Chapter Nine
Ky lay in the comfortable single bed, thinking, for close to an hour after he’d bid Gemma good night. His thoughts ran the gamut from safety and security to desire and need.
When he’d heard movement in the kitchen, he’d assumed it was her, but he couldn’t let his guard down even so. When she’d backed away from the refrigerator door, a quick, powerful and overwhelming bullet of lust shot right through him, ricocheting from his head to his toes. The fridge light silhouetted her body, framing it and giving him a pretty clear view of what lay underneath her miniscule T-shirt and shorts. He got hard in an instant, unable to prevent his body from reacting to the gorgeous, nearly naked, woman before him.
Yards of slim, smooth, and bare leg had his imagination shooting straight to what those legs would feel like wrapped around his waist. The shirt came to just above the shorts’ waistband, affording him a glimpse at a very toned and flat abdomen. She was braless, a fact that was illustrated in full detail when his gaze zeroed in on her pointed nipples.
It took every ounce of willpower and thought he could muster to tamp his reaction down to prevent her from seeing what she did to him. He’d been able to suppress his raging desire until she’d unconsciously sent it roaring again when she licked her fingers where some jam had trailed. The sight of those perfect bow lips and that pink, wet tongue sucking at her fingers threw him into a tailspin of need. When she’d gotten up to take her dish to the sink, he’d started reciting the Pythagorean theorem in his mind in a feeble attempt to get his body under control before she realized what was happening and went screaming back to her bedroom.
It was a sincere testament to his sense of control that he was able to contain himself.
The woman pulled at him in a way no other ever had. He wanted to protect her, while at the same time knowing she was totally capable of defending herself if she had to. Her martial arts skills alone rivaled his, a fact his ego didn’t even mind. It was time to find out if she could use a gun. He hadn’t asked, never thinking she would need to with him around. But now that they had to rely on themselves for the foreseeable future, he wanted to ensure she had more in her weapons arsenal than just her bare hands.
Ky knew she was an independent, successful woman used to fending for, and taking care of, herself. But he found, much to his surprise, he wanted to be the one to take care of her, to satisfy her needs. All of them. He wanted her to lean on him, depend on him, turn to him when she wanted something.
It was simply ridiculous to feel this way for a woman who barely tolerated being in the same room with him.
When sleep finally came, he treasured the few hours of solid rest he got.
Used to rising early no matter how tired he was, Ky was up when the sun cracked its way into his room. He rose and quickly showered, forgoing his usual morning exercise routine. For a little cabin in the woods, the shower was refreshingly hot and soothing.
Dressed, he put on a pot of coffee and cocked an ear at the staircase listening for sounds of movement from above.
When he decided she’d opted to sleep in, he took the opportunity to, as he’d told her the night before, get the lay of the land.
In the bright, piercing light of day, their charming, tiny cabin in the woods proved to be more of a fortress built to survive Armageddon.
On his first walk through the night before, Ky found the sophisticated alarm system he’d mentioned to Gemma housed in the pantry off the kitchen. On further inspection he’d been able to discern that it not only alarmed the house, but did indeed, have a co-system meant to protect against an invasion from outside. Ky’s opinion of Bannerman went up several notches.
Before exiting the pantry, a little niggle of a thought wormed its way into his head and, after inspecting the dimensions of the room, solidified into certainty. The room was smaller than it should have been. That told him one thing: the pantry was more than a pantry. Cautiously, Ky tapped the walls surrounding the shelves and within a minute’s time, discovered where one part of the wall sounded hollow. He pulled back the shelving and a false partition was revealed. Thinking it might be spring activated to open, he pressed against it and was rewarded when the wall swung open into a closet.
Ky squeezed around the opening and found something that warmed his heart and spirit: a secret stash of weapons.
Dozens of handguns, automatic assault rifles, Berettas, and even a rocket launcher were affixed to the pegboard wall inside the room, with more ammunition than he’d seen at gun shows aligned in boxes on a metal-framed rack.
The perfect setup to teach Gemma about guns, assuming she wasn’t already proficient with a firearm.
Ky’s opinion of Bannerman climbed even higher when he found the garage behind the house. It hadn’t been visible when they’d arrived. But now, standing in the full light of day, Ky saw a structure almost as tall as the cabin, and just as wide, nestled into the berm on the back slope of the hill.
The entrance door was locked, a numbered keypad affixed to the door. Ky took a chance it was the same numerical code for the front door and his gamble paid off when he heard the mechanical clicks shifting after he hit enter.
The garage was big enough to house two full-sized vehicles and Ky considered parking their clunker in it to keep it out of sight. That would take half the storage space, the other already housed with a four-wheel ATV. The gas tank was full, the keys in the ignition.
Ready for a fast exit.
One they’d, hopefully, be spared.
A one-hundred-pound heavy bag was suspended from the ceiling beams, something he’d be using later on for sure.
For the most part, this little mountain retreat would serve to keep them safe and isolated.
Ky checked his watch and realized it was time to call in.
“Who is this?” the assistant director said immediately when the call connected.
“It’s me, boss.”
A long, deep, and steady draught of air pushed through the phone.
“Are you alone, Sir?”
“Yes. Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you. Just know Miss Laine is safe and we’re secured.”
“Dammit, Papps!”
“Sir, please. I don’t have much time on this phone and I need to get some information from you.”
An infinitesimal moment passed. “Go ahead.”
Ky had been working out what he wanted to say ever since the long car ride the day before.
“First, how’s Jon?”
“As good as can be expected after taking a bullet to his arm and having to undergo reparative surgery.”
“What’s his prognosis?”
“Full recovery says the surgeon. Guy’s got a real shit bedside manner, but he’s the best, so I’m confident Winters will recoup.”
“Good.” Ky waited a moment before saying what needed to be said. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and prepared for what was to follow once he’d said his piece.
“I’m convinced we have the mole, Sir. There’s no other explanation. No one but my team knew where we were going.”
He waited for the explosion, was staggered when it didn’t come.
Tiege inhaled deeply again. “You need to include me in that group, Papps,” he said into the phone. “I knew, too.”
To cover his surprise, Ky said, “Sir, I’m fairly confident I can eliminate you as the source of the leak.”
A dry chuckle floated to his ears. “Well, thanks for being fairly sure. No, I agree with you. I knew it the minute I heard about the second attack. I’ve tapped everyone connected to this case and can’t eliminate or confirm anyone.”
“How in depth have you gone?”
“Trust me when I say deep. LaRoux and Coble were clean. I made sure of it. I even had you and Winters looked at.” He made a disgusted sound and clicked his tongue. “Barly insisted.”
Ky wasn’t surprised or upset at being targeted. It made sense from an investigative stance. That Davison Barly had pushed for it was the disturbing point.
“Man is the most annoying pissant I’ve ever had to work with. Why the AG assigned him to this case is one for the books.”
Ky agreed.
“He screamed bloody murder when I told him I didn’t know where you and your witness were and had no way to reach you.” That dry chuckle sounded again. “It was almost worth having to deal with him to see how hot and bothered he got. Asshole.”
“He’s worried the case will fold now because of the Calafano hit. Has anyone been able to get a bead on Ritandi’s whereabouts?”
“No. Guy went to ground right after Calafano bought it. No electronic communication, all his networks have been offline. That court order to freeze his accounts you pushed for finally panned out. Barly had some cockamamie answer for why it took so long, but as of yesterday Ritandi can’t access the accounts we know about. That includes the ones in Italy and England.”
“Good. With those funds cut off he’ll have some serious cash flow issues.”
“Unless he’s got some stashed someplace you weren’t able to locate from Calafano’s info, I’d say he’s sitting pretty pissed at you about now.”
The phone beeped, signaling the prepaid minutes were almost complete.
“Sir, I don’t have much time left. I can’t do much from where I am because I don’t have access to my files—”
“Don’t worry about that, Papps. I’ve got it covered. I’m betting as soon as the doc will let him, Winters will be all over this. Maybe even before he’s discharged. Just keep your witness safe.”
They agreed on another set time for Ky to call to check in.
“And Papps?”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Watch your six.”
“Always, Sir.”
Once the call disconnected, Ky dropped the phone to the ground and smashed it with the heel of his shoe.
Looking up, he winked an eye against the sun’s glare.
Time to make breakfast.
* * *
The smell of bread turning to toast pushed her eyes open. For a brief moment the unfamiliarity of her surroundings sent her heart pounding with fear. Memories of the past twenty-four hours flooded through with the next breath and the panic was replaced by irritation.
Irritation at being forced into hiding; irritation at not being able to see her family; irritation at missing work deadlines.
Standing under the scalding-hot shower spray, the one thing she admitted irritated her most was her utter loss of independence. Gemma simply wasn’t used to taking orders from other people, nor was she someone who dealt well with being confined.
Living in Manhattan, she could leave her condo any time, day or night, and she did, often going out to take pictures of the city and its people under the cloak of darkness. Some of the photographs she’d chosen for the new book she’d snapped at a women’s shelter on a cold, rainy midnight several weeks ago. Taken with the wide variety of ages and economic situations of the women who sought refuge from the potential threats of the night, Gemma had tossed an idea around in her head to do a book just cataloging the faces and stories of the indigent and forgotten. She was in the process of solidifying the proposal with her publisher when she’d decided to venture out the day of the shooting.
Gemma scrubbed her skin with a surprisingly soft face towel and sighed. So much work to do. Frustrated wasn’t strong enough to describe the feeling surging within her.
After towel-drying her hair and dressing in the comfortable yoga pants and T-shirt she found in the suitcase, Gemma went in search of food.
The aroma of fresh coffee lured her down to the kitchen where she found Ky standing with his back to her, a mug in his hand.
The tiny jump in her pulse at the sight of him clad in trousers and a collared pullover was mildly annoying.
“Hey,” she said as a way of greeting.
Ky turned and that little jump catapulted to a leap.
Why did he have to be so damn good looking? Why couldn’t he look like a troll?
“Good morning.”
And why couldn’t he have a cringe-worthy voice, and not a deep, sultry, tummy-fluttering one?
The bad mood she’d woken with shot up ten degrees.
“Did you ever get back to sleep?” he asked as she came around to the coffeepot. She assumed the empty mug sitting next to it was for her so she grabbed it, poured it full of the hot liquid, and shrugged.
“Took a while, but yeah.”
“I thought you didn’t drink coffee.”
“I do when I’ve got a headache from lack of caffeinated soda.”
He pointed to the plate of toast. “There’s that or oatmeal for breakfast. No eggs or milk. And no butter. We’ll need to get provisions if we’re gonna be here more than a few days.”
“Toast is fine.” She slid two slices onto a plate and took it and her coffee to the breakfast bar without another word.
Ky watched her movements.
When the first hit of hot, slightly spicy liquid washed over her taste buds, Gemma groaned, tipped back her head and closed her eyes, letting the steam from the coffee drift up over her face.
Ky’s warm and throaty chuckle filled the space between them. “You may be the only person I’ve ever known who has as much of a deep visceral reaction to that first sip as I do.”
Taking her time, Gemma opened her eyes. He’d moved to sit across from her as he had in the middle of the night, elbows resting on the table, his own cup suspended in his hand. The slight upward tug of his lips softened his features but did nothing to douse his blessed-from-God sexiness.
Gemma swallowed. “My sister makes her own brew from a recipe she got from our grandmother. She tweaked it by putting in some different herbs, spices. I never liked the taste of coffee until I had hers, and now when I have a rare cup, I don’t drink any other kind. This,” she lifted her mug, “tastes remarkably like Kandy’s mixture.”
“It probably is, since a jar of it was in the pantry next to the jam.”
Gemma grinned, her mood lifting considerably. “When I see Rick again I’m going to give him a big kiss on the mouth for stocking it here.”
Ky’s eyes darkened. His gaze flicked to her mouth, her cup just touching her bottom lip, and then back up to her eyes. She caught that cauldron of flaming emotions she’d noted before in him blazing to the surface again, and as quick as she recognized it, he extinguished the fire.
Very carefully, Ky put his mug down on the table. “I need to go over a few things with you.”
And there was the ice again.
“’K.”
Ky told her the conversation he’d had with SAC Tiege about Jon Winters.
“So, he’s okay physically?”
“From the sound of it, yes. Or he will be.”
“Will he be able to shoot again? I mean, if the doctor says he’ll make a full recovery, isn’t that what it basically means? He’ll be able to use his arm for everything?”
“I don’t know the answer to that. I’m hopeful, as I imagine Jon is.” His brows tightened together. “Why do you ask about shooting?”
Gemma took a sip of her coffee. “It’s important for you all to be good shots, right? You’ve told me how much he loves his job. Being able to shoot is an important part of that. Where does it leave him, career wise, if he can’t?”
Ky stared at her for a few beats, the intensity of his gaze boring down on her, making her want to squirm in her chair.
“What?” she asked when he didn’t answer.
Ky shook his head, almost as if he was pulling himself out of a trance. “Nothing. I just keep forgetting how very astute and observant you are.”
Surprise at his words warred with the little jolt of pleasure that shocked through her.
The pleasure won.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see how well he recuperates,” Ky continued. “If his arm affects his shooting, he’ll deal with it. Trust me, Jon is nothing if not resilient.”
He finished his coffee, rose, and filled his mug again. When he held the pot up to her and cocked an eyebrow, she shook her head.
He brought his filled mug back to the table, sat, and said, “Speaking of guns, do you have any experience with them?”
“Yes. I’ve got a license to carry. Why?”
“Even though we’re isolated here, and maybe more because we are, we need to be vigilant and prepared for anything.” He went on to describe the weapons stash he’d found that morning. “What kind of firearms have you used?”
“Glocks, mostly. I like revolvers with six-inch barrels the best, but you have to load the bullets one by one after the chamber empties, so it’s time consuming. But I love the feel of a revolver in my hand. It feels, I don’t know,” she shrugged, “comfortable and solid are the best words. Josh showed me how to use an automatic assault rifle once, but the kick was too much. Bruised my shoulder like a bitch, so he thought I should stick to handguns.”
“He ever take you to the range to practice?”
She nodded. “Couple times. Rick was the one who gave me most of my info and instructions. He was a sniper in a previous career, one he never talks about, so I learned a lot. It’s like with my martial arts training.” She shrugged. “I’m good at it.”
“I would bet it’s because, as a photographer of your caliber, you have excellent hand-to-eye coordination.”
She lifted her shoulders again. “I guess. I don’t own a gun, personally, though.”
“When you’re finished I’ll show you the room and you can choose the weapon you want. There’s enough ammo that we can practice. It makes sense for the both of us to be armed while we’re here.”
“Okay. Do you think—” She stopped, hating she had to ask permission for something. For anything, really.
“Do I think what?”
She scrunched up her face, her lips pulling in at the corners. She began rubbing her palms on her thighs, much as she did as a child and had done something to incur a scolding from her grandmother.
“Well, I’ve got my cameras. I’d like to…explore a little. Just around the property. Maybe take some pictures? We’re isolated here, like you said. No one knows where we are. I’ve been cooped up for days and I just need…to work.”
It had all come out in a rush and when she stopped, she felt a wildfire of heat rush up from her neck to her face.
Ky stared down at his mug for a moment. When his gaze hit on her face again, compassion warmed his eyes. “I know you do,” he said. “I know how hard this all must be on you, I really do. Witnessing a murder, getting attacked, then shot at. It’s not what you’re used to.”
“No lie,” she muttered.
His mouth quirked as he took a hit of the coffee. “Let’s do this. You can choose a gun and we can get in some target practice just so I’ll know you’ll be able to use it, and then we can take a walk around the property.”
“Together?”
Laughter danced at his lips. “That’s what we usually means. Yes. Together.”
“I wanted to go…you know…alone.”
“Not gonna happen.” And just like that, once again, frost formed in his eyes.
She wanted to fight him on it. A few days ago she would have. She would have argued relentlessly. But in the end, she knew it wouldn’t do any good. She’d come to understand his intractable stubbornness where her safety was concerned. He wasn’t going to leave her side, no matter what.
So Gemma did something she never did if she could help it: she acquiesced.