Since she prided herself on being a woman of her word, she silently coached herself now,You’re smart and funny and Hunter Jackson wants you.You.Grace Beacham. So get out of your head, get out of your own way, and let him have you.
The thought of spending the next who-knew-how-long alone with him in a cabin in the woods had excited her from the start. But now? Oh, now she was breathless with anticipation.
The pesky, rational side of her brain reminded her their little trysting spot would probably bewaymore romantic if she wasn’t accused of murder and wasn’t the target of an infamous Russian assassin. And you know, hadn’t witnessed her partners awful, untimely death.Poor Stewart!But she told that side of her brain to screw off because…beggars can’t be choosers.
And what better way to get over the trauma of the last day and her fear of what her future might hold than getting under Hunter Jackson?
“Almost there!” He yelled above the engine noise. “One more mile!”
She nodded her understanding and, for the first time since turning down the gravel road, looked around.
Evergreen trees grew close to the edge of the drive until their lowest branches were nearly close enough to brush the top of her helmet. The forest floor beneath the trees was covered in pine needles, pinecones, and the few solitary white flowers that’d managed to eke out an existence in the shafts of sunlight filtering down through the canopy.
The air smelled of tree sap and fresh dirt. The bay was somewhere close by because she could just make out the fishy-fresh zest of a big body of water.
And then, like curtains pulling back to reveal actors on a stage, the trees gave way to a small clearing. She leaned around Hunter’s shoulder to get a better look, and the scene that met her eyes was a fairy tale.
A tidy log cabin sat in the middle of a little meadow. Someone had positioned a bright red rain barrel to the left of the porch and arranged two rocking chairs separated by a little metal table to the right of the door. Green moss covered the cedar shingle roof. Wisteria wound its way up a trellis on the one side of the cabin, and even though the growing season was nearly over, a few dense purple flowers remained.
Grace wouldn’t have been surprised to see a fairy flutter out the front door on iridescent wings.
This quaint little cabin in the middle of nowhere is Hunter’s hideaway, she thought. And then she immediately wondered what he was hidingfromwhen he came here.
His past? That wouldn’t surprise her. It sounded like his formative years had been loveless and filled with enough trauma that her tender heart broke for poor, baby Hunter. His present too, maybe? As a defense contractor, his life was no doubt chock-a-block full of danger and intrigue. Perhaps this was where he came to get away from it all.
Or maybe he wasn’t hiding at all.
She’d seen the third floor of the factory building on Goose Island. Eliza had taken her there to let her freshen up. And as she’d changed out of her suit, dropping it straight into the trash because there wasn’t a dry cleaner on the planet who could have saved it, Eliza had explained how Hunter and the rest of the Black Knights not only worked onsite but lived onsite too. Which made the old factory building a sort of dormitory—minus the communal bathrooms and plus one fat, overly friendly kitty.
So perhaps the cabin was Hunter’s idea of a bachelor pad. A home away from home where he could seduce women in private.
By the sound of it, I’ll be his next conquest.
The notion filled her with excitement and displeasure in equal measure.
The excitement she understood.I mean, come on. Duh.But why the displeasure?
The answer formed inside her head with crystalline clarity.I don’t want to be just another notch on his bedpost. I want—
Before she could finish the thought, he cut the engine and she was immediately struck by the silence surrounding them.
It was deep. Profound. Highlighting just how far off the beaten path they were. Of course, as soon as she removed the helmet, she realized it wasn’t that quiet after all. There was the buzz of insects, the chirp of a songbird, and the softhissof the pine trees when the warm breeze tickled their branches.
“I called ahead to the guy who takes care of the property for me.” Hunter pulled off his own helmet. His sweat-damp hair was matted to his forehead. “I had him bring by provisions. We should be good to go for a few days.”
It occurred to her then… “I haven’t thanked you for riding to my rescue in the middle of the night. Or for convincing your friends…er…is associatesa better word? Coworkers?”
He shrugged. “Take your pick.”
“For convincing them to help me clear my name. Or for bringing me here where I’m safe from the FBI and Orpheus.”
He didn’t dismiss her thanks like so many people might have done. Instead, he swung his leg over the handlebars and pushed to a stand. All six three of him cast a soft shadow over her face when he said simply,sincerely,“You’re welcome, Grace.”
She couldn’t help thinking how much her father would like him. Unlike Tim, Hunter didn’t fawn or flatter. He didn’t equivocate or exaggerate. He said what he meant, and he meant what he said.
Of course, in the next breath she reminded herself that just because Hunter had made it clear he found her desirable, that didn’t mean he’d ever meet her family.
A guy like him, one so obviously in love with his perilous job and fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants lifestyle, wasn’t looking for the ties that bind. And meeting someone’s family? That was a tie.
