Doranna Durgin - Survival Instinct

“I get that. I got funneled into the family business, too.”

He frowned, golden eyebrows pulled together. Thick eyebrows, thick enough to avoid that pale-haired, eyebrow-free appearance. “You were a legal secretary.”

“Okay,” she told him. Now or never. “It’s my turn to talk. And you just listen. Though you’re not going to like it.” She sat silent for a moment, thinking of his hands on her body, savoring that memory. Then thinking of his honesty in love-making. He didn’t hide how she’d affected him, didn’t play stoic…he’d laughed and cried out and shared himself with her.

He wasn’t likely to hide how he felt about her words, either.

He didn’t help, not when he reached out to tuck her cast-covering sock back into place where it had slipped toward her thumb. She’d miss that thoughtfulness. She’d only had it a short while, but she’d drunk it up and found herself thirstier than expected. Still thirsty. Always thirsty, at this rate.

Didn’t matter; it was what she was used to. She knew how to live that way, and this was something she had to do. No longer even a choice, somehow. She’d help this boy as best she could. She had her own demons to drive her.

She lifted her head to look him in the eye as she spoke. She’d see it that way, the exact moment he realized the import of what she said. “A year ago my sister and I were in a car accident. No-” She shook her head sharply as his mouth opened, and made no attempt to retain any of Ellen’s mannerisms. “No, you think you know this, but you don’t. We were in that car accident, and my sister died.”

“I do know-”

“My sister Ellen.”

Dave didn’t hear her. Not really. He only stared, frowning. And she stared back, waiting. Impatient. Blue-gray eyes watching him from beneath her eyebrows.

And that was when it fell into place. So preposterous it had never even occurred to him, and yet it explained every lingering question he’d had since his arrival here. It explained how quiet Ellen had slammed a man with a hand cultivator; it explained how she’d had the grit to get through the night on the mountainside.

It explained why he’d reacted to her when Ellen had never inspired more than a professional glance.

“Karin,” he said. It sounded like a question so he said it again, making it into a statement. “You’re Karin.”

She nodded, relieved and wary at the same time.

He managed another silent moment, before the questions and anger coalesced into the realization that this woman couldn’t help him at all. Not only couldn’t help him, had wasted precious days in which he might have been hunting Rashawn in other ways. Realization burst out, and it was loud. “Why?”

“Here’s the way this goes,” she said. “I’ll explain, and then I’ll help you. Or you can shout at me again and you can leave right now without me. Me, I’m leaving tonight regardless. The hounds you put on my heels are real enough.”

“Just tell me why the hell you let me think-” He couldn’t help it, couldn’t keep the anger inside. Everything they’d been through…for nothing. Everything they’d done together…meaningless. And he was no closer to saving Rashawn than he’d ever been. Even the photo just told him what he’d already known.

Dark honey-brown hair spilled over her shoulder, trapped in the ponytail he’d helped her secure. He’d run his fingers through that hair…he’d loved it. But this new expression wasn’t one he’d seen before. Harder. Perfectly resolute. “That’s two,” she said. “You ready to listen yet, or should I go make my alternate arrangements?”

Dave put both hands over his face, ignoring the dirt from his recent farm chores. “I’m listening.”

“Ellen is-was-my older sister. She moved away years ago, because she couldn’t deal with the family business.” Her voice was resolute. Implacable. And for all the emotion she kept out of it, the deeper husky notes of that voice throbbed with the price of this conversation. “Rumsey raised us to follow in his footsteps. I was eight when I took my first real part in a con game.” She paused so he could take that in.

Took her part in a con game. Raised to be a scam artist. A thief. A player.

Thank God he had his hands over his face. No doubt she could still see his jaw clench.

“Ellen left as soon as she could. But by the time I was ready to go, I was in too deep. I had to run for it. Ellen intended to bring me back here so I could lay low and figure out how to move on. But when…” She faltered for the first time.

He dropped his hands, found her wiping some imaginary scuff off her jeans. She swallowed visibly, but then she was back. “After the crash, as she lay there dying, Ellen made me promise to take her name. I needed the time to sort my life out…it seemed like a good idea.” She snorted, but the tears in her voice never made it anywhere near her face. Tough woman. “Hell, it was a good idea. It worked perfectly until you came along.”

He shook his head and didn’t even realize he was doing it until she gave him a sharp look. He said, “Why the hell didn’t you just tell me I had the wrong woman?”

Her expression turned skeptical. “Did you listen to what I just said? I’m hiding, that’s why. And I dare you to count how many times I said I couldn’t help you. I’d have booted you right off the place if Longsford’s errand boys hadn’t come in and complicated the hell out of things.”

She brushed her knees off and stood. “As I recall, I even drugged you and ran off to keep myself safe, which is where I’d be right now if your sneaky bug hadn’t been attached to my back. Safe. Keeping my little world together.” She crossed her arms, awkward with the cast, and glared down at him. “Now my cover’s heading for blown, Longsford is still after me and you’re no better off than if you’d only believed me. Not to mention the whole thrown-over-the-cliff thing. That really sucked.”

Dave rested his forehead on the heels of both hands. The sense of betrayal went beyond reason, even when fair play reared its intrusive little head and reminded him that she was right. That everything she’d said was true. He’d intruded here; she’d told him she couldn’t help. Repeatedly. With emphasis and conviction.

If only you’d told me the truth…

Then what? He’d already put her up against a wall. He’d already drawn Longsford’s men her way, trapping her between running as Ellen or running as Karin.

And still…the lie twisted in his stomach. And there’s your conflict of interest. Stupid, to end up in bed-or on the floor-with a woman connected to one of his investigations.

Yet in spite of the bitter twist, he couldn’t quite regret it. He’d wanted her with a poignant strength that surprised him. Right from the moment he’d followed her inside the house, trapping her up against that washing machine so he could make his point. He should have known they weren’t the same person, should have listened to himself, for the real Ellen Sommers had never interested him in the least. This woman, her sister…

She’d been more to him, more alive to him, from the moment he saw her. He lifted his head to see her standing there on the crest of the ridge. Unyieldingly straight back, chin raised as she looked out over the land, thick, straight hair escaping from the ponytail, long waist down to tight hips that held low-rise jeans, leaving a taut athletic curve of skin.

Yeah, he still wanted to pull her in close and kiss that belly, unsnap those jeans and tug away the practical underwear beneath. Some part of him definitely still wanted it, and wanted it now.

But those moments were past. Now he had to deal with where the situation had brought them. One man who was all about doing right by people, all about rescuing them…and one woman whose skill at deception still hadn’t quite sunk in.