Frustrated and restless, Cutter paced from the window to the door and back to the window. Usually he saw the world in stark black and white. Right and wrong. Good and evil. Things were simpler that way. Mattie Logan was a gray area somewhere in between, and she was anything but simple.
Usually he had good instincts when it came to people. Those instincts had saved his hide more times than he cared to count. So why couldn’t he shake the feeling that there was more to her than met the eye? Or was it his attraction to her that was muddying the waters?
“You should let me take a look at that bullet wound.”
He started at the sound of her voice and turned quickly to face her. She was standing a few feet away. Even in the semidarkness her beauty touched him in a place he didn’t want reached. He saw the cut on her temple. The bruise on her cheekbone. He wasn’t the only one who’d gotten banged up in the past twenty-four hours.
He wasn’t sure why he wanted to argue with her, because she was right. Maybe he wasn’t sure how he would react if she put those pretty hands on his body.
“I’ll melt some snow so we can clean up,” he heard himself say.
Ten minutes later he found her sitting on the single remaining chair next to the hearth. She looked up when he returned to the cabin carrying an old pan filled with snow.
“How long do you think this storm will last?” she asked.
“Hard to tell. It’s showing no sign of abating.”
“Do you think The Jaguar—”
“I don’t know,” he said abruptly.
She looked away but not before he saw the hurt in her eyes.
Annoyed with himself, he sighed. It was The Jaguar he was angry with; he shouldn’t be taking it out of her just because she was getting to him in a way he didn’t want to be gotten to.
Cutter set the pan of snow on the embers to melt. “I didn’t mean to snap,” he said.
She turned those eyes on him. “It’s okay,” she said. “The situation has made both of us tense.”
Silence reigned as he shoved the pan more deeply into the fire. “I don’t have a first-aid kit, so we’ll boil this water, use it to get our cuts cleaned up. Hopefully, it will be enough to stave off infection.”
“How long do you think it will be before someone finds us or before we can get back?”
The water had begun to boil so he pulled it from the hearth and carried it over to her. “I’m sure the agency is out looking for us as we speak.”
“The Jaguar is, too, though, isn’t he?”
His gaze met hers. Within the blue depths of her eyes he saw all the things he didn’t want to see. Fear. A softness no one could fake. Real emotions. An innocence he didn’t want to acknowledge. Cutter excelled at reading people— especially the things they didn’t want him to see. That was one of the talents that made him such a good agent. The problem was he just couldn’t see this woman contacting and dealing with terrorists.
“Probably,” he said thickly.
“What do we do if he—”
“Look,” he said harshly. “I don’t know the answers to all your questions.”
“I think we should have some sort of plan,” she said. “You know, a worst-case scenario.”
“We do have a plan.”
“What is it?”
“If that son of a bitch shows up here we run like hell.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant.”
“You got a better idea?”
“You’re the secret agent here, not me.”
“You’re the genius scientist. You should damn well know that if you mess with fire you’re going to get burned.”
She stood abruptly. “Why do you hate me so much?”
“What I feel for you is not nearly as personal as hatred.”
“I did not do any of what I was convicted of. If any of the police agencies that had worked my case had been able to see past their noses, they would have noticed that the case was too perfect. Too…airtight.”
“You’re not going to convince me of anything, so you may as well give it up.”
“Look, Cutter, I have an IQ of 150. I graduated from high school when I was fourteen. I graduated from the University of Michigan when most of my friends were still in high school.”
“So you’re smart,” he said. “Big deal.”
“The point I’m getting at is this: if I had wanted to sell secrets to some terrorist organization, there’s no way I would have left a trail of clues Helen Keller could find!”
Her words echoed within the confines of the cabin. She stared at him, her eyes wide and flashing, her nostrils flaring with each breath. And in some small, gullible corner of his brain, he wondered if she was telling the truth.
Because he didn’t want to deal with that question at the moment, he dipped a clean cloth he’d torn from his shirt into the water and scrubbed it against the tiny bar of lye soap he’d found on the counter. “This might sting a little,” he said.
“That’s hardly of consequence when my life is totally destroyed.” She winced when he set the cloth against her temple and began to gently scrub at the dried blood. The cut was deep. He could see the dark bruise rising on her pale skin. All he could think was that he hated to see such pretty skin marred.
“I was framed,” she said abruptly.
Cutter’s hand stilled. “And who is this mysterious person who allegedly framed you?”
“Daniel Savage,” she replied. “My coworker.”
MY LOVER, a cruel little voice added.
It had taken Mattie months to figure out what had happened. How ironic that the person she’d trusted the most—a man she’d trusted with her heart, her body—would be the one to betray her.
“How do you know it was him?” Sean Cutter’s gaze met hers with such intensity that for a moment Mattie had a difficult time meeting it.
“I don’t know for certain,” she said. “But Daniel is the only person who had access to the information—much of it highly restricted.”
“What kind of information?” Cutter finished cleaning the cut on her temple and let his hand fall away.
“Everything you ever wanted to know about the EDNA Project but were afraid to ask.”
“Mattie, that’s not an answer.”
“He accessed my laptop without my knowing it, Cutter.”
“Aren’t there security measures?”
“I had my ID and password taped to the bottom of my pencil drawer.”
“Not too creative.”
“I wasn’t expecting my coworker to commit treason.”
“What else?”
Feeling like a gullible fool, she looked away. “Whoever framed me knew things only Daniel could have known.”
“Like what?”
“Well, Daniel and I talked quite a bit. We were…close, you know? He was the only person I knew who was as passionate about the EDNA Project as I was. Only, now I realize that passion was about betrayal and money, not science.”
She raised her gaze to his. “I trusted him and opened up to him. We brainstormed ideas. I told Daniel things I hadn’t told anyone else. I shared my theories with him. I revealed my concerns that the weapons system was too powerful for the specifications DOD had laid out for us. Some of the topics we discussed were used to frame me. Tell me that does not reek of a setup.”
“Topics like what?”
Even after what had been done to her by a government she had once trusted, Mattie had a difficult time talking about such top-secret matters. “This is top-secret information, Cutter.”
He arched a brow. “I’ve got a high level security clearance.”
“So did Daniel.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not Daniel.”
She flushed. “Okay. For example, when I’m first beginning a project, I do a lot of sketching. I had sketched some of my plans for EDNA. Diagrams. Rough stuff. Not to scale. I always figured the sketches wouldn’t mean anything to anyone except me.” Just remembering hurt, made her feel like a fool. Made her feel
the stab of betrayal all over again. “Well, the sketches went missing.”
“Someone broke into your office?”
“Nothing was broken into. Evidently, someone had the key and wanted me to think I had misplaced them.” She shook her head. “I don’t misplace stuff like that.”
“What happened?”
“Three months later those sketches were found in the hotel room of one of the terrorists.” A breath shuddered out of her. “I would never do anything so stupid.”
“Smart people do stupid things sometimes when it comes to money.”
“I didn’t need money.”
“So you say.”
“Cutter, I made a good living. I was happy and satisfied with my work.”
“So how did eight hundred thousand dollars find its way into your checking account?”
She stomped the quick rise of anger. “I see you did your homework.”
“I always do, Mattie. I read your file.”
“Then you know that throughout my trial, I maintained my innocence. I have no idea how the money got into my account.”
“What else are you going to say?”
“Look, if I was going to accept money for selling secrets, you can bet I’d set up a Swiss account or an account in the Cayman Islands at the very least. I wouldn’t deposit it into my personal account.”
Cutter stared hard at her, studying her reactions, her body language, her ability to maintain eye contact with him. Everything about her said that she was telling the truth. As unlikely as it seemed, was it possible she’d been framed? Or was the keen attraction he felt for her skewing his judgment?
The last time his hormones had gotten involved when he was on assignment, someone had ended up dead. He’d nearly ended up dead himself. And to this day he couldn’t look at the scars on his body and not shiver with horror.
“The feds are not stupid, Mattie,” he said.
“No, but it was an election year and in a post 9/11 world, they were under intense pressure to find the culprit and bring them to justice.” She blew out a pent-up breath. “They didn’t look any harder than they had to, Cutter. It was all right there. Neatly planted. Motive. Means. Opportunity. Like a puzzle a five-year-old child could solve. All they had to do was put the pieces together.”
He wasn’t sure which was worse, believing that this lovely, angel-faced woman was guilty of treason. Or entertaining the possibility that she’d endured a trial and spent four months in prison for a crime she hadn’t committed.
“I don’t care if you believe me or not,” she said.
The hurt and hopelessness in her eyes told him otherwise. “Look, when we get back,” he heard himself say, “I’ll make some inquiries.”
“You’ll look into it?”
“I’m not making any promises, but I’ll take another look at your file. At the transcripts. I’ll make a few calls. See if I can come up with anything.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Choking back a sound that was part laugh, part sob, she blinked back tears. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said. “I’m not doing this for you.”
“Then why—”
“If you’re innocent, then the person who sold those secrets to The Jaguar is still out there. We both know it’s only a matter of time before he does it again.”
Chapter Eight
“You’re going to have to let me take a look at that bullet wound.” The last thing Mattie wanted to do was clean up a bloody bullet wound, but she figured they both knew that once they left the cabin they likely wouldn’t get another chance.
Cutter glanced her way from his sentry post at the window. “It’ll keep.”
“It bled a lot.”
“It’s only a graze.”
“Grazes get infected, too.” She could tell by his expression that he knew she was right.
Looking none too happy at the prospect of her administering first aid, he crossed to the chair near the fire and sat down. “Fine. If it will make you happy, take a look.”
“What will make me happy is getting off this godforsaken mountain so I can clear my name and get my life back.”
He watched her as she crossed to him, and Mattie felt a tinge of self-consciousness. He had the most penetrating stare of any person she’d ever met.
“I know it’s cold in here, but you’re going to have to take off your shirt,” she said.
His expression was impassive as his fingers worked the buttons of his flannel shirt. But rather than remove it, he simply opened it.
All thoughts about bullet wounds and terrorists and clearing her name fled the instant his chest loomed into view. Mattie had seen plenty of male chests in her thirty-one years, but she had never seen one as perfect as Sean Cutter’s. It was a work of art carved into stone by an artisan with an eye for male beauty.
“So am I going to live?” he asked.
His words drew her from her momentary stupor. Mattie reached out and slid one side of the shirt down his injured shoulder. The sight of the wound made her gasp. The bullet had cut a jagged, two-inch-long path through his flesh. The surrounding skin was the color of eggplant and covered with dried blood.
“If this is a graze, I’d hate to see your idea of a serious wound,” she said.
“I’ve had my tetanus shot.”
“What about rabies?”
“I don’t bite.” His smile was wan. “Most of the time, anyway.”
“That remains to be seen.”
The wound was on his left triceps. Raising his arm, he looked at it. “All we can do now is scrub it clean and hope infection doesn’t set in.”
Her hands trembled as she reached for the lye soap. She dipped the tiny bar into the water, worked up some lather and then set her fingers against the wound. “Hurt?” she asked.
“What do you think?”
“I think that was probably a silly question.”
When she began to rub her fingertips against the wound in small, circular motions, she could feel his muscles tightening. She knew the soap was stinging the wound, that the pressure she was applying was causing pain. But there was no way around it, so she continued with the cleansing.
“Tell me about Daniel Savage.”
She froze for an instant. “He was my coworker.”
“Was he your boss?”
“I was his boss.”
He nodded. “Were you friends?”
“Yes.”
“Were you more than friends?”
“Yes,” she said after a moment.
“Okay.”
She didn’t know what he meant by that simple acknowledgment, but she wasn’t going to elaborate. She didn’t want to talk about Daniel or just how big a fool she’d been to let him into her heart.
“Do you have any proof he set you up, or is your theory conjecture?”
“My theory is based on logic. I’ve had a lot of time to think about everything that happened. Cutter, I’m sure of it. Every piece of evidence that was used against me points to him.” She sighed and was surprised to hear a shudder. “I think your graze is as clean as it’s going to get.”
“Thanks.” Grimacing, he pulled his shirt back over his shoulder and glanced toward the window. “Looks like the storm may be letting up.”
Relieved to be off the subject of Daniel, Mattie followed his gaze. The snow was still coming down, but not as heavily. She could still hear the wind, but it no longer shook the walls. “Do you think we can travel?”
“I think we should try to get some sleep. If the weather continues to improve, we’ll take off in a few hours.”
EVEN THOUGH Mattie was exhausted, sleep refused to come. She lay a few feet from the hearth on the scratchy blanket and stared into the low-burning embers, trying not to think about the state of her life. Outside, the wind no longer howled, but she could still hear it whispering through the cracks of the old cabin. The patter of snow against the windows had slacked, but she could still see it falling beyond the dirty glass.
She’d just begun to drift when a sound from across the room jerked her awake. It was the kind of sound an injured animal made while in the throes of death. Alarmed, she sat up and looked around. In the dim light from the fire she could see Cutter lying on the floor a few feet away. She was about to call out to him when she realized he was the source of the sound.
It came again. Part moan, part scream, the sound was fraught with pain and terror. It was a hopeless sound filled with resignation and suffering. The kind of sound that made her want to put her hands over her ears.
She saw his body jerk. Once. Twice. A moan wrenched from his throat. “Monique,” he groaned. “Aw, God…Monique…” He muttered something in French.
Not sure if he was in the throes of a nightmare or if he’d developed a fever from the bullet wound, Mattie rose and went to him. “Cutter?”
He moved so quickly she didn’t have time to react. One moment she was bent over him, touching his shoulder, concerned that he was delirious with fever, the next she was lying on her back with the blade of a knife pressed to her throat.
He stared down at her for a full five seconds before blinking. She could see him pulling himself back. Cursing, he shook himself, then got to his feet and walked over to the window to lean against the sill.
Mattie lay on her back, her heart pounding, unable to believe what had just happened. Something horrific had been released inside him. Something that didn’t have anything to do with the bullet wound or fever or even the situation. He’d thought she was someone else. Someone he’d wanted to kill. She’d seen the surprise in his eyes the instant he’d recognized her. The flash of regret. The realization that he’d been out of control and about to cross a line.
Slowly Mattie got to her feet. “What the hell was that all about?”
“Don’t ever do that again,” he ground out.
“Do what? Show concern?”
Cutter braced his arms against the sill. “I don’t need your concern.”
“You cried out in your sleep. I thought you’d developed a fever. I was trying to help.”
“I don’t need your help.”
Mattie touched her throat where the blade had been pressed. Anger joined the chorus of shock and fear when she looked at her fingertip and saw blood. Her hands and legs trembled as she walked over to him. “You came within an inch of cutting my throat.”