Taking inventory of the few items in her possession gave her some peace of mind. Her life was about order. Her twenties had been about sleep and feeding schedules with the twins, as well as college courses and finding the best babysitters. With her boys off in military school, she had developed another routine, which consisted of visits to the coffeeshop and work, trips to the dry cleaner, and more seldomly, a date.
She pulled the towel off her head and searched around for a hairbrush. To her surprise—or maybe not—she found one still in the packaging in one of the vanity drawers, as well as a toothbrush.
She stared at these humble items a moment. Did Oz think of everything or did this beachside villa contain everything a guest in hiding would need?
After brushing out her hair, she felt more human. The damp locks started to wave as they dried, turning from a dark honey to her natural blonde. Her thoughts switched to the man she’d reconnected with.
Dammit, did he have to be so perfect? Rugged, strong, sensible and romantic in a way that made a woman’s heart patter out of rhythm. When he’d picked her up, cradled her in his muscular arms and carried her off to make love to her… Well, she replayed that moment over and over in her mind. That and the fierce look on his face when he walked back into that safehouse and sought her out.
She wasn’t so young anymore as to allow herself to be caught up in fantasies. She knew exactly what would happen once he made certain she was safe—she’d never see him again. But all these moments would be stored away in her memory, to later be pulled out and savored in the times when she felt the most alone.
The man carried an aura of mystery and an air of detachment that only fueled her desire to dig in and uncover the things she didn’t know about him.
Bad idea.
She didn’t need to remind herself of how that would go—nowhere.
Giving herself another cursory glance in the mirror, she folded the towel and then hung it neatly on the towel bar. How long would they stay here? She possessed as much of an idea of what would happen to her as she had in the back of that van. Only now she felt safe.
When she opened the bathroom door, the cooler air mixed with the steam she’d created with the shower. The white hallway boasted more whitewashed flooring and a modern sculpture on a pedestal, strangely perfect in the beachy bohemian love shack.
She rubbed her fingers through her hair and went in search of Oz.
He sat where she’d left him, on the deck overlooking a spectacular view of the Atlantic. Dark blue waves curled in the distance, but on the sandy shore below, water lapped gently.
Oz, back to her, didn’t turn when she approached. Her heart flipped over at the sight of his broad shoulders and the dark hair her fingers itched to rumple in place of the coastal breeze.
This isn’t real. None of it is real—just a passing affair that will end as soon as he turns around and tells me we’re leaving, like I know he will.
He pivoted. Silhouetted against the sky, the lines of his face and jaw sent her heart soaring even higher with love. After all those years of fighting those emotions, two days in his company—his care—ruined her.
“I know you’re going to try to unload me somewhere.”
Her words made him turn and face her fully.
“I heard you talking,” she said.
“Ah.” He slid his hands into his jeans pockets. In bare feet and with the wind fluttering his T-shirt around his body, he looked as carefree as a beach bum, but she knew inside, the man was a locked vault.
“You’re not leaving without me. You’re not leaving me here. Or anywhere.”
He took a step toward her. “Rose.”
She cut a hand through the air. “No. I refuse to be shoved in another one of those safehouses. I didn’t feel safe, Oz.”
His lips tightened ever so slightly, and if she hadn’t been watching him so closely, she would have missed the reaction to her words.
“It’s for your safety, sweetheart.”
“I was alone when those guys took me off the street and threw me into a van. You won’t convince me I’m better off alone. Let me go with you.”
His expression changed, and suddenly he pulled his buzzing phone from his jeans. He glanced at the screen. The mask he wore gave nothing away.
He brought the phone to his ear with a quick jerk. “Stand down, goddammit!”
The roar had her stumbling back a step. She stared at him, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “If you found him, then bring him in, but don’t make a fucking move against him, you hear me? Fuck.” He hung up, and twisting to look out at the sea, he made another call. “I need entrance. Make it happen… I don’t care if you’re trying. Try faster.”
He lowered the phone. The veins snaking up his arm told her how hard he gripped the device.
She moved forward to stand between him and the deck railing. “You need entrance to what?”
He refused to look at her when he said, “It’s nothing to do with you. Another issue.”
“That’s not what I asked, dammit. What do you need entrance to?”
His stare cut into her, and her body burned. Even the dark scowl he wore turned her on. Happy, sad, angry, or in the throes of passion—it didn’t matter. She loved Oz.
“I can help you,” she said.
“That’s sweet of you, Rose. But you don’t have access to anything I don’t already.”
She reached out and grabbed his hand, then turned his palm up and ran her thumb across the small scar on his wrist. The square riding just under the flesh told her all she needed to know. “You might have access that many don’t have, but I can guarantee that a general would have an extra door or two opening for him than this.” She pressed on the chip beneath his skin.
He drew his hand free and stared at her. “You’re too damn observant for your own good.”
She opened her mouth to blurt out that she’d raised boys and could detect lies and broccoli hidden in pockets from a mile away. She slammed her jaw shut again.
As he studied her face, one of his brows hitched upward. “You’re saying you can use your father’s access?”
She gave a nod. “It may not be what you’re looking for, but at least tell me what you need so I can tell you if I can help.”
He considered her for a moment, gaze traveling over her face and hair. “I refuse to get you involved.”
“Too late—I am. I know you’re looking for someone named Lars. And that you don’t want whoever else is looking for him taking action before you reach him.”
“Goddammit, I’ve been careless.” he said softly, turning away. He leaned his elbows on the railing and dipped his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
She moved next to him, enjoying the wave of body heat that rose up to brush over her side. “Because maybe you trust me a little?”
He didn’t respond.
“Tell me.”
“This man…Lars.” He glanced at her, and she nodded for him to continue. “My people believe he’s turned on us.”
“And you don’t.”
“Hell no. Lars is as true as they come. He took the oath—spoke the words of the covenant like the rest of us.”
She ingested what he said but didn’t respond to the confusing comment. She didn’t want him to stop talking.