Resisting Her (4 page)

Cole took a deep breath, trying to calm his
nerves. The panic in her voice when she called had him wondering
what exactly had happened once he left, but he didn’t want to push
her. He had a good enough idea from the facility coordinator. She’d
likely panicked at the thought of being alone. If the living
conditions of the compound were any indication, she’d grown up
surrounded by people at all times. He had half a mind to tuck
Savannah safely into his bed and forget protocol.

Her eyes darted around his condo, seeming to
take in her surroundings. “Come on.” He guided her down the hall.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He passed by the guest bath, knowing it
wasn’t stocked with what he needed. At his bedroom door, she paused
briefly, her feet stopping at the threshold, her eyes trained on
the massive bed. “It’s okay,” he urged. “We’re just going into the
master bath.”

Her eyes drifted to the open door across the
room, and she gave a nod, allowing him to urge her forward. The
muscles in her face tensed, but her feet started moving again.

He flipped on the light, and cursed his lack
of cleanliness. Various bottles and jars littered the counter —
shaving cream, aftershave, deodorant, toothpaste — everything
within his grasp since he got ready for work on autopilot. He
cleared a spot on the counter by sweeping everything into a drawer
and then lifted Savannah onto the counter in front of him.

He wet a washcloth and carefully washed her
face, wiping away the traces of dried blood. Her breasts rose and
fell with each shallow breath, and her wide green eyes watched his
every move. They were inquisitive and bright with determination. He
found himself drawn to her, wanting to discover all he could about
the mysterious, beautiful girl who had grown up in a cult. She
rubbed her hands up and down her arms in an effort to calm herself
and regain some control over the situation. He could sense the
desperation she felt, her outlook suddenly seeming quite bleak. He
struggled to find words to soothe her, to reassure her, but came up
short and instead just silently treated her injuries as best he
could.

Once she was clean, he dabbed the cut above
her eye with a cotton swab covered in ointment.

“How do you know how to do this?” she
asked.

His eyes flicked to hers. They were so close
that he could lean in and kiss her. “Hmm? Oh, I’ve certainly been
knocked around before. It’s no big deal. You’ll be good as new in a
few days.”

She frowned. “Knocked around? Because your
job is dangerous?”

He recapped the ointment and considered her
question. “Yes, sometimes. Other times not. But actually I was
thinking about my teen years. I was a bit of a trouble maker. My
parents sent me to military school my last two years of high
school.”

“Oh.” Her eyes were big and inquisitive, as
if she wanted to ask more, but instead she looked down at her
hands. “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-seven,” he answered.
Too old for
you.

His eyes caught their reflection in the
mirror and the serious expression in his features distracted him.
His brow was knotted in concentration, and his mouth a tight line.
He did his best to relax the tense set of his shoulders, knowing he
needed to be calm if he wanted Savannah to relax too.

A few heartbeats later she visibly relaxed,
her breathing smoothing out, and her hands uncurling in her lap.
Her features were entirely feminine, from her long dark hair that
curled at the ends, to her almond-shaped eyes fringed in dark
lashes, to her smooth, soft skin. Savannah was a natural
beauty.

Catching his own reflection in the mirror,
Cole, in contrast, was all male. His jaw was shadowed in dark
stubble and his body lean and sculpted with muscle, which he worked
hard to maintain. Compared to Savannah, he was hard plains and
jagged edges, all except for his full sensuous mouth. More than one
ex-girlfriend had complimented his lips, and what he could do with
his mouth. When he was with a woman, he used every weapon in his
seduction arsenal — his mouth, tongue, hands, even his
strength—often liking the feel of power, the crude masculinity of
picking up a woman and holding her weight as he fucked her. It had
been several months though since he’d taken a lover, and his body
was growing restless with pent-up desire.

Once Savannah was cleaned up, Cole stepped
back and met her eyes. They were still swimming with tears and her
breathing was little more than shallow gasps for air. He could tell
that the slightest thing would set her off again. Shit. So much for
relaxing.

Savannah was an absolute mess. To be
expected. She’d probably been through hell and back these past
several days, and getting bruised up earlier had sent her over the
edge. A girl like Savannah, who’d grown up so sheltered with such a
strange upbringing, had no defenses to protect herself from the
pure chaos this world dished up. He knew from the FBI files that
the women and children were rarely seen outside the compound.

Cole, on the other hand, was hardened,
bitter, and certainly not delusional enough to believe in
happily-ever-after. He’d seen too much working for the Bureau the
past six years, and experienced pain firsthand when his parents
were hit and killed by a meth addict who was drunk and high at the
time of the accident. Still, he felt for Savannah, felt sorry for
her in a way. She wasn’t the type to fare well on her own, that was
obvious.

He lifted her chin and rubbed a slow circle
against her jaw. “I’ve got you. It’s going to okay.”

She gave a heavy nod and somber eyes met his.
“So what happens now?”

Cole could read the apprehension on her face.
The honest truth was, he didn’t know what happened next, but he
knew one thing was certain; he wasn’t taking her back to that
house. They both needed some sleep, and they would figure the rest
out later. “Now we sleep. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

He helped her from the counter, and led her
through the condo, giving her a brief tour. He guided Savannah to
the living room and encouraged her to sit on the sofa. He was about
to turn and head for the kitchen to get her some water and pain
reliever, but she silently took his hand and held it in her own,
her eyes pleading with him to stay.

He sat down beside her and she wordlessly
lowered her head to rest against his thigh, nestling herself into
him. Cole couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He dared not move with
her head resting on his denim clad thigh. She bent her legs up onto
the couch beside her, curling into the fetal position, and closed
her eyes. He didn’t know what to do with his hands and settled for
fisting one beside him, and placed the other carefully on
Savannah’s shoulder. He let her sleep, unwilling to rustle her from
the spot she’d claimed.

When he woke a short time later, it took him
a moment to realize who the warm body pressed against him belonged
to. Savannah. He lifted his head and surveyed his body, and in turn
hers. They had shifted in sleep so that he was stretched out on his
back, and she was lying half on him, and half on the couch.
Savannah woke when he moved and their eyes flicked to each other’s.
He mumbled an apology and disentangled himself from her grip.

He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. He’d never
felt so out of place in his own house. The rumble of Savannah’s
stomach made him smile and broke some of the tension. She clapped a
hand over her belly. “Are you hungry?” He chuckled.

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Come on. Let’s see what we can rustle up in
the kitchen.” He led her into the large kitchen at the front of his
condo. “I have to warn you though, I don’t cook.”

“I do.” Her hand on his forearm stopped him,
and she motioned for him to take a seat at a stool tucked under the
kitchen island. “Let me.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Cole
questioned.

“It’ll help me feel better, more normal. I
used to cook all the time at the compound.”

Cole relented, sinking onto the seat. The
time blinked at him from the clock on the microwave. It was three
in the morning. He suddenly found himself thankful that he didn’t
have to go to work in a few hours, though given the hour, he wasn’t
as tired as he expected. He watched Savannah move about his
kitchen, surveying the sad contents of his fridge, removing items
from the pantry and cabinets as she went.

“Sorry I don’t have much.”

“You have eggs,” she said, placing the carton
on the counter.

He frowned, not able to recall the last time
he went grocery shopping. “You might want to check the expiration
date on those.”

She lifted the carton to read the date
printed on the bottom. “Hmm. We don’t have eggs.” She pulled a box
from the pantry. “Pasta then.”

It didn’t escape his notice that she’d said
we
, implying it was the two of them together against all the
bullshit they’d suffered so far. He didn’t know what to make of
that, but nodded. “Fine.” She was holding up surprisingly well,
given the craziness of the situation.

She dumped an entire package of penne pasta
into a pot of boiling, salted water. Cole watched her movements,
and decided he liked having her in his kitchen. A satisfied little
smile tugged at her lips, and she moved about effortlessly.

Only once they were seated in the small
breakfast nook, nibbling on pasta with a rich sauce she made from
milk, butter and parmesan cheese, did he venture to ask about her
past.

“Can I ask you a few questions about the
compound…and how you grew up?” He knew some of the details from
reading the files on the case, but he wanted to hear the story in
Savannah’s own words.

She nodded reluctantly. Her eyes were
skittish—looking anywhere but at him.

“You just let me know if there’s anything
you’re not comfortable answering. And we won’t talk about it.” He
didn’t intend to push her too far tonight. She’d been through
enough, but he figured if she was going to be staying in his home,
there was some basic information he’d need to know, if only to make
sure she felt as comfortable as possible.

“What was it like growing up there?”

She took a deep breath and began reiterating
some of what he’d read in the case files. Jacob wanted to create a
perfect community: they grew their own food, sold goods at farmer’s
markets, and were entirely self-contained. He taught them that the
outside world was a dangerous place, and that people were dirty and
couldn’t be trusted. He taught them that germs and diseases spread
from sexual contact would eventually kill off most of the
population and they wouldn’t be able to procreate, so Jacob’s
followers needed to separate themselves to live cleanly.

“How did your mother get involved?” Cole
asked.

Savannah folded her hands in her lap. “She
fell for him. He was a charmer, a smoother talker, confident.
Easily able to convince people to follow him.”

Cole knew that much from the information the
Bureau had collected in the file.

“He could be very persuasive. When he spoke,
people listened,” Savannah explained.

“What about you; did you believe his
teachings?”

She nodded. “At first. I didn’t know any
different. But as I got older, I began to wonder. I had this urge
to see for myself; it nagged at me sometimes.”

Finding her plate empty, Cole served up
another helping of pasta for Savannah before urging her to
continue.

She stabbed a forkful of noodles, looking
lost in thought. “Most of all, I just wanted to go to school. Jacob
couldn’t understand it. He tried to convince me it wasn’t safe.
Boys out there…” she stopped suddenly, her eyes dropping to her
plate.

“What? You can tell me.”

“He said the boys would only want one thing
from me — to get in my panties.”

Had anyone been in her panties? And why did
that thought make him want to punch someone? He had no right — no
claim to her — yet he couldn’t help the possessive streak that
surged inside him. “Okay. So I take it you didn’t go to
school?”

“No. But I refused to relent and finally
convinced Jacob to hire a tutor for me, so I could get my high
school diploma. We met at the local library twice a week for the
last year. I was one of the few given permission to leave the
compound.”

Wow. He’d been right about her
determination.

They ate in silence for several minutes. Cole
didn’t want to push her too fast, he was happy that she was
comfortable talking to him at all.

“This is delicious, by the way.” He stabbed a
forkful of pasta and managed another bite, though he was stuffed
four bites ago. He had a healthy appetite, but Savannah had made
enough to feed an army — if the still full platter of pasta on the
table between them was any indication.

“You obviously know a lot about me,” Savanna
said, twirling a strand of long hair around her finger. “But if I’m
going to stay here, shouldn’t I know more about you?”

He shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

She thought about it for a moment, continuing
to play with her hair. Cole’s attention was pulled from her
brilliant green eyes to her mouth and the way she absently toyed
with stray lock of hair.

“No wife? No girlfriend?”

“It’s just me.”

“How come?”

He thought about how to respond, not about
why — he didn’t want the responsibility, the heartache that came
with loss of a loved one ever again. But he took his time,
considering which answer to give her. “It’s the way I like it.”

Savannah frowned slightly. “Doesn’t that get
lonely? What about your family? Are they nearby?”

Cole remained quiet, watching the way her
hand stilled its movements when she grew unsure of herself,
wondering if she’d overstepped a boundary with that question.

“That’s another thing you and I have in
common.”