Cynthia Eden - Way of the Shadows

Her fingers were fumbling, uncoordinated, as she tried to unhook the snap of her jeans.

“Let me.” His voice was rougher than before, and his fingers were suddenly working at her waistband. He was so close, seeming to surround her with his strength. Noelle tried to pull in a deep breath, and his scent—masculine and crisp—wrapped around her.

Her zipper eased down with a hiss of sound.

She jerked back from him. Nearly fell. Would have, if Thomas hadn’t snagged her arm so quickly. “Easy,” he murmured.

Easy was the last thing she felt right then.

His fingers slowly uncurled their grip. “I’ll spread out our clothes to dry. We should try to get some rest near the fire.”

Noelle didn’t hold out a lot of hope regarding rest. She bent and pushed her jeans down her legs. Then she looked up. Thomas had turned his back to her, but he’d stuck his hand out behind him, obviously waiting for her jeans. She pushed them into his hand.

“The rest,” Thomas pressed.

“No way,” Noelle said, aware that her voice held a sharp snap. “I’m keeping on my underwear, and I want you to do the same.” Her panties and her bra were dry enough, and she was absolutely not planning to flash him any more than necessary.

Noelle thought she heard Thomas sigh, but he bent and finished spreading out her clothes. And his. And—

“Sorry,” he said, voice a bit wry as she jerked her gaze off him and back toward the fire. “But I’m not wearing underwear.”

No, no, he hadn’t been.

Noelle dropped toward the fire. She sat on the floor and pulled her knees up toward her. She was still shivering, and the tips of her fingers and toes were starting to ache.

A few moments later, Thomas eased down next to her. He reached for her.

The flinch was instinctive. She’d been withdrawing from people ever since—well, ever since she’d been seventeen years old and she’d woken, terrified, in a cabin that had actually looked a whole lot like the one they were currently in.

Her shoulders hunched.

“We need to share body warmth,” he said again. “Don’t worry I think I can control myself here.”

Okay, now he was just mocking her.

But his hands gently curled around her, and he eased her fully down on the wooden floor next to him. Then he curled his body around hers. His left arm slid under her head, almost like a pillow, while his right curled around her stomach and pulled her back against the warm, hard cradle of his body.

“I think that I can,” he added roughly, his breath blowing over the shell of her ear.

The fire crackled in front of her.

Noelle swallowed and tried to figure out what she was supposed to do in this situation. Being naked and trapped in a one-room cabin with Agent Thomas Anthony certainly hadn’t been on her to-do list.

“I think we have confirmation of the senator’s guilt.”

His rumbling voice seemed to roll right through her.

“We visit the senator,” Thomas continued grimly, “then less than half an hour later, some maniac tries to kill us. Connecting those dots sure isn’t hard.”

No, it wasn’t, and Noelle had never been the type to believe in coincidences. She tried to put a little more space between their bodies.

Thomas just pulled her right back against him. “He left the scene because he thinks we’re dead.”

“If we hadn’t cleared the SUV right then, we would be dead.” Her own words were quiet and they gave no hint to the terror that had rocked through her as she fought to get out of the vehicle. As cold as it was outside...if they’d plunged beneath the ice in that lake, survival would have been only a dim hope. “But I don’t know if the senator did this himself. He strikes me as more of a guy who hires out his dirty work.” After all, that was exactly what they thought he’d done in D.C.—hired Jack to take out the EOD.

And as far as getting rid of her and Thomas, well, she was sure that counted as dirty work.

“He just tried to kill two federal agents,” Thomas’s lips brushed against her neck. Had he meant to do that? Surely not. “Whether he did it himself or he hired someone, we’re getting the guy. At first light, we’re finding a way out of this place, and we’re going after him.”

First light. That certainly seemed very far away.

“He panicked.” That was the only explanation she had. “Something set him off during our meeting.” Something they’d said or done.

“He got set off because the FBI was at his door. The guy’s probably trying to run as fast and as far as he can right now.”

Noelle wasn’t so sure. If he thought they were dead, why would he bother to run?

“But I’ll find him,” Thomas vowed. “I won’t stop until I do.”

The fire surged a bit higher then, sending sparks into the air.

“We should get some sleep.” His voice softened a bit. “Who the hell knows what we’ll face tomorrow.”

Since they’d just survived one attempt on their lives, Noelle knew he was right.

Her gaze drifted away from the fire. She glanced at the flickering shadows lining the walls. This place... It was just like the cabin that haunted her nightmares. Those nightmares chased her wherever she went, no matter what she did.

“You’re too tense,” he said. “Look, I get that you don’t like me, but—”

“I like you just fine.” How awkward was this conversation? But he had a right to know... “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 she could call them back. She’d never made that confession to anyone.

“Why not?” His hold definitely tightened then.

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.” But she wasn’t talking about the darkness outside the cabin. She was talking about the darkness in her own mind.

He was silent behind her.

And Noelle found she couldn’t stop talking, not to him. Not then. “When I was seventeen, I was...taken.” Just saying the words hurt, but it also seemed a relief to put them out there. “I was missing from my home for over forty-eight hours before the police found me.” She was glad she wasn’t looking into his face when she told this story. Noelle wasn’t sure she wanted to see his reaction. “Forty-eight hours,” she said again, whispering the words. “And to this day, I still can’t remember a single thing that happened during that time.” When she tried to remember, she only saw the darkness.

“Maybe you’re better off not remembering.”

That was what her mother had told her, over and over. Her mother had thought it would be better to just move forward. To put those two days into the back of her mind and pretend they hadn’t happened.

But they had happened. They’d changed her.

“When the police found me, a dead man was in the cabin with me.”

Silence. Then, “You think you killed him?”

“I was tied, bound to a chair. Someone else was there.” The man’s accomplice? Another shudder had her body quaking. But she didn’t know if that shudder came from the cold or from the fear in her belly. “A killer was there, and I can’t remember a thing about him.”

That scared her more than anything else. Because that man—that killer—he could be anyone. He could be anywhere. She could have met him a hundred times and never known.

She’d become a profiler because of what happened. Because she wanted to be able to see the murderers out there. To look behind the masks they wore.