Found Wanting (30 page)

Startled, she bolted up but was stopped by the blanket, which was trapped under his arm, and the pain that shot through her battered body. She fell back, a groan slipping through her clenched teeth.

"Hold on," he said, shifting to release the blanket. "There."

Eyes watering, she sat up gingerly, drawing the blanket with her for coverage as Mitch rolled to his feet. Her discomfort was forgotten as she noticed what a fine butt he had as he hurried across the wooden floor, snagged the jeans draped over the back of a chair and stepped into them. His muscles flexed as he drew them up. Oh, yes, a fine butt, indeed.

"Good thing it's cold in here," he said as he zipped and faced her. His grin was sheepish, his cheeks faintly red. "Sorry about that."

He'd left the button of his fly undone, and she had to force herself not to look at it or his washboard abs. Her thigh burned where his heat had scorched her, and she wished she hadn't flinched away from him. The regret shocked her, and her cheeks heated.

Snagging his backpack off the floor as if he needed something to do, he rummaged through it. "You must be sore as hell," he said, coming up with Advil and bottled water. After tapping two orange pills into his palm, he brought them to her and unscrewed the water.

She washed down the pills. The water tasted fantastic, and she swallowed more before handing it back to him. "Thanks."

He gulped some down, his Adam's apple bobbing. "How'd you sleep?"

Rolling her shoulder to test its mobility, she tried not to wince. "Apparently without moving."

Setting aside the water, he sat down beside her on the sofa. "Want me to try to rub some of the stiffness out?"

She hesitated, imagining how it would feel to have his hands on her. Her breath grew shallow with anticipation, and she clasped the edges of the blanket under her chin. This ... attraction ... had to be related to fatigue, she thought. Her defenses were weak, and he was being so kind ... and looking so good.

Mitch smiled. "You're not shy, are you?"

She heard the subtle challenge, sensed he issued it because he knew it would goad her into submission. It worked. She shifted so that he was behind her, and she felt his warm breath against her skin as he edged aside the blanket, baring her shoulders to the nippy air.

But instead of putting those big, warm hands on her, he sucked in a sharp breath.

"What?" she asked, glancing back to see the faint blush from a few minutes ago gone.

"You've got some major league bruises," he said, his voice soft but tense. "I'd better not ..." He trailed off, cleared his throat. "I don't want to hurt you."

Rising abruptly, he went to the table, where the clothing she had dumped on the floor in a sodden heap the night before was draped over various chairs. He must have gotten up after she'd slept to spread them out to dry. Now, he gathered her belongings and brought them to her.

"Thank you," she said, holding them on her lap, watching him curiously.

"I'm going to run out and see if I can find some dry wood this time. You can get dressed while I'm gone. Everything's still a bit damp, I'm afraid." He gestured toward the hallway that the night before had led into darkness. "There's a bathroom that way. I got the toilet working last night -- it's one of those pull-chain kinds. Shower works, too, but it'd be cold."

And he was gone.

Alaina gazed at the closed door for a moment, wondering at his odd behavior. And her own lingering disappointment.

* * *

Several yards from the cabin, Mitch braced a shaking hand against a tree and took deep breaths. He thought about the hike through the woods the night before in the cold rain. She had to have been in screaming pain and hadn't said a word. She'd been hit by a car, had her shoulder dislocated twice and had been knocked around by two brutes. Three, if he counted himself. All the abuse had left a rainbow of marks on her back, around her shoulder and across her ribs.

Closing his eyes, he berated himself for not being more sympathetic. The woman had been through hell, physically and emotionally, and he had forced her to keep pace with him over rough, slick terrain, all the while freezing her ass off. She'd nearly slipped into shock from hypothermia afterward.

Hell, if it hadn't been for him, maybe none of this would have happened to her. If he hadn't tracked her down, leading Keller's henchmen right to her, she and Jonah this minute could have been enjoying a lazy Sunday morning breakfast of pancakes smothered in syrup.

Instead, Alaina looked like she'd been beaten and faced being holed up with him in this godforsaken cabin in the middle of the Shenandoahs for who knew how many days without her son, the light of her life. Because of Mitch. Because he'd been stupid and naïve and easily manipulated. Because he'd led with his anger instead of his common sense.

Guilt, he was discovering, sucked.

* * *

Alaina was dressed when Mitch returned, his arms laden with newly chopped wood. Kneeling, he stacked a few logs in the fireplace and began breaking up pieces for kindling.

"Isn't it kind of a waste to start a fire now?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" He gestured at the backpack. "Could you grab the matches out of there?"

She dug around inside it until she found them in a Ziploc bag. As she handed them over, she said, "We're not going to be here long enough to enjoy it."

His brow creased. "Where else are we going to go?"

She felt a sinking in her chest. "You said you were going to help me get Jonah back."

"I am. But it's not going to happen today."

Straightening, she folded her arms as a chill passed through her. The fire cast heat into the room, but her body and slightly damp clothing seemed unable to absorb it. "You said you have access to Layton."

He rose, pocketing his hands, his expression sober. "We're going to need a plan, which is going to take at least a few weeks --"

"Weeks?" She barely managed to not yell it.

"You know what it takes to plan, Alaina. You did it very well for fourteen years. You can't rush it."

"No, but a sense of urgency --"

"It's not just Keller we have to worry about. It's the feds. If they get a whiff of something, they'll do whatever they have to to stop us. I guarantee that."

She forced herself to be reasonable. But it was difficult when every instinct screamed at her to run to Jonah and shield him from Layton's twisted world. How could she stand to be away from him for weeks? He was her anchor.

Something in her chest shifted as she realized that she was as desperate to get to Jonah for her sake as much as for his, probably more.

"You don't have to worry about him," Mitch said. "Chuck's a good agent. He'll look out for Jonah. If he's anything like you, he can handle himself."

"You don't know that. You don't even know him."

"I know you. You've prepared him."

"Not nearly enough," she said, turning away.

He grasped her arm, drawing her around to face him. His dark gaze searched her eyes, and she tensed, as much unnerved by the scrutiny as the way her pulse tripped and raced. "What?" she asked, irritated at the rasp in her voice.

"You have no reason to trust me," he said. "I understand that. But I'm asking you to do it anyway. I'll get your son back, but it will take a little while. Can you trust me to do that?"

She wanted to pull away, alarmed by her body's response to his touch. He emanated heat in waves, and her skin absorbed it until she was almost uncomfortably warm. It heated the air around them, too, making it seem too thick, too heavy. Breathing took effort.

And what he wanted ... trust ... it was too much to ask. She didn't know him. All she knew for sure was that at one time he had hunted her on Layton's behalf. He might well be playing her right now, stalling her while Layton accomplished whatever the hell he was trying to accomplish with Jonah. But what choice did she have? She was at his mercy here, in this cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere. If he'd wanted to harm her, he'd had ample opportunity. More simply, he could have let the hit man kill her the night before.

Yet, if she trusted him, she risked everything. Her life. Jonah's. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she lifted her arm out of his grasp. "I don't think I can."

If he was hurt, he didn't show it. "But you understand that it's going to take time," he said. "My partner will need to do surveillance, get a sense of Keller's security, his schedule. If we had help from someone on the inside ..." He trailed off, waiting expectantly.

"You're the only insider I know."

"What about your sister?"

That surprised her. "Addison?"

"If she could give us information about the security system --"

"No. She'd tip off Layton."

"She's working with the FBI."

"So?" Alaina asked.

"Whatever happened between you two is the past. She's on your side now."

"She's on her side. That's the only side she's ever been on. I don't trust her."

"Yeah, well, you might have to trust someone before this is over, Alaina."

"Maybe it's easy for you, but it's not for me."

"It's not easy for anyone." Going to the door, he lifted his jacket from one of the hooks arranged in a row on the wall. "I'm going for supplies. There's enough wood for the afternoon."

She followed him. "I want to go with you."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Well, I don't think it's a good idea for you to leave me in the middle of nowhere. What if something happens to you? I'd be screwed."

"Nothing's going to happen to me," he said.

"But aren't you a target, too? Does Layton know you're helping me?"

"As far as he knows, I'm still itching to get my hands on you." His lips quirked as if he'd just said something amusing, but then he shook his head. "He thinks I want to exact my own revenge. I doubt it would occur to him that I've switched sides."

"Have you?"

His face was expressionless as he zipped the jacket. "What do you think is going on here, Alaina?"

"For all I know, you're still working for Layton."

"Doing what?"

"Keeping me a prisoner here until he's done with whatever it is he's trying to do."

"He wants you dead. That's what he's trying to do."

She raised her chin a notch. "So you say."

"So say two hit men. So far."

"Both of whom could have been setups."

His jaw hardened, and a muscle flexed near his temple. "Setups for what?"

"Setups to make you look like the good guy."

"I am the good guy."

"And the day before yesterday you were working, quite wholeheartedly, for the bad guy."