Relentless (6 page)

She gasped, and without thinking grabbed for the one closest to her. An ugly, deep blister had torn the skin off the web space between his thumb and index finger. It was almost two inches across and nearly as wide, and when she checked the other hand on the steering wheel, she saw another one in the same place. “What did you do to yourself?”

He examined the wound on his right hand with a cursory glance. “Nothing. It's fine.”

They looked awful. And painful. “Did you at least put some antibiotic ointment on them?” All that raw skin made a great opportunity for necrotizing fasciitis to take root, or MRSA.

“No. It's nothing. Happens all the time.”

“Pardon?”

He shrugged. “It'd been awhile since I hit the gun range, that's all. Normally I'd have thick calluses to protect the skin there, but since it's been so long... I just have to toughen them up again.”

Nev tried to imagine how many bullets he would have to fire to work up that kind of a blister, not to mention a callus. “How many rounds did you shoot?”

“Not enough.”

Well, she'd keep her eye on the sores. They were a hell of a lot worse than he was letting on. If he'd come in to the hospital for something else, the staff would have treated those blisters with the same care they gave any wound.

He glanced over and caught her watching him. She forced a quick smile to cover her embarrassment.

“You're not afraid of heights, are you?”

The question threw her off balance.
Uh-oh...
“Why?”

He shrugged. “Just wondering.”

Just over an hour later she was in a tram hanging from a cable with a steaming hot tea from Starbucks in her hand, traveling up the side of Grouse Mountain, one of Vancouver's most popular ski hills. Covered in patches of snow, the ground dropped away hundreds of feet below them.

“Not scared, are you?”

She looked over at Rhys, leaning against the side of the moving car, holding his coffee. He wasn't mocking her. His expression was dead serious, and she was touched by his concern. “No.” A little nervous, maybe, but not scared. Not with him beside her. Even if the cable snapped, she was sure he'd find a way to get them down safely. That's how much trust she had in his abilities.

She couldn't believe she was actually alone with him after all this time. Well, not technically alone, since a few other people rode on the tram with them.

How strange life was. The number of times and the circumstances under which they'd seen each other couldn't be mere coincidence. It made her wonder about the power of fate and what it held in store for both of them as individuals.
Individuals
being the key word.

She might daydream about having Rhys to herself in a committed relationship, but she knew better than to think it would actually happen. He was a loner and a soldier to the core. She'd been warned. Yet gazing at him surreptitiously, she had to wonder what sort of person he was under that cool exterior. She really didn't know much about him, other than what Sam had told her. He kept to himself and worked a lot.

Didn't say much about who he was, did it?

Forcing her gaze away, she studied the tops of the tall, snow-covered cedars and hemlocks below them in the enveloping dusk. Her watch read three-thirty Pacific time, but already the sky was darkening. “So what are we going to do when we get to the top? I haven't skied in years.”

“Hill's not open yet, and neither are the snowshoe trails. Be another few weeks until the snow's deep enough.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “What else is up there?”

“A lodge. I thought we'd take a walk or something.”

Kind of a lot of effort for a cup of joe and a walk, but she wasn't complaining if it meant spending some time with him.

“The view is supposed to be amazing, especially when it gets dark.”

She smiled at him. Under different circumstances, it would be romantic. “I'll bet.” Staring out the tram window, she took in the spectacular sight of the city and surrounding waters revealed by the tram's climb.

A few moments of silence ensued, and Nev studied the passing scenery to fill the void. A subtle tension took root between them. She understood the source of her discomfort well enough, but with him she figured he wasn't used to making small talk. But if he was so uncomfortable with that, why had he asked her up here in the first place? Why not just drop her at the hotel until the wedding on Saturday?

Rhys shifted against the frame of the tram. Facing her, he cradled his cup in one large hand, arms crossed over his wide chest. She knew from firsthand experience how magnificent it was underneath his shirt and jacket, and was thankful he couldn't read her thoughts. The gleam of humor in his eyes startled her. “What?” she asked, lips curving in response.

“I'm not good at this,” he admitted with a chagrined expression. “Never have been.”

She took a step toward him. “At what?”

“Small talk. Trying to make people comfortable. Ben got all the social genes, I'm afraid.”

“That's not true.” She'd seen the warmth in him, and the compassion. And if she wasn't mistaken, she'd also seen longing and maybe even some heat in his gaze all those months ago in Paris. “Maybe you're just rusty, in which case I can help. Warming people up is one of my specialties.” She might be somewhat of a loner, but she was good in a social setting. Had to be, because of her work.

He gave a half chuckle and gazed out the window. “I know it is.”

He did? “The trick is to find something that interests the person you're talking with. So, tell me one of yours.”

“I doubt you'd be interested.”

She raised a brow, trying not to be insulted by the way he'd dismissed her so easily. “Try me.”

He took a breath and glanced outside again, almost as if he was struggling with his response.

“Okay. Why don't you tell me what you're thinking about when you're looking out the window right now?” she suggested, wanting to know how his mind worked. She'd bet it was fascinating.

He turned his head, and she saw the shadows moving in his eyes. Pain. Regret. A pang of grief hit her square in the heart. She was a healer by nature, but his pain
demanded
she ease it. More than anything she wanted to sweep those dark clouds away and fill him with peace and happiness. She wanted to make him smile and feel less alone. He had to feel alone living the kind of life he did, and it bothered her. Didn't he ever get lonely? Tired of keeping everyone at arm's length? “Well?”

“I was thinking about how the wind gusts and velocity of the tram would affect trajectory, and the odds of someone hitting us if they took a shot with a sniper rifle.”

Something went cold inside her.
That's
what he'd been thinking about? She was glad the other passengers hadn't overheard his quiet statement.

“We're not in any danger,” he added. “I wouldn't have brought you up here if I thought it might put you at risk.”

Oh, damn. Knowing he was looking out for her turned her into mush inside, despite his grim view of the world.

Rhys gave a tight shrug, the gesture almost belligerent. “You wanted to know.”

She forced a playful frown. “We've got to lighten you up.”

Another chuckle, this one with an ironic edge. “You sound like Ben.”

When the tram finally stopped at the station on top of the mountain, she got off with Rhys right behind her. It startled her how fast and quietly he moved, and pointedly reminded her she was alone with an elite commando on a mountaintop. Repressing a shiver, she tucked one hand into her pocket and gripped her steaming cup of tea with the other.
Don't be stupid. You know he'd never hurt you.

Pulling in a deep breath, she glanced at him. “So? Where to?”

“This way.” He took her elbow in that courtly way of his. The gesture seemed out of place considering his build and hard expression, but his touch was gentle and sent a flutter of warmth through her belly. Keeping her close, he led her through the cozy lodge past the restaurants and out the rear doors. Their boots crunched in the snow as they walked toward the ski lift and then past it. She stayed silent while he led her away from the inviting lights and down a well-trod path to a bench that overlooked the city.

The sky was a mysterious blend of purple and indigo, its first few stars winking to life overhead. Lights of skyscrapers and other buildings twinkled in the growing darkness.

“Wow,” she breathed, taking in the panoramic view.

“Like it?”

“Yes, it's beautiful.” She shifted onto the bench beside him, berating herself for being nervous in his company. For God's sake, it wasn't like she was afraid of him.

Well, maybe a little if she counted the nerves stemming from a more disturbing source in the middle of her chest.

Sitting next to her, Rhys admired the way the wind played through the ends of her long sable hair. Loose strands danced around her face and over her shoulders. Her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, and her stunning lake-blue eyes were alive with pleasure as she gazed out at the glittering city below them.

The warmth of her spirit was so strong Rhys felt like he could touch it if he lifted his hand. Her innate curiosity and zeal for life were like a tantalizing beacon in the bleak landscape of his existence. Even after her horrific experience in Afghanistan she was still able to enjoy life, and it amazed him.

He tried to imagine what she saw in the city lights. They might be staring at the same view, but he knew they weren't seeing the same things. He was hardened. Jaded. What would it be like to look at the world with such wide-eyed wonder? Had he ever been that carefree? If he had, he couldn't remember.

Witnessing Neveah's enjoyment eased him inside. He was glad to know he'd taken her mind off everything she'd been through by bringing her up here. His own awkwardness was a small price to pay for such a gift. Cynical as he was, he had to admit the view was spectacular.

Nev took a sip of her steaming tea and tipped her head back. Eyes closed, a little smile played on her full lips. He had the passing thought that if it started snowing she'd open her mouth and try to catch snowflakes on her tongue.

Her deep sigh of contentment filled the silence. “I needed this.” After a moment, she righted her head and looked at him. “How did you know this was just what I needed?”

“Lucky coincidence.”

“I don't believe in coincidence anymore.”

“No?”

“Nope. Too many things have happened to me to make them coincidences. I don't know the reasons behind them, but I do know it's not pure chance. It's a mathematical impossibility.”

Shifting her gloved hands around the paper cup, her stare grew thoughtful. He could watch her forever and never get bored. Then she huddled up on herself.

“Cold?” He'd wanted to sit outside instead of in the restaurant because it made him feel less cramped, but he should have found her a blanket or something before bringing her to sit out here.

“No, I'm fine.”

“We could go into the restaurant and get something to eat while you warm up.”

She shook her head, a dark wave of hair sliding over the back of her bubblegum pink, down-filled coat she'd bought. It matched the gloves he'd insisted on buying for her. “I should wait until I'm back at the hotel. I promised my friend Mike I'd eat dinner with him when he got in. You remember him— he was the other hostage you... ”

“I remember.” Where she was concerned he remembered everything, from her date of birth to her social security number and the fact she was allergic to kiwis. Most of what he knew came from the file Luke had compiled on her before her rescue, but the rest came from Rhys's own research and memories of her.

At the mention of Mike the happy expression completely vanished from her face, and he couldn't blame her. Hard to ignore memories like that when they resurfaced. To distract her he slid closer, until his thigh pressed against hers. “Want my jacket?”

She shook her head. “I'm not that cold, honest, and you know I'd never take your coat.”

He wanted to slide his arm around her and pull her into his side, but was worried she'd take it as a come-on and didn't know how she'd react. She beat him to it though, and snuggled right up against him. His whole body went hard and his heart gave a curious leap. Angling his torso to cut the light wind for her, he allowed himself to drape an arm around her shoulders and hoped it seemed casual enough.

“Thanks,” she said softly, wriggling in with a sigh. “That's much better.”

This close to her he was tortured by the firm imprint of her body against his and the deliciously clean smell of the shampoo she'd used. He had to clench his hand into a fist to keep from stroking it like he'd wanted to since the first night he'd met her. So long and shiny, the waves falling around the delicate oval of her face and slim shoulders. Not at all how it had been when he'd seen her last in Afghanistan. He pushed the brutal image away.

A lock of her hair swept over the back of his hand, the slight wind making it dance across her temple. She pushed it back and tucked it behind her ear, her gloved fingers brushing lightly against his. An almost electric charge rushed up his arm.

Her profile was classically beautiful, almost like a cameo in the faint glow of light from the distant city. All he had to do was lean down a few inches and his cheek would brush the silky fall of her hair, putting his mouth right next to her ear.

He imagined nuzzling her there. Gently, breathing in her scent before pressing his lips to the delicate hollow beneath her earlobe.

So close. The thought that she might eat him up with her big blue eyes like they did in his fantasies played hell on his self control. He squelched the urge to move in closer.

She was off limits to him, and anything beyond friendship would only complicate the hell out of an already complicated situation. For one thing, in probably less than a year they'd be related through marriage. For another, any move on his part would be a one way ticket to a one-night stand, and that could only end in disaster. She'd been through enough shit already without him hurting her more.