When she shot a frown in his direction, he pointed to the dressing on his arm. “Sitting still for five minutes did the trick. It’s not bleeding through. You don’t have to change the bandages.”
Her frown was slow to fade, but finally did. “Good. Then you can stir while I get other things out.”
“Just give me a minute to put on a shirt.” He hurried out to find his go-bag. Once he’d dressed in a clean T-shirt, he grabbed one of his spare burner phones and her laptop and returned to the kitchen, still barefoot but more in control of his body’s response to the assassin. He set the phone and laptop on the counter. “Thought you might want your computer.”
“I will. After we eat.” Keira had opened a large can of soup, poured it into a saucepan and warmed it on the stove. She handed him the spoon. “Stir.”
His lips quirked at her command. While he stirred the broth, she snagged a box of crackers from a shelf and set it on the table along with spoons for the soup. Then she removed two bottles of beer from the fridge, set them on the counter beside the stove and dug a bottle opener out of a drawer.
Rogue popped the tops off the bottles, handed one to Keira and lifted his to hers. “To the consummate planner. You thought of everything when you stocked the cabin. Perfect. It’s more like a vacation than a hideout.”
“I come here sometimes just to recharge. No noise. No one telling me what to do. No one waking me before dawn to perform morning calisthenics. Just me in my cabin cave.” She tapped her bottle to his. “Here’s to escape.”
When the soup was steaming hot, Keira took over, tipped the pan over two bowls and carried them to the small table.
They ate soup while it was hot, dipping crackers into the thick broth.
Rogue finished his soup and waited for Keira to finish hers. When she had, he carried their bowls and silverware to the sink and washed them.
Keira appeared at his side, dried the cleaned bowls and spoons and placed them in the cabinets where they belonged. “Want to take our beers into the living room?”
“Wouldn’t you rather get some sleep?” he asked.
“I’m too wired to sleep.” She might be wired, but the shadows beneath her eyes were a clear indication she was exhausted. The stress of being on the run and keeping one step ahead of the people trying to kill her had taken its toll.
Rogue could insist that she go to the bedroom and sleep. He didn’t. He wanted to spend more time with her. Maybe he could help her relax so that when she did go to bed, she might actually sleep.
They carried their beer bottles, the burner phone and the laptop into the living room. Rogue sank onto the brown leather sofa and leaned back. “Surprisingly comfortable.”
Keira laid her laptop on the end table, sat at the other end of the sofa and smiled. “It is very comfortable. Sometimes, I sleep out here. The bedroom is nice and all, but it can be a bit claustrophobic. At other times, it feels like a safe haven.”
Rogue took a swig of his beer and swallowed. “I like your cabin.”
“Thank you,” Keira said. “I like it, too.”
“Do you think you’ll live here full-time someday?” he asked.
“That’s a dream I don’t dare believe will ever happen.”
He turned toward her and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Why not?”
She stilled, staring at the fireplace, her beer forgotten in her hand. “I’m Onyx as long as Onyx exists or until I die. They would never leave me alone to live my life the way I want.”
“What do you want? In a perfect world, how would you live your life?”
For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. “I haven’t really thought about it. It’s never been an option.”
“What did you want to be when you were a little girl?” Rogue asked softly.
“I wanted to be a teacher like my mother,” Keira whispered. The pain in her voice burned into Rogue’s heart.
"Where’s your mother, Keira?” he asked, already guessing her response.
“Dead.”
“And your father?”
“Dead.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “They died together in a car crash.”
