Chapter 5
5
ROBE
The truncated story of Mari Merripen irritated me. Not her presence in my house, but the fact that I didn’t have enough information to keep everyone who relied on me safe because I didn’t understand the scope of the dangers surrounding her yet. Both Jon and Miller had raised their concerns, doubling down on my own, though there was little I could do to alleviate them. Alan initiated his mysterious information network, and I knew he would dig up more for me on command.
Maintaining Recurve Ridge as the best not-kept secret this side of the city had been our mantra as my little herd of wounded men was built up into the ramshackle family we’d become. Over the past few years, Blackthorne and Petersen knew we were hiding in plain sight, but so long as I didn’t venture back toward the city, I could keep my little patch of mountain air and rustic life.
Petersen hadn’t made a move on my business yet, though a coup wasn’t outside the realm of his vengeance.
Snow crunched beneath my boots as I tracked through the woods, trying to follow her path back to where it originated for the fourth time, though I lost the trail a few hundred yards from the house, the elements washing away her presence more and more with each passing day. Still, I knew her trail now. We all did.
And the connotations of her arrival on our doorstep, at least proverbially speaking. Mari was the puzzle we knotted ourselves around, attempted to solve, driving ourselves mad with the singular question we mulled over. Friend or foe? Can I trust the woman in my bed? The measurements of her flight, what remained, were hard to gauge due to the twisting nature of her panicked trajectory, and today’s fresh falling snow was determined to outwit me in my own territory.
Mari had wended her way between trees until she’d run a mile instead of the short distance she covered. We were damn lucky she still had all her toes given the time she must have spent pounding snow to slush in her birthday suit, for fuck’s sake.
“Over here.” Miller raised a hand above his head, waiting for me to catch up. “There, and there. To….” He tracked her invisible path with a quick eye trained in conditions much harder to navigate than my mountainside. “There. And then… nothing. Like she fell out of the sky.”
“I don’t think she parachuted in, Miller.”
He grunted as I caught up with him. “Never know. Kid could have skills.”
“You’re a crabby old man.” I folded my arms over my chest and stared down at him. We’d been over this. Her route, the impossibility of her arrival.
“Feels like it. Where the fuck did she come from?”
I stilled, our banter dying in the wake of the same question I’d asked myself over and over, only to come back to the same singularity. My gaze pierced the trees’ tall shadows that led in the direction of Gideon Blackthorne’s ridge-side residence.
“We both know the answer to that.”
“Then let’s go. We’ve got what we need to finish the job.”
“What job?” I glared at him. “Don’t end up dead on his doorstep. We have no evidence, no strategy. Barging in is a stupid fucking choice. We don’t know numbers inside the house right now, or if he’s there at all?—”
“A better reason to break in.”
“— and the reason George Petersen keeps his distance is that he has his hound to babysit us while he wallows in the city.”
“Such a poet.” Miller bared his teeth.
“Fuck off.”
“Grow a pair.”
“Pathetic. I could hear you whiny bitches going at it like a married couple a mile off.” Alan appeared in a crouch by my feet, his honed hunting knife drawn across his knees.
He was perfectly placed to rise and gut either of us—or both of us—before we knew he was there.
Miller jerked back. “Creepy little fucker.”
“You love it.” Alan rose in a smooth movement, sheathing his blade. “What do we do?”
“Who did you leave guarding Mari?” I searched the darkness between the trees for any trace of the evil dwelling too close to my doorstep for comfort. One misstep over that boundary line, and I’d take pleasure in ending my neighbor’s life.
Until today, I’d have called myself a melodramatic asshole, but now….
“Don’t get your knickerbockers in a twist. Jon’s watching her.”
Not really . Or not in my bedroom, at least. I hoped. The chances of Mari accepting the presence of unknown men as soon as she woke clenched something inside my chest.
“What the fuck are knickerbockers?”
“I love you, too, darling.” Alan batted his eyelashes at Miller. “I thought that since we have an expat in the house, I should perhaps brush up on my British lingo.”
“Stupid ass.” Miller snorted and turned away, his hands flexing at his sides.
I should try to ease his concern, but I harbored the same gut feelings even if I didn’t believe Mari was a threat.
“We should go back.”
“Yes, sir.” Miller pivoted on his heel and stomped through the woods with all the grace of an addict on the way to his next hit. Though his type of fix couldn’t be found in the direction he was headed.
Exhaling hard through my teeth, I motioned for Alan to follow my ex-troop. My aim had been to get a little closer to Gideon’s compound, maybe sneak a peek behind his walls, but my desires didn’t make my words to Miller any less pertinent. If one of us had to head back to NYC and risk raising the attention of my nemesis there, it would mean facing simultaneous battles on dual fronts.
“Come on.”
Alan stood on the spot, ignoring Miller’s temper tantrum. “I’ll find out who’s home, if you need.” He offered the solo mission up like an easy traipse through the woods, not a solitary suicide run if he were caught.
I held his stare long enough for him to drop his head. “Not tonight. I need you in the house to settle the others when she… talks.” Or I make her talk.
Not that I took pleasure in the idea of forcing a traumatized woman to do anything. Still, Miller’s ongoing silence and orchestra of huffs reminded me of the potential threat she posed, pretty package she looked or not.
“Maybe tomorrow?” He perked back up like a kid desperate for a treat.
I narrowed my gaze. “Housebound, huh?”
“A little.” He offered a wink and an ass wiggle as he followed Miller’s path with all the fanfare and stomping steps but in utter silence. “Let me out?”
Message received.
“To run amok?” I smiled, though he couldn’t see it. “We’ll see.”
* * *
Several additional hours after dealing with Miller’s personal brand of torture in the art of charged silence and not whining, I sent him and Will out on a barest-minimum reconnaissance mission. I checked the windows every few minutes, but the cleared area around the house remained exactly that.
“Is she okay in there?” Alan asked in a casual voice, mixing me a cocktail I hadn’t ordered. “Want me to check on her?”
A sound that might be a growl but that came out as a reluctant laugh surprised us both. Alan twirled away, making extra drinks for the hell of it, or so it appeared.
I kept the bar well stocked, a feature that ran the full length of the open-plan combined living-and-kitchen area, created post-build for one purpose. Not because we needed the distraction of alcohol or kept it as an emotional crutch, but because it gave Alan something to do with his hands. Dancing and fixing drinks were his way to deal with the shitty hand life dealt him.
A steaming mug of tea sat on the bar top where he worked.
Though some of us were further along the road to recovery than others, we all had our own Band-Aid fixes to help us deal with the world we’d fallen out of favor with. I reached for the tea, but Alan batted my hand away with a quick shake of his head.
“Not for you.”
“Fine.” I pressed my lips together, then ran a hand over my hair and attempted to answer his earlier question. “I have no idea. She seems chipper enough for a woman who’s been abused to the edge of her sanity. Is that something to worry about or a sign of healing? I’m not the right person to assess her for this. Maybe she’ll crash, or maybe she won’t be able to leave the room. She needs medical attention at the absolute least and psychological support we can’t provide from here. But she seems like she’ll survive, at least at a surface level. I didn’t scare her as much this time. I don’t think.”
I shot a look sideways to where Jon leaned out the cabin door, his back to me as he stared into the silent depths of the winter-blanketed forest beyond.
“The boys should be back soon.” Jon gripped the lintel harder beneath thick fingers that suited his oversized frame, still staring after Miller. “When’s our little ray of sunshine waking up?” He stepped back into the cabin, dwarfing me as we stood side by side.
Alan twisted away from us and whistled an obscenely jaunty tune as he pottered about between the bar and kitchen.
I elbowed Jon in the ribs as my easiest target. “Tell me you’re not sweet on her too.”
“Oh, hell no,” Alan answered for him. He ran a hand through his hair, a grimace twisting his features.
I was used to hearing the end result of his ideas; by the time a thought fell out of his mouth, he’d already either approved or discarded it.
“She needs therapy, but not here. Which….” His grimace became more pronounced, baring teeth and gums at his hatred of the idea he voiced.
“Means either bring someone in or send her away. Yeah,” I groused, the same thought whirling about my head. “I’m not a fan either.”
Jon growled behind me, and Alan turned his attention in my woodsman’s direction. All at once, my bartender’s easy facade dropped away to be replaced with cold eyes and a tight white slash of a mouth.
What did Miller call him—a creepy little fucker? He sure as hell wasn’t wrong. A groan left my lips as my gaze swung between them, waiting for the next crazy to fall from someone’s thoughtless mouth.
Alan’s eyes turned predatory when the big man didn’t back down. Some of the color returned to my bartender’s face. “Oh, yes. He’s got eyes for the little darling. And speaking of, here she is. For you, sweetcheeks.” Alan passed the waiting mug of steaming liquid out of my line of sight.
I spun on my heel, almost knocking Jon on his ass. No small feat in itself, that. But then I turned and took in Mari.
She’d dressed in the compression running tights Will had handed over upon request with no small dose of reluctance and a black long-sleeved thermal top Miller had donated, his slight build being the closest to her smaller form, though he topped her by a good half a foot.
But Miller wasn’t who I thought of when I looked back toward my bedroom.
The slinky black material covered Mari from head to toe and clung to every curve of her breasts. The thermal draped over her ass in a gentle swell that invited a perfect one-hand grip. Clean and damp, her hair was knotted in a messy bun on top of her head. She wore a wary smile that appeared to be her default setting, and as predicted, she weighed in well above stunning.
“Mari—” I started, but Alan cut me off.
“Mari! What a pretty name,” he all but cooed, bracing his forearms on the bench and leaning forward, not quite invading her space. “I’m Alan Dale, pole dancer extraordinaire, and you’ve already met our most gracious host. The big blond one is Jon Littleman. Will and Miller are about somewhere.” He tweaked her nose in slow motion, and she giggled.
Giggled.
“How come he can make her laugh while I get a crazy woman who seesaws between hysterical and mute?” I asked the room, unable to pry my eyes off her.
“Because you’re the size of a mountain, and he chats people up for a living,” Jon replied out of the corner of his mouth.
Alan was the closest thing we had to an intelligence officer, though he hadn’t started out that way.
“Fair call.”
We both folded our arms and stared forward.
Two heads whipped our way at the movement.
Alan rolled his eyes. “Subtlety is not your strength, Robe. Jon, samesies. Waffles, sweetcakes?”
Mari smiled behind the tea mug she clutched to her chest, though I noted her fingers weren’t quite as white as they had been when she accepted the gift from Alan. “I thought I was sweetcheeks.”
“You, tiny girl, can be both.” He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose in a cute, brotherly fashion and danced away.
She blushed.
My groin tightened. The obvious heat that rose in her at Alan’s words spiked painful pleasure straight to my cock. My chest expanded, and I eyed Alan with dislike for the first time. In my periphery, Mari shifted on her feet, swiveling her head my way. I adjusted myself discreetly, though Jon caught my eye with a knowing smirk.
Bring a girl into a house full of military men, and we all started behaving like a ragtag group of randy motherfucking pups on a hormone-fueled trajectory through puberty.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Her gaze rose to catch mine, which froze her where she stood. Jon stepped up beside me, and her thick-lashed eyes widened.
“Don’t mind the great lump over there. Or Jon.” Alan waved a dismissive hand our way. “I’ll make sure you’re safe here, sweetcheeks.” He shot the pair of us a warning glare. “Now, finish up your tea, and we’ll get something a little stronger into you. It’s medicinal. Promise.”
Keeping his light tone, Alan pranced about the kitchen, dancing to a beat no one else could hear. As he swirled, he jerked his head once in her direction. Somewhat belatedly, I took the hint.
I stepped forward, though I had no idea what to say. I went with “If you need more rest, feel free to keep using my bed. It’s there as long as you need it.”
“And you’ll sleep on the floor? I can’t imagine you two sharing a bed.” Mari gestured between Jon and me with a small laugh. Her look turned speculative, a hint of sass breaking through the barriers she’d erected for obvious reasons. It made her that little bit more endearing. “Maybe he’d fit, though.” She nodded to Alan, who swept out in a great circle and exchanged her tea mug for two generous fingers of whiskey. She hid behind her cup, closing us out behind a spectacular display of English manners. “Thank you,” she said again, reverting to her not-so-foul-mouthed default of prim and proper British.
Cute as fuck, and she wasn’t even trying.
Jon coughed, his fist pressed over his mouth.
“Oh, I’m too much man for these great brutes,” Alan said, redirecting the conversation, though his eyes sparkled as he caught my eye. “I wouldn’t object to a lumbersnack like that, of course, though Jon and Robe have shared plenty of times.” He leaned across the bar. “Miller and I got drunk one night too. Experimented with more than a kiss. I wanted to try that out with Will, but he’s a little… well, virginal isn’t the right word, but you get the idea.” He winked at her.
I bit back a groan that bordered on something inappropriate. Add one female to the mix and an excess of testosterone became the order of the day. Was every asshole in the room going to smile at her? I couldn’t risk opening my mouth in case something ridiculous fell out. I glanced over at Jon to check how he fared under this assault of sweetness.
His shoulders lost their habitual hard line. The hint of a smile I hadn’t seen since we built the cabin played on his face.
We were screwed. Every single one of us.
“Alan wouldn’t know,” I reassured Mari as she stared at me with wide eyes. “He’s… ah, I’m not sure how to explain him.” I gestured toward the bar, offering her a rueful smile. “But he’s a good boy.”
“Oh, thank you, master,” Alan roleplayed, lifting his gaze to the ceiling, hands raised in a silent—albeit sarcastic—hallelujah.
I snorted back a laugh at the kid’s antics. Alan was damn good value and a benefit in the house. He sent me a wicked grin and wiggled his ass in a suggestive motion. My palm itched. I took half a step forward, prepared to deliver.
Mari chose that moment to take a large sip from the whiskey Alan had served her. She swallowed with her eyes closed, pleasure and peace warring on her face. Every line creased in panic I’d become familiar with now smoothed over, and I began to recognize the girl who withstood the horror her body and mind were forced to experience. The girl who survived.
When she opened her eyes, the three of us stared at her, unable to tear our eyes away.
“Oh, I….” She blinked, then peered up at me through her thick, dark lashes. “Isn’t it odd how a little extra pain can dull the edge of everything else?”
Jon started at my side like she’d slapped him. He spun on his heel and took the short flight of stairs to the forest floor two at a time, the thump of his heavy footsteps likely to clear wildlife for half a mile around.
“Damn,” I muttered under my breath.
The girl in front of me wasn’t the only one who bore scars, though hers were fresher than everyone else’s. Some of us, Jon the perfect example, didn’t wear ours on the outside.
“What just happened?” Mari took a hesitant step in my direction, her head tilted back as she tracked the empty doorway.
Jon didn’t reappear, and I knew he’d be gone for hours. The flare of her eyes betrayed her alarm, as did the way her whitened knuckles clenched on her glass. For the second time, she didn’t run away.
I might not be able to make her smile like Alan could, but that she moved in my direction floored me. I stuffed my hands into my pockets to prevent myself from winding my arms around her or doing something else that was just as inappropriate. Whenever she managed to self-heal, she would still be in no way ready for what my heart wanted. For once, my brain didn’t object to bringing her closer either.
“Ignore him,” I murmured. Sucking in a long, slow breath in an attempt to calm the blood that roared through my veins at her proximity, I gave in to my baser desires and slid my hand around her waist. Instinct forced me to gentle my touch as I drew her into me. “Jon has his own devils.”
She didn’t pull away from the contact, didn’t rant or scream. My world narrowed to her. I let out a long breath, keeping it under the same ethos of control, and looked across to Alan for support.
His forearms, a mixture of lithe dancer muscle and harder-earned bulk from working at the cabin, rested on the bar top. Long, inked fingers danced invisible patterns across the beer mats. His tea sat forgotten beside him as he watched us with a speculative glint.
Mari leaned into my side. That thin line I straddled between letting her heal and giving in to the selfish need to protect her at a much closer, more intimate proximity turned gray and fuzzy as hell. I’d stepped right into the middle of a taboo space with no exit strategy. The contradictory minx did everything backward. When I expected her to be cowed and silent, she thrashed out. When I expected her to run, she stayed.
Warmth seeped from her bones into mine as she nestled into me like she belonged there. I held her, my arm a light barrier between her and the rest of the world, though I tried not to make my touch restrictive. From the raw skin on her wrists and ankles I’d first observed when I washed her, I doubted she would appreciate having the little control she had over her own body stripped away a second time.
I met Alan’s knowing gaze over her head, a small smile playing on my face. My heart plodded along at its regular, steady rhythm, the possessive beast within me calmed by her proximity. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and defend her from every demon who came for her.
Alan paused, his gaze sliding between us. Something akin to yearning lit his brilliant blue eyes, but before I could delve into a wild speculation of what that expression might mean, he busied himself in the kitchen, his usual graceful movements jerky, his pale skin pasty.
Settling Mari into a perfect fit against my side, I couldn’t work out what he saw in my face that terrified him to the point of distraction.
Or if the fear I read in his gaze came from somewhere within him instead.