Mine - HelenKay Dimon Page 0,21
hide while he took the hits. Not her style at all. But in between those stark moments of tension were long periods of unending boredom that books and cards couldn’t shake.
But now something else worked its way into the cabin. A heated sensation. A simmering just below the surface. They hadn’t said a word since the hatchet game. Hours had passed, and they sat across from each other at the small folding table Gabe set up after he finally got bored with cutting wood.
The soup came from a can, but it was warm and it was food of some sort, so she didn’t complain as she’d dumped it into a saucepan and figured out how to heat the burner. She’d had worse. In survivalist training she’d had to go days on little sleep and dig for worms. The whole deal. It supposedly toughened her, but honestly, she was pretty damn tough already.
In those moments when her confidence faltered she let the memories flood her mind. All the blood. Her mother’s screaming. The knife. Amazing how that could shift her whole world back into perspective.
Despite all the turmoil of the past two months, those old haunting memories had remained blocked. She’d had enough to deal with thanks to the immediate danger. Watching her team walk into a setup on a rogue mission. Being called in to answer questions. Hunting the mole while Elijah and the rest of the team scattered, only to be picked off one after the other. She’d stepped in, thrown her weight around, took risks she never thought she’d take to save the last two—Elijah and Becca—but not before facing down another bloodbath.
It was as if death followed her. But never, during all of those dark CIA days and the ones that followed at the negotiating table, listening to Bast weave his magic with words and schemes that made her think he’d missed his calling by being a lawyer instead of an agent, had she called up the soul-sucking memories from those years before. Not until Gabe stood outside today and asked his question. Now the images ran through her mind until all she wanted to do was forget.
Done with the thin broth, she dropped her spoon next to the bowl with a soft clink and glanced across the table. “Since I cooked, you get to do the dishes.”
“Technically, you opened a can.” He actually grinned at her. Sent all that smoking heat in her direction.
She never knew she had a thing for beards or big men or quiet talkers until him. But the punch of that combination made her dizzy. And she didn’t get breathless or silly for any man, not before him.
She cleared her throat because she had to. “Same thing.”
“Not really.”
A knocking sound grabbed her attention. It took her a second to realize it came from under the table where she’d crossed one leg over the other. Seemed one foot had taken to a fit of wild jumping. She rested a palm against her knee to stop it. “You’re an expert at cooking, too?”
He leaned back with his arms folded behind his head. “I know my way around most rooms in the house, including a kitchen.”
Prey. That was the only way to describe what set off the wild thumping inside her. She suddenly knew what a gazelle felt like the second before a big cat pounced.
She forced her voice to stay even. “You sound very domesticated.”
“I am.”
“You, the former sniper.” That didn’t make any sense to her. She pictured him going from assignment to assignment, bedding women here and there. Enjoying a country then moving on, with brief stops at what functioned as home for him before heading out into danger again.
The chair screeched against the wood floor as he sat up straight again. “Not to keep throwing the word out there, but technically I’m still a sniper.”
The move put him closer. A table still separated them, but she was ten seconds away from flipping the thing to get to him. The answer was to circle back to a safer topic. Something mundane and not open to debate. “Well, the cooking might help if you ever decide to put the gun away and settle down to start a family, but I don’t think the other skills will.”
“Already did.”
Words screeched to a halt in her brain. “What?”
He rested his elbows on the table and stared her down. “I have a family.”
The air hiccupped in her lungs. So much for thinking anything with this guy would run