All or Nothing: A Trust No One Novel (13 page)

He led her to one of six shooting stations and affixed a target—the black image of a man’s head and torso—on the electronic target system. He moved it into position twenty-five yards away, handed her hearing protection headgear and took a set for himself, then stepped back behind her. It was second nature to block out his presence and focus on the target.

She emptied the clip then hit the lever to bring the target back. Every shot hit the center of the chest, tearing a large hole in the paper man.

Joe didn’t say a word, just replaced the target, moved it out to thirty-five yards, and handed her a full clip. “Head shots this time.”

Cara emptied the clip again. The head was completely gone. Joe didn’t bother to retrieve the target. She handed him the headgear, but when she tried to give him the gun, he shook his head.

“Hang on to that. I’ll get you some ammo. I’m curious, though. If you’re that good with a gun, didn’t you ever think about just shooting Dennelli and getting the hell out of the country?”

“A million times. I used to pretend it was his face on that target and blow his head off every day.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Two reasons. I’d have to take out the whole family to ever be safe, and I knew if I failed, that would be it. He’d kill me. It wasn’t until that last time he put me in the hospital… after he carved up my back… I decided death was preferable to a life of fear and abuse.” Her voice sounded hollow to her ears. “Someday, when he’s tired of making idle threats, he’ll come. I’ll be ready.”

Joe frowned.

He’d made it very clear he wanted a part in that, even though she was equally determined he wouldn’t be involved. She thought he’d argue, but he let it go. Even so, she was left with the impression Joe would do whatever he wanted, regardless of what she said.

Chapter Twelve

Sunday, 6:30 pm

B
Y MIDAFTERNOON,
C
ARA’S
arms ached. When Joe finally said they were done for the day, she could barely move. A long, hot shower helped ease the stiffness, but it was still difficult to walk without hurting somewhere. As she limped toward the dining hall, the two men who ran interference for her this morning with Rayna caught up with her and slowed to walk beside her.

“Name’s Steve.” The taller of the two, lithe and muscular with dark brown hair graying slightly at the temples and a ready smile, shook her hand.

“I’m Jim.” He was stocky and solid with huge hands and laugh lines around his eyes. “Great job on the firing range today.”

“Thanks.” She frowned. How did they know? She and Joe were the only ones on the firing range at the time. As they walked through the door to the dining hall, she spotted her targets mounted on the wall above the sideboard where everyone could see them as they served up their food.

Embarrassment formed a knot in her stomach as she looked around the room for Joe. There he was, talking with Tyler. He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head and his long legs stretched out in front of him. His gaze met hers, and he gave her a crooked grin. In exasperation, Cara turned away, but a thread of pride astonished her, and she straightened, tilting her chin up.

Tyler stood, clanged on the side of his beer bottle with a spoon, and cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen… we’re recognizing Cara Sinclair tonight for her perfect scores on the firing range today. Cara, I’m glad you’re on our side, and I hope I never piss you off when you have a gun in your hand.”

Everyone laughed and clapped, as Jim and Steve seated her at the head of the table and served her a plate piled high with roasted chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, and a green salad with ranch dressing. Then they took seats on either side of her and pelted her with questions about how she learned to shoot so well. Surprisingly at ease around them, she had no difficulty sharing what it had been like growing up as the daughter of an arms dealer. Some of the other guys came by just to slap her on the back or issue a friendly challenge. They laughed and joked and were easy to talk to. She enjoyed herself. Just like that, she was accepted into their little band of brothers.

By everyone except Rayna.

The young woman stood in front of the sideboard with a plate half full of food, fury contorting her face. When Cara stood and turned toward her, she slammed her plate on the table, splattering food on the people closest to her.

“You’re good at twenty-five yards.” She stepped toward Cara. “How are you up close and personal?”

To her left, Joe scowled as he prepared to stand, and Cara held a hand up to stop him, never taking her eyes off Rayna. Maybe she should be more afraid, but as far as she was concerned, anything Rayna could do to her was deserved. Tyler started toward them, and Joe put a restraining hand on his arm.

Rayna stopped inches from Cara’s face, eyes wild and nostrils flaring, but Cara no longer saw the angry young woman. She saw Charlie’s kid sister.

“Charlie talked about you all the time. He couldn’t believe his baby sister was going to UCLA and wanted to be a doctor. He was so proud of you.”

Rayna backed up a step, clearly confused when Cara didn’t react to her anger in kind. Everyone else stopped, some with forks halfway to their mouths, to watch the show.

“Shut up about him,” Rayna cried.

“I don’t blame you for hating me. Charlie deserved better than me, and he deserved better than what my brother did to him.”

“I don’t need your permission to hate you.”

“I know. If you want your revenge right now, no one in this room is going to stop you.” Cara glanced at Joe. He scowled again but stayed put. “Or you can wait until after my brother gets what he deserves, and then you can do whatever you want to me.”

Confusion flitted across Rayna’s features as tears rimmed her eyes, but she drew herself up straight and glared at Cara. “Later, then.” She turned and stalked from the room.

Cara breathed a sigh of relief as Joe followed Rayna out. Surely he wouldn’t be too hard on her. He, of all people, understood how badly Rayna was hurting. Cara looked at the other faces at the tables, all eyes still on her.

She shrugged, smiling wistfully. “I have that effect on a lot of people.”

Some chuckled. Some grumbled about Rayna’s foul humor giving them indigestion. Everyone eventually went back to eating. Cara looked skeptically at the salad on her plate. She had to eat something. Hunger had gnawed at her stomach all afternoon. Her small breakfast was the first meal she’d had since the day before yesterday. Or was it the day before that? She couldn’t remember. Her appetite had disappeared with Rayna, but she forced herself to eat the chicken, the salad, and a few bites of potatoes buried in gravy. Hopefully, Irene wouldn’t ask how she’d enjoyed her meal, so Cara wouldn’t have to lie.

Most of the men made a point to speak to her or shake her hand as they left the dining hall for the evening. Though she reveled in her newfound sense of belonging, she fully understood why Joe had hung her targets and made a big production. He knew she’d be more likely to stay if she didn’t feel like an outsider. She even appreciated his thoughtfulness, but she was getting tired of him being right all the time.

Tyler walked her upstairs, bombarding her with a constant flow of small talk until he glanced sideways at her when she didn’t reply to one of his questions quickly enough. “Sorry. You’re still… uh… she’ll come around, you know.”

“Will she?”

He nodded. “Give it some time.”

“That seems to be the standard recommendation. I just hate to see her hurting.”

“You’re a good person. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll call it a night. I’m not used to so much physical activity.”

“I thought you looked a little stiff.”

“I just need to get some rest.”

He left her at the door.

She hadn’t been entirely truthful with Tyler. The longer she sat at dinner, the stiffer her muscles became. Walking the two flights of stairs to her room was excruciating. How was she going to get up in the morning, much less do what Joe would no doubt ask of her? She should have gotten some ice from the kitchen before going to her room. Navigating those stairs again tonight was out of the question.

Hoping a good long soak would help, she drew a bath. She was pleasantly surprised to find fragrant bath beads in the linen closet and dissolved a few in the hot water as she offered a silent thank-you to Irene. She settled in the tub with
The Deep Dark,
a hardback book she found on a shelf in her room. Absorbed in her reading, the tapping on her bathroom door startled her. She jumped and almost dropped her book in the bathwater.

“Cara, are you okay?” It was Joe.

“What is it with you and closed doors? They’re meant to keep people out, you know.”

“Well, if you don’t want me to come in there, you probably better come out here.”

“Oh, good grief.” She moaned, grumbling to herself as she towel dried and slipped into her robe. When she opened the door, he was lounging on her bed.

“Well, by all means, make yourself at home.” She jammed her hands on her hips.

“Thanks. I will.” He studied her with amusement.

She sighed in frustration. “What is it that can’t wait until morning?”

“I brought you a present.” He held up a thin, white tube.

“And that is?”

“You’re going to be sore, if you’re not already. This will help.” He sat up, offering her the tube.

For a brief moment, Cara thought of denying she was in pain until she realized she hurt too much to pretend. She edged closer and reached for the tube. When her hand closed around it and tugged, he didn’t let go. His resistance caught her by surprise. Off balance, she braced her other hand against his chest to keep from falling onto him.

She drew a sharp breath, the electricity vibrating between them. Joe’s hand caught her waist to steady her. His grin taunted.

“Be happy to rub this in for you.”

She pushed herself away from him and jerked the tube from his hand. “I haven’t seen any pigs flying around here.”

“I’m guessing that’s a no.”

He sounded every bit a little boy, disappointed he wasn’t getting what he wanted, but when she shot him a glance, laughter shone from his eyes and he flashed his lopsided grin.

“Is Rayna okay?”

“She will be. You got through to her a little bit tonight. She’ll never admit it, of course. She has to save face… but she’ll come around.”

“So I’m told.”

When she glanced at him again, his expression shocked her with its intensity, his golden-brown eyes dark and sensual as his gaze played over her robed figure. As her eyes met his, something inside her softened, and she barely resisted the urgent need to go to him, touch him. She tore her eyes away instead.

“Get some sleep, Cara. Morning comes early around here.”

Joe left through the balcony doors. The room seemed empty without his larger-than-life presence.

As she rubbed the ointment liberally on her sore muscles, she contemplated the man whose self-appointed mission was to keep her safe. What kind of man put his life on the line for a woman he’d never met, because of a promise to a friend? It’d take an immense amount of integrity. How was she supposed to believe he was for real? Nothing in her experience gave any evidence commitment that strong even existed. If it did, however, and she was lucky enough to be on the receiving end, she’d be crazy not to take advantage.

Was she that selfish? Could she really use Joe to get free of David? Her integrity required she draw the line well short of that. As long as she was in Joe’s compound, he’d keep her safe. That was all she could ask. As soon as she left, David became her problem again.

There was one thing she could do to let Joe know she appreciated what he’d done. She could allow herself to trust him… maybe.

Monday, 6:00 am

C
ARA WAS ALREADY
awake and dressed when Joe knocked at first light.

“I’ll meet you there.” A few minutes later, she joined him in front of the house where he leaned against a wall, stretching his hamstring.

“Good morning.” She smiled.

He hesitated slightly. “Morning. How are your sore muscles?”

“Great.” She flexed her arms and legs. “That must have been some ointment.” She fell in beside him to stretch.

As she caught his sideways glance, Cara hid a bemused grin. She’d caught him off guard. He didn’t know what was up and, if she read him correctly, he was suspicious as hell. Why wouldn’t he be confused? Her behavior had been unpleasant, to say the least, since the moment they met. Throw in a little common courtesy and he probably thought she was lulling him into a false sense of security so she could run away.

“We’ll go five miles today.”

“Only five?” She expected him to increase the distance.

“We’re staying closer to the house.”

Cara’s gaze snapped to his face, but he turned away before she could search his eyes. Something was wrong. She sensed his apprehension, and it was more than just her being nice to him for a change. Why wouldn’t he tell her? He said he wouldn’t lie to her, that he’d answer her questions. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. Maybe it didn’t concern her.

When he called Dillon to run with them, fear stiffened her spine. Joe wasn’t fooling her. Something had changed overnight and, for whatever reason, he wanted the dog’s keen sense of smell and hearing with them outside the fence today. Obviously, he didn’t want her to worry, and he was willing to lie about it. Not a good sign.

“Is anything wrong?” She studied his face.

The look he gave her was expressionless. “Nope. Dillon goes with me now and then. He gets antsy cooped up in here.”

She glanced quickly away as anxiety crept through her, but worse was the uncertainty and disappointment. He went back on his word. Why did that hurt so much? She kept coming back around to the same thing. She’d never met a man who didn’t lie to her. Not even Charlie.

They ran hard. The sun was peeking over the mountains as they climbed the porch steps afterward. The hearty aroma of sausage and eggs met them at the door. Cara headed for the stairs.