Darkfall Read online

  Ian was breathing hard, his shoulders heaving. “Fuck.” He growled his next words. “Fucking hell.”

  Behind the heavy door the shouts of enraged people sounded minimal.

  “Ian—” She saw red spreading over the back of his right shoulder. A small stain but growing steadily. She scrambled for her weapon and launched to her feet as her heart banged in her chest. She put the weapon on a small table. “You’re hit.”

  He turned away from the monitor and toward her. “What?”

  She rushed up to him to check out his wound. “Your right shoulder. You’ve been shot.”

  She tried to see around the flak vest. A tiny tear in the turtleneck shirt showed a small pool of blood.

  He shrugged, winced, and turned back to the door. “This is a cliché, but it’s only a flesh wound.”

  “Let me—”

  More pounding on the door made her jump and step back. Dammit, those assholes would not debilitate her.

  She moved to the cabinet above the bed to retrieve a first aid kit. She tossed the kit on the bed as the pounding stopped and voices faded. Her heart still thundered in her chest.

  “Motherfuckers,” he whispered under his breath.

  Despite the fear she managed a small smile. He’d always cursed too much, even in front of her. She didn’t mind it, because she tended to curse too often as well—she couldn’t deride him when she didn’t always control her potty mouth.

  After they’d stood there some time, the monitor showed the crowd had left the basement. He turned toward her. His taut strength was evident as he moved—all of it made her feel safe while thoroughly unnerving her in other ways.

  Ian’s expression blazed with slow-simmering anger. “Shit. I should have gotten you out of here instead of fucking around.”

  “You didn’t know they’d come back.”

  “My assault rifle is in the SUV. Damn it! What a stupid, fuckwit thing to do.” He hissed the curse, but she didn’t flinch. She knew his piss and vinegar belonged with the creeps outside and not towards her.

  She gestured at his shoulder. “Let me look at the flesh wound.”

  He glanced down at his right shoulder again and shrugged. He winced, and at first she thought he wouldn’t oblige. Instead he stripped off his flak/utility vest and dropped it on the floor.

  “It’s hardly worth bothering with,” he said.

  “Yeah, yeah.” She planted her hands on her hips and tried for humor. “Big bad SAS man. Don’t tell me. You’ve had all your limbs shot off at one time or the other, and you’re now like the Universal Soldier with all your parts sewn back on.”

  For a second his mouth dropped open, pure incredulousness on his face. Then he cracked a smile that almost destroyed her ability to breathe. The grin, though small and a bit lopsided, made his eyes brighten with stirring warmth. He’d never smiled much—the damn man took strong and silent to the extreme. Always watching, always keeping his back to the wall, at least metaphorically speaking.

  And then there was his freaking body. Ian brought new meaning to the word ripped.

  The turtleneck molded to his broad shoulders, bulging biceps, and hard pecs in sinful ways she couldn’t ignore even after what they’d just experienced. He drew the turtleneck over his head as he walked to the bench and sat down at an angle so she could reach his shoulder. She sucked in a breath. She’d never seen his naked torso before, but she’d fantasized about it enough times. Holy crap. Her imagination had nothing on reality. As she tended to the wound, she ogled him. Before he’d turned his back, she’d spied an eyeful of russet hair sprinkled lightly over hard pectorals, a six-pack and down into the waistband of his pants. Muscles bunched and released in his shoulders as she dabbed antiseptic on the wound.

  “You’re right.” She cleared her throat as her voice almost squeaked. “This isn’t bad. It’s not even bleeding anymore. Definitely a scratch.”

  He grunted. One of those male sounds which could be easily construed as agreement or mockery. She drew in a deep breath, not wanting to think of what could have happened if the shooter had better aim. The thought of potent, totally alive Ian being killed or seriously injured sent a shudder of pain through her she didn’t want to acknowledge. She patched him quickly, and when she closed the first aid kit, he turned straight on the bench to look at her. He scrunched the turtleneck in his fist, and her gaze snagged on his big hands. A heatwave slammed through her when she remembered the one and only time those hands had threatened to send her over the edge with pleasure. God, I’m nuts. Why the hell am I responding to him like an infatuated teenage girl? Especially when danger lurks right outside the door?

  “Something wrong?” His voice was craggy as a cliff.

  Penny licked her lips, and her mouth felt so parched she thought she might choke. She walked to the storage cabinet in one corner and opened it. “Water?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Catch.” She tossed a bottle at him. He caught it with ease.

  He stayed on the bench, and damn him but she wished he’d put on the turtleneck. Her gaze kept straying to yards of hot male muscles. He opened the bottle and took a swig, then wiped his mouth on his forearm.

  He recapped the bottle and put it on the floor. “Okay, maybe my earlier question doesn’t make sense.”

  “Which question?”

  “Asking if something is wrong. It sure as hell is. Any of those guys in the first group that attacked you? Or was the last attack a whole other set of mentals?”

  “Same pack as the first, with a few added.”

  She untwisted the cap on her water and took a long drink. Suddenly her legs didn’t feel steady, and she returned to the bench and sank down. She made sure her back was propped against the corner, and she brought her right leg up on the wood almost as a barrier between them. Almost? Try definitely. Following his suit, she thunked her bottle of water onto the floor. She gazed at the video above the door. She could hear voices whispering somewhere, probably at the top of the basement stairs. But she couldn’t see anyone or hear exactly what they were saying.

  “How do we get out of here?” she asked softly. “They’re still up there.”

  He yanked the turtleneck over his torso. Thank God.

  “Good question. I’m thinking,” he said.

  “Work with me, Ian. You know I don’t like to be treated like the little woman who can’t understand the plan.”

  He slanted a solid, inscrutable gaze her way. “I’ve never treated you like that. Your father does.”

  Busted. “All right. But don’t start. I’m already ashamed I couldn’t handle this on my own.”

  His eyebrows dipped. “What? You’ve got a horde of arseholes coming after you. There aren’t many people who know how to handle that. So you learned to shoot, but—”

  “But I refused self-defense training from Dad.” She held her hands up. “I know. I should’ve taken the opportunity.”

  “Yeah, you should have.”

  “Sue me.” There was little force behind the words.

  He lifted one eyebrow. “But you didn’t want to owe him anything.”

  “No.”

  He went silent for a moment. He finally said, “We need to hang down here for a while until the fuckers get tired and go home. That might be awhile. We’ll check that video feed from time to time and as soon as we think they’re gone we’ll leave. Let’s just hope the beefed-up security system on the truck out front discourages them. It should.” He smiled a mean little grin and looked around at the amenities. “This isn’t a bad place for a bunker. Air conditioning, heating…” He looked at the small door on the far north wall. “Latrine?”

  “Yes.” She smiled. “All the comforts of home. As you can see, it’s pretty big. Takes up more than half the basement.” A horrible thought made her sit forward. “Could they cut off the electricity or the air into this place?”

  He looked at the ceiling and the light fixtures. “Could. But from what I understand, a person would have to be pretty sav
vy to understand how to do it. I don’t think those tossers outside would know how.”

  A bit of the fear slid away, and she sank back into her corner. “Good.”

  Silence stretched for a few minutes, and the acute quiet made her more aware of him. He was over six feet of muscle, and although there was no mistaking the warrior in him, she couldn’t deny how safe he made her feel. He’d never use that power to hurt her. Despite the history they shared, she couldn’t pretend he wasn’t a Godsend.

  “I’m sorry it took so long for me to get here,” he said suddenly.

  In all the time she’d known him, she’d never heard him say he was sorry for anything. The tightness in his jaw said he meant it.

  “If there’s anything I know,” she said, “is that you don’t do a lousy job. You tried your best.”

  She’d seen his work ethic in motion more than once, but uncertainty filled his intense gaze.

  His brows lowered, his frown thunderous. “I’m serious, Penny. Your father sent me to complete a mission and I’ve failed miserably. I left my assault rifle in the SUV.”

  I’m a mission. Nothing else. A pang of hurt slammed through her, and shame followed close behind. She shouldn’t care one way or the other.

  “You didn’t fail. If you’d failed I’d be dead.” She’d never seen him this remorseful about anything. “You’re here now, and I’m safe.”

  He scrubbed one hand over his face. “True.”

  “You couldn’t have known what you were getting into. Blame it on lack of intelligence,” she said, going for the I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude.

  He snorted. “Yeah. Mine.”

  She frowned. “I’ve never seen you lack confidence. Has that much changed in three years?”

  Three years since I last saw you. Three years since I touched you. Three years since we almost… She shivered as the thoughts ran rampant. Thoughts of running her hands over that sinfully sculpted torso. Of those incredibly strong hands and arms holding her, feeling his erection rubbing her between her legs until—

  He cleared his throat, and heat filled her face. Had she been staring at him? His gaze captured hers and held, and the molten quality in his stare said maybe he’d read her mind. Was he remembering what happened?

  Before she could ask him anything else, he said, “Let’s take our minds off things for a while.”

  She frowned, uncertain. “How?”

  “Tell me what I’ve missed over the last three years.”

  Now that surprised her. “That’s a tall order.”

  “What did you do in San Diego?”

  “I was a manager at a headhunter-type company for the last three years.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Did you like it?”

  She shook her head. “Hated it. It paid the bills, but I needed to do something else. My business degree…well, you know. Mom and Dad thought it was practical.”

  “You always liked art. Humanities, right?”

  The fact he remembered these details impressed her. “Yes. But maybe it’s too late to enjoy a career in humanities. With what’s happened in the last three months, steady work is hard to come by.”

  “You working now?”

  “At a country club nearby in their member recruitment area. Believe it or not there are still people worried about exclusive memberships.”

  He chuckled. “Do you like it?”

  She grinned. “No.”

  One corner of his well-cut mouth turned up. “Sounds like you need a reassessment of what you want to do.”

  “Definitely. We don’t know what the next week or the next year has in store. Makes it a little hard to plan.”

  “Agreed. Maybe we need to look at life differently.” His gaze intensified. “Now is all we have.”

  Panic stirred in her stomach. “We have to survive this, Ian.”

  “We will.” His voice was firm and self-assured. He tilted his head to the side, curiosity plain on his face. “Your father said something once about a boyfriend.” Penny knew she must have looked surprised that he’d heard, because he continued. “A year after you went to San Diego, you father mentioned that he wished you were back here.”

  More amazement came over her. “You’re kidding me?”

  “No. I could see he cared.”

  She twisted hair around her index finger. “I can’t believe it. He never mentioned anything to me. He never asked me about my love life. He was talking to you about me?”

  “Not really. It was more grumbling when he didn’t think people could hear him. After a while he didn’t say anything more.” Concern filled his voice. “Did something bad happen with this boyfriend?”

  His gentleness disarmed her, and suddenly she couldn’t tell him fast enough. “Yes.”

  Realization, though she hadn’t explained yet, filled his eyes. “Tell me.”

  She wavered, uncertain. She didn’t speak often of what happened, preferring to think of more positive things in her life and what she was grateful for each and every day. At the same time, she also experienced a connection with Ian that hadn’t faded in the years since she’d last seen him. It hit her in the gut right then, a feeling she hadn’t comprehended until this moment. She trusted him. With her life if it came to that.

  “Frank was…I met him through a coworker, Sally. She is his sister. He worked in construction; a foreman. He seemed like an amazing guy. We had a few dates over a two-month period and at first he was fun. But then I started to feel strange around him. He was possessive and not in a good way. He accused me of flirting with other men, and I’m not a flirt. Nothing he said at first was overt, but he nibbled away at things.”

  “Such as?”

  “I realized he was trying to isolate me from my other friends. Trying to keep my world small.”

  “What an ass,” he said, his gaze hard.

  “That’s when I broke up with him.”

  He leaned closer, his gaze unwavering. “That wasn’t the end of it, was it?”

  Fear edged into her thoughts, making her throat tight and her muscles clench a little. When she didn’t answer right away, he turned fully toward her, his eyes intent. She could refuse to tell him the whole sordid story, but getting it off her chest felt right.

  She took a long swig of water. “He seemed to take the breakup better than I expected. He didn’t even protest. I was relieved and a couple of weeks went by before anything else happened. I thought that was the end of it. Even his sister said she understood. She didn’t.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “She didn’t?”

  Penny twirled the water bottle between both hands, emotions rising until she thought she’d choke on them. “She said the breakup had to be my fault. That I was the one causing trouble in his life.” She placed the water bottle on the floor and stared at it. “I worked in the same cubicle with her so it sucked. We ignored each other. One night I found roses on my doorstep with a card from him. He apologized for everything and said he wanted to get back together.”

  “You didn’t.” It wasn’t a question, but a stern hope in his voice that she hadn’t made that mistake.

  “I didn’t. As you know, a controlling nature isn’t something I like in a man.”

  He smiled for a half second. “Right.”

  “I threw the flowers away. A month later he left another bunch of flowers. Again, I threw them away. In the back of my mind it worried me, but I also thought he’d go away if I refused to respond.”

  Ian clasped his hands together between his knees, and a hardness came over his face. “Jesus.” His voice spiked with anger. “The wanker stalked you, didn’t he?”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. Okay, girl, now isn’t the time to cry. But the sheer anger in his voice reminded her of Frank’s harsh tone when he got mad. One tear and then another rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away, and then dried her hands on her thighs.

  “Ah, damn it.” Ian moved closer to her on the bench, so close she could feel his heat. She lowered her legs, and he reached for he
r hands. He gathered them in his, so gently that her mind remembered that his anger wasn’t directed at her. “Are you all right?”

  “I just…a therapist told me I have PTSD from my association with Frank and what happened. If a man raises his voice for any reason, it triggers that night…the last night with him.”

  He rubbed her fingers, softness entering his eyes. “I’m sorry I raised my voice.”

  “You didn’t know.” She retained the hold on his hands, happy for the strength in his touch.

  “Tell me more.” His accent thickened. “If you can.”

  Reluctance tried to edge out her ability to speak, but she pushed through. “Frank broke into my apartment one night about four months after I broke up with him. He just broke the door down, and that wasn’t easy to do with the locks I had. He had a…” Her voice faltered, and she closed her eyes. Ian’s fingers gently squeezed hers. She took a deep breath and continued. “Assault rifle. He shot up the locks and got in that way, kicked the door down. If I’d been standing right there I would’ve been killed.”

  “Bloody fucking hell.”

  She ignored his cursing. “As it was, I tripped over the ottoman and went down face first. Before I knew it he jerked me up and threw me on the couch. I figured with all the noise he’d made the cops would be there any minute, so I thought I’d be able to hold on. I just had to appease him.”

  When she opened her eyes, his brow was furrowed. Anger blazed in his eyes, but not at her…for her.

  “I went through a whole litany of appeasements. I told him I’d come back to him. Anything to get him to de-escalate.”

  “Did it work?”

  “No. He told me that I wasn’t going to survive this.” Remembered fear quickened her breath, anxiety knotting her stomach. “I heard later that a few people called 911 but before the cops got there, he dragged me out of the apartment and to his car. Fortunately a woman saw him drag me to the car, and she got the license plate. Cops started looking for him right away, but he headed out of San Diego toward Arizona. Police called my cell phone and his cell phone, but Frank wouldn’t let me answer my phone. We were an hour out of San Diego and during that time, I tried to talk him out of whatever he had planned.” She squeezed his hands and he returned the pressure. She drew in a slow breath. “The California Highway Patrol caught up with us and Frank started driving like a crazy man. He drove all over the freeway until we were on the wrong side of the highway.” Tension tightened her shoulders.