Page 17 of Stranded with the SEAL

“I can do that.”

10

While Olivia bathed, Hawk took inventory of the house. The snowshoes on the wall seemed to be real and functional. There were cross-country skis, boots, and poles in the bedroom closet. An assortment of household chemicals and alcohol that could be used to make Molotov cocktails, as well as some basic explosive components in the garage. There was also a snowmobile that ran, but it had so little gas it barely registered.

He came inside and sat on the bed, staring at the small pile of clothes in the corner and wondering if he’d made a mistake. Olivia had asked where her clothes were, and that was a perfect time to give them to her, bride T-shirt and all, but he didn’t want to do it, which reminded him of the diamond he had in his pants pocket.

He pulled it out and stuck it on the tip of his index finger. It was too showy, too elaborate for the straightforward woman in the bathtub. He’d gotten her hot water, averting his eyes when he pulled back the curtain to add it to her bath.

It was an oddly intimate act.

Maybe it was because she looked so young, and he was feeling very protective of her after what they’d been through together, but he didn’t want her to find out she was engaged before she could even remember where she lived.

Or at least that’s what he was telling himself.

Something about her had snagged his interest. She was assessing him, considering whether or not he was worthy of her trust. He was a Navy SEAL, for God’s sake, a member of the elite HERO Force. That made him one of the good guys, no matter how black his soul felt under her questioning stare.

Maybe if I hold on to her tightly, she can make me good again.

Where the hell had that thought come from?

She’s engaged to someone else, and you have no business even thinking about this shit right now. You need to get to Steele.

Every step in Trevor’s carefully laid plan had crashed to the ground when his car ran into hers. He’d been prepared for any eventuality — or so he thought — well stocked with weapons, ammunition, explosives, and all the tools he’d need to get in and out of Steele’s compound without being caught. Now all he had taken for granted hung in the balance. He couldn’t let the accident ruin his carefully laid plans.

He pressed his thumb onto the prongs holding the diamond, surprised to find them sharp like thorns. That thing was more than jewelry. It was a weapon, for chrissake. He couldn’t help but wonder about the man who picked it out.

She could be marrying a serial killer. It’s none of your business.

The song on the radio ended and the newscaster came on. “We’re in for it tonight, folks. Snow will be completely changing over to freezing rain by morning, continuing for the next twenty-four hours before changing back to snow. The state’s structural engineers have voiced some concerns about Warsaw Bridge’s ability to handle the excess weight of an ice storm, and the bridge is closed to traffic through Thursday. The bridge is scheduled to be demolished and replaced in early spring.”

Olivia’s voice came from behind him. “The weather doesn’t sound good. Do you think they’ll get the roads cleared before all hell breaks loose?”

“No way.” Hawk folded the ring in the palm of his hand and stood, turning to face her.

She wore the plaid pajama pants and a too-big T-shirt he’d brought her, her hair wet and her nipples standing out against the fabric. He forced his eyes to stay focused on hers. “Did you have a good bath?”

She frowned. “Not really. I couldn’t stop trying to picture my own life, where I live — stuff like that — but no matter how hard I tried, there was nothing there.”

He touched her arm, an electric tingle shooting up his hand, but this time she didn’t pull away. “It will come. Give it time.”

“Not like we’re going anywhere soon.” She brushed by him, the scents of woman, soap, and shampoo crowding him in the small space, and he closed his eyes. He could get lost in that smell if he allowed himself.

“And I wouldn’t know where to go, either,” she said. “Where do you go when you don’t know who you are or where you belong?”

He didn’t have amnesia. He knew where he had to go. He was stuck on this mountain and so was Steele.

So go and get him. Do what you came here to do.

His mind began to race. He needed a coat, some kind of weapon, and a way up the mountain. From the contents of the dresser, he knew there were clothes from a man similar in size to him.

“Trevor, thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” she said, snapping his attention back to the present.

“You don’t think I drugged you anymore?”

“No, but I do want to see my car.”

He imagined it at the bottom of a ravine, its charred steel frame like a skeleton in the snow. “It’s too far away.”