Harder Than Steel Page 4

  “Eighty count Egyptian cotton sheets help me sleep at night,” he replied easily. She cast him a look in her peripheral vision but didn’t comment.

  She’s trying to figure me out as much as I am her. At least we’ll keep each other entertained.

  Finally, Roan saw what he was looking for and exhaled.

  “There is it,” he muttered. “Now let me do all the talking, all right? Not a word.”

  “Whatever you say.” He didn’t miss the note of contempt in her voice as they approached the lodge.

  “Mr. Sawyer!” the portly manager cried when they entered. “Is everything all right in Cabin Ten?”

  “Not really, Joe, I’m afraid. My car won’t start.”

  Joe’s eyes widened in amazement.

  “Oh, that’s a damned shame—don’t tell me you walked all the way over here!”

  “I’m afraid so,” Roan sighed.

  “It happens with the mud getting caught up in the engine sometimes,” Joe said sympathetically. “Dang it, and tomorrow’s Sunday. There won’t be a mechanic around until Monday at the earliest.”

  “I figured as much,” Roan said, hanging his head. “The problem is, Joe, we haven’t got a morsel to eat until then. Is there any chance that you and the missus could spare some grub for us for a couple days? I’d be happy to pay you.”

  Joe’s eyes were saucers as he nodded eagerly.

  “Oh of course, Mr. Sawyer. You don’t need to pay us for nothing! I’m so sorry this happened while you were here with us. Just wait here and let me see what Wendy can wrangle up for you.”

  “Don’t go overboard. My missus doesn’t eat much,” Roan chuckled, pulling Kimberly in for an affectionate hug. He felt her tense beneath him but he didn’t let go. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed by the scent of her.

  Fuck she smells incredible.

  Slowly, he felt her relax against him.

  “You just have a seat,” Joe said, gesturing for them to wait in the dusty lobby. “I won’t be a minute.”

  When he was out of earshot, Kimberly turned and cast him a skeptical look.

  “Robbing an old man of food? That’s your plan?”

  Roan scowled slightly.

  “I offered to pay,” he reminded her. “And I didn’t see you coming up with anything else.”

  She didn’t answer and Roan knew that he’d won that round but he wondered how many more he’d have to go with her.

  “Did you really need to manhandle me?”

  His eyebrows were almost at his hairline.

  “Manhandle you?” he echoed, anger snaking through him. “I gave you a hug.”

  “Oh that’s right. Knocking me unconscious was manhandling me.”

  What is she doing? Why is she picking a fight with me? She goes from hot to cold in ten seconds.

  Instinctively, he knew why—she was reluctant to let her guard down and every time she caught herself doing it, she drew up her defenses a hundredfold.

  Why do I even care? She’s got to be trouble…sexy, sweet-smelling, danger.

  “Kimberly, I didn’t know you were a woman or I never would have done that.”

  He couldn’t tell if she was accepting his apology or not.

  Does she even know if she’s accepting my apology?

  “Kimberly, I—”

  “All righty!” Joe called, stepping from the back room. He had two huge canvas bags filled to the brim. “I hope this will suffice.”

  “W-we can’t take all that!” Kimberly cried, shooting Roan a helpless look. “We only need enough for a day or two!”

  “Nonsense!” Joe chuckled. “We always have way too much in case there’s a storm or the grandkids pop by. It’s better you take it rather than it all go to waste.”

  “Roan, at least give him some money!” Kimberly muttered and his heart began to pound. Joe’s eyes narrowed.

  “Roan? I thought your name was Kevin.”

  “Roan is just a nickname,” Roan offered smoothly, casting Kimberly a scathing look. “Kevin is my name. But please, Joe, you must take something for your troubles. I won’t feel right if you don’t.”

  Joe wouldn’t hear of it and he reached for his keys.

  “Now let me drive you two kids back to your cabin. I didn’t realize you were coming, Mrs. Sawyer or I would have had Wendy put some prettier smelling soaps in there.”

  “It was a last-minute decision,” Kimberly breathed.

  “No need to drive us,” Roan added, pulling on Kimberly’s hand. “Janice here thinks it’s romantic.”

  “Romantic or not, it’s two miles!” Joe choked. “Please let me drive you!”

  But the duo was already out the door, thanking him over his protests as they made their way back into the thick.

  When they were out of sight of the lodge, Roan whirled and glared at her.

  “What part of ‘don’t say anything’ was so troubling for you?” he snapped.

  “Sorry, Kevin. I had no idea you were lying to everyone.”

  She continued to hurry through the woods, her shoulders thrust back, indignation oozing from her pores.

  Me, lying? That’s fresh! She’s just as guilty as I am and she’s turning it around on me!

  He grunted in frustration, adjusting the bags in his arms and rushed after Kimberly in a huff of anger. But he slowed as he heard the whir of the helicopters nearby.

  We still need to be careful, he thought, gritting his teeth. They haven’t given up.

  It was going to be a long night.

  When they arrived back at Cabin Ten, they were both exhausted but Roan was starving.

  Without a word, he began to unpack the bags of goodies that Joe and Wendy had prepared for them, his eyes widening as he removed the items.

  “Jesus,” he muttered, eyeing the plethora of snacks and fresh food before them. Joe had even thrown in an expensive bottle of scotch which Roan didn’t hesitate to open.

  “Pour me one of those?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at Kimberly who had sunk into the plaid sofa, her long legs tucked beneath her buttocks. Her eyes had a faraway look in them as she twirled a soft curl around her finger. In that moment, she seemed vulnerable, not volatile and Roan nodded, grabbing another glass from the cupboard.

  “How’s your head?” he asked, considering the affects the alcohol might have on her after being knocked out.

  Not that she was complaining.

  In fact, he realized that she really hadn’t made a statement about any pain she might be in at all. She’d busted his balls and kept him guessing but complain about herself? Not once.

  “Now you’re worried about my head?” she responded as he had half-expected. “We just went on a four-mile hike in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “I’m just worried that the liquor—”

  “Please don’t start,” she sighed, jumping from the sofa to snatch the glass from the counter. “I don’t need you to parent me.”

  What do you need, Kimberly?

  He decided to keep the question to himself but his eyes remained trained on her as she causally lounged across the counter to snatch a Dorito from a bag he’d just opened.

  “I’d kill for a pizza right now,” she said quite unexpectedly and Roan couldn’t help but laugh.

  “A pizza? We’ve got this romantic place all to ourselves and you’re thinking about pizza?”

  She gave him a smirk.

  “Is this romantic to you?” she replied. “Being kidnapped?”

  Again, he found his good-nature dissipating and he scowled at her.

  “You are free to leave at any time,” he reminded her. “By all means, go with God.”

  She met his gaze and Roan could see that she was trying to remain composed but there was an unmistakable concern in her eyes that calmed him slightly.

  This is all a show. She’s scared inside. I shouldn’t be such an asshole to her.

  “Look,” he continued in a more conversational tone. “We may as well make the best of the situ
ation. Why don’t we play a game?”

  He took a long sip of his drink, relishing the feel of the alcohol warming his tense muscles. Roan hadn’t even realized how tense he was until he felt the gentle pull of heat begin to unwind in his tissues.

  “A game?” Kimberly echoed. “Really?”

  He shrugged. “Why not?”

  “What kind of game?”

  He ambled around the counter to stare down at her, noting that his pulse again quickened at her nearness.

  “Strip poker?” he teased and she rolled her eyes.

  “You never give up.”

  “It was a joke,” he retorted, grunting. “I’m not a pig.”

  “Just a thief then?”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “What did I steal?” he asked quietly but Kimberly looked away, pink tinging her cheeks.

  “You tell me. You didn’t break in there for shits and giggles.”

  “Didn’t I? How do you know?”

  She turned her stare back toward him.

  “How did you even get in there?” she asked.

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  She snorted.

  “Let’s just agree that neither one of us is going to get a straight answers out of the other and stop asking.”

  Roan stifled a groan of frustration. Inherently, he knew that she couldn’t be an Oculus operative if she was breaking into one of their warehouses but that didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous.

  Is she one of us?

  He inhaled sharply at the idea, wondering how it had only just occurred to him. Of course he knew that his family wasn’t the only one affected by Oculus. In fact, the faction’s victims seemed to be in higher numbers than even Drake Conway realized.

  But I can’t just come right out and ask her if she has mutant abilities. If she doesn’t, I’ll be outing myself. If she does, she’s not going to tell me. She doesn’t trust me and I’m not sure I trust her.

  “You said something about a game?” she offered in a relenting tone and Roan exhaled with some relief.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Let’s see if we can’t find a deck of cards in here somewhere.”

  He turned his back toward the chipped wood desk near the fireplace and threw another log on, before opening the drawers.

  “Want me to top you up?” Kimberly called to him and nodded.

  “Sure. May as well.”

  He dug through the drawers and found what he was looking for, turning back around suddenly. Kimberly stood directly behind him and he gasped in surprise at her proximity.

  “You need a bell or something,” he laughed, taking the drink she held from her outstretched hand.

  “I’ll see if I can find one,” she chuckled, falling back to where she had been sitting on the couch. Kimberly cocked her head to the side and peered at him.

  “What?” he asked, a slow grin forming on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  She shrugged but she didn’t look away, their gazes locking.

  “No reason,” she replied after a long moment. “Are we going to play?”

  He plopped down in the cushioned armchair and pulled the cards from the deck.

  “Sure,” he agreed. “Let’s get on with my victory.”

  But as he dealt the cards for a hand of rummy, he wondered if she wasn’t somehow getting the better of him—even without his knowledge.

  Chapter 5

  Kimberly’s eyes flew open, her heart pounding. The nightmare was back and even if she’d been in familiar surroundings, she still would have taken several minutes to shake it off.

  Where the hell am I? she thought in a panic, bolting up into a sitting position to wrap the sheet around her body and look around the startlingly dark room. The curtains were drawn almost fully over the small, square window, allowing almost no light into the tiny room.

  It came flooding back to her like the nightmare she had just escaped, the warehouse, the search for the files, being knocked unconscious and brought into the middle of nowhere with Roan.

  Or is his name Kevin?

  Kimberly threw her legs over the side of the bed and padded toward the door, her pulse racing.

  And her head was pounding as she slowly came to realize she was still drunk. In fact, she didn’t even remember coming into the bedroom.

  Quickly, she looked down at herself and saw that she was still fully dressed in her dark jeans and black shirt.

  Why do I find that disappointing?

  Maybe it was more surprising than disappointing. After all, they had spent hours laughing and playing cards, each trying to ignore the mounting tension between them.

  The scotch had gone down too easily, accompanied by the sandwiches that she’d put together with the items Roan had borrowed.

  “Holy crap,” Roan had muttered, taking a bite out of the thick bread. “This is the best sandwich I’ve ever had! What did you do to this chicken?”

  She shrugged.

  “I whipped up a special sauce to offset the dryness from the meat,” she muttered, embarrassed by the attention. “Nothing really.”

  But she was secretly flattered by the attention in spite of her resolve to keep her guard up.

  It was impossible, the combination of the scotch and their light banter only fuelling the feelings she couldn’t stop from manifesting toward this man.

  What is it about him? Nothing about this is right.

  Yet the last thing she could remember, she was grinning up at him in a drunken haze, half-daring him to make his move.

  Which apparently he did not.

  Cautiously, she opened the door, blinking against the throbbing in her head. The fire was still going in the tiny living area and suddenly, she froze, hearing Roan’s voice, low but urgent.

  Who the hell is he talking to?

  Alarm coursed through Kimberly’s body and she tensed, pressing her body against the wall, lest he see her shadow in the weak light of the cabin.

  “…do anything about it right now. The mission failed, all right?”

  So it was some kind of mission. But why?

  She honed her ears to listen, wishing she could hear whoever was on the other end of the phone.

  “Well there’s nothing I can do about that, Coy. The helicopters finally died off and it’s almost dawn. I’m not moving until night at least…”

  He paused, his voice dropping even lower.

  “And I’ve got a slight inconvenience to deal with…”

  Her face flushed with humiliation.

  He’s talking about me. I’m the inconvenience.

  “What? No…no…it’s…” Roan inhaled. “It’s a girl. I found a girl in the warehouse.”

  I’m a fucking woman, you caveman! She wanted to scream at him but she managed to hold her tongue.

  “I have no idea, Coy but…no! Yes, I know…Coy, I’ll take care of her, all right? Just go back to the compound and I’ll meet you there in three days…no, I don’t need your help. I’ll take care of her myself…of course I’m sure. I have to go. I can’t be sure if she’s out for the night.”

  He disconnected the call and Kimberly sank against the wall, wishing it would swallow her whole.

  You damned fool! He’s been out to kill you all along!

  She didn’t have time to consider why he was taking his sweet time but she knew she couldn’t stick around much longer to find out.

  Kimberly looked about desperately but there was only one easy means of escape. The window in the bedroom didn’t open, not without being shattered and Kimberly had no doubt that she wouldn’t be able to outrun Roan without a decent head start.

  Think. Think…

  She spun around and locked herself in the tiny bathroom, eyeing the high bathroom window with panic.

  Will I fit through there?

  She thought about all those Facebook posts where some idiot had tried to sneak out on a Tinder date, only to get stuck in a window exactly like that one.

  “Kimberly? Are you in th
ere?”

  Her heart leapt into her throat.

  Keep your shit together.

  “Who else?” she barked back.

  “I didn’t hear you get up.”

  She ground her teeth together and flushed the toilet as if she’d been using the bathroom.

  Catching her reflection in the mirror she saw that her eyes betrayed all of her inner turmoil and she closed them, inhaling deeply.

  This is the only way out of this, she reminded herself, the idea making her feel sick. But there was nothing she could do about it. It was the only choice she had.

  Readying herself, she threw open the bathroom door, plastering a beguiling grin on her face.

  “Here I am.” She brushed past him and made her way back into the living room where the last of the scotch sat on the table. “My buzz is wearing off. How about yours?”

  “I was going to try and get some sleep,” he confessed. “We nearly killed that whole bottle.”

  “Aw come on. One more won’t hurt. It’s the last of the bottle,” she said, reaching forward for her glass clumsily. It fell from her hand and smashed into pieces against the coffee table.

  “Whoops!” Kimberly called in a singsong voice and snatched a shard from the surface.

  “Wait!” Roan cried, reaching for the broken shards but a thin line of blood appeared on her hand and she grimaced.

  “Double whoops,” she muttered, laughing.

  “Don’t touch it. I’ll clean this up,” Roan insisted. “Go see if there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom.”

  She shrugged and grabbed the scotch bottle but he didn’t notice.

  “It’s just a scratch,” she insisted. “Let me get another glass.”

  He didn’t respond and through her peripheral vision, she watched Roan as he busied himself with the mess she’d made.

  A moment later, she returned with two fresh glasses, the empty alcohol bottle sitting on the counter of the kitchenette.

  “Careful,” Roan warned her as she padded toward him, a glass extended. “There’s still glass everywhere.”

  “I don’t break easily,” she replied.

  “Uh, you do,” he scoffed, nodding at her still-bleeding hand. “I thought you were going to find a first aid kit.”

  She shrugged and plopped down on the couch.