Читать книгу Her Christmas Hero - Elle James - Страница 16
ОглавлениеLaurel snuggled Molly next to her. The little girl twisted the flannel of her Christmas nightgown. It had been a present from Ivy when she’d realized Molly wouldn’t be able to attend the pageant that fateful night.
When Laurel had followed Molly into the cabin’s bedroom, her niece had pulled her mother’s gift from the duffel and silently handed it to Laurel.
“You can wear my T-shirt, Molly Magoo,” Laurel had said, barely able to speak.
“Mommy said Santa would know where to find me if I wore my special nightgown. He’d know I was being a good girl even if I couldn’t be an angel.” Molly had looked up at her. “Santa can find me here, can’t he?”
“Of course he can. He knows you’ve been a very good girl this year.”
Laurel stroked Molly’s hair. “I’ll have to find Christmas for you, Molly,” she said under her breath. “Somehow.”
The little girl hugged her lion close, her face buried in its mane. Her breathing slowed, growing even. She sighed and tucked her tiny hand under her cheek. Laurel held her breath, but Molly simply snuggled down under the covers.
Hopefully sleep would bring peace. For a while.
Minutes ticked by. Laurel’s heart ached with an emptiness she’d never imagined. She wanted Ivy to walk through the door, tell her it was all a mistake. Tell her this had all been a bad dream, a setup. One of their father’s elaborate plans.
A small part of her still hoped that were true, but she knew it wasn’t. She’d heard her father’s voice on the phone. This had nothing to do with the intelligence game he played. Every moment was real.
Her father was probably dead as well.
She and Molly were alone.
Laurel dug her fingernails into her palm, savoring the bite of pain. She wasn’t dreaming—even though she was in the midst of her own nightmare.
Her niece’s blond hair fell over her forehead. At least Laurel had Molly. The little girl gave Laurel a reason to not curl up in a ball and disappear. She’d never imagined her heart could feel so empty. That loneliness could suffocate her as if she were drowning.
Garrett had lost his wife and daughter. Laurel couldn’t imagine the agony he’d gone through. How had he survived? Alone, with his entire past erased, how had this not destroyed him?
Laurel glanced at the door. She could stay in this room for the evening. Every muscle in her body ached with exhaustion and fatigue. Each time she blinked, grit scraped her eyes, but for the first time in days, she felt safe. At least for the next twenty-four hours.
She should sleep, but Garrett was out there. Alone.
Her father had told her Derek Bradley was a traitor, but the more she recalled the conversations, the more she recognized the inconsistencies. Her father was an excellent liar, no doubt, but he’d been cagey about Bradley. He’d set up the doubts, so she would be able to trust him.
“Derek took too many risks,” James McCallister had said last Thanksgiving. “He paid the price. So did his family. Traitors always get what’s coming to them. Eventually.”
Her father had never called Derek Bradley a traitor.
Something from around Laurel’s heart eased, and she realized that somewhere deep inside she’d still had doubts. They were gone now. Besides, her image of a man who would sell out his country for money didn’t mesh with the man who could sing Molly into calmness from hysteria.
As she’d said to Garrett, at some point you had to let faith lead you. Careful not to jostle Molly, Laurel rose from the bed and padded across the room. The little girl didn’t stir. Laurel pressed her hand against the door and slowly turned the knob. She opened it and eased out of the bedroom.
The living room was empty.
She peeked into his workroom, but he wasn’t there. The encryption program still ran.
Finally she looked out the front window. He stood on the porch, his back to her, staring out at the sunset. His entire body screamed tension. As if he wanted to be left alone.
Laurel hesitated. She could return to the bedroom for the night, plant herself in front of the computer and wait, hoping the program would find the password, or she could go to Garrett. Except she knew what would happen the moment she touched him. They were both vulnerable. They both needed something only the other could provide.
She opened the front door. The cold gust of wind made her shiver. The last rays of light disappeared behind a mountain and deep purplish-blue painted the sky, rimmed at the horizon with a splash of pink and red. “Garrett?”
He didn’t turn around. She glanced down. He held his gun at the ready. She froze.
“In the trees,” he said softly.
She followed his gaze. Two piercing blue eyes peered at them, intent and calm.
The cougar.
“He’s back,” Laurel whispered.
“Cats are curious, but cautious. He won’t come closer.”
Garrett walked down the steps and picked up a large stone, tossing it toward the animal. The cat scampered off into the trees. “We need to keep Molly inside,” he said. “That cat’s learned people are a source of food. Probably eating after some of the border crossers left provisions behind.”
He shoved his gun into the back of his jeans and escorted her inside the house. “How’s Molly?”
“I’d guess out for the night, though she’ll probably be up before dawn.”
“Which reminds me.” Garrett flicked the dead bolt in place, then shoved a chair underneath the doorknob before activating the sensors.
“You think that will stop her?”
“She’ll make a lot of noise trying to get that chair out. I’ll hear the little Houdini.”
Laurel couldn’t help but smile. “She’s just like Ivy. When we were kids—”
“I would imagine she got you into a lot of trouble.”
“Dad would get so furious at us. I tried to take the fall a time or two, but Ivy wouldn’t let me. She was so much fun. I would have never had all those adventures if not for her.” Laurel sighed. “I’ll always miss her, won’t I?”
Garrett double-checked the chair then faced her, his expression solemn. “I won’t tell you it gets better. The scab may get a little tougher.”
She chanced a glance at him under her lashes. His stance was a bit awkward, as if he didn’t know what to say either. Maybe she’d been wrong. She should have just turned in with Molly.
“We’d better check on the computer—” he started.
“I guess I’ll turn in—” she said at the same time.
She shifted from one foot to the other. “I just looked at the program’s status,” Laurel said. “Still running. No answers.”
“I see. Then I guess it’s good-night.”
Something solemn and painful had settled behind his eyes. And vulnerable. She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to be alone tonight. She crossed to him, her heart rate escalating with each step. She knew exactly what she was inviting. So did he.
She stopped inches away from him, still staring into his eyes. They darkened into a deep mahogany flaring with want, maybe with need.
“What are you doing, Laurel?” His voice had grown deep, husky.
Her touch tentative, she placed her hand on his chest. She needed him. “We’re safe for a while,” she said. “Aren’t we?”
“That’s debatable,” he said softly.
He covered the hand resting on his chest with his and lifted her palm to his lips. He nipped at the pad then threaded his fingers through hers. “You know this is a mistake,” he said, his voice barely audible. “You don’t know me. Not really.”
A shiver skated down her spine at his words, but the naked longing in his eyes shoved aside her doubts.
She knew him.
“I’ve watched you. You gave up your safe existence to help me and Molly. You calmed her fears tonight. I know everything I need to know.”
“Even though the world thinks I’m a traitor.”
“I know the truth.” She shook her head, leaning closer, wanting more than anything for him to stop talking and kiss her.
“What if you’re wrong, Laurel?” He cupped her cheek and held her gaze captive. Her heart fluttered in response. His thumb grazed her cheek. “What if I’m a man who would do anything to get what he wants? I’m good at keeping secrets. And I’m very good at telling lies.”
She couldn’t stop staring at his lips. “I can tell when you’re lying, Garrett. Your eyes grow dark, and the right corner of your mouth tightens just a bit.”
Would his mouth be hard or soft, passionate or gentle against hers when they kissed?
“I don’t want you,” he said softly, his breath whispering against her cheek as he moved closer to her lips.
“You’re bluffing.”
“You’re too trusting.” He lowered his mouth to her ear. “But I don’t have the strength to pull away.”
She smiled. “Now you’re telling the truth.”
With a groan he fastened his lips to hers and wrapped his arms around her. She didn’t hesitate. She clung to him and let his mouth drive away the memories of the past week. For this wonderful moment all she could think about was his touch, his mouth exploring hers, the taste of him.
He lifted his head. “Be very sure, because I won’t let you go all night long.”
She didn’t answer, just pulled his mouth to hers once more. He groaned and swept her into his arms. With a long stride he carried her into the smaller bedroom, closing the door behind them. She didn’t notice the Spartan furniture; her only focus was on Garrett. She used the name of the sheriff she’d come to know, not the name of the man he used to be.
“I don’t know what the future holds, but I know what I want right now,” Laurel said. “I need you, Garrett.”
“Not more than I need you.” Gently he laid her on the bed, following her down, covering her with his weight.
She didn’t resist, but relished the feel of him on top of her. With a groan, he buried his lips against her neck, exploring the pulse points at the base of her throat. Laurel threaded her hands through his hair. Every kiss made her belly tingle with need. She wanted more.
“Please,” she whispered. “Kiss me.”
“I am,” he said softly, nipping at the delicate skin just below her ear.
“Garrett.” She couldn’t stop the frustration from lacing her voice.
“How about here?” He nibbled the lobe of her ear. “Or here?” He worked his way down, shifting her shirt aside, and tasted the skin just above her collarbone.
Laurel stirred beneath him until finally he raised his head. He tugged at her lower lip. “Or how about here?”
His mouth swooped down and captured hers. He pressed her lips open and she moaned in relief that she could finally taste him. She returned his kiss for kiss. Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own, exploring the strength of his back through his shirt. She hated the barrier between them. She wanted to touch him, skin to skin. She wedged her hands between them, unbuttoning his shirt and shoving the material off his shoulders.
He stilled above her, looking at her, his gaze intense, hesitant, full of warning. Her fingertips paused when she encountered roughened skin.
Burns. The car bomb.
He let out a slow sigh then moved off of her, lying on his back. “I should have warned you.” His shirt fell open and she pulled away. His chest was mostly unmarred, except for a long surgical scar down his midline.
“You think what happened changes anything? It makes me want you even more.” She didn’t hesitate, but straddled his hips and traced the scar.
He looked up at her and caught her fingertip. “My entire back was turned when the car exploded. There was a lot of damage. I had several rounds of skin grafts. During surgery my heart stopped. I died on the operating table and they cracked me open.” His voice was detached, his jaw tight, holding back emotion. “It’s not pretty,” he said. “It will never be pretty.”
“And if I could have Ivy back, you think the scars would make me love her less? You earned these badges of courage.” Laurel moved her hands up to his shoulders, venturing a tentative touch on the puckered skin. “Does it hurt?”
“I can’t always feel when you touch me. And in some places the nerve endings go a little haywire, but mostly no. It’s healed as much as it’s going to.”
He didn’t move, didn’t try to pull her to him, didn’t try to kiss her. He simply lay there gazing up at her. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Neither do you, but you’re the bravest man I know and I don’t think you’ll chicken out now,” she said and leaned forward, gently, tenderly pressing her lips to his. “I want this. Now. With you. Tell me if I hurt you.”
She lifted her shirt over her head and removed her bra. His eyes hooded as he cupped her breast in his hand and drew his thumb across her nipple. It beaded in response and a sharp tingle lit in her belly. A small whimper escaped her and she gripped his shirt.
He smiled, the defensive expression in his eyes darkening to desire once again. “I can’t believe you want me.” Garrett tugged her down to him, his palm against the small of her back, rocking her hips against his, his desire evident.
“Can you feel me now?” she whispered, shifting her body, evoking a groan from him.
“Definitely.” He flipped her over and threw his shirt off the side of the bed. “You’re an amazing woman, Laurel McCallister.”
She wrapped her arms around him, blinking back the hurt for him when she encountered the mottling of scars down his back and a few strips of unblemished skin. She yanked him down closer and wrapped her legs around his hips. “Show me how amazing you think I am. I don’t want to wait another second.”
* * *
THEY WERE IN the middle of nowhere. Still.
Strickland peered out the front window. The SUV’s headlights broke through the early evening, but a cluster of trees and an avalanche of rocks blocked the path. They’d reached the end of the road.
“Damn it.” He hit the steering wheel. “How far is Bradley from here?”
Krauss studied the screen. The red dot was immobile. “Couple of miles, according to this. He’s not moving.”
Strickland rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Give me the city any day of the week. I hate the West. Too much godforsaken territory to cover.”
“We going back to Trouble?”
“Not a chance. Get your canteen,” Strickland ordered. “We’re going after him. He won’t expect us to track him out here.”
“We’re really heading out at night?”
“You want to tell the boss we’re taking the evening off?” Strickland asked.
Krauss muttered to himself as he grabbed the water and his weapon. “This is a mistake. Weren’t you a Cub Scout or something? We don’t know the country. Anything could be out there. It’s easy to get turned around in the darkness.”
Strickland tapped the glowing red light on Krauss’s monitor. “We’ve got a beacon to light the way. Besides, we don’t have a choice. Now come on.”
They exited the SUV and Strickland grabbed an M16, slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. I’m not hauling those bodies down this mountain. Once we kill them, we leave them to rot.”
* * *
GARRETT COULDN’T BELIEVE Laurel was here, in his bed, beneath him, with her long, lean legs wrapped around him. His body surged in response to her arch.
She grasped his shoulders and her hands moved to his back.
He couldn’t believe she hadn’t politely said good-night and walked away. Garrett didn’t think about the scars on his back that often. Just when he’d rub against something the wrong way and the nerves fired, as if a thousand pins were stabbing him.
Laurel nipped at his ear. “I want you,” she whispered. “Now.”
No more than he wanted her.
He rubbed his chest against her, reveling in the feeling of their skin touching. With each caress of his chest against her budded nipples, she let out a low moan, shivering against him. He moved again, and this time, she hugged him close, tilting her pelvis into his hardness. God, she was so responsive. She didn’t hold anything back. He’d never been with a woman who was so honest about what she wanted.
Her hands worked their way between them to the waist of his pants, tugging at his stubborn belt in frustration.
He lifted away, forcing her legs to release him. He hated she no longer held him captive, but he wanted her wild for him. He wanted to drive them both so crazy that the past and the past week would vanish...at least for a moment.
With a quick flick, he removed the leather belt and threw it to the side of the bed before unbuttoning the waist. She shoved at his hand, but he gripped her fingers. “Not yet.”
He lifted her hands above her head, pinning them down with one of his own. He gazed at the rise and fall of her chest. Her breathing quickened beneath his gaze, her blue eyes transformed into cobalt pools. That she trusted him enough to give him control caused his body to throb in response. He let his fingers stroke her cheek and drew her lip down. Her tongue snaked out to taste his finger. He smiled at her and let her suckle for a moment before taking his hand around her jawline, down her throat, where the pulse raced.
Her legs shifted but he trapped her beneath him. With a butterfly-light touch he teased her breasts, circling one nipple, then the other. Her chest flushed; her back arched. He followed a trail, teasing her, relishing in the soft sounds of pleasure coming from her lips.
“Garrett,” she finally pleaded. She didn’t tug her hands away, though. She wanted more. And he wanted to give her more than she’d dreamed of.
Ever so slowly he explored each delectable inch of skin, first with his fingertips, then with his lips and finally with his tongue. When he reached her waist, tasting the sweetness just above her belly button, she sucked in her stomach. He flicked open the button of her jeans.
Prolonging her pleasure, and his painful desire, he slid down the zipper and eased her pants over her hips. Simple white bikini panties hid her from his gaze.
Garrett tugged at the elastic, swallowing. He throbbed against his zipper. He was going to lose control. He’d been determined to drive her mad, but he was losing his mind.
And his heart.
He rose to his knees and tugged at the elastic waist.
She wrenched her hands from his grip and sat up. “I can’t take it anymore,” she said. She shoved her jeans and the small scrap of cloth down her legs, leaving her bare to his view.
God, she was beautiful.
Without hesitation she pushed against his zipper. His body surged.
“I’m too close,” he said, his voice tight.
“So am I,” she countered. “Make love to me, Garrett.”
He gritted against the sensitivity of his body as he shucked off the rest of his clothes. He reached into the bedside table and grabbed a condom.
Her legs parted for him and she pulled him to her. She didn’t play coy or hesitate. “Make love to me, Garrett. Now.”
Unable to resist, with one thrust, he sank deep inside her.
She was ready for him, welcoming, hot and needy. He lost himself in her. The past disappeared, the uncertainty.
She cocooned him in her warmth. With each stroke, she sighed, and then the rhythm built, slowly at first, then stronger, faster, more intense.
His heart raced; his body trembled. He wanted to feel her fall apart in his arms. She tightened around him and he couldn’t hold off. He thrust against her and his body pulsed in release. He sagged on top of her, the rhythmic quivering of her body gripping him.
She’d fallen over the edge with him.
For a moment he couldn’t move, letting his heart slow, feeling her heartbeat calm.
“Wow,” she mumbled, stroking his hair.
He moved off of her, disposed of the condom and spooned her. She felt so good, so right lying against him. He kissed her temple, wrapping one leg around hers, unwilling to let her escape from his embrace.
“Yeah. Wow about covers it.”
She wiggled her back end against him before settling down. She gripped one of his hands between hers.
“I feel like a boneless jellyfish,” she said. “I never want to move from here.”
He didn’t either. He stared at the wall, just listening to her breathe. In and out, soft and steady. He hadn’t planned this. But he couldn’t find it inside him to regret.
That in itself made him wince. What had he done?
He toyed with a small curl of hair against her cheek. She was so soft and yet so strong. And so smart. Her fingers had flown across that keyboard and he had seen her analyzing the problem, creating a solution and acting on it.
More than that, she was brave. She hadn’t hesitated to protect Molly.
“I can feel you thinking,” she said softly. She turned in his arms and looked at him. “What about? Regrets?”
A hesitant expression had settled on her face. He kissed her nose. “No regrets, even though—”
“Don’t,” she pleaded. “I don’t want to think about what’s happening. Not yet. Can’t we just be, with nothing between us? Just for a few minutes.”
“Of course.” He wrapped his leg over her hip, pulling her against him, saying nothing.
She played with the smattering of hair on his chest for a moment, then sighed. “But it won’t go away. They’re coming.”
Her hands slowed then stilled. “Do you think Dad is okay?”
“Do you want lies or truth?”
“Truth.”
He twirled a strand of her hair. “I don’t know. I’d have hoped he’d get word to me by now. Somehow.”
“You’re worried.”
“James has kept himself alive a long time.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Laurel asked, her voice laced with sadness.
“Both, maybe.”
She huddled into him and he wrapped his arms around her. She went quiet for several minutes, and Garrett wondered if she’d fallen asleep. He hoped so. She could use the rest.
“How do we catch them, Garrett?” Her breath kissed his bare chest. “They haven’t made a mistake.”
The despair in her words touched his very soul. More because he couldn’t guarantee anything. Not even her safety. All he knew was he’d do his damnedest to keep her and Molly alive.
His arms gripped her tighter. “Actually, they have made a mistake. Your sister was killed because she identified evidence. Which means—”
“They left a trail,” Laurel finished.
“Once you find a way into that file, we could have the answer.” Garrett closed his eyes and stroked her hair. An answer to the revenge that had eaten away at his gut since he’d woken up from that coma with his life changed forever.
Lisa and Ella might finally be able to rest in peace. Maybe he would, too. He moved away from Laurel. He unwrapped himself from her and sat on the side of the bed, his head in his hands.
Laurel sucked in a breath from behind him. He’d forgotten about his back. He grabbed for his shirt. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” she whispered.
The bed shifted and she moved behind him. She rubbed the base of his neck. He groaned, feeling the tension that had been sitting there for so long dissipate. Her hands drifted down, in and out of his ability to feel.
Her touch caressed his lower back. “Can you feel me?” she asked.
“Mmm-hmm.”
She nipped at the back of his neck with her teeth. “How about now?”
“Oh, yes.” He let his head fall forward while she explored.
Her touch danced just beneath his shoulder blade. A sharp prick raced through him and he tensed.
“Did I hurt you?” She yanked her hands away.
“Don’t,” he said. “Just the nerves going crazy.”
“How many surgeries did you have, Garrett?”
“More than I can count. Skin grafts, shrapnel got embedded into my back. I was a mess.”
Her fingers returned to his shoulder blade. “I guess that’s what happened here. There’s evidence of sutures. It’s strange—”
A loud beeping sounded from Garrett’s phone. He jumped to his feet. “Get dressed. Someone’s broken the perimeter.”
