10. Oliver
THREE AND A HALF MONTHS LATER – JULY
10
The intercom hidden on the exterior of the property had been broken for two weeks, but I kept smashing the button to try to warn the uninvited guest anyway.
“Dad!” I hollered at the top of my lungs, snagging my khakis from the floor as I rushed from my bedroom. “Kill the power.” Trying to get on my pants, I tripped and crashed to my knees in the hallway. “Dad!” Where the hell are you? He had to have received the alert about our unexpected intruder.
Unexpected was an understatement. Mya. How?
As I got back to my feet, the front door flung open and Scrappy came flying in ahead of my father and over to me.
“I know, I got the alert on my phone.” Dad’s tone was far too casual given Mya was about to be electrocuted. “Power’s off. All cell signals are now jammed, too. That won’t save her from the other traps, though.” Dad tossed me the keys to the dirt bike. “Better get to her before she blows herself up. Why the hell is she coming onto my property anyway . . .”
He was still talking, but I’d already run past him and outside. Because, of course, Mya had ignored the warnings. Reckless. Headstrong. Stubborn. Some things never changed.
Not giving a damn that I was both shirtless and shoeless, I hopped onto the bike. The engine drowned out the sounds of Scrappy barking as I took off for the trail only my father and I knew about.
What in God’s name was she doing here?
How’d she track me down?
Why was she alone?
And why was I so damn eager to see the woman I’d spent four months avoiding? I shouldn’t want you here. Having you here, or anywhere near me, isn’t a good idea. That didn’t change the fact my heart was a traitorous organ, beating wildly with excitement at the simple idea of seeing her. First, save her. Second, yell at her for trespassing. Third . . .? Well, I wasn’t sure what would come after that. But the fourth step, no matter how much I may have missed her, would be turning her ass around and sending her home.
“Mya,” I called out as I rode the escape trail Dad had designed for quick exits. There wasn’t a road or sidewalk to get to his cabin. You had to take the bike just to get to his truck parked a mile away in another hidden location.
Dad’s paranoia had kept us safe, though. Well, so I’d thought until five minutes earlier, when the alarm had jolted me from bed and I saw Mya on approach.
I’d thought I was still dreaming for a minute. Then I remembered my dreams were always nightmares, and the remnants of sleep quickly disappeared as reality struck—her stubbornness and determination might get her killed.
“Mya!” I roared that time, still not seeing her but hoping she could hear me. “Don’t move. Stay wherever you are!”
Nothing.
Dammit.
Going as fast as the bike would allow, I raced along the trail, weaving around branches that’d fallen onto the narrow path during the storm a few days earlier. My head felt like there was a broken beatbox inside it, sputtering incoherent words, a bunch of jumbled, staticky sounds, as I processed the fact she was here. I’d soon be able to reach out and touch her. Just had to make it to her first.
The chaos in my mind abruptly stopped at the sight of her, and I slowed the bike to a more reasonable speed.
She was okay. Whacking a tree branch away from her face while cursing up a storm, but yeah, all limbs appeared to be intact. Dark hair cascaded over her shoulders. She should’ve had it pinned away from her face so she could better spot the traps and, apparently, the branches she was battling.
“Mya. Stop. Don’t move.” I hit the brakes and jumped off too soon, sending the thing barreling into a nearby tree and falling over, the tires still spinning. Not my smartest decision, but I was too focused on getting to Mya before one of Dad’s traps got to her first.
“Oliver?” She halted, holding her arms out as if needing to find her balance despite being on solid ground. “You’re really here. We were right.”
Her shocked expression had me shaking my head. It should’ve been me dealing with a heavy dose of what-the-fuck, not her. Questions later. Save her stubborn ass first.
I lifted my hands, patting the air as if dealing with a nervous wolf. One wrong step, and she’d be in trouble. “This place is rigged with IEDs and other traps,” I let her know. “Please listen to me.” For once. “And don’t move.”
She raised her hands to the air, narrowly missing another low-hanging branch, panic finally registering. It took me a moment to realize which two trees she was standing smack in between. Fuck. She had on a backpack, and depending on the weight on her back?—
“You’re on top of a trap,” I shouted, my mouth moving faster than my thoughts.
“What do you mean?” She looked down at her sneakers while I ate up more of the space between us.
She peered at me, and I saw both fear and relief in her eyes.
I understand that, because ditto, but first things first. “There’s a censor beneath you.” I stretched out my arm, calculating my next moves. “Anything over a buck fifty, and the ground will swallow you down about thirty feet.”
Eyes down again, she murmured, “Oh, God.”
This was better than her stepping on a landmine, at least.
“Your weight should be good, but?—”
I ditched that thought the moment the ground trembled. Her back arched, and she was about to fall. So I did the only thing I could think of and took a leap of damn faith.
Keeping my hand out, I threw all my weight toward her, looping my arm around her waist, catching her mid-air. I used every ounce of strength I had in me to keep hold of her as I flung us to the ground alongside what was now a three-by-two hole in the earth.
We’d fallen in an awkward way, too close to the hole, where I heard rocks continuing to slip down. But at least we didn’t go down, too.
Breathing hard, I turned my head, searching for her face. And it was right there. Shocked dark brown eyes on me. Pink lips close enough to kiss. Her arms were bent and wedged between us, her fingernails digging into my chest with half my body weight on top of her.
“Are you okay?” I needed to get off her, but I was stunned to be this close to her. Are you really here?
Her dark brows were slanted, and her quick breaths matched my own. Tears gathered at the edges of her eyes.
Worried I was crushing her, I finally rolled to my side. Apparently I’d landed on my bad shoulder, the pain there finally registering, letting me know it was out of whack. I grimaced as I shifted to my knees, sitting back on my bare heels, assessing the situation and how best to safely move her since she didn’t seem in a rush to go anywhere herself. Her hands were still tensed in front of her as if holding on to my chest instead of the air.
Hopefully, the backpack had cushioned her fall, and she didn’t get hurt when I took her down. Concerned she’d try to move too quickly and wind up needing a second—third?—rescue, I warned her, “Be careful. You could still fall in.”
She blinked rapidly. “You flew.”
I told you I’d learn to fly for you. But that was another time. Another reality. Things were different now. I was different.
Unable to ignore my shoulder anymore, I stood, my arm hanging limp since it wasn’t fully attached to the socket. I dodged the hole in the ground and went over and hugged the closest tree with my good arm, then flung my bad shoulder forward, resetting it. Damn thing kept dislocating, ever since . . .
I closed my eyes, finding myself back in that room in Thailand, chained to that bed. And Mya . . .
“You touched me.” Her words pulled me from the prison of my past, a place I visited nearly every night in my dreams. Well, nightmares.
It was that or you go into the hole, and I remember how much you hated that cenote in Mexico. Instead of voicing my thoughts, unsure why that memory had resurfaced now of all times, I mumbled, “What in the hell are you doing here, and how’d you find me? Why are you alone?” I went over to her, brushed the dirt from my hands onto the sides of my khakis, ignoring the burn in my shoulder, and offered her my assistance.
When she didn’t accept my hand or answer me, I decided to take a different approach, concerned she’d wind up in that hole if she made the wrong move. She’d thank me later and possibly hate me now for what I was about to do.
I crouched behind her and reached for the backpack straps. Taking a firm hold of them, I tugged her farther from the hole, gritting down on my back teeth as the burn in my shoulder continued to rage from the movement.
I let go of the backpack as she repeated, “You touched me.” She stretched her arms out in front of her, flipping her hands front to back to view them. “And I’m okay.”
“Did you hit your head?” I dropped next to her, wanting to make sure there was no blood matting her hair and that she hadn’t hit a rock when we fell. But with her odd behavior, I decided to keep my hands to myself. “Are you okay? Hurting?”
She lowered her arms and sat upright. I eased back, giving her some space.
Her gaze slowly slid over the length of my bare chest and abdomen. I looked down, noticing I’d never buttoned my pants, the fly halfway down because of it. I grumbled and corrected the situation as she whispered, “I want to both cry and yell at you at the same time.”
I feel the same. I tore a hand through my too-long, messy hair, hating she was seeing me like this. A disaster. “Mya.” I swallowed, unsure what to say next.
I hadn’t expected to see her this soon. Not until I could make things right and not be such a train wreck. Neither box had been ticked off yet, which meant I wasn’t ready to be in her presence. What if I was never ready?
Well, she’s giving me no choice now.
Her narrowed eyes continued to trail lazily up and down my body. “You look a little, um . . . Tarzan-y.”
I almost laughed. And it stopped me in my tracks. I didn’t think that was something I’d be able to do for at least another five to ten years.
I mean, technically, I didn’t do it, but that was pretty damn close, and that had to count for something.
“Have you been here the last four months?”
I closed one eye, drawing my hand from my hair to the nape of my neck as I tried to get a grip. On anything. And I’d settle for my own skin, because I couldn’t digest what was happening right in front of me.
“Are you alone? Because if you are, I guess I need to hunt Mason and the rest of Falcon down for letting you come into the woods by yourself.” With The Collective still out there and knowing your name, no less.
“At least you’d finally come back to us.”
Fuck the hole in the ground, her pained tone and expression burned a chasm straight through my heart.
She shook her head, then slipped off the backpack. “You left me.”
“I had to.” I faced her, back to being laser-focused on the current problem. She’d found me and was alone. I needed to get her safely from the woods, then come up with a plan to get her out of here. There was no way Mason or anyone would’ve let this woman go off like this. I didn’t believe that. She had to have snuck away. But how in the hell’d she do that, not to mention track me down?
“No one followed me,” she said, going to her knees before standing.
“Clearly,” I snapped out, more worried than frustrated. Something could’ve happened to her en route to find me. Or right here in these woods. “Where’s Falcon? Mason? Why aren’t they with you?”
“They’re on a mission. Gwen and I stayed back on purpose so I could, well, use the chance to come here when no one could stop me.” Her tone was more hesitant than I was used to from her. Then again, maybe she’d changed as much as I had.
“Gwen helped you get to me? What were you two thinking?” I tossed my hand in the air, then cursed, forgetting I’d just reset that arm.
“What’s wrong? The GSW healed before we, um . . .”
I’d never told her or anyone I’d dislocated it back in Bangkok since I’d fixed it myself. Right before I murdered an innocent man. No need to tell her now. To relive that horror. No, I had enough of those memories to last ten lifetimes.
“Just stay by my side while we walk to the bike.” I let go of my bad arm. “I need to get you out of these woods.”
“We have a lot to talk about.” She went for the bag, but I beat her to it and secured hold of it.
“We don’t have anything to talk about. Except how to get you safely back to where you belong, which is far from here.” Away from me.
“I came all this way, and you really think I’m going to turn around and go?” Her sarcastic tone, one I missed as much as I did her soft, loving one, caressed my skin, oddly cooling off my heated body.
With her bag slung over my good shoulder, I leaned in, bringing my face near that smart mouth of hers. My heart thundered up into my ears, and my breaths quickened. I could feel myself falling back in time, back to when it was the two of us, and we weren’t wanted by The Collective, and I hadn’t almost watched a savage rape her.
Chills rolled over my skin as we remained quietly locked in that fixed position, staring at each other.
“Yes, Mya. You’re going to turn your ass around and go. That’s precisely what you’ll be doing,” I finally said. “But first I need you to tell me how in God’s name you found me. Because if you’re here, others can find me, too.” And now you, since you’re with me.
She arched her shoulders back, standing tall. Defiant. Her tongue skirted the line of her pink lips as she looked at my mouth. The fact she’d chosen jeans that hugged her ass and a white tee that clung to her breasts, and had done up her makeup in a sexy way, for a jaunt in the woods to find me was such a Mya thing to do. And it made me want to take her in my arms.
I can’t. No kissing. No touching. No anything.
“Gwen covered my tracks and yours.” She locked her arms over her chest, lifting her chin as she tried to stare me down. Her sadness had taken a back seat to her anger. Like always, I’d take her pissed over sad any day of the week.
“What do you mean?” I asked, but I was slowly connecting the dots on my own.
That fucker set me up, didn’t he? Last week was a trap all right, but for me.
The bag slipped down my shoulder, falling to the ground.
She clocked the movement before her attention flew back to my face. “What in the hell were you doing at The Sapphire Hotel, anyway?”