say no but Natalie beat him to the answer. “I’d do it slow and keep your hands up.”
The guy obeyed but once his ass hit the cold ground he winced. “I was sent to watch over you both.”
“Watch over?” Natalie repeated the words slowly, drawing out the last syllable.
The guy’s gaze flicked to Gabe. “By someone concerned with your continued safety. Someone in the business who’s worried you’re in trouble.”
The motion was enough to clue him in. He didn’t lower the gun because the news didn’t do anything to lessen his shoot-first instincts. “Ah, fuck. Rick sent you.”
“Rick, as in your black-ops brother Rick?” She shrugged when Gabe stared at her. “What? I told you I read your file.”
The guy on the ground cleared his voice. “Can I get up?”
Since he delivered shitty news, Gabe thought no. “Is Rick in Montana?”
For a second the guy didn’t say anything. Then Natalie gave his upper thigh a kick with the snow-covered toe of her boot. “I’d answer if I were you.”
“No.”
She frowned at the guy. “You don’t sound convincing.”
“My orders were to watch and report back. Not make contact.” Rick’s man dropped his hands to the ground but didn’t make a move toward any part of him that could hide a weapon.
“You failed on that score,” she mumbled.
They needed to collect as much information as possible, so Gabe focused on that rather than Rick. “Where’s the plane?”
“Belongs to a local.”
She blew out a long dramatic breath. “A well-paid one, I’m assuming.”
That explained the informal checking and how he got in so close despite there not being a single cabin nearby. The closest one sat miles away, which in this weather and on foot could amount to a ten-day trek.
Not that the guy was staying.
Now that Gabe knew he couldn’t, or shouldn’t, kill the guy, he went with the next best thing. Made him a messenger. “Your job is to go back to D.C. and tell my big brother to fuck himself.”
Natalie smiled then. “Probably won’t do much for this poor schmuck’s job security.”
“As if I give a shit.” Gabe didn’t. That would teach this guy to throw in with Rick.
“Report back that we’re living in a cabin,” Natalie said as she took over. “Not in contact with anyone. Not hurting anyone. Because all of that is true.”
The guy started shaking his head before she got all the words out. “Can’t.”
Now that was irritating. Gabe tightened his grip on the weapon. “I’m still holding a gun.”
“You’re not going to shoot him,” she said.
“I never promised that.”
The guy must have sensed his death sentence had been commuted because he stumbled to his feet. “I sit here and do my job and we all get to go home faster. Easy.”
“Your job is to contact Rick. Tell him I spotted you and that everything is clear here.” Gabe refused to budge from that position. “Then tell him to fuck himself. Don’t forget that part. It’s important.”
“Gabe—”
“That’s as nice as I can be.” He slid a hand under her elbow and started to walk away. He turned back and glanced around the ground by the guy’s feet. “And I’d be careful where you step. It would suck for you to step in the wrong place and die for Rick and one of his operations. He’s not worth it.”
ELEVEN
Natalie knew her skill set. Handling touchy males about even touchier subjects with any degree of tact was not one of them. Still, Gabe needed something, and for whatever reason she wanted to help. Blame the close quarters, or maybe the waning resistance to him the more time they spent together.
He stormed around the cabin and had been doing so ever since sending their watcher away. First Gabe washed the dishes. Actually, that came second. He had to create dirty dishes first and accomplished that by making coffee and oatmeal and not touching either.
The answer probably went something like: gently nudge him into conversation and, once he relaxed, circle around and ask him the more direct questions. Screw that.
She sat down on the couch’s armrest. “So, I guess Rick is a dick.”
Other than the brief stiffening of his shoulders, Gabe didn’t show much of a reaction to the comment. “Understatement.”
Since that didn’t work, she circled around and tried again. “You seem close to Andy.”
“I am.”
At this rate she’d run out of questions in about two seconds and he would not yet have said ten words. Men at work used to whine about difficult women all the time. Talk about a