Surrender the Dark (5 page)

Yet it wasn’t until that moment, sitting in her bathroom, inside the fortress she’d erected to keep herself safe, that he finally allowed himself to think about Rae as a woman.

Inexperienced with the emotions tangling up his insides and not at all certain what to do with them, Jarrett did the only thing he knew how to do. He shut them out. Uncontrollable emotions had no place in his job. And he was still on the job. Hell, he was always on the job.

Obviously unaware of his inner turmoil, Rae breezed into the bathroom and perched on the edge of the tub beside his outstretched, bandaged thigh.

“I appreciate it,” he said gruffly, reaching for the supplies she held.

She didn’t give them to him. Instead she gently but firmly took hold of his wounded hand and pulled it onto her lap. She bent her head to examine the gash on his palm, then, in her typically efficient fashion, began to clean it.

Jarrett’s shoulders tensed and he consciously had to relax before the rest of his body tightened up and drove him back to the floor with cramps—or worse. It had nothing to do with pain. Her touch, especially when it was so impersonal, should not be affecting him this way. He’d apparently pushed himself way beyond his limits.

He tried to focus his energy on finding the right words for the conversation he knew they had to have, but instead he found himself staring at her bent head. At
the bold colors the fluorescent light brought out in her dark brown hair, the squared-off shape of her shoulders, the knobby points of her knees under her sweats, the scarred fingers of her work-roughened hands, the taut thighs his hand rested on when she reached for a butterfly strip. No womanly curves, nothing overtly tender or soft, certainly nothing sexy. No reason at all to feel the sudden, unmistakable surge of blood that centered between his legs.

“It’s not too deep,” she said, “but you’ll get another scar for your collection.” She rubbed the last piece of tape, affixing it firmly to the back of his hand, then lifted her head. “I think you have almost as many as—” Her words stopped as their gazes collided.

Bare inches separated his mouth from hers. The total shock of that thought had him dropping his gaze to her lips before he could even think about it. Her mouth was wide and generous, her lips full, soft, and inviting, everything the rest of her wasn’t.

Jarrett had no idea where the need came from, but it was as powerful as it was unexplainable. He even began to lower his head to hers before he caught himself.

Neither of them moved. He found himself fascinated by the way her throat worked when she swallowed, then his gaze lifted to her eyes. What he found there was so intense, it felt tangible. And it wasn’t desire.

It was fear.

That brought him back more sharply than a hard smack to the face. He abruptly moved away until his back rested on the cold porcelain tank. Just as abruptly, he knew he shouldn’t have stopped. He should be ruthlessly
exploiting the sizzling tension that had risen between them, not finding a way to defuse it. He needed a weak spot, a vulnerable point, and except for her help in taking care of him, she wasn’t revealing any. Until now.

He studied her as she studied him. The initial surprise was gone from her eyes and the fear had been carefully masked. But it was there, just under the surface, waiting for him.

He lifted his bandaged hand to his taped ribs, then nodded to his thigh. “Tell me, do you always keep such a large quantity of medical supplies on hand?”

She continued to watch him for a moment, as if trying to determine what new strategy he’d devised. Jarrett didn’t blame her; he’d trained her to do just that. But it didn’t stop him from suddenly hating it.

She turned away to gather up the remaining bandages. “You never know when you might need bandaging up, I guess,” she said, her voice even and totally unconvincing. “I’m not exactly within walking distance of a drugstore.”

“You said you keep bandages in your studio. I didn’t know being an artist was so dangerous.” As soon as he said it, Jarrett knew the magnitude of his mistake.

Rae’s eyes narrowed. The calculated control that had been there a moment earlier was swiftly replaced with righteous anger and what he’d have sworn was the hurt look of betrayal.

“Your spies must be slipping, McCullough.” She stood and wrapped her bundle in the bloodstained towel before depositing it in the sink. “I work with metals and gems. Blowtorches and sledgehammers.” She moved to
his good side and bent forward. “Sometimes I get burned.”

He turned to her. “Gannon, I—”

“Brace your arm on my shoulder and I’ll lever you up,” she interrupted. “Ready?”

“Rae, wait a minute, I—”

She turned on him so fast that he didn’t have time to move away, not that he had anywhere to go. He was completely at her mercy—and not a little disturbed to find himself intrigued by the possibility.

“One word,” she whispered fiercely, “and I swear I’ll leave you in here all night. If you want my help getting back to bed, then do as I say. But not one more word.” Her voice broke on the last part, betraying the cost of her assistance at that moment.

Her defiant gaze dared him as nothing and no one ever had before. The unwonted urge to take her mouth swamped him again, flooding his judgment, consuming his control. Only this time he understood what had stopped him before. He wanted to cover her lips with his, to taste their intriguing fullness, to thrust his tongue past them and find out what hidden temptations lay in store for the one bold enough to take the risk. He wanted, and it wasn’t cold, it wasn’t calculated. And, God help him, it wasn’t because of any damn mission.

That was the difference.

Jarrett jerked his gaze away and looped his arm over her shoulders as impersonally as possible, ignoring the feel of the tight muscles that wrapped her slender frame. He focused his mind on the painful act of pulling his
body into an upright position. The faster he hit the bed, the faster she’d leave him.

Throughout the effort and well past the time when he was lying on clean, cool sheets and Rae was long gone from the bedroom, Jarrett’s lips remained clamped so tightly shut, it would have taken the Jaws of Life to open them again.

Rae gripped the counter by the kitchen sink and held on for dear life. What in holy hell had happened back there in that bathroom?
Her
bathroom. She’d sat down next to him, her mind exclusively on bandaging the cut, and the next thing she knew, she’d found herself trying her damnedest to ignore Jarrett’s body. His hard chest and arms, the heat that emanated from him, the way the muscles in his thigh rippled and tightened when she’d taken his hand, even the way that damn towel clung to him by some miraculous force that certainly wasn’t gravity.

Just when she’d achieved some success at focusing on his wound, at holding on to his blunt, battle-scarred fingers and dabbing at the cut without wondering what his hands would feel like on her, she’d made the mistake of looking up into his eyes. She’d realized then that she’d been lying to herself in the worst way if she ever believed she could control her reaction to this man.

She felt her skin heat in mortification even as she damned herself for the renewed tightening of her breasts. What had he seen in her eyes? What had she
revealed to him to cause the stunning change she’d witnessed in his usually controlled expression?

Rae shuddered, then yanked on the cold water. Dear God, when he’d looked at her like that, like he wanted to … like he … Hell, like he simply
wanted.

There was nothing remotely simple about it, though.

She splashed cool water on her face, then held a fresh towel there far longer than it took to dry her skin. Facing him down after two years of peace and solitude was tougher than she’d have imagined. The addition of this new element, this … tension between them, made it even worse.

She had to go right back in there and face him. Now. Before she let those tumultuous seconds in her bathroom take on some ridiculous importance in her mind.

She had to prove to Jarrett, and more importantly herself, that she was still in control—of herself, of the situation, of her life.

She grabbed the water pitcher and filled it. It wasn’t until she was pushing open the bedroom door—without knocking—that she realized that for the first time she’d thought of him as Jarrett. Not as her ex-boss, not as McCullough.

She ignored the rough jolt that gave her and strode directly to the bed. He was lying flat on his back, the sheet and blanket drawn up to his waist, his eyes closed. The turquoise bath towel was heaped in the bedside chair. Rae carefully kept her gaze on his face.

“I’m going into town. I’ll be back by nightfall.” She placed the refilled pitcher on the bedstand.

When she looked back at him his eyes were wide-open,
and the determination she saw in them didn’t bode well for her afternoon plans.

“Why?” His tone commanded a response. She was tempted not to give him one.

“Well, as much as you may like lounging around in the all-together, I’m a bit more civilized.” She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one hip. “Your pants are shot—literally. So I figured I’d stock up on medical supplies and grab you a couple pairs of jeans and some sweats while I’m at it.” He opened his mouth, but she bulldozed on. “I also need dog food or Puppy Chow or whatever. Your little monster is eating me out of house and home. Not to mention chewing me out of all my shop rags. If you haven’t named him already, I’d suggest something like Fang or Chopper.”

“My little what? What are you talking about?” Honest confusion filled his expression.

Rae rolled her eyes theatrically. “How soon they forget.” Truer words had never been spoken, she thought. “Gee, the little guy can’t be more than a few months old.” Jarrett was still looking at her as if she were talking a foreign language. “Your dog, McCullough. I’m talking about the little puppy I found with you in the cave. Actually, you have him to thank for being alive at all.”

The pup.
Jarrett had forgotten all about it. He vaguely remembered the scene in the woods, trying to hold the wolf pup against his body to silence it. The damn thing had wiggled away and scrambled off, and he hadn’t wasted the energy or the bullet to deal with it.

Jarrett stared at Rae for a long moment, then asked, “Just how did you find me?”

“Your puppy showed up, covered in blood, and when I tried to get him, he took off. I took off after him. I found you in a small cave several hundred yards up the mountain. You were totally out of it. If it wasn’t for the dog—”

“It’s not a dog. It’s a wolf.”

Rae’s eyes widened. “A wolf? Where did you get a wolf pup around here? Aren’t they endangered or something?”

Jarrett sighed, inexplicably relieved that he could deduct one death from his running tab with the devil. “I didn’t get him. He sort of … found me.” He looked away for a moment and cleared his throat. “He’s okay, I take it?” Not that he really cared, he told himself. The damn thing was fortunate to be alive at all. And with the bonus of finding Rae, and her unexpected maternal streak as well.

Jarrett struggled with that image. There had been nothing remotely motherly about what had passed between them in her bathroom. And he still had no idea why she’d taken him in. He doubted that her motivation had been maternal.

“He’s okay,” she answered, her tone revealing her surprise at his question. “I finally put him out in my garage. He’s not exactly housebroken, which makes sense now, and he chews everything he can get his fangs on. And his howl stops being cute at about two in the morning.” She shook her head, a rueful smile tugging at her mouth. “I knew there had to be some explanation.”

“For what? His behavior?”

“No.” Her lips straightened. “For you having a
small cuddly puppy. I couldn’t imagine you ever becoming a pet owner. Although I have to admit, the wolf angle makes it a bit more plausible.” She looked directly at him. “But I can’t imagine one predator wanting to be owned by another.”

So that was how she saw him. Jarrett quelled the heat that coiled in him at the idea. It was true that the longer he was around her, the increasingly predatory he felt. But he doubted she’d understand why. He didn’t half understand himself.

“I never knew you to be so outspoken,” he said finally, trying to put her on the defensive.

“You never knew me at all.”

He ran his gaze over her. He’d seen it all before—her rigid posture, the defiant angle of her chin, the bold challenge in her blue eyes. He’d hired her for those traits. But that was all he could see, all she’d ever allowed anyone to see.

“No,” he said quietly. “I guess I didn’t.”

She paled slightly, surprising him. Before he could react, she said, “Well, if the wolf isn’t yours, then I need to contact the authorities or something. He can’t—”

“No!” Another realization hit him, making him wonder just how out of it he’d become. “Does anyone know I’m here?”

The hurt and betrayal sprang back into her eyes, but was quickly masked. “No,” she said dully. “I don’t have any close neighbors and those who do know me don’t visit without calling first.”

“Have you been to town since I’ve been here?”

“No.” She sighed disgustedly. “My absence from the
job hasn’t eradicated my training. I didn’t think you were up here for a mountain hike.” Sarcasm underscored her anger. “I can’t say for sure why. Maybe it was the bullet wound that tipped me off.” She crossed her arms and stared him down. “I went back to the cave just before dawn the morning after I found you. I cleared your trail back over a mile, then laid a false one in the opposite direction. I didn’t see any other tracks, except the wolf’s. Satisfied?”

“I had to ask.”

She flinched as if he’d hit her. “You always do what you
have
to do, McCullough,” she bit out. “Don’t you ever do anything because you
want
to?”

His body tightened painfully. Want? It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her exactly what he wanted and how much it was costing him not to act on it. He ruthlessly dragged his attention back to the important matter at hand.

“We can decide what to do with the pup later. He’s the least of our concerns. It’s still not a good idea for you to go into town. We need to talk.”