sit in the car and wait until you tell me otherwise.”
He frowned and focused on the road once more, but he didn’t respond. And in the silence, she knew he was waiting for a pithy retort, but she didn’t have one. She didn’t want to have one. What she wanted was more of the easygoing, relaxed relationship they’d had during the bombing, when he’d made her feel safe even though she’d been in the most dangerous moment of her life.
“What did Davies find in the background check on this guy?” she asked, working for casual and real. He was right. She didn’t let people see the real her very often. She didn’t want to hide from him anymore. “I’m assuming you already read through that on your phone? I don’t think you’d be heading out here without knowing what you’re walking into.”
He didn’t immediately answer, and she glanced his way, afraid he was still angry. His jaw was definitely still tight, his shoulders tense, but his voice sounded calm, even a little surprised when he said, “CBG Industries is a multitiered conglomerate that runs a number of different businesses. Foster worked for the company in a low-level management position for twenty-two years before retiring here.”
“In what business?”
“Oil and gas. He managed a distribution center that coordinated trucking deliveries to fuel stations.”
He slowed the vehicle and made a right-hand turn onto another gravel road. “Callahan also got back to me. The FBI confirmed the bomb was parked in a truck outside the TV station’s building. It wasn’t big, which is why it didn’t do as much damage as it could have. But it was a smaller version of the kind McVeigh used in Oklahoma City, made up of fertilizer, chemicals and—”
“Diesel fuel,” she finished on a tight breath.
He glanced her way. “You know about bombs?”
“I read the news. I also went to college and remember studying the Oklahoma City bombing. Did you tell Callahan what you learned about Foster?”
“Yeah. I texted him when we landed. Which means the FBI will be here in a matter of minutes if they aren’t already. I want a look at the guy before they get ahold of him.”
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. This guy could be—probably was—dangerous. Staying back at the hotel might not have been a bad idea.
Hunt slowed the vehicle as they approached a short gravel driveway. The house was set back a good twenty yards from the road, more like a dilapidated old cabin than a home. There were no trees surrounding the aged structure in the middle of the desert, no yard either. Nothing but scrub brush and waist-high, yellow weeds. In the driveway sat a beat-up pickup truck that looked as if it hadn’t run in years.
He parked the car on the side of the road, glancing all around them for signs of life. They were in the middle of nowhere—no other homes within sight, no buildings or trees or even bushes big enough for anyone to hide behind.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” he muttered.
It didn’t to her either. Maybe Davies had given them the wrong address.
He popped the driver door. “Climb over here. If anyone drives up while I’m gone, or you hear anything strange, get the hell out of here.”
And leave him? He didn’t know her too well if he thought she’d bail like that.
As he climbed out of the vehicle, she slid over the console and dropped into the driver’s seat. He checked the magazine of the 9mm he’d tucked into a holster at his lower back before they’d climbed in the rental car and snapped it closed.
Nerves shot all through her belly as she gripped the steering wheel. “How long will you be gone?”
“Hopefully only a few minutes.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes. He kept checking their surroundings, looking for any kind of threat. “Stay here. Keep the doors locked. I’ll call you on your cell if it’s safe.”
She swallowed hard, not because she was afraid, but because she didn’t like this tension between them. Tension she’d created by jumping to conclusions and being so distrusting.
“Hunt.” She wrapped her fingers around his hand before he could take a full step away, pulling him to a stop.
He glanced down at her through mirrored sunglasses that completely hid his eyes from view, preventing her from knowing what he was thinking, but the flex to his jaw screamed of discomfort. “What?”
Her stomach tightened. She was not good at apologizing. Or leaning on people. Or letting people in. “I’m sorry. For jumping to conclusions. I should have asked instead of assumed. That’s not always easy for me. Very few people surprise me.”
His jaw released, and his fingers curled around hers where she held him, warm and rough and strong. “Maybe that’s because you don’t give people the chance to surprise you. Not everyone’s an asshole like your ex.”
His words stung, but they were spoken softly and without any bite, and she couldn’t deny he was right. “I know that. Believing it, though, is not always easy.”
“You can believe it about me. I would never intentionally hurt you, physically or emotionally.”
Her heart beat hard and fast as she blinked up at him. “I know that too,” she whispered, fighting a wave of emotion that seemed to come out nowhere. “I-I’ll try to be better about showing it.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t pull away. Didn’t release her hand. Didn’t make any other move toward her. And she was thankful for that, because her emotions were all over the map, and she wasn’t sure what she would do if he touched her right now—push him away or hold on tight and never let go.
“Are you going to be okay out here?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” The sun was sinking in the sky behind him, making it hard to see his face. Knowing he was worried and wouldn’t leave until she reassured him she wasn’t about to fall apart, she forced a smile and squinted up at him. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” Gently, he released her. “I’ll be right back.”
“Be careful.”
He flashed a warm smile. “Always.”
He closed her door and walked around the back of the car. Alone, she drew a ragged breath that did little to ease the tightness in her chest and followed him in the rearview mirror until he disappeared behind the car and headed for the house.
She should feel better that she’d set things right with him. She should be relieved that she knew the truth about that woman who’d interrupted them the other night and that he wasn’t upset with her anymore. But she wasn’t. Lifting a hand, she rubbed against the tight spot in her chest, hoping it would help the pressure, but it didn’t. It almost felt like . . .
Her head jerked around as she realized what she was feeling. The same damn thing she’d felt just before that bomb had gone off and again before the rubble had shifted and she’d lost contact with Hunt. A sense that something horrible was about to happen.
Hunt was already at the front of the house, quietly moving up the three rickety porch steps. If she jumped out now and yelled to stop him, she could alert anyone inside that he was there. She watched with bated breath as he peered through the dirty window. His gun was still holstered, his body language didn’t hint at any kind of danger, yet her heart continued to pound fast and erratic, and that pressure inside was only growing stronger.
He knocked on the door. Long minutes stretched with no answer. He knocked again. When still no one answered, he glanced back at her in the car and pointed to the side, telling her he was going around back.
“Shit.” She swallowed hard. Rubbed her damp palms against her slacks. Wanted to scream at him to stay where he was. But he was already on the move. Seconds later she couldn’t see him anymore.
The temperature inside the vehicle rose with every passing second. She wasn’t sure how much time passed, but it felt like hours. Perspiration formed along her forehead and down her spine. Unable to handle the rising heat in the car anymore, she glanced forward and back, and not seeing any other cars anywhere close, she popped the driver door open and pushed to her feet.
A light wind blew her hair back from her face and rustled the scrub brush. Somewhere in the distance, a hawk called, but there was no other sound. Nothing besides an eerie silence that only amped her already sky-high adrenaline.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” she muttered, looking over the roof of the vehicle toward the quiet house. What was taking so long?
Movement caught her attention through the front room window of the house.
She sucked in a surprised breath only to let it out again when she realized the movement was Hunt, one hand on his hip, the other on the phone pressed to his ear as he looked down at his feet.
The air whooshed out of her lungs. He was safe. Nothing bad had happened. The fact he didn’t have his gun drawn and was talking on his phone told her there was no threat inside the house. Which meant she was out here stressing for no reason.
Feeling like an idiot, she closed the door and headed toward the house. Since she hadn’t seen him move to the front door, she assumed it was still locked, so she went around back, the way he’d gone.
Chipped cement steps let up to an open kitchen door. Cautiously, she moved inside, and called, “Hunt?”
The smell hit her first. A moldy, stale smell that made her nose wrinkle. One quick glance around the filthy kitchen told her the smell was probably coming from the dirty dishes stacked in the stained sink or the table to her right littered with old pizza boxes and empty milk cartons.
The room was empty. Looking ahead, she spotted a small hall that cut the house in two. She headed that direction. “Hunt?”
A shuffling sound echoed from the front room, and seconds later Hunt stepped into the hall with the phone pressed to his ear. “Shit. Hold on.” He pulled the phone away from his mouth. “Kelsey, stop. Don’t go any farther.”
She made it one more step before his words registered, drawing her to a stop. A fluttering movement to her left caught her attention. Hunt headed like lightning straight toward her, but she turned to get a better look before he could reach her. She was standing in front of an open office door. Dozens of black-and-white newsprint pictures were scattered across the shaggy carpet, rustling in the breeze coming through the open window. And in every one, she saw her face.
“Dammit.” Hunt reached her side and tried to gently tug her away. “You don’t need to see that.”
“No, don’t.” She pushed against his hold, her eyes growing wider as she scanned the photos. They weren’t just pictures of her. They were all pictures taken over the last few weeks. Some at her fashion shows in New York. Others at parties with industry professionals. Still others of her hailing a cab on the street in Times Square.
But those weren’t what made her suck in a sharp breath. The photos of her on the desk with the words BITCH, CUNT, and DEAD, scrawled in red lettering across her face were the ones that chilled her to the bone.
Those and the one in the center of the desk. The one of her smiling as she stood on stage with her models in New York. The one someone had stabbed right through her heart with the blade of a vicious hunting knife.