Mitch walked back to her room. “Let’s find a good place for you to keep this.”
“I was thinking in the nightstand drawer.”
“I’m thinking under the bed.” He got to his knees on the far side of the bed, and she knelt beside him. “If CT gets in and you’re by yourself in here, you’d hide behind the bed.” He shoved the gun a good arm’s length underneath. “This way, you’ve got an easy reach for protection.”
Made sense. In fact, she could probably even shimmy completely under the bed if need be. She had no doubt the bad guys would look there, but at least it was one more obstacle.
Moving to stand up, their arms barely touched; even that was enough to spark their chemistry. He jerked away, but not so fast she didn’t feel his warmth beneath the coarseness of the hair on his forearms. She forced herself not to show any reaction. She wasn’t a fool about their attraction—she doubted he was, either.
“If you need anything, I’ll be setting up the OPAQUE equipment in my room,” he said.
“Why won’t you tell me the color and style of your bedroom?”
Shaking his head, he looked to make a quick getaway as he stepped toward her open door. “You don’t give up, do you? Always got one more question. One more thing you need to know.”
“Answer my question and I’ll be quiet.” She raced to beat him to the door, closing it to block his path.
Stepping back, he crossed his arms as the cords in his neck seemed to stiffen. “I’ve had enough for one day, Liz. Move.”
He slightly tilted his forehead downward and raised his eyebrows as a burst of red intensified his expression, and for a moment she thought he might push her out of the way. He appeared fierce. Controlled…but fierce. She’d not seen that look before and didn’t much like the daggers his narrowed eyes had focused on her. But she couldn’t let whatever was going on in connection to this house stay lodged between them.
Leaning back against the door, she crossed her arms in return. “Is this really your house?”
“Yes!”
“Then how come you don’t know where your dishes are? Where you keep the silverware?” She sucked in a breath of courage before continuing. “And I’d bet money you don’t know what color your bedroom is.”
He gently, yet firmly, moved her to the wall next to the door.
She stayed her ground, stayed leaned back against the wall. “You want to know what I think?”
“No.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever spent one night in that bedroom. Maybe not even in this house. Come to think of it, this place is probably nothing more than a house to you. Not a home.” She softly touched his arm with her fingers. “Do you even have a home, Mitch?”
He grasped her fingers in his own as he pushed her hand back against the wall, elbow length beside her head. His body moved in close. Close enough she felt the muscles of his chest press against her. His legs sandwiched her leg between them, then he slid his head next to her, his cheek brushing hers.
“You will not get in my head, Elizabeth,” he whispered alongside her ear. “No matter what you do. Or what you try. You will not get into my head.”
Evidently, she’d struck a nerve with him. A defensive, emotional nerve. Why couldn’t he say she was right? Or wrong? “I like the way you whisper against my ear, but you didn’t answer my question.”
He moved back a couple of steps. “You want a question? I’ve got one for you. Why did you kiss me out there on the Q40?”
Just like him, she could refuse to answer. Tell him to answer her question first. Ask him why he kissed her back. But somehow, none of those responses seemed appropriate. She’d had a reason. A very important reason.
“I told you. What if tomorrow never comes?” she softly said.
“Now,that’swhere we’re different. I’ll fight every fight till the last punch. Use every defense I know. I’ll annihilate every enemy that steps in front of me.” His eyes seemed to search her expression. “I damn well plan for you and me to live one more day.”
“But sometimes things go wrong. What if you’re killed?”
He opened the door and stepped into the hall. “There’s only one thing you need to remember. Dying—is not an option today.”
Chapter Eighteen
The first thing Mitch did after taking the OPAQUE tech setup bags into his own bedroom, was unlock his side of the connecting door. He jiggled the handle on her side. Locked.
“Coming. I forgot. I forgot,” Liz called from inside her room then opened the door. “Thanks for reminding me. I’ll leave it unlocked from now on. Should I leave the door open?”
