Dead Girl Running (Cape Charade #1)(76)

If he’d known her before—and she did believe him—he’d known her as a woman to be protected, to be handled with care. So he waited, his chest rising and falling with each desperate breath.

She slid her hands up his arms, around his neck, went on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

Still he waited.

So she turned a touch into a kiss and a kiss into sunshine and shadow, nuance and blatant lust. The long dark of the Washington winter disintegrated and became summer on a restless ocean where they drowned without breath, without care, without self.

She pulled back with a gasp—some parts of her body didn’t care if she drowned, but her lungs finally objected—and her hands trembled as she let them drop out of his hair.

At some point in the kiss, he had wrapped one arm around her waist, the other…

“Um, can you let go of my butt?” She looked everywhere but at his face. “I really need to go and, um…”

“Right.” The rumble of his voice was harsh, scratchy, and he released her reluctantly.

Well, sure. He was ready to go all the way. No mistaking that.

She slipped out of the security office and then the resort. She didn’t need this distraction. Not now. All these years…

She had never seen the grounds so deserted. The bitterly cold wind whipped through the grass, swirled chips of ground cover into the air like tiny wood shards aimed at the eyes. To the west, tall gray clouds sped toward her; the storm the weather people had predicted was arriving at last. Desolation hung over the resort, waiting for that moment when the tempest broke, when the blood spilled, when death or justice claimed the land.

Since when had Kellen become a fanciful idiot?

She didn’t know, and she didn’t like it, but as she drove the ATV toward Nils’s cottage, she felt exposed and hunched down to make herself a smaller target. Her Kevlar vest didn’t cover nearly enough flesh.

She parked and clattered up the stairs; no point in sneaking up on him, the man had a gun. She knocked loudly and yelled, “Nils!” then inserted her pass card and swung the door wide.

“Come in,” he called from the shadowy depths.

She texted Max, Found him, stashed her phone and walked into the cottage. She took one look at Nils stretched out in the easy chair, his feet elevated on the ottoman, and shut the door behind her. “You look worse for wear.”

He had a black eye that extended down to his jaw and an ice bag strapped to his left elbow.

“Did you try to kiss somebody else?” she asked.

“Ha.” He wore a leather holster strapped to his chest with the grip of his Beretta M9 protruding.

“Why didn’t you answer my text?”

“Last night, I lost my phone.”

She looked him over again. He had a fighting knife and a Ruger LCP .380 ultracompact resting on the end table close to his right hand. Somehow, he’d been involved in a fight. With Vincent Gilfilen? Against Vincent Gilfilen? “Tell me about last night.”

“After I left you—”

She went to the refrigerator and got them both bottles of water.

“—I stepped out of your house, and I couldn’t see any lights down at the dock, but the wind wasn’t blowing, the clouds were low and I could sure hear that big boat engine roaring toward shore.”

“You said you didn’t want to interfere, that that wasn’t going to help capture the Librarian.”

“I was tired of sitting around.” He accepted the bottle and pressed it to his black eye. “I needed some action. I was horny.”

She laughed. “Oh, Nils. You romantic devil.”

“Do you want to know what happened or not?”

She thought maybe she knew now, but she perched on a chair arm and got ready to listen.

“I couldn’t take the ATV. They make too much noise. So I started running, keeping my head down, doing bursts, zigzags, stopping suddenly. If the smugglers had some kind of night vision, I figured—confuse them.”

“Talk about luck. If they’d had thermal night vision—”

“Right. I know. They would have seen me. But they didn’t, so I managed to get to that give-everybody-the-finger tree and not get shot—I was pleased about that—and I stood there next to the trunk. One person was standing off to the side on a rock.”

“The Librarian.”

“He was directing the operation, so yes.” Nils held up one hand. “Before you ask, no, I couldn’t see him. It was dark. Two guys carried a box up from the beach. Heavy box, took them both to lift it. No, I couldn’t identify them, either.”

“But you could see them.”

“I had my night vision by then, and I was wondering what the hell I was doing there, because this was a suicide mission. I had my pistol, but no doubt they had more firepower than I did and sooner or later they were going to look at me and register that I wasn’t a tree trunk and I was going to be dead.”

“Not so horny anymore?” Not that it wasn’t an appalling story, but he was obviously still alive, so she could make jokes.

“All of a sudden, the dude on the rock signaled, and the two with the box put it down and all three vanished into the stack of boulders like cockroaches in the light.”

“They spotted you? No, couldn’t have. They wouldn’t have vanished. They would have shot you.”