Close To Danger (Westen #4)(96)

Best for her.

There was no way he’d ever forget any of it. When he closed his eyes, all he saw was her face. He heard her voice and laughter in his head and would turn around thinking she was in the cabin. Even the feel of her skin teased his memories.

“This is why I’ve been working sixteen-hour days since I got back, W?,” he told his pal, using the new nickname. “Keeping busy means I don’t miss her as much.”

The wolf-dog lifted his head and gave him that you-could’ve-brought-her-home look he’d been giving him from the moment he’d finished sniffing the cabin over in search of her.

“I know. I know. But I can’t take the chance that some other crazy will pop up out of my past and try to kill her.”

W?den tilted his head.

“Yeah, I know. She’s going to be pissed forever that I didn’t give her a choice. But what could I do? Seeing that rifle pointed at her, knowing she was dead if the bullet hit her… Shit, I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

W?den growled softly.

“Okay. You took the shot in your butt. It was only a graze. And you probably saved her life.”

His pal slid off the couch and went to the cabin door, his tail wagging.

“So, you’re going to go out and pout? Just because I didn’t make a big deal about your part in saving her?”

W?den sniffed the door and started whining.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming,” he said, setting the beer bottle on the counter in the kitchen.

He opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks as W?den hurled himself at the tall, beautiful, highly pissed off woman standing on the porch. She dropped the duffel bag and wrapped her arms around the beast standing on his hind legs to lick her.

“I’ve missed you, too, boy,” she said, closing her eyes and burying her face in the grey and white fur.

All Wes could do was stand and watch the pair’s happy reunion, his grip on the door the only thing keeping him from either falling to his knees or pushing the animal aside to take his place.

Finally, W?den dropped to all fours to circle around her before heading off the porch to do his business. Chloe wiped her hands on her jeans and stared at Wes. “You look like shit.”

“Been working long hours and not sleeping much,” he said, still drinking in the sight of her and fighting the need to pull her into his arms.

“And whose fault is that?” she asked, picking up the duffel bag and hauling it past him into the house. She set it down near the counter and picked up the near empty beer bottle standing beside the other two. “Your medicine of choice?”

“What are you doing here, Chloe?” he asked, ignoring her comment and closing the door. He shoved his hands into his pockets and fixed her with his best I’m-in-charge-and-you’ve-crossed-over-the-line look.

“I brought something back to you.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a long white envelope, holding out to him.

He didn’t need to take it to know what it was. His handwriting had scrawled one word across the front. What caught his attention was the fact that it remained unopened. He arched a brow. “You didn’t open it.”

“Didn’t need to. I already knew what it said.” She laid it down on the counter, then started unbuttoning her pea coat. The one he’d given her last month.

“Oh, you’re clairvoyant now?” He moved further inside to take the beer bottles and put them in the recycling bin, draining the last little bit from the third one.

“No. And you don’t need to get sarcastic.” She crossed her arms in front of her and he almost missed the slight tremor in her hands.

Was it from anger? Or fear? He didn’t know which bothered him more.

“Whatever you wrote inside that letter was pure bullshit. You’re running scared, plain and simple, deputy.”

“That’s bullshit, counselor. This isn’t some misplaced modern-day fear of commitment issue. I have none. I’d love nothing more than to have you with me twenty-four seven, three-sixty-five.” He ran his hands through his hair to curb the frustration boiling up. “It’s about you being safe.”

“And you think that me being here with you puts me in danger.”

“Yes.” He pointed to the letter. “If you’d read that, you’d know being around me automatically puts your life in danger.”

“Hannah’s dead,” she quietly said.

“I know.” He’d paid to have her buried in the cemetery on the south side of town. “Her death was a wake-up call for me. She’s just the first of many people who can blame me for what happened to a member of their family. People I’ve had to extricate for trial, missions that stopped a terrorist unit, even other black ops people who blame me for shutting down their illegal activities. Any one of those can come after me. You being here just makes you a big target.”

“And yet, I can’t think of anyplace safer for me.” She’d let her hands drop to her side, no longer hiding herself from him. “And you were safer because I was here.”

“How do you figure that?” he asked, wondering where she’d gotten that idea.

“First, I went for help. Then when I came back, my presence distracted her long enough for you to get the drop on her.”

The image of Hannah training her rifle barrel on Chloe in the woods outside that shack hit him like a freight train. This time his knees really did give out on him. He clutched the counter as he made his way very shakily to one of the barstools.