In the Arms of a Stranger (Entangled Ignite) (15 page)

“I’d like to call my brother to see how Cole’s doing.” Abby’s eyes pleaded with him.

JP wanted to tell her she couldn’t, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He bought her a disposable cell phone and pulled off the freeway, down a county road that led to a backwater Arkansas town.

“Don’t give any hint as to where you are now, or where you’ve been,” he ordered.

“Steve wouldn’t say anything—”

“If he doesn’t know, no one can find out,” he insisted, and watched her eyes widen in surprise. Or was it fear? “This is not a game, Abby. This is real. Please remember that.”

She nodded, biting her lip. He wanted to hug her, tell her it would work out. Instead, he got out of the car and let her have as much privacy as he could while she checked on her son. But he couldn’t help but listen to snatches of her conversation.

“Did he sleep well?” she asked. A few seconds later, she added, “Let me talk to him.”

JP glanced around, looking for anything odd. But all was quiet in the midday heat.

“Hi, honey. Uncle Steve says you caught a big fish!”

Two cars, both driven by teenagers, passed them.

Abby laughed, the sound clear and sweet, her face relaxed and joyful. “Did Stevie fall in, too?”

The normalcy of her conversation, the whole idea of a little boy fishing, catching the big one, falling in, reminded JP of all he’d left behind when he’d chosen this life.

“I can’t come there, Cole, but Uncle Steve says he took lots of pictures. Remember everything you do so you can tell me, okay?”

JP wanted to hear the boy’s stories, too. He smiled at the absurdity of wanting such a thing.

“I love you, baby,” she said softly. “Let me talk to Uncle Steve.”

He watched her wipe at her eyes.

“I’m fine, Steve. I’m having a good time.” She listened as her brother said something. “I will. Love you, too. Bye.”

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Cole caught a fish, then fell in when he reeled it in.”

“Did it get away?”

“They let it go,” she said with a smile.

If he could package that smile, the look of her, everything about her, and take it with him wherever he went, he’d be…miserable.

Because he wanted more than memories
.

And that was a hell of a realization.

…

Abby woke with a start as the car made a sharp left turn. The first thing she noticed was that it was dark enough that the headlights were on. The second was that they were in deep woods. Then she realized it wasn’t night yet, wasn’t even late afternoon. The woods that surrounded them were simply deep enough that little sunlight penetrated the thick foliage.

They’d driven across Arkansas after her phone call to Steve and Cole. Actually, she’d driven. She’d offered, and to her surprise, JP had agreed. He’d napped for a half hour, then took over the driving again.

“Not much farther,” JP said from beside her.

“Where are we?” she asked, stretching.

“Northwest Arkansas.”

She sat up, pushed her hair behind her ears. “What’s here?”

“My place,” he said, glancing at her.

The road swept through tall trees as it curved to the left. JP slowed and turned onto a path long overgrown with weeds. More hardwoods enclosed the narrow track in darkness. The car shifted and bumped as he drove slowly.

“Does anyone live out here?”

“Just me,” he replied.

“How often do you come here?” she asked, curious.

“It’s been a while now.”

The track seemed to get narrower, then, up ahead, she saw a gate. He stopped and shifted into park. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

“I’ll scoot over and drive it through so you can close it behind us,” she offered.

Even in the dim light of the woods, his smile was obvious. He got out, leaving the car running. She drove the rest of the way.

It was another mile, at least, before they reached a small sun-dappled clearing. To one side, against a copse of hardwoods, stood a small, wood-frame cabin.

“It might be a little hot until the air conditioner has time to cool the place,” he said as she pulled to a stop in front of the open porch.

“You have power?”

“I’m not that primitive,” he replied with a laugh. A wonderful, rich sound that made her wish she could touch him. “Indoor plumbing, hot water, air-conditioning. No television, no phone.” He got out of the car, his expression changing to intense. “Stay here while I check it out.”

Just a second ago he’d laughed, now he was all business again. How could he stand to live like this? She’d go nuts.

He moved around the cabin, then walked to the car and opened the door for her. “It’s good. Let’s go in. I’ll show you around.”

There wasn’t much to show. One big room, with a stove, refrigerator, and sink in one corner, and on the opposite side a single wall that divided a large bed from the rest of the room. A small table and two chairs seemed to be the dining area, and an easy chair sat beside a lamp table that held a stack of magazines and some books. The floors were pine; not highly polished, but well made. No one had been here in a good while. Dust covered the furniture.

JP opened folding closet doors against the back wall. There was a bathroom to the left of it. Inside the closet were a few items of clothing, and what looked like a lot of electronic equipment. He threw a switch and reached behind what appeared to be a radio, then closed the doors again.

“Security,” he said. “Nobody can get close without setting off a signal. We’ll be fine here.”

Abby nodded, still taking in the place, noting the differences between JP’s safe house and Wade’s.

“Do you ever bring anyone up here?” She could have kicked herself for asking. He probably thought she meant women—did he bring women here.

Did he?

“No one else knows about this place,” he said with a smile that said he might have understood what she was asking. Then the smile went away. “Wade knew I had a safe house, he urged me to have one, but he didn’t know where.

“Sorry we couldn’t find anything for your ant bites,” he said, walking into the bathroom. “If you want to bathe, I’ll show you where everything is.”

Just the mention of the ant bites triggered the memory of their intense kiss, and was enough to bring heat to Abby’s cheeks. “No, I can wait. You go ahead, but be careful not to get your wound wet. Your bandage needs changing, too.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” She nodded quickly, visions of him in the shower filling her mind. “I’ll just see, um…if you have anything for dinner.”

“There should be plenty of canned things.” He jerked his shirt off over his head. “Nothing in the refrigerator.” He reached for the front snap of his jeans.

Abby tripped as she swiftly backed away.

When the door shut between her and JP, she took a deep breath. This was
so
not going to work. How long would they be here like this? Taking showers and—

Nope. Not going there.

She found canned ham and albacore, vegetables, even canned sweet potatoes. Nothing that particularly appealed to her, but she really wanted something hot. Settling on the canned ham, she turned on the oven, then found some Mexican rice and a can of green beans. The rice and beans would warm quickly, once the ham was ready.

She heard the bathroom door open.

“Abby?” he called.

“Yes?” She wouldn’t turn. Would. Not. He might be wearing only a towel.

She
so
wanted to turn.

“Grab a plastic bag for me from the cabinet, below the sink.”

“A bag?”
She wouldn’t turn, she wouldn’t turn
. “Why?”

“I’m going to cover the bandage with plastic to keep it dry.”

She bit her lip. She should offer to help. She really should.

Nope, no way
.

She found the bags, took one, and turned. He was dressed in his jeans. The top button was undone. The bandage, stained with blood, drew her attention away from his chest.

“Here.” She handed him the bag gingerly, as if being near him would scald her.

Which it just might.

He walked back to the bathroom and shut the door.

As she opened cans, she heard the sound of the shower. Then the sound changed. He was probably standing under the spray right now. Naked.

Beautifully
naked.

She felt heat rise in her face. She had to quit this.

Irked with herself for an unwise attraction—unwise being the biggest understatement in the world—she put the ham in the oven and walked over to a table cluttered with a collection of books, magazines, and a lamp.

Proximity, danger, their isolation
. That was why she was so jumpy. That was all it was.

She focused on looking around, picking up the few personal items scattered around the tiny cabin. Exploring his world.

Afterward, she wished she hadn’t looked through his things. Whatever physical attraction she was fighting had just taken a turn for the worse. JP’s interests fascinated her. Woodworking, fishing—those had also been Wade’s interests—but JP also had an Xbox, several crossword puzzles, and he liked Sudoku. He read mysteries, thrillers, and science fiction. Then there were the literary works. And a well-worn copy of
The Art of War
. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this eclectic collection.

He wasn’t just a beautiful man.

He was a fascinating one, too.

…

The water sluicing down JP’s back felt great. It would have been easier to keep his side dry, but he hated baths. Besides, the plastic bag he’d cut and taped over the bandage was working just fine. He’d change it when he got out.

Abby would do it if he asked. Maybe. Or maybe she was too wary of him as a man now, of their attraction,
of touching him
, to agree. No, he’d do it himself. Hell, he was used to bandaging himself. He needed a little pain to remind him of the seriousness of the situation.

He leaned his hands against the shower stall and closed his eyes. And all he could picture was the look of her, naked to the waist, her beautiful breasts bare. He wished there had been time to savor, to taste.

He opened his eyes and pushed himself upright. Thinking like that got him nothing but an inconvenient hard-on. There was pain, and then there was pain. He’d be better off ripping off the bandage. It would hurt less in the long run.

He still had to tell her he was leaving her here at the cabin.

And then he thought about it.

Just what the hell made him think she’d stay? Staying put wasn’t her strong suit. Worse, what if she did stay, and he got himself killed?

Yeah, this plan was working out just great.

He turned off the water and began drying himself. He needed rest. Food.

Abby
.

Damn, where did that come from?

From a body that couldn’t forget and a mind that wanted what couldn’t be.

Disgusted with himself and the whole situation, he threw the towel on the floor, then realized he’d be walking out naked if he didn’t wrap the thing around himself. Naked would work real well, given his state of mind—and his difficult-to-ignore erection.

Pain
, he told himself. He pulled the bandage off, ripping only a small bit of the scab that had formed. It stung and bled, while the rest of the wound oozed. But that didn’t do a thing to squelch his hard-on.

He snatched the towel off the floor, tucked it around his hips, and opened the door. Abby was sitting in the easy chair, her legs gathered beneath her, head back. Asleep.

Refusing to punish himself any more by looking at her, he quietly opened the closet and grabbed clean clothes. Back in the bathroom, he began closing the door. The damn thing squeaked. She shifted, stretched, and stared right at him. Quickly, he used his clothes to cover his crotch since his erection tented the towel.

“You, uh, tired?” he croaked.

“Just dozed off,” she said, standing. “Let me help you with your side.”

Not a good plan
. “That’s okay.” He took a step back.

“It’s hardly okay,” she said, walking toward him. “Have you been taking the antibiotics?”

“Religiously.” He’d forgotten more often than he’d remembered.

“For a spy, you’re a terrible liar.” She came to stand directly in front of him, bent slightly in order to see. “It needs cleaning.”

“No, really, I can—”

“Let me.” She touched his ribs with cool fingers. “You can’t get to this alone.”

Maybe not, but if he dropped the clothes he was clutching,
she’d
get a lot more than she’d bargained for.

“Here.” She stepped past him and opened the medicine cabinet. “Let’s see what you have.” She grabbed a bottle of antimicrobial soap, a clean gauze pad, and some topical antibiotic. “This should do.”

He pressed the bundle of clothes tighter against himself and the thin barrier of the towel. What he needed was to stand behind something.

“If you’ll come over here by the light, I’ll be able to see better.”

Yeah, right
. That was a really great idea.

“JP?”

“Huh?” He looked down at the sink. “Yeah. Sure.” He moved to the other side of the tiny bathroom. Why the hell had he built it so small? Brushing past her, he realized that the sink was at just the height he needed. He stepped forward, and the sink hit him just below the waist, right above what needed a cold shower. “Light good in here?” he asked, sure his voice had cracked.

“This’ll work.” She gently dabbed the gauze around the angry wound, then used another piece to wipe away the soap.

He let the clothes drop to the floor, making sure the towel stayed put, and stood still, concentrating on the burning, teeth gritted, as she cleaned and dressed the torn flesh. Through some miracle, he didn’t lean forward and kiss her.

“There,” she said finally. “All better.”

That was it, he realized, rising from a deep tunnel of mostly mental agony. She was treating him like a child, damn it. A boy who’d hurt himself.

He wanted to grab her hand and make her realize that he was no boy, that he wanted her as the man he was.