Mine - HelenKay Dimon Page 0,4

pinned up, which she did for work. Now it rested on her shoulders and spread down her back.

Forget about the rest of it. The man was going to get his ass kicked for stripping her. She glanced down at the gun in her hand. Maybe more than an ass-kicking, but at least he left her a weapon. She’d just need to be clear that didn’t exactly make up for the rest.

She looked out over the bright white landscape and squinted, searching the ground for footprints. The gray sky, so thick with clouds and cutting off any natural light, made it hard to judge the actual time of day. But she could guess, because over the years and through numerous assignments she’d developed an innate sense about this sort of thing.

She’d spent months at The Farm and later been dropped in the middle of Germany for survivalist training. Spent time in the desert and Arctic. She’d seen it all, which made the idea that she needed a bodyguard to watch over her so strange. Early in her career she had played that role. Once she came out of the field and took an administrative job at the CIA, she watched over her team. From a distance, but she still thought of them as her responsibility and did anything to keep them safe, which was how she ended up getting fired. With all that time acting as the protector it was difficult to switch roles and accept being the protected.

Not that she could see her supposed bodyguard right now. His ability to blend in surprised and impressed her. He wasn’t exactly small. He had the big, burly, bearded thing down. Not her usual type. Not even a little, which made her wonder why the look worked for her now. Or did before he drugged her . . . the jackass.

Blocking out the mental image she’d stored of Gabe and the fogginess in her brain, she wrapped the oversized flannel shirt around her and reached for the doorknob. It turned in her hand, which both stunned her and didn’t. Leave it to Gabe to keep her guessing. To act as if she were free to go but trap her in a place that made leaving nearly impossible . . . or so he thought. Looked like he underestimated her. Good. She hoped he kept doing that.

The snow now bordered on sleet and made a clicking sound as it fell to the ground. Ice crackled in the trees. People who loved winter would appreciate this scene. She didn’t. She grew up in the south and craved heat. After years in D.C.’s humidity, venturing out in several feet of snow just added to how much she hated what her life had become.

She stepped out on the small porch. The frigid air blew around her, whipping through her clothes and chilling her skin. It took only seconds for her to know that the drugs really had dropped her body’s defenses, ratcheting up the shock against her skin. A thought tugged at her, that she should stay inside, but she blocked the tiny voice in her head. She’d been in deep-freeze shooting situations. Owned special gloves. She didn’t have them on her now, but she had skills.

The bitter cold cut through her as she moved around, going down one step then the next, from the porch to what probably constituted a lawn in non-snow season. Her boots crunched against the layer of ice covering mounds of white. Snow pelted her face. She glanced around, checking for any sign of her protector, the former sniper turned bodyguard she didn’t want. Only the quiet sounds of the forest echoed back to her.

She took a few more careful steps and rounded the cabin to peer into the wall of trees crowding around the side of the building and stretching out as far as she could see. Her hand tightened around the Glock. Numbness settled in her fingers. She flexed them to keep the blood running, careful not to touch the trigger. She’d seen more than one blood-soaked accident caused by fingers contracting, poor gloves or a bad grip. The cold brought death.

The eerie quiet had her on edge, waiting. A wave of tension crashed over her. She’d insisted the CIA wouldn’t come after her now that she retired, but she never believed it. She only shared those denials to keep from getting stuck with a bodyguard. That didn’t work out so well. But on her own she’d be faster. In