Blindsided, page 10
part #1 of Book Two Series
The future could be changed.
We’re free to decide.
“You’re wantin’ to keep her,” Sean said softly, watching him with that narrow, brilliant green gaze.
Just like Jack’s.
And for a moment, everything Rafe never let himself feel punched through him. Blood roared with deafening force in his head; a fine, violent tremor shook him, and his heart felt like it would pound its way out of his chest.
“No,” he denied roughly.
“Liar.”
He gave Sean a black look. “I don’t deserve her.”
The other man only shrugged. “We never do.” He looked through the binoculars again. “Never stopped me.”
“That’s just one of the differences between us.”
A snort. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, too.”
Rafe snapped the infrared lens onto the scope. “If we blow the oxygen tanks, the entire place will collapse.”
“Aye.”
“It will work.”
“Aye,” Sean said again.
“Goddamn it.”
“He’ll still be gone.”
Rafe’s throat suddenly ached. His hands curled into fists; if there had been a wall handy, he would have put a hole in it. “I know that.”
“He wouldn’t want it to end you.”
“Or you,” Rafe bit out.
Sean’s gaze met his. “Then I guess we’d best survive.”
He picked up the digital camera, grabbed a tripod, and walked away.
Fifteen
Ruby stared at the wide array of weapons.
Handguns; rifles; automatic weapons. A crossbow, a Taser pulse, even a heavy-duty stun gun. An eclectic collection of knives and—strangely enough—fancy-handled daggers completed the arsenal.
She’d gone out to the barn because she needed a break from staring at the computer screen. So far, there hadn’t been any hits on the one-eared man, but Pete was sure they would get one.
It would just take time.
Time Ruby wasn’t certain they had. Because the one-eared man had taken one look at her and known her purpose. She knew that as surely as she knew her own name.
The jig, as they said, was up.
Which meant that it was highly unlikely Trudy Gordon would contact her for a meet. And that whoever had killed Jack now knew they were here.
Cover: blown.
Which was, Ruby supposed, her fault. She’d approached Trudy; she hadn’t been subtle or covert. No bullshit, no games.
When this whole operation was one big game. Stupid, she thought.
Careless.
And now all of them were going to pay.
“Shit,” she said.
If Rafe hadn’t wanted her involved before, he really wouldn’t want her involved now. There would be no second chances. No way to save him from himself.
Which is not your problem.
But it was.
She didn’t want it, but it wasn’t in her to turn away and let him throw his life away in an act of vengeance that wouldn’t last any longer than it took for some other monstrous corporation to create another insidious, horrific virus. Which considering the state of the world, would probably be next week.
For a moment last night, she’d thought she’d reached him. When she’d looked up and caught him staring at her, the arrested expression on his face had made her heart squeeze hard in her chest. He’d looked…spooked.
Which had spooked her. And she’d tried to penetrate the icy, opaque wall that surrounded him.
Only to fail.
I’m bound.
Which shouldn’t have surprised her.
Not being the Wicked Queen was very important to him.
More important, Ruby was afraid, than anything else. And the sacrifices he made in his effort to not be her had stolen from him the freedom to simply be himself.
Without her.
But trying to make him see that was a fool’s errand. At best, Ruby could only hope to turn him from this chosen, utterly self-destructive path, and hopefully, Pete and Sean would help with that endeavor.
“Crap!” she said and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“No luck finding the one-eared man?”
Rafe’s rough voice made her start.
“No.” She didn’t turn and look at him, painfully aware that her heart was suddenly beating like an obnoxious dance song.
It was always the same.
No, she thought. It was getting worse.
The flutter deep within her had evolved into a steady, heavy pulse whenever he was near. Awareness made her skin prickle, her breath tighten.
She’d caught herself watching his hands, wondering what they would feel like. Studying the shape of his mouth, considering its texture. Imagining the heat and weight of him over her, that intense gaze devouring her, the predator that occasionally looked at her through his eyes watching her.
Stupid, she told herself, her face burning. And dangerous.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said.
“You won’t need a weapon.”
She snorted and looked at him over her shoulder. “What fantasy island are you living on?”
He only watched her. “Take the stun gun if you want to carry.”
“I’m taking the SIG,” she said, annoyed. Because she had planned to take the stun gun.
Damn him.
“You won’t need it,” he said again.
No hint of a smile; nothing soft or benign about him.
“I prefer to rely on myself,” she told him.
The line of his jaw hardened. “Do you think I’ll leave you behind again?”
“I don’t think about what you’ll do,” she retorted, the lie so big she was surprised lightning didn’t spear through the roof of the barn and deep-fry her.
His brows drew together. He took a step toward her, so close his shadow slid over her. The sharp evergreen scent of him filled her lungs, and his heat pressed against her. Her head fell back to take him in.
“You’re staying behind,” he said.
She blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“You aren’t going in with us. You’re staying with Mickey.”
Anger rippled through her. “You decided this?”
“Yes.”
He stared at her, clearly expecting an argument.
Ruby was happy to oblige. “You don’t get to decide.”
“Two words: supreme leader.”
A snort escaped her. “Dream on.”
“You agreed.”
“I didn’t agree to anything,” she told him.
He took an aggressive step closer. “You did.”
“Bullshit.”
Closer still. “You will listen to me on this, sweetheart. You will do what I tell you to do—or I will lock your ass in the trunk of that old Buick and leave you there.”
There was no doubting the cold, implacable resolve within him. It enraged her. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
His gaze narrowed.
“You’re no one,” she grated. “Someone I used to know. A stranger.”
“I’m not a fucking stranger.”
“You know nothing,” she continued. “Not who I am, or where I’ve been, or what I’ve done. What I’ve survived!” A sharp, jagged laugh tore from her. “And you think you’re going to give me permission? How dare you.”
“Don’t,” he warned softly, and she laughed again.
“Fuck you,” she said. “You don’t have a goddamn clue.”
His hands suddenly shot out and wrapped around her arms. The contact burned, and she tried to step back, away, but he only dragged her closer. “Then tell me.”
She growled at him. Her hands slapped his chest; hot, tensile strength flexed beneath her palms.
“Tell me,” he repeated, his voice harsh.
Too intense; too strong; too damn tempting.
“Let me go,” she demanded, her heart beating wildly. The ache inside of her curled tighter. “Now.”
But his hands only flexed around her arms. “No. Tell me, Ruby. Tell me everything.”
She stared at him, her throat aching, the chaos within her a storm that threatened to break.
She didn’t want this. To share; to give him any more power than he already had.
“Ruby,” he whispered, and she closed her eyes because even hidden behind those unremarkable contact lenses, his gaze burned.
“No,” she said hoarsely.
“I’m not a stranger,” he said again, and in his voice she heard the boy she’d known.
Desperate and angry, and so familiar, tears stung her eyes.
“I failed you then,” he said. “I won’t fail you now.”
Her heart squeezed with painful intensity. She forced herself to meet his gaze. “You didn’t fail me.”
He stared her, his eyes churning. “I ruined us.”
Her throat filled. “We were just kids.”
A truth she’d had to swallow, no matter the grief carried by the child within her. He’d been ten years old when he left.
And he’d been powerless—just like her. To hold it against him was profoundly unfair. And if he hadn’t looked back—
Well.
That she hadn’t been to him what he’d been to her wasn’t his fault.
“I never forgot,” he said harshly. “I made you a movie. The Badlands, Devil’s Tower, Yellowstone. Everything I saw on the drive to Wyoming. Even though I knew you’d never see it.”
Ruby could only stare at him.
“I wrote you a hundred letters I never sent,” he continued, ragged.
Pain pierced her. “Why not?”
“Because I couldn’t be both. I couldn’t be him and who I became after; I had to choose.”
She shook her head. “It’s okay, Rafe.”
“But it’s not.” A fine tremor moved through him. “The letter you gave me the day I left had a key in it.”
The letter she’d found in the mailbox two days earlier; the one she’d tucked away so her mother wouldn’t steal it. She hadn’t thought about it in years. “A key?”
“To the storage space in Afghanistan, where my mother had hidden the bombs she’d stolen.”
Jesus. And she’d mailed it to her ten-year-old son.
Goddamn Wicked Queen.
It was too bad she was dead. Ruby would have liked a few minutes with her.
“If you hadn’t given me that letter, those bombs would still be out there,” he said. “I know you think you didn’t matter…but you did, Ruby. You did. More than I have the words to express.”
A tear slid unexpectedly down her cheek. “Stop, Rafe. Just stop. It’s fine. Let me go.”
His hands tightened. “I can’t.”
Another tear escaped. “Damn it, let go.”
“Everything,” he grated softly. “I want to know everything.”
Her fingers dug into his chest. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. You matter, Ruby.”
The pressure in her throat felt like a tidal wave. She couldn’t stop the tears; they trickled down her cheeks, a steady stream she had no hope of stemming. He was hard and unyielding against her, his strength immutable, the force of his will a palpable, impossible thing.
“I missed you,” he whispered.
A sob caught in her chest.
“I’m sorry.” He wrapped his arms around her, and her feet left the ground, and he hugged her, tight. “Please don’t cry.”
She didn’t want to. It had been years since she’d allowed herself to even think of him, let alone shed a tear in his name. And now…
Another sob broke from her, all of the heartbreak and fear; the terror she’d never shared; the aloneness of her life. She pressed her forehead hard into the wall of his shoulder and hated the hands that stroked her back; the mouth that pressed so gently to her temple; the comfort she took.
She was strong. A survivor. She didn’t need him.
But, oh, she was starting to want him.
“One thing,” he murmured. “Just one. Please.”
No. Because one would lead to another, and then another, and then they would be right back at the beginning—but the words welled without permission, and she could only listen in horror—and a strange sense of relief—as they spilled into the air.
“They’re dead,” she said hoarsely.
The arms around her tightened. “Who’s dead?”
“All of them. My mother, my brother, my cousins… I’m the only one left.”
“Jesus,” he muttered.
“I hated them, but they were all I had. And now they’re gone, and I’m alone, and that’s…okay. But now you’re here…and I hate you, even though I love you, and all you want to do is die…” She pushed at the wall of his chest. “You’re going to leave all over again. But first, you want to take a piece of me, and I don’t have it left to give!”
“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m a selfish bastard.”
“It took everything to save myself,” she continued, her voice raw. “I had to die, Rafe. Just like them. But I did it. I got out. I made myself. And now…I have to survive. I have to.”
“You will,” he murmured and rubbed his cheek against hers.
The friction made the ache inside of her pulse with sudden, breathtaking intensity.
“But you won’t,” she whispered.
He pulled back and looked at her. “If I did, would you be waiting?”
Her heart fluttered wildly. “Don’t.”
“Would you want me?” He leaned down, his mouth a hairsbreadth from her own. “Like I want you?”
Blood roared in her head. She stared at him, unable to respond.
“Every time I look at you, I feel joy,” he said roughly. “I don’t think I can give it up.”
She wanted to protest; to push him away.
Run.
But when his mouth descended, she didn’t move.
There was nothing gentle in his kiss. It was rough and hungry and without finesse; his tongue pushed into her mouth, bold, aggressive, and Ruby made a sound—maybe protest, but she didn’t think so—and abruptly he softened, the kiss turning carnal and reverent and deep in one wild beat of her heart. He growled, a low rumble that vibrated against her; his tongue stroked hers. His hands slid down to cup her butt and pull her into the hard line of his cock.
Ruby resisted for all of three seconds. And then she kissed him back.
Hungrily, without guilt or shame; a claiming, as she’d dreamt of a thousand—a million—times. A wet, hungry melding; wild, a little desperate, deep and raw, as if it would be the only kiss ever between them.
Her hands slid into the thick silk of his hair and clenched there. Rafe made a harsh sound and lifted her onto the ancient wooden workbench that held Sean’s collection of weapons. Guns and blades fell to the hard-packed dirt that was the barn’s floor as he pushed between her legs and pressed her back against the table.
“Guns,” she gasped, but wrapped her legs around him.
“Not loaded,” he muttered and took her mouth again.
The ache inside of her burst into a demanding, unrepentant throb; she grew wet and soft, so hot she burned. Metal clanged, more weapons hitting the ground as Rafe bent down over her, and the sight of him above her made the deepest part of her clench, hungry and empty and aching for him.
“I want to see you,” he said, his voice rough and deep, and his eyes glinted, and she wished he wasn’t wearing those stupid contact lenses because she wanted to see his eerie, beautiful gaze as it moved over her.
Like a touch.
“Taste you,” he whispered and leaned down to tongue her through the thin material of her t-shirt, stroking her nipple, and her moan rippled into the air around them.
“Yes,” he breathed and bit her.
Ruby arched toward him with a wild cry, grinding herself against the steel length of his cock. She pulled his hair; her booted heels dug into his back.
He laughed, soft and low. “We’re going to burn.”
And then he kissed her again, and the throb within her bled into her veins until the hollow, clenching ache became all that she was.
Alarm flared within her—this is a bad idea, danger! danger!—but it was muted and faint, and damn it, she didn’t care, this felt too good. He felt too good. Lost, and then found. And his kiss was potent and possessive and unleashed, as if he was inside of her.
Inside of her.
She trembled at the thought and rubbed herself against his cock.
“Say it,” he demanded in a raw voice.
A sound of protest escaped her, but he thrust powerfully between her legs, and she couldn’t deny him.
Couldn’t deny herself.
“Damn you,” she snarled and then moaned again.
“Say the words, sweetheart.” He nipped her ear; rubbed his bristled chin against her throat; scraped his teeth against the sensitive place where her shoulder and neck met. “I need them.”
“You don’t deserve them,” she panted.
“Give them to me anyway.”
Another sound broke from her. “Why? You’ll just throw them away.”
He went suddenly, utterly still. “I would never.”
Need and fury and frustration roared within her. Ruby didn’t want to talk; she just wanted to feel. To let the flame between them turn all of her fears and doubt and pain into ash.
She tugged on his hair and licked his bottom lip. “Just kiss me, you stupid fool.”
He snarled. “Don’t.”
She ignored that and kissed him. He made a deep, rough sound, but he didn’t push her away, and when she sucked on his tongue, he thrust against her again with a harsh groan, as if he couldn’t help himself.
It wasn’t enough. The hollow, throbbing ache inside of her only grew.
It will never be enough.
But at that moment, she didn’t care. She wanted him, and would take him, take all that she could get—
“Ahem,” Pete said politely. “Sorry to interrupt.”
Ruby froze. Rafe tore his mouth from hers and stared down at her, his breath sawing violently in and out.
“Gordon sent a text,” Pete continued, somewhat apologetically. “She’s willing to meet.”
For a long, motionless moment, Ruby just tried to calm the chaotic, consuming need that churned within her. Then her hands slid from Rafe’s thick, silky hair, and her legs dropped from around his hips.
