Lawless (4 page)

Ariana found him asleep on the couch.  He
looked peaceful as he lay there, his crossed arms lifting with each breath he
took.  She missed the animated sparks that now hid behind his closed lids.  An
urge surfaced, and she resisted smoothing a lock of rumpled blond hair from his
forehead.  She wished she could know that kind of tranquility in her life.  It
didn't seem to matter if she was awake or asleep, her past continually haunted
her.  She prayed that would change when they locked her father behind iron
bars.

She made as much noise as she could as she
plopped down in an adjacent beige wingback chair.  Milo didn't budge.  His
chest rose and fell as though he was in a deep, relaxed state.   A tendril of
fear wound through her stomach and chest.  The hit men her father employed had
surely been sent to find her.  The Feds had a pretty good case against him
without her testimony, but she would be the one to put the irremovable nail in
his coffin.

The threat against her life was a certainty,
and although she doubted they'd find her in Aspen, the man sleeping on the
couch was her only protection.  At the moment, he wasn't inspiring her
confidence.  She shifted in her seat and emitted a loud sigh.

Still no movement.  What kind of protection was
this?

Maybe she needed to go into hiding on her own. 
If only she had a way to obtain some kind of identification and money.  Of
course, she knew people who could procure things like that, but they were all
associated with her family.  Family and friends from a past she could no longer
claim.

She was well and truly on her own.  Not to
mention vulnerable.

She lifted a travel book about Scotland from
the coffee table and set it back down with a thud.  Nothing.

"Something you need?"

His voice startled her, and she squeaked.  She
eyed him, surprised that he still appeared to be in a deep slumber.  "I
thought you were asleep."

He lifted a lid, exposing one ice blue eye.  "I
already mentioned, appearances aren't always what they seem."

She adopted a nonchalant attitude, hoping he
wouldn't notice her pulse slamming against her throat.  "I suppose they're
not."

"You forget, I spent time in the army. 
Sometimes the only sleep we got was ten minutes at a time on the side of the
road in the middle of the day.  I learned how to make the most of it."

She nodded, feeling the idiot.  "I can't
imagine what that must have been like.  Thank you for your service to our country."

He regarded her with a studious gaze as though
sizing her up and then nodded.

She glanced about the room, not comfortable
with him watching her.  "I'm wondering what there is to do around here."

He sat up and stretched his arms above his
head.  She watched, fascinated as his triceps bulged outward.  The white
bandage that circled his left arm expanded with his movements.  

"What happened to your arm?"

He glanced at it and snorted.  "By-product
of the job."

"How do you mean?  What happened?"

"Got shot during a standoff.  The guy had
already wounded several people."

She widened her eyes.  He spoke of it like
being shot was nothing.  "I thought you were this expert marksman."

"I said I was good, not perfect."  He
eyed her with a serious look.  "However, if you're concerned about my
abilities, don't ask him."

"Why not?"

"He's dead."

She sucked in a breath, trying to shake off an
impending shiver.  "Do you always take killing this lightly?"  She
didn't want his attitude about murder to be the same as her father's.

A pained look shot across his expression before
he transformed it into a blank mask.  "Of course not.  The men I killed
while I was in the army haunted me for months.  The man I shot the other day
was the first person I had to take out while serving in this capacity." 
His voice cracked on the last syllable.  He cleared his throat.  "No one ever
goes into those situations wanting to take a life.  But he wouldn't surrender
peacefully, and I couldn't allow him to hurt another citizen that I've sworn to
protect.  The situation is under investigation as we speak, but Sheriff
Williams is telling me they think he wanted to die.  Suicide by cop."

She nodded.  She'd spent several hours hiding in
a dark warehouse in Chicago, consoling Danny because his uncle had done
something similar.  He'd double crossed her father and death-by-cop had been a
more humane way to die than what her father would do to him.  "I'm sorry. 
That was unfair of me to suggest you took it lightly."  She couldn't keep
comparing every man she met to the thugs who had pervaded her younger years.

Milo stood.  "Speaking of shooting, I'm
pretty sure I still have some old coffee cans in the shed that would be perfect
targets.  We can work on your shooting skills if you'd like."  He seemed
to have reburied the distress she'd brought up.

Her spirits lightened as well.  "Okay." 
If she was ever going to feel safe in this life, she'd need to know how to
protect herself, and she'd always been intrigued by the different weapons her
father's men had carried.  The one time she'd handled a revolver her father had
stashed in his desk, she'd been backhanded so hard she'd tumbled across the
floor, horrified to find blood dripping from her lip.  But that world was no
longer her world, and in her new life, she could shoot if she pleased.

*        *         *

Milo made them both a couple of roast beef sandwiches
before they headed outside.  They were heavy on the meat and light on veggies,
but hers tasted surprisingly good.  He was definitely right on the fact that
appearances weren't what they seemed.  So far, he'd proved to be quite
enigmatic and interesting.

 When he retrieved his gun holster and strapped
it around his waist, a silent thrill rushed through her.  He looked damn good
sporting a pistol.  She watched with fascination as he checked his weapon.

Under the circumstances she'd had growing up,
she should hate weapons, but she was smart enough to recognize it wasn't the
gun that killed people.  It was the person standing behind it.  She also couldn't
deny that guns meant power.  That was something she'd inherited from her family
whether she liked it or not—she enjoyed power.  Not that she was proud of that
fact.

With a jerk of his head, he indicated she
should follow him out the kitchen door.

The sun had crept to the west side of the house
by the time they headed outside, leaving the sprawling backyard shaded.  A
sweet-scented breeze tickled her skin.  She folded her arms and waited near a
swing on the back porch while he crossed the yard and entered a small wooden
building.  The sound of metal banging and things being shuffled around drifted
from inside the structure.

She glanced about his yard.  No signs of a
woman's touch out here.  It had an untamed or old-fashioned feel to it.  No
landscaping.  The grass was mowed, but wild pink roses grew up and over the
surrounding wood fence while tall grass clung to the posts.  An old hammock
strung between two tall shade trees beckoned to her.  The tool shed
commandeered one corner and a large pine sat squat in the other.  To the far
left, a vegetable garden overflowed with ripe tomatoes and peppers.  She couldn't
really picture Milo spending his time gardening, but then again, there were
many things about him that didn't fit with the descriptive labels she'd given
him.

He emerged from the shed, a cocky grin curving
his lips, a stack of old coffee cans in his hands.  "Got 'em."

Good Lord.  The image of him standing with his
gun slung low on his hips, his t-shirt outlining every glorious curve of his
chest, and his blue eyes lit with excitement would remain seared on her retinas
for a long time to come.  A shiver of attraction rolled through her as she
stepped off the porch and walked toward him.  "Great."  She had no
idea what to do with the pistol or with the unwanted attraction that had sprung
up like the wildflowers growing up the fence.

Milo balanced all five cans on separate posts
of the fence and then stood in the middle of his yard.  "Come here."

She moistened her lips, swallowing an intense
thread of excitement as she joined him.  When she stopped, he moved closer,
removing the remaining space between them.  He slid his gun out of the holster and
displayed it in front of her.  "I'm sure I don't need to tell you that
handling a weapon is serious business."

A wicked bit of heat rushed to her cheeks.  He
was not talking about
that
weapon, though handling it
would
be serious
business, indeed.  She cleared her throat.  Sex had been off her radar for a
long time.  It shouldn't be popping up now.  "Yes, I know guns can kill."

He blinked, then nodded.  "Of course you
do.  Have you ever fired a weapon?"

She shook her head.

"This is a 9mm handgun.  It holds 15
rounds in each magazine."  He wiggled a black clip before shoving it up
inside the handle until it clicked.

"Okay."

He held out the weapon to her, and she took
it.  The pistol was lighter than she'd imagined.  She wrapped her fingers
around the butt of it, the gun fitting nicely in her hand.  Her nerves
stretched taut.  She released a breathy smile.  "What do I do?"

"Aim it at that first can."

She held the gun out from her, her hand shaking
from anticipation.  "Do I just shoot?"

"Squeeze the trigger."

She relaxed her stance, embarrassed that she
was such a novice.  She fired.  The gun went off, kicking back against her hand. 
Not one of the cans moved as the bullet sailed into the green pasture.

Milo laughed and approached her from behind.  "Let
me give you a few tips."  He moved in close, energy radiating off his
chest into her back.  "Hold out the gun."  He lifted her right arm,
the weapon aimed toward the cans.  "Now take your left hand and support
your right hand along the wrist."  He covered the outside of her hand and
moved it toward the gun as he leaned over her shoulder.  "See how that keeps
you steadier?"

"Uh-huh."  She was pretty sure she
was anything but steady at the moment.  If he were to back away, she would fall
to the ground.  She tried to inhale a calming breath, but that only forced her
closer to him.  The crisp, woodsy scent of his cologne teased her senses,
increasing her attraction to him.

He let go of her wrist and trailed his fingers
across the back of her neck, tugging her hair out of his way.  She froze as
shiver after shiver radiated down her body.

"Your hair smells nice."  His nose
bumped her head as he took another long whiff and exhaled an appreciative sigh.

"Thanks."

He lifted her arms, reminding her that she'd
let them droop.  "Many people choose to turn their head to the side and
close one eye to help them sight in their target.  You probably have one side
that is more dominant over the other, so try practicing with different eyes
shut and see how you do."

As she adjusted her aim using only one eye, he
released her hands, dropping his to her waist as though to hold her steady,
still watching over her shoulder.  Her gaze blurred, and she blinked.  She
couldn't think, let alone shoot with him that close.

She focused again, letting out a slow breath. 
The can sat dead center in her gaze.  Just as she pulled the trigger Milo's
breath caressed her ear.  Her shot went wide, sending splinters flying from the
side of the small wooden building.  "Shit."

He laughed.  "I think you just killed my
shed."

"It's your fault."  She turned, and
he tipped the point of the gun downward, making her feel even worse.

"How's it my fault?"  Merriment
danced in his eyes.

"I can't keep my concentration with you
that close."

Interested brows rose over his blue eyes.  "Oh,
really?"

She clamped her lips shut, not happy that she'd
given herself away.  But she couldn't keep them closed.  She needed to give him
a piece of her mind.  "You did that on purpose."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She studied him for a moment, staring deep into
his so-called innocent expression.  After a few seconds, a hint of a smile
tugged at his lips, and she knew she'd won.  "You are so busted.  You blew
in my ear on purpose, trying to distract me."

He held his hands up in mock surrender.  "Okay. 
I'll admit it.  You're just too cute not to tease."

Her heart jolted at his admission.  He liked
the way she looked.  Shouldn't matter to her, but it did.  She grinned.  "You
should take a step back, mister, and don't forget who's holding the gun here. 
Wouldn't want to distract me too much."

He moved backward a few steps, his face alight
with amusement.  "Absolutely, darlin'.  You're in control now."

She snorted.  The man was a master of sexual
innuendos.

She turned, sighted in the first can one more
time and fired.  The coffee can flew in the air and landed on the other side of
the fence.  "Woo!"  She turned with an excited smile, and again he
tipped the gun toward the ground.  "Sorry."  She tried to look
chastised, but she'd actually hit her target.

Her grin resurfaced as she focused on the second
can.  She fired.  "Crap," she mumbled under her breath.  She fired
again, and the rusty can sailed high over the fence.  Yes.  The next two also took
her a couple of times, but she hit the fifth one with her first attempt.

"Ha," she said as she glanced over
her shoulder.  "I can shoot."

He approached wearing a contagious grin.  "You
sure can."  He took the gun from her and holstered it, before he continued
toward the fence.  He hopped it, his moves sure and strong.  She knew he'd done
it to impress her…and it had.  He replaced the coffee cans and jumped the fence
again, walking toward her, his gaze holding hers, with a smile that said he
knew she couldn't help but watch.