Cynthia Eden - Way of the Shadows

Thomas grabbed tightly to Noelle, and he lunged forward with her, hurtling them toward the woods near the edge of the bridge. They hit the snow and rolled down the ravine, tumbling again and again as they flew toward the bottom.

The SUV crashed into the frozen lake, sending chunks of ice into the air.

Thomas and Noelle finally stopped. They were about two feet away from that lake. Noelle was on top of him, and he quickly reversed their positions, holding her tightly. He could hear the growl of the other vehicle’s engine, and then...

“He’s leaving,” Noelle whispered.

Yes, he was. Because he thought he’d gotten his prey?

The engine’s snarl grew softer as the truck drove away.

The snow kept falling.

Noelle pushed against his shoulders. Thomas rose slowly, and he pulled Noelle to her feet. Their SUV was partially submerged and sinking fast. Damn it.

“Are you all right?” Thomas asked her as his eyes swept over her. He didn’t see any injuries, but he wanted to be sure she was all right.

“He just tried to kill us!” She sounded incredulous.

She was also shaking.

Because it was cold out there. He shouldered out of his coat and pushed it toward her. When she tried to refuse, Thomas just wrapped it around her shoulders. “Senior agent,” he snapped at her, still remembering the flash of fear he’d felt in the SUV. “That means you do what I say. Right now, I’m saying...take my coat.”

She pulled the coat closer. Thomas yanked out his phone. They’d rolled a good twenty feet from the road. A heavy darkness was already sweeping over the area. He lifted the phone—and realized it had been smashed to hell and back during the tumble.

“Tell me your phone’s working,” he said.

“I...I think it’s in the SUV.”

Hell.

The temperature was too low. It was getting too dark. No one was going to see them down there, and if anyone did happen to come along that lonely stretch of road again, it could very well be the same jerk who’d just tried to kill them.

Noelle started to climb back up toward the road. He caught her arm, stopping her. “Was your gun in the vehicle, too?” Thomas demanded.

She gave a grim nod. “Yours?” Noelle asked softly.

“You know I don’t need a gun to kill.” She was still shivering. They had to get to safety, fast. “But I’ve got the weapon.”

“Stay to the shadows as much as possible,” Thomas told her, keeping his voice quiet, too. In this area, any noise would carry easily. “He could come back, but we have to travel close to the road because running through the wilderness sure isn’t an option for us.” Not unless they wanted a slow death.

“I thought I saw a turnoff, a mile or so before the bridge,” Noelle told him. When she spoke, a small cloud appeared before her mouth. It’s too cold out here. “Maybe there’s a cabin there. Someone who can help us.”

Maybe. Right then, that turnoff sounded like their best chance. He kept his hold on her arm, and they started walking through the darkness.

Chapter Two Contents Cover Introduction “It’s not you that I’m afraid of, okay? It’s … this place.” He was silent behind her. But his fingers moved lightly against her stomach. Almost as if he were caressing her. “We’re safe.” Her gaze slid to the right. His gun was there. Within easy reach. “Sometimes, I don’t ever feel safe.” As soon as she said the words, Noelle wished that she could call them back. She’d never made that confession to anyone. “Why not?” His hold tightened. Noelle shook her head. She was feeling warmer, so much warmer now. The shivers and shudders were easing. “Because I’m never sure what waits in the darkness.” Title Page Way of the Shadows Cynthia Eden www.millsandboon.co.uk About the Author New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author CYNTHIA EDEN writes tales of romantic suspense and paranormal romance. Her books have received starred reviews from Publishers Weekly , and she has received a RITA ® Award nomination for best romantic suspense novel. Cynthia lives in the Deep South, loves horror movies and has an addiction to chocolate. More information about Cynthia may be found on her website, www.cynthiaeden.com , or you can follow her on Twitter, www.twitter.com/cynthiaeden . Dedication A big thanks to Denise and Shannon at Mills & Boon Intrigue—thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to write about the Shadow Agents. For my wonderful readers … thank you for all the support that you’ve given to the men and women of the EOD. I hope that you’ve enjoyed their tales! Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Extract Copyright

“You need to strip.”

The cabin door slammed closed behind Noelle. At Thomas’s growled words, Noelle stiffened. “Excuse me?”

They’d been walking for what felt like an hour. They’d taken the turnoff from the main road and slogged ahead until they’d found this place—a rundown, one-room cabin, which looked as if it hadn’t been used in years.

It was as cold inside as it was outside. Noelle couldn’t stop the shivers that rocked her body.

“Your core temperature is too low,” Thomas told her flatly. “We have to get warm. The snow wet our clothing, so we have to ditch it.” He was leaning over what looked like one very ancient fireplace. “Lucky damn night,” he rasped. “There’s some old wood here.”

Uh, yeah, but how were they going to light that fire and—

He pulled out a small kit from his pocket and went to work. A flame flared seconds later.

Her breath expelled in a relieved rush.

Still kneeling in front of the fire, Thomas glanced back at her. “There was no way I’d come into the Alaskan wilderness without a fire kit.”

She shivered. Again.

“Strip,” he ordered once more.

The cabin was deserted, so they sure weren’t going to get any rescue crew out there that night. But if they didn’t warm up, soon, Noelle realized the odds of them making it until morning weren’t going to be high.

Thomas headed toward her.

Noelle tensed.

“There you go again,” he said, and he sounded angry. “When will you learn, I’m not going to bite?”

“I—”

He brushed by her and yanked open a small closet. No, he yanked down that closet’s door; the old thing just literally fell off its hinges. “This will have to do for kindling ’cause we aren’t finding any dry wood outside.” He broke the door into heavy chunks. He had the fire flaring even higher when he added it. His back was turned to her as she inched toward that inviting warmth.

“My clothes are hitting the floor,” Thomas told her bluntly. “Yours need to do the same.”

Because they were soaked. But...

He stripped out of his sweater. Dropped the shirt he’d worn under it for layering. When he bent to remove his boots and socks, the firelight flickered over the tight muscles in his chest and arms. He had to work out—a lot. She’d never seen anyone with such sculpted muscles. As she stared at him—probably too long and too hard—Noelle could just make out the...scars on his body. Twisting, sharp, they snaked around his abs and lined his back.

She remembered the wound notations in his files. He’d been captured on a mission a while back. Held. Tortured. But, by the time rescue had come, all of his captors had been dead.

Thomas turned then. He still wore his jeans. His eyes met hers. “It’s not personal,” he told her in his deep, dark voice. “It’s survival.”

She felt her cheeks burn. Well, at least burning was better than freezing. Noelle fumbled and her clothes started to hit the floor. His jacket. Hers. Her sweater. Her undershirt. Her boots. Her socks.