Chapter 15
15
MARI
Hair clung to my cheek where I’d drooled on myself overnight. For a hard man and a harder bed, the damn thing eased tired muscles with the type of luxury reserved for royalty. On the nights and mornings I woke alone, I wondered where Robe slept while I occupied his bedroom. If he’d shared another’s bed.
When that happened, a huge part of me wished he’d crashed with me.
Shoving my hair back off my face, I stumbled to the bathroom and threw cold water on my flushed skin. I didn’t need the change in temperature from outside to wake me up; the icy tank water did its job just fine. Throwing an extra layer on filled my need for comfort. Those thin layers of thermals were pretty much what I lived in now.
The cold mountain air differed from the bite of a British winter even as the spring climate drifted into being. There, a permeating cold reigned. Bitter and icy on wet days, chilly winter sun offered a facade of heat in clear weather. Here, the breeze kissed my skin with a fresh chill still, absent the numbing bolt of my initial traipse through the woods. Here, I could breathe.
Thinking about home didn’t have the same sense of loss as before, as though my perception had shifted. Still, the ache of knowing that Mom and D—my family would never take me back remained. I couldn’t process that and buried the thought deep to avoid having to deal with it yet again.
Avoid, avoid, avoid.
I might as well wrap my previous life in police tape and lock it away. And I couldn’t go back. Nope. No way was I doing this right now.
Forcing my thoughts forward, I padded across the hard floorboards to the bedroom door. A gurgle from my empty stomach offered the perfect distraction, and I nearly smiled. My head full of the expectation of coffee and toast, two things that differed from the UK that couldn’t be simpler, the bitter bite of British coffee and crisp toast that tasted different there. Those were the things that I missed so much, I didn’t pay attention to anything but a drive to get to that steaming mug.
Alan provided me with my preferred forms of nourishment every morning. Though I’d only been about for a short period, I knew that when I left Robe’s odd band of men and his handcrafted mountain home, I would miss this place.
Even grumpy old Miller. Well, not so old, maybe. He seemed about Robe’s and Jon’s age, midthirties, perhaps a few years younger. And no part of him looked old; I’d seen him train, and on one memorable occasion, I passed the boys’ bathroom in the hall when the door stood ajar. Stocky, barrel-chested, inked—call him what you would, but the beefed-up man possessed more muscle than any regular person should, including Robe and Jon.
Miller might hate me, but I knew he was right where he needed to be—at Robe’s side.
Gripping the cold doorhandle, I shook my head at the romanticized notion. Coffee wafted beneath my nostrils, and I took a heady inhale that stopped me from pulling the door open any farther.
A good thing, as someone I didn’t know stood in the middle of the room.
My eyes snapped open, and I froze. Peering through the tiny gap showed me nothing more, but it let me hear everything. A voice I didn’t know filtered through to me, giving me pause. I listened for Robe’s deeper tones, straining my ears and clutching the door tight.
“Are you sure it’s all right to use your land, then? It’s only a deforestation protest. I know you’re not keen on losing your trees off the ridgeline, to keep your privacy and all. Hoped you’d support us. I can keep my group on the other side of the road if you need.”
“It’s fine. The land ends at the dirt road. You won’t offend anybody. Plus, if you don’t protest, who will?” That came from Jon.
“Those neighbors need to pull their heads out and take care of the world around them.” That deep growl resonated beneath everyone else’s voice.
I bit my lip, smiling anyway. Good to know it’s not just me he gets his grump on at. I got the impression Robe would be angry at anything at this point, though not as much as Miller, perhaps.
“And there’s the other matter of?—”
“I don’t think we need to work that over again,” Robe threw out.
I rested against the cool wood of the door as he attempted his favorite form of distraction: misdirection.
Grumpy ass number two spoke up. “A mil bounty is nothing to be laughed at.”
I searched the room and found Miller leaning against one corner, his arms folded over his chest as he glared at Robe or maybe the room in general.
Fail on that front, Robe.
Then the implications hit. Bounty? As in bounty hunters ? A mil… fuck, a million dollars? My mind was jarred, unable to process anything else. I let my gaze wander around the sliver of the room I could see.
Robe shifted just enough to give me his side profile. One hand rose to stroke his beard in that unconscious way of his. A blue-and-black checked shirt covered his broad shoulders, and though I just pulled my sorry rear end out of bed, he looked like he’d been up for hours.
Or maybe he never went to sleep.
I still hadn’t figured out where Robe slept each night that I occupied his bed alone—or with whom.
The man in question smiled— smiled —at the number Miller threw out there. “That’s nowhere near enough to play with the big boys. He’ll have to double it or more.”
“You want them pawing at our door?” Miller snarled, rapping one fist on the wood at his back.
Robe turned away from me and stared at the stocky ex-soldier. Though his larger frame obscured my view, his straight spine suggested neither man had backed down. From the little I’d learned about them, I suspected this fight might end up being one they took to the literal death.
The other half of what Robe said registered. That small smile, the banter at a death sentence hanging over his head—he enjoyed this. Being the hunted, the outlaw. Like kids playing cops and robbers, but this time it read back to front. He was the good guy, and the others…. Well, whoever hunted him had to be the opposite.
Right?
Robe turned back to the other man in the room. A flash of bright royal blue obscured my vision for a brief moment before Robe came back into view again.
“Appreciate you coming all the way up to ask permission, Brandon. You’re always welcome to do a little light protesting on my behalf and for others on the mountain. I understand the water has to flow through the properties and not be cut off or redirected from above. Keep your people inside my boundary lines and the violence to a minimum, please. I’ve got enough issues with?—”
The rest of Robe’s sentence cut off as the door shoved inward from the other side. I stumbled back, too absorbed in the conversation that wasn’t mine to start with to react properly. The unexpected movement pulled me off-balance. A roughened hand shot through the opening and yanked me forward. I swore like Alan as I tripped over myself on my way into the short alcove that separated the living area and Robe’s part of the house.
Heads turned in my direction, but I barely saw them, lost in the pair of narrowed eyes crowned with yellow spikes around the iris that were set in Miller’s hard and unwelcoming face.
I opened my mouth—to protest, shriek, whatever—but he stepped inside Robe’s room and shut the door behind him with a definitive click.
“How many doors have you listened at since you arrived?” he spat, clearly validating his suspicions.
A futile glance over his shoulder confirmed that the solid oak door stood between me and the relative freedom of Robe’s and Jon’s lesser interrogation at my surprise appearance. Being locked in a room with a man who’d appeared to hate me on sight would never top my to-do list.
“I got up to get coffee. You were all talking. I stayed back. That’s all.” I shrugged.
His lip rose in a cruel, knowing smile. “You think I don’t know who you are or why you’re here?” He took a menacing step toward me.
I couldn’t focus on anything other than the slim gap between him and the door.
Instinct took over before I could think it through. I dashed around him, turning in circles on feet that knew his best moves as intimately as he knew mine. But that didn’t stop me from escaping the dangerous man who stood between me and the relative freedom available. Something worked in my favor. I shoved at the door—which stuck in its frame right at the wrong time.
Miller shouted his displeasure at being outmaneuvered. He grabbed my wrist, twisting me into a Mari-shaped pretzel. I managed to use my momentum to pull us both against the frame. He managed a death grip on the door handle, yanking on it to imprison me against the solid wood. Paired with a dose of Miller-sized determination, our combined weight proved too much for the minor inconvenience of a jammed door.
We busted through together, presenting a knot of stumbling limbs and snarled words before the rest of the household that congregated in the living area beyond, along with the newcomer.
Miller let me go, and I stumbled on alone.
It didn’t matter if he followed me now; every head not already aware of my intrusion turned in my direction. The unknown man faced me, his mouth dropping open. Behind him, Robe’s usual scowl deepened. Forest-green eyes flared with deep-seated rage—directed at me.
“Get her out of here.” His tone brooked no argument.
A calloused hand gripped my arm, yanking me backward. Ignoring Miller’s insistent tugging, I held Robe’s stare, begging silently for his permission to stay. Dipping my head, I tried to offer no resistance other than to the hand dragging me away from him.
I’m not a threat to your life.
A healthy dose of fear slipped in there as well. I didn’t want to be left alone with Miller; the ex-soldier looked like he might attempt to beat some sort of truth out of me that I could never give him.
“It’s fine. I’ll go.” The new man, Brandon, looked up at Robe, gratitude etched across his weathered face.
Robe nodded, answering the stranger though his attention remained fixed on me. “Never a problem.” He escorted the blue-clad man out the door.
Miller towed me backward, away from the company of the men and the freedom I sought. I flashed my gaze about the room, projecting that silent plea Robe refused to honor. Will wouldn’t look at me, and Jon’s attention remained on the new man and Robe’s back.
I glanced sideways at the bar, but Alan’s usual spot stood empty.
Alan said he’d always be there when I needed a rescue. Like right now. No amount of fighting or screaming would change Robe’s mind. I needed an intervention, and he could have helped me.
Robe’s absence when I needed him hurt deeply because I put my trust in him. All of it.
My shoulders sagged, and I let Miller pull me away, offering no more resistance. He bared his teeth at me over his shoulder, triumph glittering in his yellow-shot predatory gaze.
“If I can’t get the girl to come to the coffee, I’ll bring the coffee to the girl.” Alan appeared at my side, holding a full pot of coffee and three pristine China cups stacked on top of one another. He wiggled a cheeky eyebrow, then raised his gaze to look over my head. “Chop-chop, Miller. Off we go.”
“You could pass for a British spy with those sorts of talents,” I muttered under my breath, waving at the plate-and-teacup stack he carried with flawless grace along with his endless supply of sass, my relief leaking through the facade I threw on without understanding why.
Alan had seen me at my barest moment. I didn’t need to fake it with him.
Miller dropped my arm. Glancing at the man behind me, he strode back toward Robe’s bedroom. His back ramrod straight, he paused at the threshold as if straining against some invisible force and then pushed through.
I ignored his temper tantrum and stared up at Alan.
Concern laced his azure eyes that vied for brightness against Miller’s odd yellow-struck ones as he looked me over, his lips thinned, then handed me a teacup. “I’d take that as a compliment, Mari Merripen, but right now I prefer to stay an American spy.”
He winked and slid past me as I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. Not that I should be surprised; I’d sort of gotten the idea of what Robe and his odd little adopted unit did, an understanding gleaned from their continued interrogation since the moment I fell out of my reality and into his forest.
Alan admitting it outright, even if he only spied for Robe… I doubted he joked about that sort of thing.
And that made Robe’s ridgeline home less of a safe place when a haven full of mountain men and friends was what topped my needs right now. Because harboring a spy sure as hell didn’t seem to be the safest thing to do—at least not in the circles I suspected we all traveled in.
With a bunch of criminals. In the middle of the woods.
Running from the man who’d stripped me of my entire world in a country I didn’t yet call home, though it was fast feeling that way. I wanted Robe’s mountain to feel that way.
Tears prickled the corners of my eyes as I stared at Alan’s back. Squeezing my emotions back into their tight compartments, I slipped inside Robe’s bedroom. A dark hole burned somewhere around my nape when I turned my back to close the door with a final sort of click. Even though the conversation seemed to have dissipated outside, the amount of attention on me intensified the moment the door shut.
I pivoted on my heel to face the two men who seemed to be either dead set on removing me from the house or keeping me in it. I didn’t know if I should expect to be stabbed in the ribs or some other creative way of removing me from the house—and life in general.
A few weeks ago, I would have curled into a ball and let them do it. Now….
Though it shouldn’t have been a surprise after the time I’d spent in the house, the scene before me looked nothing like what I expected. Miller perched cross-legged on the bed, the tension slipped from his frame as he lounged in Robe’s space while Alan played tea party below him.
I slid to the hardwood floor, my back to the bed with its solid, comforting presence, and clutched the steaming cup Alan had given me. The dark ambrosia that had been the cause of my morning drama glided down my throat in a searing stream. I sighed my thanks, smiling with my eyes closed. Fingers brushed over the top of my head, smoothing the bird’s nest there until all the strands were to his liking, petting me in a familiar way that soothed away my spiraling fears and unsettled emotions back to their place. The massage continued soft and gentle, and I leaned into his touch, wishing we were alone so I could cry.
I finished my coffee, sipping with my eyes closed until I’d drained the cup. Somewhere behind me, Miller’s phone buzzed. I opened my eyes, tilting my head up in time to see him scooting back on the bed.
He scanned the message and jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”
I stared as he stalked from the room, leaving the door open. It wasn’t until he disappeared that I realized Alan hadn’t moved from his place across from me.
Which meant he couldn’t have played with my hair. The lithe dancer wasn’t that fast or silent. Right?
Alan’s knowing smile lit a small fire in my belly. “Tricky little bastard, isn’t he?”
Still lost in the memory of Miller’s hand in my hair, I clutched my elbows tight around myself. “I didn’t think you guys used terms like bastard or muppet or bloody wanker ,” I commented, nudging my empty coffee cup with my bare toe.
Alan snorted. “We don’t. I’m trying to be more British on your behalf. Make you feel at home.” He watched me with that same secret knowledge brightening his blue eyes. “Is it working?” His take on my accent bordered on abominable—and was apparently exactly what I needed.
I laughed, helping him clean up our tea— coffee? —party. “Yup. Sure is.” I didn’t try an American accent to mirror his British showcase, knowing I’d be worse than offensive. “Guess I’m free to leave.”
The open door that I’d wanted to run through earlier now seemed a hell of a distance away. I sat without moving.
“I promise I’ll protect you from all the bears out there,” Alan whispered in my ear. He grinned roguishly and took my hand in a firm grip. “If they’re going to bite, I’ll make sure they target my rump first.” He popped a hip and sashayed to the door.
Sucking my lip between my teeth, I let him lead me from the room. His eyes tracked over my face, lingering on my mouth. Invisible fingertips worked their way along my spine in a silent caress that broke when Alan fixed his attention on the living area the moment we stepped into it.
“I’ll hold you to that,” I whispered.
Alan grinned, dropping my hand and disappearing behind the tall bar for a moment. Robe and Jon stood talking to Miller in soft voices near the door, each of them glancing at me at intervals. No one said a word about Will’s absence that mirrored Alan’s before.
“Robe—” I started, only to be shushed by an extended hand.
Even Alan shot me a quick look, shaking his head. “Wait for him, Mari.”
“I really think I?—”
“For fuck’s sake. Shut her up.” Miller turned to glare at me one more time, and my patience broke.
“He’s right, you know. Your friend. A bounty on your head is a danger to everyone you—” I pursed my lips. I almost said love , but that precluded me and cast a wider geographical net than I intended. “To everyone here.”
“You think so, do you?”’ Robe’s face was wiped clean of emotion as he gave me his full attention. “What else do you know about my life?”
Then Miller of all people backed me up. “Don’t be stupid. She’s right.”
“I am?” I stared, mouth agape.
That’s an attractive look.
I ignored the little voice in the back of my mind. Since when had Miller started backing me?
About the same time as he’d played with my hair. I remembered his tender caress, his furious glares. Unable to understand his motives, I wrapped my arms around myself in the only barrier I could create.
“You are.” Miller smirked, enjoying my discomfort.
“Are you going to add to this little calamity?” Robe asked in a deceptively calm voice, its edge sharp enough to slice through the cloud of bullshit floating around.
“I’m siding with our little stalker-spy.” Alan emerged from behind the bar, way too cheerful for the time of morning. He grabbed my hand, shoved a fresh mug into it that was half filled with ice and black coffee, and filled it to the brim with Macallan whiskey.
“You’re going to turn me into an alcoholic.” I clutched the mug, considering downing the lot in one. Robe’s intensive scrutiny was bad enough, let alone that of the entire household.
“Chug it back.” Alan winked. “It’s been a long fucking night.” He tipped the top-shelf liquor directly to his generous lips, slugging its contents.
Robe made an exasperated noise. “Don’t let him outshine you, Mari. Bottoms up.”
“How is this responsible?” I stared between them, each wearing identical shit-eating grins. “There’s way too much testosterone in this room.”
“Uh-huh. Show us what you got, running girl.” Alan planted lean-muscled forearms on the bar top. “We’re waiting.”
His pose came close to distracting me, but for some reason—maybe the culmination of damaged egos in such a small space—their recklessness drove my own.
Narrowing my eyes at Alan, I saluted first him, then Robe. “Cheers.”
The caffeine in my stomach met a deluge of alcohol at the wrong end of the clock. Refusing to let my gag reflex take me down, I kept swallowing until the empty mug clanged against my teeth.
I smiled, holding my glory for a full second before I started hacking. Whatever had filled my lungs—a mouthful of alcohol fumes and impending doom, most likely—seared my insides as I gasped for breath.
“Nicely done, lass.” Alan assumed that horrible accent again, thumping my back in an unhelpful fashion. “Couldn’t have done better myself.”
“Uh-huh,” I choked out. My eyes watered. “That was fun.”
Robe snorted, though something about the way he looked at me changed, softening a little. “Good girl.”
My tummy flopped, and that had nothing to do with its contents.
“So, about that bounty.” Jon pushed off the wall. Robe’s distraction technique sucked if others resisted too. “Are you going to take this seriously, or are you going to self-implode?”
“And do we have to watch?” Miller snapped.
“You mean do we get to watch?” Alan shot back, wiggling his eyebrows. “There’s good sport in that.”
Miller shot an irritated glare in my direction, or maybe he’d aimed that one at Alan. He spat on the floor, and the only thing that broke through the echoes of his footfalls as he stormed outside was Alan’s groan.
“You know I have to clean that up, you heathen.” He glared at the glob of spittle on the floor as at a personal affront. “Muppet,” he added under his breath.
“Your British is very convincing.” I beamed at him and swayed on my feet.
“Whoa, sweetcheeks.” Alan gripped my elbow.
I turned toward Robe. “I’m sorry for listening at the door.”
His easy demeanor hardened. “Are you?”
“Damnit, Mari.” Alan sighed and dropped my arm.
Robe’s mouth thinned behind his beard, the motion somehow adding to the flint-hard stare he offered. “Listening at doors, downing grog like a pro, turning up where you shouldn’t be. Is Miller right? Are you some sort of mini superspy?” he mused.
“Hey. That was my idea,” Alan protested from the floor, scrubbing as he stretched each leg out.
Robe kept walking into my space until I had two choices: let him run over me or retreat. Choosing life, I backed up in a stumbling quickstep, in no way aided by the amount of caffeine and alcohol mixed in my stomach.
“I’m not a spy. I’m not here to hurt you. I—what do you need from me?” I cried, flinging my arms wide and forgetting I was still clutching my mug. It shot from between numbed fingers and shattered into a thousand pieces beside the bar.
Alan groaned again, swearing beneath his breath.
Robe never stopped walking. He closed the distance between us until his chest brushed mine, leaving us at nose-to-nipple level on my side. The edge of the bar dug into my spine until I arched backward in an attempt not to suffocate against his heavy chest.
“I mean it. I am sorry for listening at the door.” No lie there, after all. Not for the act of listening or what I heard. My apology meant that?—
“Yet, you got caught.” Robe’s large hands rose, one slapping onto the bar top beside my ear, the other cupping the back of my head, cushioning it against the bite of wood behind me.
He lowered his head until his lips almost brushed mine. Warmth draped around us in a heavy, soothing presence. His eyes said he found something humorous about the whole situation, but he didn’t give any other glimpse of that part of him, reserving that peek just for me, a secret between us.
“You asked me what I want, but I don’t know what you want, Mari Merripen.” My name slid off his lips like a weapon, and he savored its edge. “Should I tell you all my secrets, give the lives of every man here into your shaking hands? You have no idea how dangerous you are. So fucking dangerous.”
Someone grunted an objection. Miller, or maybe Jon.
I ignored them all. “I’m not a threat to you.”
Robe’s smile widened, his breath brushing my lips. “If I tell you everything, you can never leave. Whatever you choose, Mari, choose wisely. I can’t let you go if you opt to know us all so… intimately.” His eyes fell shut as though he was contemplating that thought, turning it over inside his active mind.
A mind that I knew never stopped churning.
Robe Huntingdon could call me whatever he liked, but he and the men of Recurve Ridge were lethal, each in their own way. Jon and his passion, Robe and his fire. Alan could be cold and machinelike, while Will’s cheeky grin hid a damaged young man who craved the company of his ilk.
Miller….
I didn’t know what to think about Miller, except perhaps that he had the most heart of all, ruined and broken though it was.
Alan’s words chose that moment to ricochet around my mind in a series of dizzying echoes while I stared at Robe.
“You’re just like us.”
I licked my lips. “But you won’t let me leave. I tried. The answer is always no. Not now. Something else to distract me. I know you’re stopping me from leaving, Robe. A cage is still a cage, even when the bars are made of wood and whiskey.”
As I spoke, his forest-green eyes flicked open. “Miller doesn’t want you here. He believes that letting you go back to where you came from is best. Do you know why he believes that, Mari? Because he knows that without our—without my —protection, you’ll be dead inside a week.” He laughed, a soulless sound. “Hell, you wouldn’t last three days. Your boss”—he spat the words, and I knew he understood every detail of what had happened to me—“would rip you apart. And he. Will. Enjoy. Ruining. You.” His chest heaved as he punctuated each word with a squeeze to the back of my neck. “Is that what you want? A few days of freedom to prove your point, that you can?” His teeth slammed together as he dropped his hand and backed up a step.
“You’re so much more beautiful when you’re ruined.”
A shudder threatened at the base of my spine, but I refused to give my fear the prime real estate it sought. “Thank you for that lovely threat, Robe. It makes a girl feel safe at night.” My cool embraced me for a critical second, doing me proud.
“Mari—”
I shook my head, cutting off his protest. The whiskey buzzed through my system in a swell of numbness. I sent Alan a mental thank-you note for the effort. Planting my feet on the bare wooden planks so I didn’t trip over my own toes or fall to the floor in my tipsy state thanks to the coffee-laced whiskey, I raised my chin in defiance.
“Keep your secrets, Robe.”
No one stopped me as I walked back into the room I’d already managed to escape twice in one day and locked myself in.