Текст книги "Mine"

Автор книги: Dimon HelenKay

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“Yes.”

“I guess you guys still have something in common.” Andy wanted to say that showed some hope, but he knew it didn’t.

“This assignment still could go sideways on Gabe.”

Andy knew what Rick was saying, but there was no way he’d ask for help. Gabe would kill him. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“And if you can’t?”

Andy went with the stark truth. “I’ve never let him down before.”

SIXTEEN

Gabe had dealt with jet lag on a regular basis for most of his life. He could get off a plane and go right to work. He didn’t need time to acclimate or whatever regular people did. But he must be getting old, because the only thing he could think about once the wheels touched down at the private airstrip in Virginia was hustling Natalie back to the house and into bed. Or maybe that meant he was still young. He wasn’t sure.

He reset the alarm as soon as they stepped into the foyer. He expected her to say something. When he told her he lived in a log home in the woods of Virginia, she’d winced. Tried to hide it, but he saw. She likely feared a lack of running water and a water heater partially constructed with a coffeepot. Fair enough since he forgot to tell her the place constituted a fortress.

It could not be described as rustic. Built into the side of a mountain and surrounded by a motion-sensor-activated fence, it had four thousand square feet of stone and wood aboveground. A place designed to his specifications with big rooms and high ceilings. Stuffed with comfortable furniture and housing a state-of-the-art kitchen. An indoor theater and a game room rounded out the specialty items.

He didn’t exactly skimp when it came to his home life. He liked to pretend it was all for Brandon, but truth was Gabe liked toys, too. That explained the hot tub and pool out back. Not that she could see either right now since he used the program on his phone to keep the place, including the grounds, dark. The contained and secure work area and communications center downstairs would also remain a mystery for a bit longer.

Then there were the photos all over the house. Those posed a problem. As soon as she looked at them she’d know Brandon was not some elementary school kid. That would lead to a discussion, possibly a lecture, and he’d never get her into bed. And that was the goal—her hair fanned out across his sheets. That needed to happen now.

Right now she stood at the edge of the flagstone entryway and stared into the great room. She seemed frozen in place.

“You okay?” he asked, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.

She glared at him. “Did you forget to mention something?”

Everything. The whole place. The reality of the normal life he tried to live outside of the office. The seven televisions spread through the rooms so Brandon never missed a second of a football game. Well, that was mostly for Brandon.

Gabe went with an abbreviated response. “No.”

“Well, Mr. Mountain Man.” She took one step down into the great room. Then another. “You said you lived in a cabin.”

He didn’t bother turning up the lights. She could wait and explore tomorrow. He was fine to leave the arguments and debating until then. “I never said that. You assumed.”

Her eyes widened. She looked fully awake now. “You let me.”

“Okay, yes. That might be true.”

Dealing with her had been a lot easier when he drugged her to fly. Not that he would do that again. She’d never let him get away with that move a second time, especially now that the reason for it had disappeared. She’d long stopped fighting with him about sticking close.

She squinted and headed to the fireplace. He knew he had to stop her. The mantel served as a showcase for Brandon. Kid photos, prom photos. Gabe didn’t exactly hide Brandon’s life inside these walls.

“I know you want to look around.” Which was just about the last thing in the world he wanted, so he hooked her arm and turned her around until she faced him. Ran a mental inventory, trying to remember where all the wall photos of Brandon were in the house.

“Yes.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her in closer. “We should sleep.”

“I’m thinking about kicking you.” But her hands went to his chest and she didn’t fight back.

He frowned. “I’m not really into that.”

“You’re loaded.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” When she snorted he tried again. “I work hard, to the extent that makes the bank account fatter, so be it.”

“I had visions of her and your son living in this tiny two-bedroom.” She started telling a tale straight out of Dickens, complete with begging for food.

Gabe decided he probably needed to trim the beard and buy something other than a plaid shirt. Clearly he came off as if he made six cents per year, which was not really the look he intended. But he did get her theory. It wasn’t far off from the life they led in the beginning. Being an eighteen-year-old father didn’t exactly make a big house and fancy cars a possibility at first. Even now he kept that sort of thing to a minimum. Except for the house. He loved the house.

“Honestly, we did struggle for a very long time.” And he’d vowed to make things better for them and worked his ass off until he did. “I don’t come from money. I don’t flaunt what I have now, but I earned it all. Legitimately, I might add. Since I deal with stress, this is the place I come to burn all that off.”

She tapped a finger against his chin. “I feel like you’re leaving something out.”

That list was so long, but there was only one item on it that he cared about at the moment. “Did I mention my big bed?”

“About a thousand times on the flight here. Even the pilot of that private plane heard you.”

Gabe hadn’t been going for subtlety, so that wasn’t exactly news. Plus, the guy worked for him. Mostly contract work, but his piloting skills weren’t up for debate. Gabe paid what needed to be paid to secure his services and his loyalty, not to mention his dignified silence.

“Want to see it?” With the hope of winning her over, Gabe started kissing her neck. Hell, they could make out on the couch for all he cared, but later.

“This conversation isn’t over.” But she tilted her head to the side to give him greater access to that soft skin.

Relief washed through him. “Of course not.”

“I’m going to figure it out.”

“I’d rather you spend your time studying me.” He lifted her off her feet.

On cue, she wrapped those long legs around his hips. “Naked, I presume.”

Now they were back on track. “Definitely.”

SEVENTEEN

The man exhausted easily for someone who spent most of his military life waiting in fields for the enemy to arrive. But Gabe being asleep provided Natalie with the perfect opportunity to wander. She refused to hang around in bed, staring at him until he woke up.

Though that did have some benefits. In sleep, some of his rough edges smoothed out. He didn’t look so stern and couldn’t sound unbending with his mouth closed. And that dark beard against crisp white sheets was something to behold. But curiosity with a side of hunger called, and she planned to answer.

She slipped across his big bedroom—emphasis on big—and stopped at the dresser running along the side wall. Not to be confused with the sitting area or the couch or the connecting room she could barely make out without the sun rising or a light on, but it looked like a deep cave. The walk-in closet, she presumed.

She picked up the T-shirt he’d abandoned on the floor. Held it to her nose and inhaled his scent. Something spicy that reminded her of the outdoors. Not being one to stumble around naked in strange houses, she put on the shirt and it dropped to her upper thigh. Very upper.

For some reason being clothed, at least a little, made her snooping feel a bit less sleazy. Not that she planned on looking through drawers and cabinets. This really was a what-does-this-place-look-like run.

She slipped into the hall and for a second debated looking around on the upper floor. She decided that great room had to lead to a kitchen and she’d start there first. Her feet thudded against the shiny floor. She smiled at the contrast between her pale skin and the dark hardwood.

She’d probably be able to see her nearly white legs in the dark but she didn’t need to rely on that. The pale gray morning, just before dawn provided a dull splash of light as she rounded the first set of stairs and hit the landing to the next. He had carried her up those without breaking a sweat or starting to pant. The man sure did impress.

The steps emptied out into the great room. The space was aptly named. It stretched across a good portion of the back of the house. Outlined by glass doors, it had an open feel. The soaring ceiling and two seating areas did the rest. And she didn’t even know what to think about the massive television over the fireplace. The thing looked six feet long, but she doubted that could be right.

She might have done the calculations and measuring if she hadn’t spied the photographs all lined up on the mantel. So many of them. Her eyes refused to adjust so she stepped closer. Tiptoeing for some reason she couldn’t really explain. It wasn’t as if she was doing anything wrong.

She’d wound her way around to the back of the large sectional. There was something odd about those photos. She needed to get closer to see.

“Good morning.” The deep, booming male voice rang out in the quiet room.

She nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun around, her hand going to her hip for her gun but she grabbed nothing but cotton. And not much of it.

She had no trouble focusing now. The last traces of sleep vanished. She stood facing the shiny sprawl of the kitchen with its light gray walls and stainless steel everything. That and a kid, but not a kid. An almost-man. One right on the verge where his body had just transitioned from gawky to muscular. Tall with a sleepy look on his amused face.

The black hair and blue eyes might be different, but the way he held himself. His mouth. “Brandon.”

She actually might shoot Gabe. He let her think that his son was young, really young. That he got shipped off and forgotten. None of that appeared to be true.

“I know you didn’t expect me to be here.” Brandon sipped on a cup of what looked like coffee.

The smell hit her. Then she took in the light and the toast on a plate in front of him. How had she missed all of those signs on her laser-like walk to the fireplace? “That is only the start of my confusion.”

He smiled, and the rest of the resemblance fell together. “Okay.”

She tried to do the math in her head. She sucked at guessing people’s ages. She knew Gabe’s—thirty-six—but no way was this kid only thirteen or whatever would make sense in terms of Gabe raising him.

She tugged on the hem of the shirt again, which seemed to be getting shorter by the second. She wanted to run back upstairs and find pants. Maybe punch Gabe, but no way was she giving this kid a show of her ass. “I’m not sure how to play this.”

He laughed. “Me either.”

That didn’t make much sense. He must have been here before, meeting a woman who clearly spent the night with his father. Bumbling his way through the awkward morning-after introductions. “Why?”

“Dad doesn’t bring women here.”

Her response, anything logical or smart, slammed to a halt in her brain. “He . . . oh.”

Footsteps sounded right before Gabe stepped into her line of vision, holding something in his hand. He winked at her, then went right up to his son. “Look who’s home. This is a surprise.”

“Clearly.” The smile that broke over the kid’s face looked genuine and warm. “Hey, Dad.”

Gabe wrapped an arm around Brandon’s shoulder and pulled him in close. Touched a hand to his hair in a gesture that struck her as almost reverent. Like something he’d been doing forever, to build the bond between them.

She didn’t understand this type of family. She knew about fear and carefully chosen words. No one surprised anyone. Her mother never raised her voice and her father always did. He screamed about everything. Seeing the kitchen a mess with a butter knife sticking to the countertop and crumbs falling on the floor would have set her father on fire. Days later they’d all be paying for not cleaning up that one time before he came downstairs earlier than usual in the morning.

Not here. Gabe held up the knife with two fingers and dumped it in the sink as he lifted an eyebrow at Brandon. The kid shrugged. Even grumbled when Gabe reached over and took a big bite of the toast sitting there.

Gabe dropped whatever was in his hand on the countertop as he chewed then swallowed. “Forget to tell me something?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Brandon said after a quick glance in her direction.

As if these two cornered the market on shocks this morning. “Me, too.”

“Eyes stay up.” Gabe ended his point by rolling his.

Brandon nodded even as he struggled to follow that order. “Yes, sir.”

With an ease that came from living together, Gabe reached around Brandon and grabbed the coffeepot. They worked in sync, shifting this and moving that until Gabe held a mug. “In case you skipped over the introductions or shock held your minds captive, Brandon, this is Natalie. Natalie, my son, Brandon.”

He made it all sound so light and carefree. Never mind that they’d been holed up in a cabin in the packed snow, fighting with Rick and threatening the man’s employees. She had to question if Brandon had any idea about the danger his father wallowed in every day. Kind of made her wonder why Gabe took the risk.

She shook her head to clear away the haze descending on her. She had so many questions and knew now wasn’t the time for any of them. Then she picked up on the silence. Noticed them both staring at her.

She tugged the edge of the shirt a little harder. Bent over just a bit more to hide whatever needed hiding. “What?”

“You did know he had a son, right?” Brandon asked.

“I thought you were eight.” She just sort of blurted that out. Once she did there was no way of calling it back.

His eyes widened. “Sure, ten years ago.”

Gabe leaned in, brushing his shoulder against Brandon’s. “She’s doing the math.”

“Everyone does. He was seventeen when my mother got pregnant. Eighteen when I was born.” Brandon balanced his palms against the counter and smiled at her. “He’s been giving the condom speech ever since.”

“You’re lucky I love you.” Gabe ruffled Brandon’s hair before tipping his mug in her direction. “Coffee?”

At this point she might need something stronger. Images bombarded her brain. She’d paged through Gabe’s file so many times. Nothing she saw now, the house, Brandon, the easy camaraderie between the two, fit with the lethal man the government had trained as a weapon. The juxtaposition was surreal.

And she was almost naked, which made the situation even weirder. “I think I should—”

Before she could even finish Gabe leveled a finger in her general direction. “Do not even think of leaving that spot or going upstairs and putting on clothes.”

Brandon hissed as he winced. “Wow, Dad.”

“Or jumping out a window,” Gabe added.

She had to give him credit for understanding her, because the thought did run through her mind. “I need clothes.”

“We’ll debate that later, but I doubt you want to walk up stairs in that short shirt while we stand down here and watch.” He slipped the ball of material from his side of the counter to hers. “Lounge pants. They’ll swamp you but they’re good enough for now.”

“I’m one of his cases.” For some reason she felt the need to explain that to Brandon. Ignoring the shirt that was obviously not hers and the total lack of a bra and underwear, she was here for a reason . . . sort of.

Brandon cleared his throat. Did a pretty sucky job of hiding a laugh behind a fake cough. “Really?”

“Well, okay. There’s more happening.” She wiped a hand over her face, half hoping it would make her disappear. When it didn’t, she practically jumped into the pants then held them up before they could slide back off her waist again. “I really think I should go upstairs.”

This time Gabe pointed at the empty barstool on the other side of the counter from the males of the household. “Sit.”

Demands. Really not her thing. “Your son is standing there, so I’m going to let that slide.”

“Ha! Good for you.” Brandon took the cup out of his father’s hand and started pouring. Instead of giving it back to Gabe, he set it in front of the seat Gabe told her to take. “Black or do you want something in it?”

She debated bolting or toughening it out. Decided sitting down would make it easier to keep the oversized pants up. She could hide part of her under the counter while she silently cursed Gabe for his tendency to tell half a story.

“I think I need full strength this morning.” She slid onto the stool and ignored Gabe’s satisfied smile.

Once everyone had coffee, Gabe leaned his hip against the counter and faced Brandon. “Spill it.”

She had no idea what was happening, so she just watched. Waited to see if the nasty side of Gabe, the side she’d never seen, came flying out. If it did she didn’t know what she’d do, except put her body in front of Brandon’s.

He shrugged as his gaze went to the countertop, then into the great room, then across the kitchen to the refrigerator. Everywhere but his father’s face. “I wanted to come over and say hello.”

“Nope.” Gabe broke eye contact to glance at her. “When a teen boy leaves college on a weekend and heads home, he wants something.”

Good to know. “Like what?”

She understood what motivated people—greed, revenge, honor, a cause. Kids were like a science experiment to her. Their minds seemed jumbled, and little they did made sense to her. Except for those in countries who were trained to fight or acted the part of terrorists, and those kids had ceased being kids long ago, she didn’t get them.

Brandon tried the same tact. “A few hours with my dad.”

Even she knew that wouldn’t fly. The kid had an obvious tell, or three. He also had spunk, but lying straight to his father’s face seemed to be a problem for him. She guessed in the world of parenting, that was the equivalent of a superpower.

Gabe downed the contents of his cup and set it down on the table. “Nice try. You knew I was away.”

“Which was why I was a little surprised when I heard you come in last night.”

Gabe frowned. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Well.” Brandon’s gaze flipped to her then back to his father. “You seemed busy.”

She felt a rush of heat on her cheeks. This kid had her struggling to remember what happened when they walked in the door last night. How much and what he could have overheard. Something withered inside her at the thought.

“This just gets better and better,” she mumbled under her breath, as she hoped she’d disappear in a big puff of smoke. If only her CIA cronies could see her now.

“I think he figured out we’re having sex,” Gabe said in a dry, let’s-be-serious tone.

Talk about oversharing. She wrapped both hands around the mug and held on for dear life. “Are you guys always so chatty in the morning?”

Brandon shot her an apologetic smile. “You’re embarrassing her.”

“Which is weird.” Right when she was about to ask what the hell he meant by that, Gabe turned back to Brandon. “So, a party? Was that the plan?”

“No.”

“Money . . . oh, wait.” Gabe started nodding. “The car.”

That fast, Brandon switched from seemingly mature and in control to babbling. “Look, it’s no big deal. It really isn’t.” He was pleading now. “I just want it for a few days.”

She took in the byplay and tried to figure out what Gabe had said to trigger this reaction. The side of Brandon that was not quite adult and more focused on his needs came roaring to life. Natalie liked the reaction, because it made the kid, who up until then had come off as almost too perfect, seem pretty normal. Whining she understood. Didn’t love the sound and she never got away with it as a kid, but it fit.

But Gabe was having none of it. “No.”

“I’ll bring it back next weekend.” Brandon’s voice got a bit more singsongy.

“Still no. College freshmen don’t have cars.”

The math still astonished her. She couldn’t imagine Gabe at Brandon’s age, with a baby and no wife. She tried to image what kind of life that must have been then gave up and went with a question that had to be easier to answer.

Gabe didn’t ask so she did. “Why do you need one?”

He snorted. “I’m guessing a female is involved.”

“I didn’t want to go to the movies by bus,” Brandon said in full whine voice.

“If you knew how little sympathy I had for you on this issue.” Gabe smiled as he said it. “How did you get here?”

Brandon sighed and his shoulders dropped. He wore the look of defeat. “A few friends were going to D.C. this weekend. They swung by and left me off about a half mile away. I walked the rest.”

“A half mile?” She thought about the snow and tried to remember if there was any on the ground here. “How big is this spread?”

Brandon held his arms out wide. “Big.”

“Okay.” Gabe shook his head as he reached for the coffeepot again.

“I get to take the car?” Brandon asked, almost painfully hopeful.

“No, you get to live.”

“Funny.” The kid performed the perfect eye roll. “Fine, do I at least get to stay or am I cramping your style?”

“Don’t push it.”

But she didn’t sense any tension. They weren’t fighting. They were discussing. Gabe handled most of it with a firm hand and a bit of humor, something that must have felt familiar to Brandon because he didn’t balk. Didn’t make a scene. Natalie found the whole thing fascinating . . . except for the part where they talked about her and she still wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“Let me go make a call about needing a ride back tomorrow.” Brandon rounded the edge of the counter then stopped before smiling at her. “Nice meeting you.”

“You, too.” Strangely, she meant it. The insight into Gabe’s home life provided a pretty big window into Gabe, the man. She scowled at him anyway.

He peeked at her over the rim of his mug. “What’s that look?”

“You’re kidding, right?” This guy could win an award for subterfuge.

Gabe shrugged. “You assumed he was younger.”

Oh, no. She was not letting him bury the truth under a pile of that crap. “You let me think that.”

“In my defense, you’ve only known I even have a son for about six days. It’s not like I’ve been hiding his identity from you for years.”

“Is that really the argument you’re going with?”

“You seemed determined to think the worst of me.”

Fair enough, but still. “I wonder why.”

“It ticked me off that you thought I could abandon my kid.”

“Apparently, I was wrong.” And the relief nearly crushed her. Leaving Brandon off somewhere was the one piece of Gabe’s personality that didn’t fit. Now she knew why.

Gabe set his mug down against the counter with a click. He followed Brandon’s route and rounded the long counter. Stopped when he got right in front of her. “So, that’s Brandon.”

And she liked him. Liked the kid and liked the dad. Too much. “Not a little kid.”

Gabe shook his head. “Not little at all.”

“You know what I think?”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid to ask.”

It was the one thought that kept running through her head. Seeing Brandon and Gabe together. Walking through this house. “Your brother Rick is an asshole.”

A smile broke across Gabe’s face. “That deserves breakfast.” He tilted his head to the side. “Oatmeal?”

That was enough to kill her hunger. “Never again.”

“I knew I liked you.”