Relentless Flame (Hell to Pay) (16 page)

“Likewise.”

The previous minion had tried to kill Allie. Dante still relished the memory of crunching the minion’s spinal column beneath his foot just before he dealt the deathblow. Now an even more disgusting minion was coming, with no compunction about going through a pregnant woman and her mortal husband to reach his goal. Damn.

Peter paused. “Fair enough. You did take care of that last minion so I could help Allie. Let’s call us even, then?”

“Deal.”

Peter ran back into the bedroom. Allie’s alarmed voice traveled through the house as dressers and drawers banged closed.

Dante needed to get Hannah the hell out of here.
Kristus
, bad shit kept following him these days.

• • •

Warm, relaxed, and clean, Hannah snuggled into the comfortable duvet. Her body rocked, and she tried to roll over to escape the annoying movement.

“Hannah?”

The deep voice soothed her, as welcoming as the covers on this bed. “Wake up,
ålskling
. We have to leave.”

Hannah tried to pull the covers up, but they didn’t budge. With a sigh, she opened one eye. Dante knelt next to the bed, tensed like he was about to bolt. Alarmed, she sat straight up, fully awake. Panic gripped her until she took a deep breath and blew it out.

“What?”

“We’ve got to go.”

“Why?”

Dante studied the duvet cover. “Brandon’s headed this way. We can’t be here when he arrives.”

Heart pounding, Hannah froze under a wave of nausea. “I don’t understand. Why would that loser come here?”

“He’s a bad guy, worse than you think. And he wants to hurt us. I’ll keep you safe, but we need to leave now.”

“Okay, okay,” she whispered, stifling the questions he obviously didn’t want to answer.

She hadn’t seen fear on Dante’s face before, even when he’d stood up to the guys on the street yesterday. So what did it take for a man like him to be this afraid?

She slipped on her sandals and hitched up the borrowed jeans. Cramming on her glasses, she dashed after Dante into the kitchen.

Allie and Peter shoved supplies and food into two overnight bags. Ivy danced around, tail wagging. At least someone was having fun.

Allie called over her shoulder, puffing as she bent to pack a bag. “Pull the covers off the guest bed. You’ll need it for the park in John Day.”

“No, Brandon might figure out that we intentionally left. He can’t know for sure that you two were here. Best to confuse him as long as possible,” Peter said. “Stop by the Walmart in Caldwell, Idaho, and pick up the bedding you’ll need there.”

Hannah’s cheeks warmed. Bedding? With Dante? Never mind. She’d worry about that later; they needed to get out of here first.

“Dante? I need to speak with you.” Allie motioned him into the living room.

Hannah tried not to eavesdrop, but their murmurs filtered back into the kitchen, punctuated by one emphatic “No!” from Dante.

When they returned, Dante didn’t look directly at Hannah. His brows drew together in anger, but in his eyes, there was only sadness. When he cupped her elbow with extreme care, the alarm bells sounded in her mind. This was a different kind of touch, almost like pity, and she didn’t like it.

“Good luck, you two,” Peter said, hefting both bags and a satchel of food onto his shoulders. “Honey, did you call work?”

“Sure did. I’ve got tomorrow’s shift covered, so we’re good for a few days.”

Hannah cleared her throat. “Um, thank you, for breakfast and a place to stay. I’m sorry about you, us, having to leave. And that jerk coming here—”

Allie hugged her. “It’s nothing we can’t handle. Besides, you’re in good hands.” She punched Dante on his meaty arm as they all exited the house.

The smile didn’t reach Allie’s eyes.

• • •

What was wrong with Dante?

He hadn’t said a word for the past two hours while he continued to stare straight ahead. His grip on the steering wheel shifted between strangle and throttle, and the muscle in his jaw jumped every few minutes as he kept glancing in the rearview mirror.

After announcing loudly to the gas station attendant that he was traveling to Boise, Dante proceeded to not travel to Boise. About twenty miles outside of the city, he veered off the interstate and doubled back on frontage roads and county roads until they drove through the mountains south and west of La Grande.

When he took a curve too quickly, he grumbled, “Sorry.”

She attempted conversation, but his curt, albeit polite, responses involved one syllable or a grunt. The few times he smiled, the curve of his mouth was cruel and grim against the tension in his neck.

The one time he initiated a conversation, he only asked her to shut off her cell phone and not turn it on again. In silence, she dropped the phone into her blood-stained purse.

What the heck happened? Yesterday, she was holding down a job and rebuilding her life in Portland. Last night, the attack by Brandon, assisted by her drug-using brother, destroyed everything she’d worked so hard to build. And now she was on the run with Dante. True, he might be a gentle giant with her, but she’d seen his brutal temper. She didn’t know anything about him.

So why then did she blithely go with Dante?

Right now, this virtual stranger was the only thing keeping her out of Brandon’s cruel hands. What choice did she have? Sit around and wait for Brandon to arrive? No thanks.

What about Scott? Had she written him off so quickly? No. She loved her brother. They had suffered together in Philly and escaped together. But he was an adult now. He’d been making his own choices and rejecting her input for years. Aside from wallowing in her guilt, there was nothing left to do.

Speaking of guilt, what about her job? Her life in Portland? She’d torpedoed all of it. Now she had nothing and no place to go. She couldn’t have done a better job of destroying her life if she’d doused it with gas and lit a match.

What if she could go back and pick up her life?

No. Too much baggage with Scott’s crap. Too dangerous back there if this Brandon guy was as bad as he seemed.

As they passed through forested hills on winding chip-seal roads, she, too, stared out the window. They hadn’t passed any other vehicles in the past half hour.

The silence in the vehicle amplified the emptiness echoing in her aching head. She glanced over at Dante and cringed at the black scowl. Waves of heat rolled off of him. A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts, but she wasn’t about to ask him to adjust the temperature. She concentrated on remaining inconspicuous.

Maybe he was worried about their situation. Made sense. But she’d seen worried Dante. This emotion was different. This Dante appeared ready to rip the steering wheel off the column.

He was probably mad that she dragged his friends and him into her mess. Understandable. She blinked hard and tried to focus on the scenery.

By early evening, they descended west from the mountains into John Day, Oregon. The town itself was a dusty collection of buildings, nestled into a wide spot in a river valley. Along the river, swaths of trees, their green leaves tipped with early fall gold, contrasted with the terra cotta hills rising on either side of the river. Inhaling the dry, pungent scent of pine and juniper mixed with the wet, green river, she sighed. A far cry from Philadelphia. And from Portland.

She couldn’t relax. Was she safe with this man who looked about to erupt?

The way she saw it, there weren’t many other options.

“We’re here.”

Her heart skidded at his rough voice, too loud in the vehicle.

“Where’s here?” she asked.

“Where we’re going to stay hidden for a while.”

She flinched at his icy tone but kept her hands folded in her lap and held still while he pulled up to the ranger station. The sign read “Clyde Holliday State Park.”

“Stay here.” He slammed the door shut.

The state park, nestled between a bend in the river and the main highway, provided a relaxing backdrop for the setting sun. Any other time, this place would make a perfect rustic vacation. Any other time but now.

When the driver’s door whooshed open, she flinched and grabbed the handle of her door.

“Just me,” Dante said between gritted teeth. “We’re checked in as the Pages, in case anyone asks.”

“Pages?”

“Best I could come up with on short notice. All I could think of was the bookstore.” One corner of his mouth quirked upward before settling back in a firm line.

Lies and a fake identity. Familiar territory.

“Are we ...?”

“On a cheap honeymoon? Yes.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks. “Oh.”

He pulled into the gravel parking area. Hefting the bags of groceries and supplies he’d obtained earlier, he kicked the Hummer door closed and lifted his chin.

“Come on.”

She limped behind him from the vehicle to a small cabin a few hundred feet away. The river rushed by the front of the cabin, replacing highway sounds with the murmuring rapids. Inside the cabin, knotted floor creaked beneath her feet, and she inhaled the rich aroma of past fires in the grate.

Cozy cabin.

Handsome man.

Too bad he looked like a man whose life had been ruined.

By her.

“Hannah?”

The weight of his voice dropped like an anchor into her stomach.

Breath caught midway up her throat as she slowly turned back toward him. Dread, like a lead apron, made her movements sluggish.

“Um, you look tired,” she said.

“I guess. It’s fine. I don’t really get tired.”

She flinched at the flat tone.

He stepped once toward her then stopped.

“Have I done something wrong?” she asked.

“Of course not.”

Although the corners of his mouth rose up, his ice-blue eyes remained hard.

“Then why are you treating me like a burden you’d rather be rid of?”

“What?”

“I realize it’s been a pain helping me. Geez, you got beat to a pulp for your kindness.”

“I wasn’t beaten up that badly.”

“You were almost dead there for a minute. Look, if you can drop me off somewhere or help me get a rental car, I’ll be out of your hair.”

“You’re kidding.”

Hot shame burned a path up her neck. Why had she thought this man felt anything more for her than pity and compassion? Inflated sense of duty motivated Dante. She wouldn’t blame him for wanting to be rid of her after everything he’d withstood.

“I’m serious. You’ve got better things to do than go on the run from ...”

“From what?”

He stepped closer, and intense heat radiated again.

How’d he do that
?

“Stuff catching up with me, I guess.”

“What stuff?”

Brandon must have something to do with Ray, fulfilling Ray’s desire for revenge. It was the only logical explanation. “I’d rather not say. I’m only sorry you’re mixed up in my mess.”

“I’m mixed up in your mess?”

“Well, sure.” She motioned to the bags of groceries, his still blood-tinged clumps of hair, and the foreign, if not pleasant, rustic surroundings. And can’t forget about the maniac tracking her down.

He loomed over her. “There’s nothing else I’d rather do.”

Temper flared from a place buried deep down inside, an emotion she hadn’t experienced in a long time. “Excuse me, are you making fun of me?”

He lifted her chin, his warm finger an immutable force. The compassion in his kind expression hurt more than an accusation.

“I would never tease you.”

He brushed her lips with his thumb. At the tingling transfer sensation, she slid the block into place and relaxed into his hand.

Chuckling, he added, “Well, not in this predicament. I might find other reasons to tease you, but not about this situation.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that I have to work very hard to kiss you when we’re standing toe to toe.” He bent down.

She forgot to breathe.

He tilted her head up to him and kissed her deeply. The angle of his mouth changed, nudging her mouth open. Encouraging. Demanding. For a moment, she stood there, stiff, uncertain if this was still part of a joke. Then she answered in kind, pouring her fears, her pain, her regrets, and her past, all into the kiss. Dante pulled back, wiping her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“Tears?”

She hadn’t realized. His touch drew out long-suppressed emotion. Emotion she couldn’t explain. Wouldn’t explore.

“Just stressed with everything going on.”

He folded her into a bear hug, wrapping her in his heat, his strength. For a moment, she relaxed in the cocoon of his body. As she melted into his chest, she slid her arms around his back, enjoying the long, firm muscles there. A girl could get used to moments like this.

“Well,” he rumbled against her ear. “Maybe we should think about dinner.”

“Good idea.”

She stepped back, bereft of his touch.

His eyes had darkened to a blue-gray slate, his expression hungry, but not for food. Until he blinked and the color returned to ice blue. “Any chance you can put some food together while I clean up? I never got to it earlier today.”

Because Brandon was tracking her down, and Dante had continued to help her while she slept earlier. Shame rushed through her. How much more would Dante sacrifice for a near stranger until he walked away? He had to be nearing the point where normal folks would throw in the towel. If he did leave, she wouldn’t blame him.

In the meantime, at least she could feed the guy.

“How about canned soup and sandwiches? Not exactly gourmet.”

“Sounds perfect.”

After a long, inscrutable stare, he left her alone in the cabin.

She turned the lock on the door.

Two cold showers and a dose of dread later, Dante emerged from the bathhouse, clean, but without any ideas for how to resolve their situation. At least a fresh T-shirt and jeans had helped relax his tense muscles.

He had to tell Hannah what he’d done to Ray and why, but doing so required full disclosure of Dante’s true nature. Assuming she didn’t run away from that information, then he’d have to explain why Brandon, that sick bastard, hunted her. It was Dante’s fault. Jerahmeel was pissed about Dante killing the minion who’d tortured Allie last year. While Jerahmeel hated to interfere directly in Indebted affairs, he hated to be interfered
with
even more.