Nichole Severn - Rules In Defiance

“What? No psychic telling you who to arrest before the vision comes true?” Elliot made a sharp right turn and floored the accelerator as they climbed Seward Highway’s on-ramp. Couldn’t take her to Blackhawk Security. Despite the fact its founder and CEO, Sullivan Bishop, had turned it into a fortress, Elliot wasn’t willing to take the risk while the building was still under construction. It’d been five months since a bomb had ripped apart the conference room, but the best place for Waylynn right now was with him. “What you’re talking about sounds like science fiction.”

“It’s not like that.” Her hands fell into her lap as they left the city limits.

Greenery bled together in his peripheral vision, the sunlight glimmering off the Turnagain Arm waterway almost blinding. He hadn’t chosen Alaska. If it were up to him, he’d have left a long time ago, but he’d keep his promise to his employer. He’d work off his debt.

“And, no, we don’t have a psychic predicting violent events and the justice system would never convict a person of a crime before the actual crime was committed,” she said. “But knowing who carries the gene will be a huge step forward in genetic engineering and protecting lives.”

“What you’re saying is everyone with the warrior gene will eventually snap when put in a high-stress situation.” Elliot turned off the highway, throwing them deep into the middle of the Alaskan wilderness just before the Potter Creek trailhead that led into Chugach State Park. The property wasn’t much and he’d bought it for close to nothing, but he could keep Waylynn safe out here. And that was all that mattered. “Good thing I’m prepared for the zombie apocalypse.”

“Not…everyone. But, according to the studies I’ve done, it’s a possibility.” Her voice wavered on that last part and he narrowed in on the slight twitch on the left side of her mouth. A tell. Waylynn cleared her throat as a rush of pink climbed up her neck and into her cheeks. She tipped her chin up, studying the surrounding trees as the SUV climbed up the dirt trail. Waylynn Hargraves was hiding something. “Why are you helping me?”

She could keep her secrets. For now. As long as they didn’t get him killed. Because he sure as hell wasn’t the sharing type. Besides, he had ways of uncovering the truth. No matter how deep it was buried. Elliot pulled off the main road, driving deeper into wilderness. No one would find them out here. And if they did, he’d come prepared. “I don’t think you killed your assistant. If you had, you would’ve asked me for help burying the body.”

A smile overwhelmed the exhaustion in her features and, for a split second, Elliot couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d never been the type to stick around long. A month here, a few weeks there. He’d made some enemies along the way, but having Waylynn next door settled the restlessness singing through his veins most days. “You have experience with that kind of thing?”

Elliot leveraged his palm against the steering wheel and stretched back in the seat. “Did I ever tell you why I came to Anchorage?”

She shook her head as the SUV bounced over fallen branches and dead foliage. He made one last turn, forcing her to reach for the handle above her seat before he brought the vehicle to a stop and hiked it into Park.

“I ran a con that ended with me on the wrong side of the Iraqi government.” Reaching back behind her seat, close enough to get a lungful of her light perfume, he grabbed the duffel bag he kept stocked full of supplies and hauled it into the front. “Turns out being paid for assassination contracts you never intended to carry out constitutes fraud when the people paying you work for the government.”

A weak laugh escaped from her lips as those blue eyes of hers widened. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“My boss, Sullivan, was starting a security firm here in Anchorage. Needed a private investigator. I was recruited for the job.” Elliot shouldered his way out of the SUV, hiking the duffel over his shoulder. He clamped his hand on top of the roof of the vehicle. “And by recruited , I mean he made a deal with the people who had me arrested and is forcing me to pay back the money I conned out of those nice killers until we’re even. After that, who knows. Maybe my next project will be getting paid to bury bodies for people with your warrior gene.”

“You don’t strike me as a professional con man,” she said.

“That’s what makes me so good at it.” He winked at her, a smile pulling at one side of his mouth, and motioned her out with a single nod. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

Waylynn focused on their surroundings through his open door. He noted the exact moment she realized where he’d brought her as her mouth parted. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

He couldn’t hold back the laugh rumbling through him and turned toward the dark green cabin. “Not this time, Doc.”

A TINY CABIN.

Not an oh-this-is-so-cute-and-perfect cabin, but a real, featured-on-the-Travel-Channel tiny cabin in the middle of the freaking woods. Broken twigs and foliage crunched under her feet as she rounded the hood of his company SUV. Dark green paint chipping off wood planks, a single window above the shack-like door. She ran her fingers through her matted, blood-tinted hair, then cringed at the thought of what she might look like. He couldn’t be serious. “Anchorage PD is going to charge me with your murder in the morning and I’m going to tell them it’s because you made me stay here.”

There was no way they could both fit inside this thing. No way they wouldn’t run into each other in there. Waylynn swallowed hard. They’d been friends for over a year. Every night when she came home from the lab, he was there in his crappy camp chair with two beers and that damn gut-wrenching smile of his. She’d tell him about her day. He’d tell her about his most recent investigation, then they’d head inside to their apartments. Alone. But this? The idea there wouldn’t be any barriers between them? It’d either destroy their friendship or push it to the next level. Either way, their relationship would never be the same if she stepped over that threshold.

“Well, now you’re trying to hurt my feelings.” Elliot offered her his hand, the other cinched around the duffel bag he’d extracted from the back seat. He was giving her a choice. Giving her safety if she wanted it. “It’s a lot bigger than it looks.”

His easygoing smile and confidence melted through her. Of course he had confidence. Wasn’t that what con man stood for? She’d known he had a past. Everyone did. But could she trust him to keep her safe? Trust him to help her uncover who’d framed her for Alexis’s murder? That was the question. Despite his revelation about the con he’d pulled in Iraq—a con that’d landed him in prison—her gut already knew the answer. Waylynn stretched out her hand, sliding her fingers up his palm. Rougher than she’d expected. Calloused, as if he’d been working with some kind of machinery or maybe out here in the woods. Desire exploded through her with a single touch, just as it had back at the police station. “It better be.”

A breeze whipped through the surrounding trees, shaking them into a frenzy as Elliot reached for the door. He led her inside, a rush of heat dissipating the goose bumps pimpling along her arms. A combination of wood and spice wrapped around her as the main living space came into focus. She glanced toward him, unsure what to say.

“What’d I tell you?” Elliot released her hand, taking his body heat with him, and motioned to the unbelievably modern space with both arms wide. He set the duffel bag on the floor, then collapsed backward onto the single couch, fingers interlaced behind his head. For as small as the cabin looked from the outside, the layout worked well for the limited space. A fireplace, complete with a stock of firewood, lay dead ahead. Off to the left of that, a single countertop with bar stools on one side and a kitchen sink and stove on the other. No dining table. Not enough room. A short hallway led to what looked like a bathroom with a set of stairs leading to a space on the second level. The one and only bedroom. The decor fit the location. Wood, wood and more wood. Just as she’d expect from any other cabin stashed in the wilderness, but the granite countertop and brightly colored accents brought the entire room into the modern era. It suited Elliot. At least, what she knew of him.