Defeat the Darkness (6 page)

Anything? Like maybe a quickie behind the counter? Tate felt her cheeks flush. Oh, now that was a wicked thought. Just because Hunter was halfway approachable today didn't mean he was interested in being friends, much less anything more. She really needed to get out more, especially if Hunter Fitzsimon was going to be hanging around her shop regularly.

Luckily, a carload of tourists pulled up to the shop. They'd provide the perfect barrier between her and the enigmatic man who had just started her washer.

Hunter leaned against the counter and stared at the washer, willing it to work faster. Voices drifted in from that nightmare of a tea shop. He shuddered at the image. The cluster of small tables coupled with more lace and floral prints than he could stomach made him feel oversized, awkward, and pissed off. Normally he would've ignored such feminine trappings, but he'd focused on the decor rather than the seductive sway of Tate's hips and how well she filled out those jeans. Or worse yet, how much he wanted to peel them off of her.

Hell, he had to quit fantasizing about Tate Justice even if she did look at him with feminine interest in her eyes. Even before the attack he never messed with
nice girls; they wanted a future he couldn't provide. Tate was definitely an innocent, not at all the type to be up for a meaningless romp in the sheets. The last thing he needed was to complicate his life even more by messing with a woman like that.

Maybe he should haul his wet clothes right back out of the washer and drive into town, except that would only raise more questions. With a curse, he left the utility room and headed into the tea shop, intending to let Tate know he'd be back when his clothes were done. Tate was chatting with a family seated near the window. She looked in his direction and gave a quick nod toward the far corner of the shop.

He followed her gaze and spotted the table she'd set for him. Next to a plate piled high with small pastries was a teapot and a mug sized for a man's hand. His temper stirred again, but even he wasn't enough of a jerk to blow her off, not when she'd gone to such effort to make him comfortable in her shop.

He maneuvered through the tables, sitting with his back to the wall, and slowly counted the seconds until his leg settled down. After adding two lumps of sugar to his mug, he poured the tea and took a sip. He didn't recognize the deep, rich flavor, but he liked it a helluva lot better than the cheap tea bags he bought at the grocery store.

He unfolded the paper and read the national news. He only skimmed over the local stuff because he wouldn't be in the Seattle area long enough to care about it. He folded the page, ready to start the crossword puzzle, before he realized he didn't have a pen. He
was about to toss the paper on the next table when he saw Tate had left a pencil sitting by his plate.

Even that irritated him. He preferred ink when doing a crossword puzzle. No guts, no glory. She had no way of knowing that, but lately “reasonable” wasn't exactly in his vocabulary. He concentrated on the clues and filled in the small boxes, letting the rest of the world fade into the background. The peace wouldn't last long, but he'd settle for what he could get.

The door to the shop opened and closed, leaving the room blessedly quiet. He could remember when he actually enjoyed a crowd, especially when he and Jake went on a pub crawl looking for a good time. But not anymore. Now he needed silence and solitude.

A shadow fell over his table. He carefully filled in the last two letters on the puzzle before looking up. Tate gave him a tentative smile.

“The washer stopped. I can switch loads for you if you'd like.”

The last thing he needed was for her to be handling his boxers—under any circumstances. “I'll get it.”

He got up from the table and walked away, only belatedly realizing he should've thanked her.

Tate's day had been a long one. Business in the shop had come in fits and starts; one minute no one, and then several carloads at once. The menu was limited to a few sandwiches and pastries, so at least the prep work had been minimal.

Even so, one person could only do so much. In the back of her head, she'd been hoping that if a college student
rented the garage apartment, she might have been willing to exchange working a few hours a week for reduced rent.

Somehow she didn't think Hunter would be interested. The image made her smile at the effect he'd have on her customers. He didn't exactly exude warmth and welcome, but that didn't mean he wasn't sexier than sin. Oh, yeah, any woman with a pulse would sit up and take notice when he spoke in that gravelly voice and took her order.

She'd spent far too much time thinking about him lately. She leaned back in her window seat and let his image fill her mind. His wavy hair needed a good trimming, and his clothes were chosen for comfort rather than style. She wondered why there was so much anger in his straight slash of a mouth and storm colored eyes. As much as she'd like to get to know him better, he'd made it abundantly clear that he wanted to be left alone.

But why? Perhaps he'd always been a loner, but somehow she didn't think so. She suspected the accident that had damaged his leg had left him wounded on the inside, too.

She opened her book again, determined to lose herself in its pages. The author was one of her favorites, and the story was the kind she was trying to write herself. But after only a few pages, her eyes kept wandering off to see if Hunter had left on one of his nightly prowls. He'd only been there a few days, but she'd already noticed his habit of walking after most folks had gone to bed. He'd even gone out the night before despite the heavy rain.

She'd been tempted to have a hot cup of tea waiting for him. Oh, yeah, that would've gone over well. Even if he'd accepted the mug from her, he'd have given her yet another angry lecture about leaving him alone.

Speak of the devil. Hunter stepped out of his apartment and started down the steps. But instead of heading toward the road as he had the past few nights, he turned toward the woods. She closed her book and leaned into the corner, hoping that he'd change direction.

But no, he was definitely heading for the trail that led down to the rocky beach below the bluff. He had no idea how treacherous the path could be at night, especially with his injury.

Without even realizing she'd made the decision to go after him, Tate was already tying her shoes. She ran downstairs and out the back door, flashlight in hand. There was a definite chill in the night air. Maybe she should've pulled jeans on over her flannel boxers and T-shirt, but there hadn't been time. Not if she was going to reach Hunter before he reached the steepest part of the trail.

Running in the dark could lead to disaster, especially if she sprained something vital. Impatiently holding her pace to a fast walk, she focused her eyes on the ground. Hunter wasn't as familiar with the terrain as she was, so with luck she'd catch up with him before long. She doubted he'd even taken a flashlight. He seemed to prefer the cloak of darkness, although with his injury it struck her as foolish.

Despite her caution, she tripped over a root just inside the tree line and stumbled forward, barely catching herself from taking a tumble down the sloping trail. She stopped long enough to shine her light into the trees ahead. Hunter was nowhere to be seen.

Had he turned back toward the road? There was no way to know for sure, so she'd continue on until she
reached the sharp switchback. If she hadn't spotted him by then, she would turn back. The towering Douglas firs and cedars closed in around her, blocking out the moonlight. She paused to listen to the soft rustlings in the woods and the pounding of the surf on the rocks. It was as if she were alone in the world with no sight or sound of another human being.

The chill that swept over her had little to do with the ambient temperature. She'd never felt scared living in Justice Point, but then again she'd never ventured out in this part of the woods at night. Was she overreacting out of concern for Hunter? She fought against the urge to break and run for the safety of her bedroom.

The trail straightened out ahead, so she broke into a slow trot, swinging her flashlight in a wide arc as she ran. She tripped again and dropped it. The light died immediately, leaving her lost in total darkness. She stayed sprawled on the ground, waiting for her hands and knees to stop stinging. When she pushed herself back up to her feet, she was pretty sure she felt a trickle of blood running down her leg. Great. Just great.

It was time to surrender to common sense and turn back. She should head back to where the trees thinned. There she could see well enough to get back home without further mishap. She only hoped that she'd make it that far without running into Hunter. Some rescuer she turned out to be.

Then she heard voices. Turning her head to the side, she determined that they were coming from below her on the trail. She backed up a couple of steps. Who would be out in the woods this late at night? Well, besides
her and Hunter? Tourists would be the most likely answer, but there was no campground down near the beach. It was also odd that she couldn't see any flashlights. Why would they be hiking in total darkness?

Maybe they'd spent the day picnicking and were only now heading back to their car. Trouble was she hadn't noticed any strange vehicles parked in town during the day. Then she remembered the other night, when that strange truck had driven past her house without any headlights. At the time she'd thought the driver was being considerate, but now she wondered if they'd been trying to avoid being noticed.

She had to get back to the house. Before she walked even a handful of steps, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and a hand clamped over her mouth. She tried to scream and fought to break free.

The arm tightened, cutting off her breath as a harsh voice whispered near her ear. “Damn it, Tate, hold still! Keep fighting me and we'll both get hurt.”

Hunter! Her terror turned to relief. When she let herself go slack, he eased off on his stranglehold. Her lungs still weren't working at full capacity, but that had more to do with the unfamiliar sensation of being pressed up against a hard male body.

He whispered again. “I need you to do exactly what I tell you to. No arguments. Nod if you understand.”

She nodded, his rough voice sending shivers through her.

“We need to get off the trail before they see us. Got that?”

She nodded again.

“Okay. Now keep quiet and follow me.”

When he released her, her knees buckled. Cursing under his breath, Hunter caught her. This time he held onto her as he dragged her deeper into the shadows. Tate couldn't see more than a few inches in front of her, but Hunter seemed to know exactly where he was headed. Her best guess was that they'd gone about ten feet when he shoved her up against the far side of a thick tree trunk.

“You
would
be wearing white,” he said, disgusted.

Since when was wearing a white shirt a crime? Before she could ask, he opened his leather coat and leaned in close to wrap it around her. She realized that between the tree at her back and the black leather, it would be almost impossible to see her. He was protecting her.

For a moment all she could focus on was the quiet rasp of Hunter's breathing, the warmth of his body surrounding her, and the scent of his skin filling her senses. Maybe she should be at least a little frightened, if not of the approaching voices, then certainly of the man who'd dragged her farther into the darkness with no explanation.

But what she was feeling for Hunter was definitely not fear. Instead, desire stirred in the back of her mind, wishing he'd press closer, harder. Was his hair as soft as it looked? Her fingers itched to find out. What would it feel like to be taken by a man with such strength, such anger? Her body melted and softened with need.

Her hands were trapped between his chest and her own, leaving her no room to move. Tension thrummed through his body as he cocked his head to one side,
listening as the men passed by. She heard two distinct voices, but with her heart pounding in her head, she couldn't make out what they were saying.

Did Hunter know them? If not, why would he assume they were a threat? She fully intended to ask those—and a whole bunch of other questions—as soon as she had the chance. And if she didn't like Hunter's answers, she'd be looking for a new tenant come morning.

The bastards were gone, leaving Hunter stuck in the woods trying to figure out what to do about Tate Justice. He had a job to do, and it didn't include protecting a woman with too much curiosity for her own good. It didn't help his own control to know that she was attracted to him. But hot damn, it felt good to be this close to her tight little body. It would be so easy to yank those ridiculous boxers down and take her right there against the tree.

“Wait here,” he said, shaking off the thought. “I'll make sure they're gone.”

“But who were they?”

Her voice was anything but quiet. If she kept that up, she'd find out firsthand who, or what, they were dealing with.

“Hunter, answer me! Who—”

He silenced her the only way he could, crushing his mouth down over hers. Big mistake. Her lips parted, trying to protest his rough treatment, but they offered him the opportunity to deepen the kiss. It would've taken a far stronger man than Hunter to resist sampling the
sweet taste of Tate Justice's mouth. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her flush up against his body as his tongue swept in and out of her mouth, stoking the fire between them.

It didn't take long for her to engage him in a fierce battle for domination, one he fully intended to win. He pushed his knee between her thighs, lifting her up onto her toes to ride his leg. She gasped, but he couldn't tell if it was outrage or pleasure. He didn't care. No doubt she'd clean his clock for him later, but he was willing to risk a few bruises for the chance to get his hands on that luscious ass.