Silent Truth

  But her mother could be in more pain and had worse problems, so enough whining.

  Think more. Complain less. Even if no one could hear her thoughts.

  Her next move hung on Hunter's if.

  If he got the answer he wanted from headquarters--wherever that was--then he could possibly help her.

  Not many options when she was imprisoned on a mountain with no cell phone, no Internet access, no money, no car...

  She did think Hunter believed her when she'd said he needed her in person to gain entry to the Kore center database.

  One point in her favor.

  If she was dealing with law enforcement. Another stinking if.

  Why hadn't Hunter shown her a badge or ID of some sort? She could ask, but he would have produced one by now if he intended to do so. Maybe he was deep undercover or doing something where he couldn't give his official ID. He could be with any agency from the cops to the FBI to the CIA to national security divisions she'd never heard of.

  Had to be layers upon layers of new law enforcement operations in all areas of government these days that no one knew about.

  But Hunter was obviously wealthy, or relying on someone who was, for him to have access to private jets and secluded mountain homes.

  He'd been at the Wentworth party. People recognized him. Did they know he was some kind of James Bond guy?

  Well, crap. She stopped washing and let the water batter her head. Maybe that would shake loose a few cramped brain cells.

  This was the second time she'd spent a night at Hunter's place and still didn't know the man's last name.

  She growled at yet more gray areas. For now, she'd have to go with believing Hunter was in law enforcement until she had reason to doubt him.

  I hate the mountains. And Hunter.

  She wouldn't be hurt right now if he hadn't brought her to a place with no roads and stuck in the middle of a booby-trapped field and failed to give her phone access and...

  But he'd also flown her away from danger. He had held her when she'd been terrified last night and he had soothed her this morning. He'd only yelled at her out on the ridge because he thought she'd been hurt.

  And he hadn't liked that one bit.

  Didn't like to worry about someone.

  Or the fact that he'd been turned on. That searing kiss and erection were undeniable evidence. Good thing she didn't have body parts that could poke out when she was aroused. If she did he'd have figured out just how bad she had the screaming hots for him every time his internal pendulum swung toward being sweet and caught her by surprise.

  One minute he snarled at her until she wanted to go for his throat, then he'd do something completely unexpected, like hold her or kiss her.

  Sort of ruined that I'm-cold-as-an-iceberg attitude he wanted to project.

  She smiled.

  Did others realize that underneath all that arrogance and do-it-my-way attitude Hunter had a heart? If she'd only known him as a guest at the Wentworth party and never met him six years ago or spent the last twenty-four hours around him, she'd have written Hunter off as another rich uncaring jerk.

  But he'd listened to her when she begged him to not hand her over to WITSEC when dumping her in someone else's lap would have been easier for him. He hadn't demanded she tell him the last key to getting inside the Kore center records. Yet.

  That actually surprised her and earned him another high mark when she knew he could have browbeaten her.

  But Hunter had secrets. Lots of them. Like what he was doing at the Wentworth party.

  He knew the Latin security guy at the Wentworth estate. A teammate? And if she was going to believe him, she had to accept that keeping her here at the cabin was putting Hunter at risk.

  Would they really send assassins out to get him if he didn't convince them he could get into Kore? Or if they found out she was with Hunter? Again, who were they?

  Her heart thumped erratically. He was constantly putting himself in danger to keep her safe. If he needed her help to get whatever he wanted from the Kore Women's Center, why wasn't he jumping at her offer to go there and help him?

  Because he believed the killer could find her. She believed showing up with little advance notice combined with Kore's security would prevent someone from just walking in... which begged the question of how Hunter intended to get in.

  Neither of them could wait for a better opportunity. Wasn't like she could escape again. That hadn't done her any good... except for that kiss.

  He'd kissed her like a man possessed.

  Fire rushed across her skin at the memory of how he'd touched her. She'd never been kissed like that, as if he wanted her right then and right there.

  He could have had her, too.

  She couldn't remember a time in the past six years that she'd wanted a man the way she'd wanted Hunter to finish what he'd started on the mountain.

  Six years? She hadn't ever wanted a man that much.

  Hadn't trusted a man enough to consider more than heavy petting since walking in on the pig and Casey.

  Hunter might be just as untrustworthy.

  She groused at the way she was thinking of him. He had her prisoner. She made a suck-bad prisoner of war wanting to sleep with the enemy.

  He might have just been playing her since she proved to be putty in his sexy hands that could slide between...

  She ran the washcloth between her legs and shivered.

  Enough of that. She squeezed out the rag and hung it over the faucet. Half her body suffered from the beating she'd taken and the other was one big knot of frustration.

  Turning off the water jets, she stepped out of the glass shower and snagged a bath sheet to wrap around her body. The thing fell to her knees. Did Hunter have humongous guests?

  Did he even have guests?

  She found a smaller towel for her hair, then dug through the basket on the counter for lotion. Staring at eyes she'd never lied to, her conscience worked overtime ticking off points in his favor.

  Look at this place. Hunter could have taken her somewhere she'd be in lockdown.

  As long as she was being honest with herself, she might as well face the fact that he'd surprised her when he told her about their meeting six years ago. If he'd made her feel small and cheap, she'd have folded her heart into a smaller shape and forced it farther down her throat.

  But he'd let her know just how much he'd wanted her. Still wanted her, if that bulge in his pants had been evidence.

  She knew without a doubt Hunter left an impression on every woman he encountered, because she remembered how he'd listened to her that night so many years ago. Considering his covert work that was understandable, but he'd really listened.

  And made her smile.

  And taken her home rather than leave her vulnerable to someone else jumping on her drunken offer.

  He was such an unusual man. She could feel him when he was near. Feel the battle he fought to remain distant. And still he'd wrapped her in the safety of his arms more times than she could count. He was the kind of man a woman listened to with her heart. If she did that, her freedom might not be the only thing in jeopardy by the end of this.

  She put the lotion on the counter and headed to the bedroom.

  Someone tapped at the door.

  "You'll have to wait. I'm in a towel," she called out, searching the room for a robe.

  The door opened.

  She shrieked, "Get out. I'm not dressed!"

  Hunter didn't slow down. "Doesn't matter. That towel's coming off anyhow."

  Chapter Twenty-six

  O ne towel between me and Abbie's wet body.

  Hunter didn't know if he could do this or not. He'd been all set to put antibiotic on her scrapes earlier, but she'd been sound asleep when he came up to her bedroom the first time.

  He couldn't bring himself to wake her.

  So he'd stood there like an idiot and watched her sleep for a while. He'd been tempted to pull her clothes off just so she'd be comfortable until
he realized he wouldn't stop there.

  By the time he walked back down to his office, he'd gotten his head straight about how to handle Abbie so he could move ahead with his next step on this mission when she woke up.

  That was downstairs, before he walked in here and found her not just in a towel, but wet from the shower.

  Smelling like fresh rainfall.

  Water trickled down her collarbone, then turned south to dive between her breasts.

  His tongue got hard thinking about following that path.

  And he wouldn't stop there.

  He could spend hours tracing her body with his hands and mouth.

  But some other guy got the life with lazy afternoons making love to the same woman day after day. He had a job to do. The sooner he got this done, the better. "Get on the bed."

  "Are you crazy?" Abbie backed up until her legs bumped the bed, realized where she was, and sidestepped toward the dresser. "Get out of here."

  Good suggestion, even if it had been flung at him like the sharp point of a knife at a target, but her wounds needed tending and he was the only one who could do it.

  The only one he'd allow to touch her.

  Borys had volunteered to save Hunter the trouble.

  Hunter had threatened to save Borys the trouble of breathing if got near Abbie when she had no clothes on.

  And smelled fresh as a new day.

  But blue lightning flashed in those eyes right now, warning him a storm was building.

  "Just going to put ointment on your cuts so they don't get infected." He lifted the tube of ointment in his hand. "You get all your wounds cleaned?"

  Her mouth puckered open then closed like a confused guppy. Wet curls dangled from where she'd failed to capture the entire mass in the towel wrapped around her head.

  The bath sheet covered a lot, but wrapping her arms around her waist shoved her breasts high, threatening towel control.

  Just put the damn ointment on and keep your hands to yourself.

  Don't think about her naked on the bed.

  Or the floor. Or the bathroom sink. Or...

  Hell, he'd almost stripped her on the side of a mountain.

  "I can put the salve on." She didn't move from the dresser, as if that was the only safe place in the room.

  "You can't reach all of your back." Once he made sure her cuts were clean and disinfected, he'd exit. Immediately. But that had to happen soon. He knew one way to get her moving. "What're you afraid of ?"

  Her shoulders clicked back at that.

  The little termagant didn't like having her courage challenged. He didn't doubt her courage. She had too much for his peace of mind. She'd put herself at risk for others without a second thought for her own safety.

  "Just do it with me standing up," she suggested.

  "It'll be easier if you're lying down." He hoped. Less chance of gravity taking that towel off her body.

  One slip and it would be all over. Even he had his limits.

  She relented, heading for the bed, where she yanked the towel off her head and dropped it on the floor, then climbed on the blue corduroy bedspread facedown.

  Curls tumbled wildly.

  His fingers itched to touch the soft twists.

  She grumbled to herself and lifted up. Then she shoved the pillows to the side and loosened her bath sheet, pulling each side out from under her body until none of the towel was caught between her and the bed.

  She scooted over, taking the towel with her and leaving him room on the edge. "Well? What else do you want me to do?"

  Peel the rest of that towel off, kiss me like you did earlier outdoors, and lock your legs around my waist.

  His jeans were getting tighter by the minute. If he stood there any longer and she got a look at his growing erection she wouldn't let him touch her. Not after what had happened on the mountain. If he did that again he should be decked for teasing her. He moved over and sat on the bed next to her hip so she couldn't see the bulge in his jeans without twisting around.

  The huff she released sounded like a whispered curse.

  He pinched the top edge of the towel and rolled it down off her shoulders. Then he cursed.

  "What?" she asked.

  "You've got one nasty scratch on your back."

  "What are you angry about? My fault. Not like you pushed me down the hill." She turned her head, facing the window, and settled herself again.

  But it was his fault. He should have anticipated anything she might have done, even trying to leave the cabin. He opened the tube of antibiotic cream with a topical painkiller he'd gotten a while back from Mako--a BAD agent with an MD who could patch up just about anything long enough to keep an agent alive until they made it to the hospital.

  Rubbing the salve between his hands to warm it, he opened his palms and placed one hand on her back.

  She flinched. "I'm okay."

  He slowly started smoothing the medicine across her shoulders and down the sides of her arms.

  She sucked in a breath.

  "Sorry. Those spots need the most attention."

  "It's okay." Her bottom wiggled, settling again.

  Don't move, Abbie. He finished spreading the cream on her back and slid the towel down a little more, exposing a few scratches on one cheek. He continued wiping the cream across the gentle rise.

  She flexed her bottom.

  Don't stare at her pert butt. Don't think about anything but clinical application of the cream.

  Tell that to his loins getting heavier by the minute.

  He ran his hand back and forth over her right cheek. Sweat beaded along his neck. She had a few scratches on her front, but he was done. "Think that's all the tough areas to reach."

  "I'm over my modesty attack," she murmured. "Go ahead and finish. Not like you haven't seen most of my backside by now and I'm too stiff to move."

  He was too stiff, too, but he doubted sharing that would draw any sympathy from her. His hand shook at the thought of touching her any longer and restraining himself.

  Unbelievable. His hand had never shaken while handling a woman.

  But he wanted to touch Abbie everywhere. Slide his fingers down between her legs and brush over the tender skin, tease her until she moaned his name.

  She'd have let him on the mountain, before he practically stroked her, then walked away.

  He peeled the towel all the way off her backside, sure he was opening a door he couldn't slam shut again.

  She flexed her legs that had small scrapes.

  After drawing a deep breath of resolution, he reloaded cream on each palm and walked to the end of the bed. Leaning over, he started at the back of her calves, rubbing up and down.

  Moving higher to reach the top of her thighs, he massaged her muscles with his thumbs all the way back down.

  He paused. Had she moaned? He kept massaging her thighs and unintentionally brushed the juncture between her legs when he stretched forward.

  A shiver raced along her lower body.

  The beads of sweat on his neck joined forces and trickled down his back.

  He couldn't do this.

  He could do this, but it would end with him turning her over to spread her legs and start kissing there.

  If her earlier response was any indication, she had a hair trigger. He'd love to see her face when his finger brushed over and over and over that trigger until she exploded.

  The only thing stopping him?

  He couldn't seduce her the way he would another woman.

  Because she wasn't like any of the others.

  Abbie's emotions made her vulnerable. She cared too deeply. She wasn't like the ice maidens he'd taken to bed who burned off pent-up energy the same as him, then forgot the encounter a day later.

  Lifting the edge of the towel, he wiped his hands until he felt certain no cream was left and put the cap back on the tube.

  "You done?" she asked.

  "Yes." Stick a fork in me. He started for the door.

  "Hunter?" r />
  When he turned back, she'd leaned up on one elbow and had a fisted handful of the towel in front of her breasts.

  "What?"

  "You are so cranky." She studied him, her eyes taking his full measure from top to bottom, pausing at the bulge in his jeans.

  "Anything else?" He was snarling like a wounded beast, but goddammit, did the woman have to drag this out any longer?

  "Just one thing." She pushed hair off her face, but the more her thick curls dried the less direction they accepted. "I'm not sure I can still reach all the spots that need... attention."

  He told his feet not to take a step forward and informed his dick she did not mean that the way it sounded. She was exhausted and hurting. She was shy. She probably wanted him to massage her legs some more, or her back.

  She was too damned nice to be lying there in his bed with no clothes on.

  "Do the best you can." Now his feet had to move. Walk out.

  "You mean handle this myself." A shapely eyebrow quirked.

  No, she was not inviting him to climb into bed with her. He had to keep telling himself that even though he'd dearly love to have this one time with her.

  Especially since the plan he just gave Joe had so many holes he expected to fall through one and never be found again.

  "Do I have to spell it out for you?" she asked, getting a bit cranky herself.

  Dick to brain: She does want what we thought.

  "Well, hell." She slapped her hand on the bed and flipped over on her side. "Guess I just made a fool of myself yet again. What's that, like... three times? You're clearly not interested."

  "Abbie--"

  "Go away."

  He wished he could. But she'd been under his skin for six years and if he didn't scratch that itch soon his skin was going to burst from stretching too tight.

  "Thought you'd at least wonder what we would have been like."

  He smiled at her snippy tone, and damn his unsupportive feet, they took a step toward the bed. And another, until he stood beside the bed.

  "Next time I go looking for a man--"

  That did it. She was not going looking for a man. He straddled her legs. He slipped his hands under her middle, lifting her up and back against his chest, silencing her.

  He cupped her breasts, using the tips of his fingers to lightly scrape her nipples, which immediately peaked.

  She rewarded him with a gasp of pleasure. He kissed her neck, her skin was warm and smelled of peaches. She arched her head back. His conscience reminded him she'd been hurt once already.

  "Abbie, I'm not--"

  She growled at him. "Let me guess. You have no idea what's going to happen and may not be around after this. I get it. I'm not really naive."