CHAPTER FIVE
Mia studied Winters at the wheel as he drove. He acted relaxed with one hand thrown over the steering wheel like they hadn’t been someone’s target practice all day long, just as he had the moment before his lips met hers. She never saw it coming. Maybe wished it. Wanted it. Thought about it. But never anticipated it.
The kiss was hot and wet. Needy. His tongue slashed across hers, and his cheek stubble rasped her skin. With each graze of it, her stomach flipped. His raw masculinity rolled through her like a bulldozer. The sudden onslaught set her nerve endings afire. Her body ached for him, craving more. The whole thing lasted only moments, but it felt like a wonderful eternity. She had been lost in him. And when he drew away, a coldness slapped its frosty fingers across her skin.
She hadn’t been thinking, only feeling. And she wanted to crawl back onto him. Her blood still boiled for him, but heck if she’d let him see that. He was cool and collected, and focused on the road.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Oh well, she could at least pretend to be in the same ballpark of awareness. She could do disinterested and bored. Her interest was purely a subjective awareness of him as a virile man, and the result of enough adrenaline to kill an elephant. Psychology was on her side for this one.
His arm, no longer slung over her, rested close as they drove in silence. This would have been awkward if he acted like he gave a damn. Which he obviously didn’t. She pouted.
He coughed, interrupting her self-diagnosing pity-party. “That was more than a kiss. You’re right.”
More than a kiss. She didn’t expect him to bring it up after his understandable reaction. They were driving down the highway at breakneck speeds, and he bobbed through traffic like a man with something meaningful to prove. Tough guys like him don’t get stressed? Bullshit.
He glanced at her, his eyes dipped down, and she felt the hot caress of his scrutiny. His foot hit the gas pedal, and the engine revved before he maneuvered to a steadier speed along the straightaway.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, Winters. I understand, in your line of work, stress would be considered a fatal flaw.” The jab came out as a snicker before she realized her mouth was moving.
“My line of work?” This time, he turned his head to do the once-over. His smile was hitched on one side and made his eye crinkle at the corners. Even at night, in the dimmed cabin of his truck, his steely dark eyes shined bright.
“Yeah. Whatever it is that you do.” Mia flipped her wrist and rolled her eyes to the darkened passing landscape. It was useless when all she wanted to do was watch him.
“What about your line of work? A therapist, huh?” He stretched back in his seat, readjusted his long legs, and rolled his broad shoulders. Would he not do that? It was distracting. “You’ve been psychoanalyzing me?”
“There’s always the chance.” She sucked on the side of her bottom lip. Did he know his muscles flexed when he stretched?
“And the verdict?”
His timbre was so bottom-of-a-canyon deep that she wanted to slide into his lap, closing the minute space that vibrated between them. That couldn’t have been less acceptable. She shook her head to clear away her distraction.
“Mia?”
Oh, right. Her verdict. Where to begin?
“You’re less dangerous than you initially seemed.” She tried to sound unaffected. Didn’t work.
“That’s your professional assessment? I seem less dangerous?” He bunched his forehead. Yup, her softball judgment was a big, fat fail. “That’s like saying your trip to the airport was a nuisance, or your visit to the motel was unplanned. You can do better than that. Come on, girl. Give it to me.”
He was trying to tempt her. She was sure of it. She narrowed her eyes. If that’s what he wants.
“My professional assessment is… Well, other than your propensity to fight, your behavior doesn’t deviate from normal culture. Nothing appears to be pervasive or inflexible about you. That’s if you discount when you kidnapped me.” She smirked. “I assume you’re former military. It’s obvious you’re trained. And despite this save-the-day type action, you aren’t narcissistic, avoidant, or paranoid.” Mia took in a deep breath. It all came out so fast, who knew if it even made sense. “How’s that work for you? Professionally speaking?”
He gave a curt nod. But she wasn’t going to let him off that easy. Not when she wanted a reaction from him as much as she hated needing it.
“But that kiss. I don’t know if you want me analyzing that. Do you?”
He grimaced. The tough guy couldn’t stand the metaphoric heat. But then again, maybe she didn’t want to think about it either. Because when she did, she longed to taste his perfect lips again, though she was well aware of why he kissed her. He might not call it stress, but it was a reaction based entirely on their day of bullets and bruises.
“So, Winters, what’s the deal with you anyway? Who does Mister Save-The-Day Hero work for?”
He concentrated on driving and strummed his fingers across the steering wheel. His hands were rough, fingertips calloused, but they reminded her of the careful touch at the motel when he offered her a bag of ice. She jumped when he had caressed her cheek, both panic and anticipation coursed through her. It was an immediate assault to her senses. He stayed on her skin, and she…liked it.
“Should I revise and add avoidant to my assessment?” Mia struggled to keep the smile to herself.
“I’m not avoiding anything. But it’s not something I normally share. That’s all.”
“I’m supposed to trust you. And you haven’t shared a single thing.” Other than that kiss.
“All right, already. I was a SEAL. My last deployment was Afghanistan.” Winters’s jaw set hard, ending the conversation.
That wasn’t going to happen. She had questions. She needed to know something more about him. She needed to keep the conversation going. Otherwise, her mind had its own agenda.
“Bet you saw brutal stuff over there.”
“Yeah. Guess you could say that.” He shifted again and ran his hand across his face.
“So what did you do overseas?”
“Strategic and operational targets.”
“Vague. A little predictable, too, I suppose.”
“Oh yeah?” His eyes flashed to hers. He cocked his head, placed one fingertip on her knee, and snaked it up her thigh as fast as ice melted on a chilly day. He stopped at the junction between her legs. “I’ve been predictable?”
There wasn’t enough oxygen getting to her lungs. She had no idea what to do, so she changed subjects with the smoothness of sandpaper, ignoring the blooming heat near his fingers. “Who do you work for now?”
He gave a hushed chuckle, drummed his fingers on her leg, and pulled his hand away. “What’s it to you?”
“You’re so testy.” She mocked him. Childish, yes. She knew better but couldn’t help it.
He cracked the knuckles on the same hand that left fire blazing on her thigh. An unbearable need to take that hand back screamed within her. Mia closed her eyes, sucked in a breath, and sent off a prayer for strength. No fortifying breath helped right now. She needed a brick wall in between them.
“Titan Group,” he said. “I work for a tactical operations firm named Titan Group. We’re just a bunch of ex-military and former agents dickin’ around, taking on the world.” He chuckled. “Normally, I wear a cape, but it was at the dry cleaners today.”
Did he just make a joke? She loved that. “How about one of those spandex bodysuits?”
“You could always dream.”
A quiet giggle escaped her lips. A very nice dream. “I thought you were more like GI Joe, but now that I know about the cape, you sound more like Superman. You fly from one job to the next when there’s a light in the sky or the cops aren’t around?”
He didn’t look amused at her comparison. Guess the jokes are over.
“We work with clients when the normal channels of business can’t get the job done. Or hell, when they won’t even consider it.”
“How noble of you.” She smiled. “And decidedly more GI Joe.”
He smirked. “You think you’re cute, don’t you?”
“Maybe.” She could flirt a little with him and learn something. “So this bunch of guys you work with, I assume you’re all deadly, virulent, and…antagonistic?”
“Nah, I prefer effective.”
“And do they all rescue women and kiss them at the end of the day, too, or is that just you?” Her heart thumped in her chest, threatening to jump into her throat. Where did all this boldness come from?
Winters swallowed hard enough she saw his throat bob. The adrenaline was gone. All reactions should have long since fired and ceased. They should have, but she still wanted to taste him again.
Mia turned and leaned toward him, inches away from the side of his face. The truck smelled like man and guns. His raspy cheeks beckoned, begging her to nuzzle against them. The pinpricks of stubble were so close, but she stayed away.
“Nothing to say, Winters?”
Heat emanated between the scant space separating their bodies. Their gazes clashed. Her throat constricted, and the heavy beat of her heart pounded. Seconds passed, loaded with anticipation.
“We need gas.” He tore his gaze from hers and eyed a tall gas station sign illuminating the night ahead.
What had she been doing? She needed to say something. “Where are we headed?”
“Virginia.”
“Virginia? We’re driving home? That’s like another twelve hours,” she said an octave higher than normal, giving an incredulous glare. She scooted to her side of the vehicle in two side pushes.
“Don’t like it? Find another ride.” He stopped the truck at the pump and jumped out without looking back. The harsh slam of the door echoed in her ears.
What just happened?
That was cold. He set the gas pump up and ambled into the store. No way was he off the hook after that. He would have to explain why they were booking it cross-country instead of hopping a flight home. Mia jumped out and followed behind him.
He had his phone to his ear, Dots boxes in hand, and now, he ignored her. Mia went to the drinks cooler and watched him. He had to be talking about her. She puttered around the beverage coolers, trying to listen, picking up a handful of words. Won’t be home. Work. I love you.
Her hand flew to her mouth. Oh my God. He’s married? He has a girlfriend?
She grabbed a soda and met him in the snack aisle. He stood awkward, pressing his phone against his ear. Mia grabbed a bag of pretzels in a big show and slammed both drink and snack into his stomach. The same rock hard stomach she noticed when he pressed against her.
“I need these.” And in a flash of fury, she stormed back out to the truck.
The heck with Colby Winters.
The humid evening air clung to her. The smell of the gasoline radiated from the dirty concrete. The parking lot was empty, the pumps vacant other than Winters’s truck. The distant chug, chug, chug of his pickup still filling up was the only sound she heard. No birds singing nighttime songs. No crickets calling out.
Once a safe distance from him, she turned. His steely eyes followed her. He put the phone into his pocket in a slow, deliberate move, and stood there.
He seemed skyscraper tall, just as broad in the chest, and his pants were well-worn in all the right places. A longing buzz escaped from her lips without permission. Any sign of his earlier arousal was long gone, but the pants still cupped him in a way that she could imagine. His T-shirt clung tight against his narrow waist, somehow hiding the gun she knew was tucked into the back of his jeans. How did someone so menacing come off as sexy? She shook her head. No, there would be none of that.
She didn’t become a psychologist only to analyze other people’s problems. She could do a serious analysis of herself and knew exactly why he was attractive. It was a simple reaction to her tumultuous day. Any other day, he would just be a jagged-around-the-edges man that she should bypass. One she might even cross the street to avoid.
She needed sleep, a couple of meals packed with carbs and calorie dense desserts, and a lazy soak in her oversized bathtub, glass of white wine in hand. She didn’t need him, no matter what her body swore. After serious pampering, the chemical reaction that was her attraction to him would be an afterthought.
She looked at him again. His dark expression was analytical. No, he didn’t study her, but rather, the area around her, surveying her surroundings. A feeble gas station sign illuminated the dark night. No moon or stars. A flashing neon sign in the store window advertised the lotto and smokes. Bursts of brilliant color decorated the greasy lot.
Surveying was still all wrong. He wasn’t surveying. Anticipating, perhaps. He walked toward the cashier without moving his steel hard gaze from her direction.
The unnerving glare sent butterflies swarming in her stomach. As if he knew what evil lurked in the shadows. He grabbed the bag from the store clerk, then his long legs carried him back toward her. He was hurried. Distressed. His face turned darker, to something intent on destruction.
A large hand slapped her mouth, shoving a rancid rag into it, burning her swollen lips. Coarse fabric abraded her tongue. It tasted foul and smelled like the gas station—gasoline, perspiration, and stale tobacco smoke. Bile rose at the back of her throat. The urge to gag pushed at her, and her stomach convulsed. Her head was thick and groggy, her arms and legs weighted. The dim parking lot lights blurred and swirled like a Tilt-A-Whirl, and she fell into a stranger’s arms.
She wanted to turn and pull away, but she couldn’t fight. Her limbs were glued to her side, as if she’d drowned in cold molasses. She was suffocating and couldn’t reach for Winters. He was miles away as her vision skewed sideways, blurring buildings and pumps and with now dimming colors. Bright yellows and greens turned soupy orange and tan. The dark and inky sky mixed, and she didn’t know which way was up or which way was down.
The arms around her compressed her lungs, moving her against her will. Mia’s feet dragged on the ground, and she couldn’t lift them. One shoe slipped off, and her heel scratched over the greasy ground. Pain blossomed at her heel and ankle, radiating up her paralyzed legs.
Her attacker struggled, wheezing and stumbling. It had been easy enough for Winters to throw her over his shoulder. But now, with these rawboned arms wrapped around her tight chest, he dug into her armpits. Maybe there was still a chance Winters could get to her.
Help. Please, Winters. The thoughts were slow and hazy. Her eyelids became too heavy to hold open. The humid night air suffocated her. There were loud noises in the background, but nothing distinguishable. And it all faded to black.