HelenKay Dimon - Cornered

When he lifted his head again, she could barely hold her neck up. Her hands dropped to the ground beside her head. “Wow.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

But she had to be smart. “The kiss was a onetime thing.”

“That’s a shame.” The corner of his mouth kicked up in a smile. “What was it for?”

“Not letting me die.” Seemed simple enough to her.

Some man pretending to be a police officer was looking for them, and Cam hadn’t hesitated. He’d tucked her body under his and kept her safe. He’d already killed a man rather than let him touch her. She didn’t know how to thank him for those things or how to deal with the confusion rattling her, since he was the one who’d brought the danger to her doorstep in the first place.

“Now what?” She felt as if she kept asking that, but it still seemed relevant.

He brushed her hair away from her face. “We find my team.”

“Are they like you?” She tried to imagine a whole group of hot undercover guys with guns, and her mind couldn’t process it.

He frowned at her. “You don’t get to pick another team member to stay with you.”

“I didn’t say—”

“You’re stuck with me.”

“You don’t want to pass me off?” She really hoped he’d say no.

“You do talk a lot.” His thumb rubbed over her temple.

Much more touching and she’d forget they were outside and in danger and return to the kissing that felt so good. “You don’t like talking?”

“Strangely enough, I’m starting to.”

Chapter Four

She looked like death by the time they got within a quarter mile of the ferry landing. Cam called in the team to have them rendezvous at a new position because he doubted Julia could make it much farther.

Not that she complained. No, she never made a sound except for a grunt here and there. But when they started down the grassy hill behind them, he heard her sharp intake of breath and called a halt. No way could she take the slope from here to the water, and she all but punched him when he mentioned again the idea of carrying her.

He liked her spunk and the well of energy she kept finding. Most men he knew would have dropped at the sight of two dead guys on their family room floor. She’d hung in there.

But she needed rest, which was why they sat at a picnic table behind a grocery market with her sore ankle resting on the bench next to him. The employees likely used the space for breaks, but right now he claimed it.

From this position he could use his binoculars to scan the marina. Sailboat masts bobbled and a cool wind blew off the water. People lined up on the dock. A group of men talked with each person as he or she stepped into line for the ferry.

Cam didn’t know what that was about, but the lack of uniforms and the fact that no one had performed those checks when he landed a few hours ago suggested it wasn’t legitimate. More likely this group was part of the one that had shot up Julia’s house.

He scanned the faces he could make out and body types for anyone who looked like the fake police chief. That guy struck Cam as the leader. If they cut the group off at the top, the rest should wither or at least be confused enough that wiping them out would be easier.

He glanced at his watch. Before he could read the dial, she piped up. “The ferry will be leaving soon.”

“You’ll be on it.” For some reason that promise sliced through him. He felt the cut through his midsection.

Which meant he needed to get her on that boat now. She was a distraction. A long-legged, sweet-faced distraction with a butt that held him captive and a drive that enthralled him.

He’d watched as other members of the Corcoran Team paired off. Marriage, engagements, living together, serious dating. Strong men who vowed to put work first bowled over by compelling women they could not resist.

The Corcoran traveling team had made a vow, too—keep moving and stay bachelors. He had no idea how the promises broke down with the other members, but looking at Julia, watching her trace a fingertip over a crack in the tabletop as her long hair fell over her shoulder, he felt an odd tug. One he planned to ignore, and that started with a no-more-kissing rule.

“Do you plan to roll me down the hill?” she asked as the finger tracing morphed into drumming.

He almost laughed at that. “Might be faster than carrying you.”

She looked up long enough to glare at him. “No to both.”

“You need to get away from the island.” Cam was starting to think everyone should leave, because no one would be safe until his team figured out the random pieces of what was going on and put them together in a way that made sense.

“Will that matter?” Her shoulders fell. “If these men know who I am, they can track me down.”

He hated that truth but liked that she kept thinking it through, thinking about the angles. That caution would keep her safe. “You’ll stay in a hotel and use cash.”

“For how long?”

He wanted to tell her a day or two, but that could be a lie, and he refused to get her hopes up. “However long it takes to make sure you’re okay.”

She glanced off to the side. Stared at the trash cans without talking for almost a minute. “It’s not my house.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t it. “What?”

“The house was my father’s.” She drummed those fingers against the table again.

The steady rhythm started a ticking in the nerve in the back of his neck. He reached over and put a hand over hers. “Okay, back up. Where is your dad?”

“Dead.” She delivered the information in a flat voice.

He wasn’t sure what to say or how to read her mood, so he went with the obvious response. “I’m sorry.”

This was not his area of expertise. His birth mother had lost custody before he hit kindergarten. She’d held on just long enough to make him too old and unadoptable, according to state officials. He’d spent the rest of his youth passed around from one foster home to another until he aged out of the system and turned to the military for a more permanent home.

“I was cleaning the house out for sale, though I’m thinking that might not be happening now.” She sighed as she opened her hand and let his fingers fall between hers. “My point is, anyone who looks up the deed will trace my father to me, and me to Seattle.”

He was still trying to process the news and what it meant in terms of keeping her safe. “You don’t live on Calapan.”

“Not since I was smart enough to run away at eighteen and not look back.”

“Very smart,” a familiar male voice called out from around the corner of the market just before he came into view. “I hate this place.”

Shane Baker. The Corcoran traveling team member who was the most likely to make a joke to get through a tough situation.

Julia snatched back her hand and spun around. Looked ready to jump to her feet, which was the last thing Cam wanted her to do with that ankle.

Shane and Holt Kingston, the head of the traveling team, stepped into view. Cam hated to admit they’d gotten the jump on him. Hated more the idea they might have seen the whole hand-holding thing.

“Whoa there.” Cam put a reassuring hand on her arm. “They’re with me.”

She sat down hard on the bench again and glanced at him. “Huh, you really all do look like that.”

He had no idea what she was talking about. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Cam decided to keep the focus on the problem instead of whatever might be running through her head, though he did wonder. “Holt Kingston and Shane Baker, this is Julia White.”

Holt shook her hand, then moved in beside her on the bench. “Your hostage.”

That was the last thing Cam needed to hear. If they thought he’d messed up, they’d never let him forget it. “It wasn’t like that.”