Second Nature (When Seconds Count) (4 page)

He wasn’t going to spend another infuriating second
trying to understand what was going on inside his head or hers. He’d pack her torn clothes, her boots and a few staples into one of his cargo sacks and send her on her way. No matter how good she felt or how much his body was pulled to hers, he didn’t need the kind of trouble she was peddling.

Resigned
to cut his losses and regain some of his solidarity, he stomped to his storage trunk, turned the dial on the lock in the correct order until it opened, and reached for his sat-phone. Powering it up, he opened the cabin door and walked outside, every ounce of his resolve draining away into the sea at what he saw in Thalia’s eyes as she hobbled toward him.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Grant strode to the edge of the woods as she stumbled out, her eyes focused behind him.

“A boat,” she whispered
as she picked her way across the ground, any pain or mistrust she’d felt taking a back seat to her survival instincts.

Her thoughts echoed the curse Grant grunted when
he’d turned to see the small speck on the horizon. Judging by how quickly the speck grew, it was headed straight for them. And fast. “I need to get inside.” She pushed past Grant, praying he wouldn’t hand her over to whoever was on that boat just to get rid of her.

Grant caught her arm and pulled her to the side, blocking her body from any binocular view their visitors may have. “No. It’
s too obvious. If they beach, and if there’s more of them than I can stop, it’s the first place they’ll search.”

Thank you.
She couldn’t make herself say it, but hoped he could read it in her eyes. Thalia shrugged out of his hold, casting an assessing glance behind him. With the sudden rush of adrenaline, her mind worked hastily to process her options. “There’s no time. I’m not going to hide in the shithole.”

“Wait over here.” Her leg throbbed with
the pulse of her racing heartbeat as he picked her up, moving her so the cabin was between them and the approaching vessel. He sat her on her feet before he quickly retrieved her crutches and handed them to her. “I’ll be right back.”

Thalia watched as he retreated to the cabin and crept along the side until he disappeared around the front corner.
What is he doing?
Every second he was gone was time she lost to get herself hidden away inside. He was right. It wasn’t the best solution, but given her lack of firepower and a glaring deficiency in mobility, it was her only option.

The sound of the boat’
s motor came into range and Thalia decided she was out of time. She’d taken her first step towards the cabin when Grant rolled around the corner and ran towards her, a resilient confidence flashing in his eyes. A familiar calm washed over her rioting nerves as he pressed the cold steel into her palm. She looked down at the .45 in her hand, everything else disappearing around her. He was giving her a gun?

“Can you make it to that t
hicket?” She looked over her shoulder at the clumps of palms and sea brush about fifty feet into the woods. Speechless, she nodded and tucked the gun into her hand-made belt. “Good. Get there and don’t move. No matter what you hear or see, don’t give away your position. If the shit hits the fan, stay there until you can safely back away and get to the other side of the island. My boat is anchored there in a small cove. The keys are hooked to one of the life jackets stashed under the driver’s seat.”

“But…”
She didn’t have time to ask about what he was going to do before he turned and sprinted back to the cabin. Casting off the thousands of questions screaming through her mind, she pushed her way towards her target. Her pain disappeared under the rush of fresh adrenaline-laced blood flowing through her veins. The vegetation grew thin as she neared the halfway point, and she dropped to her knees, crawling the last fifteen feet so she wouldn’t be spotted before reaching the thicket.

When she was sure she was hidden from view
, she turned and reached for her makeshift crutches, dragging them behind the brush. She hoped like hell she wouldn’t have to flee to the other side of the island, but if she did, she wouldn’t be able to make it another ten feet without them.

Aware of the boat approaching the shore, Thalia spit into her hand
and grabbed up some of the dark sandy soil, smearing it into her saliva. She tore off a couple of leaves from the plants in front of her and popped them into her mouth, chewing rapidly to break them down. Spitting the leaves into the mud in her palm, she swiftly swirled the darkened sludge with her finger before massaging it onto the skin on her face. She couldn’t see if it was enough, but anything had to be better than her pale flesh reflecting against the dense brush.

Silent as a shark zeroing in on its prey, she watched
as the boat slowed to a stop just off the beach, the motor choking to a halt. One man stood behind the driver, another at the bow. Movement to her left told her Grant had exited the cabin, but she refused to take her eyes off the boat. They were thugs. No one wore black shirts and dress slacks if they were out on a Sunday fishing trip.

She hadn’t spott
ed any weapons, but she knew it only meant they were well-hidden. The man on the bow jumped into the surf and waded towards the shore, no care for his fine dress shoes or slacks. The other two remained aboard, vigilantly watching as Grant stepped out from under the front awning of his cabin, exaggerating a yawn as he scratched his bare chest.
What is he thinking?
They exchanged a greeting and chatted back and forth, Grant shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. The man gestured toward the cabin and Grant shook his head again.

Thalia gritted through her frustration as the two men talked. She couldn’t hear a damn thing until Winston screamed from a nearby palm tree. Her b
lood ran cold. Would he give away her position? Her panic quickened when she saw him round the cabin and head toward the beach.
Oh shit. This can’t be good.

The man talking with Grant reached behind his back and Thalia’s heart rat
e shot through the roof. With an ingrained instinct, her arm stretched out before her and took infallible aim at the man’s head. There was a lot of distance to cover, but she was confident her bullet would hit its mark. This was it. There was no way Grant was hiding a gun in those flimsy shorts. Not one that would help him in this situation. She’d have to shoot all three before they could return fire or re-start the boat.

In the time it took her to bl
ink her eyes away from the boat to the man in front of Grant, Grant had his arm around the guy’s throat, the man’s gun in his hand. Thalia didn’t hesitate. Two rounds left the barrel of her gun. A third shot echoed off the water just as the driver flipped over the side of the boat into the surf. A red mist spewed over the boat’s white hull as thug number two’s neck exploded, her bullet tearing through his flesh.

Grant
dropped the lifeless man in his hands into the surf and ran toward the driver who was splashing helplessly in the water. His big fist tangled in the man’s hair as he heaved his head from the water and shouted something at him. The man struggled against his hold before Grant pushed him away and plugged two rounds into the back of his head.

She watched as h
e walked to the boat and leaned over the side, firing another round into the passenger before pulling himself aboard. Reluctantly, Thalia lowered her weapon and dragged herself to her feet. Scrambling for purchase, she reached for her crutches, her leg screaming against the little bit of weight she had to balance on it.

Scanning the water, she se
arched for any other crafts which might have been on lookout for the point boat. Seeing nothing suspicious, she palmed the wooden poles and pushed herself away from the safety of the brush toward the beach. Winston barked out a warning, but Thalia ignored him, focusing instead on the man lying face down in the surf. Scarlet waters churned around his torso, flowing down the sand as each wave retreated back into the ocean.

Using her toe, she
pushed his hair from his face. She thought the man looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. He had the typical henchman features; steroidal muscles in his arms and chest, a neck as thick as a tree trunk with a long, deep cut across the front of it dripping with fresh blood. She wouldn’t be surprised if his name was Igor, or something similarly typical of the type.

The sound of a splash pulled her
attention back to the boat. The moisture in her mouth instantly evaporated and her insides began to quake. Her instincts were screaming for her to run, but she didn’t. She couldn’t even if she’d wanted to.

The sunlight sparkled like diamonds against the drops of water th
at beaded across Grant’s broad chest and raced along the cuts and dips between his washboard abs. His dark blue board shorts, soaked and clinging to his equally muscled thighs, hung low on his hips. A thin trail of golden curls raced between the hard lines of his narrow hips, disappearing beneath his waistband. Only a blind woman would miss the outline of his perfectly defined erection.
Holy sin on a stick, he is packing.

His arms and
legs moved with the grace of a jungle cat stalking its prey, the tight strands of muscles bunching and stretching beneath his skin with every step. His right hand was wrapped tight around the black grip of a pistol, the thick tendons in his wrist flexing as he tightened and loosened his grip. She followed the ripple of movement to his rounded shoulder, his neck, and then up to the chiseled lines of his face. Her lungs seized with feminine lust, mixed with a healthy dose of fear as she locked eyes with the lethal beast inside him.
He’s going to kill me.

The fire in Grant’s eyes blazed with a heat as tangible as the s
un’s rays beating relentlessly against her skin. She didn’t know the first thing about this man, other than the fact that he was dangerous and locked onto her like a fast moving freight train. He hadn’t hurt her yet, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t kill her. Still, she couldn’t make herself move or even look away. Something inside her was drawn to the beast residing within the man; to the absolute power and strength that wrecked her senses.

Paral
yzed, she was powerless to resist as his hard, lean body crashed into hers, trapping her against his hot, wet skin. His hands tangled in her hair, his desperate grip holding her captive to his assault, his lips crushing against hers with frantic need.

Fuck! She’s incredible.
Grant was so damn pissed off and turned on at the same time, he didn’t know whether he wanted to kill her or fuck her. The moment his mouth landed on hers, her taste rushing over his tongue for the first time, his cock screamed for the latter. When she offered no resistance, he could feel the tight grip he kept on his control loosen a bit more than he was usually comfortable with.

Damn
her
for not following his orders. She could have gotten them killed. He would be a fucking liar though if he’d said her cool-under-pressure attitude and deadly aim hadn’t impressed the hell out of him. She’d nailed the driver in the lung, the other guy in the neck, from at least sixty yards away with a .45 caliber handgun for Christ’s sake. Seeing her standing over that piece of shit excuse for a human being, his gun in her capable hand as she toed his head and studied his face, her own face camouflaged in dirt, Grant was done for.

His dick, well past the screaming stage, was now fully engorged and reaching critical mass levels.
His hand slid from her back to her ass, pulling her tight against his groin in an attempt to feed the hungry ache in his cock. Sliding his knee between her thighs, he ground his hips hard against hers, drawing out her answering moan as she rode the top of his thigh. The feel of her hot, wet tongue sliding and tangling with his, dueling for power, sent another wave of lusty hunger rushing through his veins. He needed to be inside this woman, to taste every available inch of her. Explore whatever this carnal attraction was between them before it fucking killed him.
Just not now, dammit
.

Like never before, h
is body rioted against his mind’s attempts at regaining control. They had a cluster of a mess to clean up before they left the island. They couldn’t stay. Whenever those assholes failed to check in, whoever sent them would send three more just like them. He planned to be long gone by the time they figured out what happened.

Grant’s mouth lingered on hers, savoring her taste a moment longer before he l
et reality seep back in. There would be more time to explore. He’d make sure of that. When they got this mess cleaned up and her leg looked at by a damn doctor, he was going to set them up in one of his safe houses and have a nice, long chat with Ms. Thalia. Then he was going to fuck her on every available surface until neither of them could walk.

Before he could make himself release her, Thalia broke the kiss and pushed herself away from him. Catching her breath, her hand rose to her mouth and wiped away any trace of what they’d just shared. “Sorry
, uh, that…”

“Will be continued later
,” Grant growled. Hell would freeze over before he let her push this away like it never happened. When she looked away, he felt a prick of his earlier anger spike back to life. It only took a millisecond for his temper to flash-boil to the surface. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

Her eyes
flared bright with indignation and he could almost feel her desire to slap him. If it wasn’t for the fact he needed her help to pack up, he would likely tempt her to do it just so he would have an excuse to tie her to his bed again. Maybe. As her expression transformed from aroused and embarrassed to furious and lethal, he found himself second guessing that fantasy.

“
I was saving your damn ass! That’s what I was doing!”

“My ass didn’t need saving!”

“Bullshit!” Thalia spat. “You had no chance in hell of taking out all three of
them before they got off a round.”