Page 3 of Winter’s Heart (Three of Hearts #1)

JACOB DIVED TO catch the woman before she hit the floor, but he could only grab wildly at thin air as she collapsed unceremoniously into a heap.

Landing on his knees beside her, he saw that the thick, woolen rug, rather than the hard, wooden floor, had broken her fall.

Nikki’s eyes remained closed, and she was unresponsive.

She’d fainted because he’d been unable to come up with an easy way to tell her the truth.

God, he was a dick. He pulled one glove off to check her vitals, keeping his gun ready at his side in the other.

Relief flooded him when he felt a strong pulse at her neck.

For one horrible second, he was taken back in time to a week prior, where he’d been in exactly the same position, down on his knees beside the man he should have been protecting.

Crimson blood spurted from a gaping wound in Tristan’s neck, even as Jacob had tried in vain to stem the bleeding with his hands.

The man had died right there in front of him; he could do nothing to save him.

Jacob shook his head to rid himself of the image. It wouldn’t help anyone if he allowed himself to spiral into the depths of his own incompetence. Besides, this woman was alive; she had a strong and vibrant pulse beneath his touch—she was merely unconscious. Thanks to his insensitivity.

He hated that he’d had to tell her the truth.

But they needed to get moving, and it seemed like his only option, otherwise she would simply stand there and argue with him all day.

He hadn’t expected such a sudden and silent reaction to his words, however, and he mentally berated himself for being such an ass.

M?rten would’ve had some choice words for Jacob at his complete lack of empathy.

M?rten was the good cop in their partnership, the one who kept a cool head, always easygoing, while Jacob was the reckless one.

It was why they made such a good team. At least they had until they’d both dropped the ball in Malmo and let Tristan die.

Now, depending on the outcome of the investigation, they might never work together again.

He wished his partner was here right now; he’d handle this woman with much more compassion, while getting her to do exactly what he wanted—without making her faint.

But M?rten was on enforced leave, the same as Jacob, only in Stockholm visiting his family, so Jacob would just have to suck it up and figure this out on his own.

As he leaned over her, he noticed her robe had gaped open at the front, revealing small, pert breasts.

The same ones he’d so valiantly forced himself to avert his gaze from when he’d burst into the sauna and found her naked.

This time his eyes caught and stayed fixed on all that creamy skin and rosy nipples, puckered with the cold.

A soft fall of long, blonde hair fanned out around her head on the floor like a halo, her face so bewitching she reminded him of a fallen angel.

In the sauna he’d catalogued the fact she was a good-looking woman, but that was as far as he’d allowed his mind to go; he had a job to do and just because she was decidedly attractive meant nothing.

This woman’s life was in danger, and he was the only one who could help her.

Her life, and possibly his too, rested on his ability to protect her.

And now look what he’d done. The last thing he needed was an unconscious subject, and him daydreaming over how attractive she was, while he wasted precious time.

He was determined no one else would die on his watch. He had to get this right.

Tearing his gaze away from her chest, he patted her cheek with his free hand.

“Dr. Winter, you need to wake up.” She gave a small groan, but didn’t rouse.

He shook her shoulder gently. “Dr. Winter,” he said, louder this time.

“You need to wake up.” Her pretty, pink lips pursed, and she murmured something incoherent, but her eyes remained stubbornly shut.

She had amazing lips, full and luscious, tipped slightly up at the corners.

Highly appealing and very, very kissable.

Concentrate, Jacob. He needed to stop thinking with his dick.

This had never happened before; when he was on a mission, he was always completely focussed on the outcome.

Not once had he ever allowed himself to be sidetracked by a girl, no matter how gorgeous she might be.

“Nikki. Come on, wake up. Nikki.” He shook her again, this time with intent, hoping the use of her first name might get through to her.

At last her eyelids fluttered open, and she stared at him with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen.

They widened at the sight of him hovering over her and she sat up, flinching away from him, tugging her robe together.

The dazed expression left her face as she took in her surroundings and then looked back at him with growing horror as she remembered his words.

She shuffled across the floor on her hands and knees away from him, her eyes glazing over with tears.

“Did you say Tammy and Antoine are dead?” she whispered, sitting back on her haunches.

“I’m sorry, Nikki.” He nodded slowly, watching her bottom lip tremble at his words.

That fascinating mouth puckered, and a tear tracked down her cheek.

God, he was an ass, but he had to do what he had to do.

Hardening his resolve, said, “We have to get moving. Like I said, you are in imminent danger.” He emphasized the last two words, praying his rough tone was enough to break through her grief and shock and get her moving.

Even though his orders had come from up high, they’d been light on actual details.

The call had come through on his satellite phone an hour earlier.

That phone was only used for emergencies and he was already on alert before he’d even picked it up.

He should be on suspension—taking a leave of absence was the official term—while they investigated the reasons Jacob and M?rten’s last mission had failed so spectacularly, so the call proved most unexpected.

Even more unexpected, the voice on the other end had belonged to Bitr?dande Poliskommissarie Runar Staaf, the northern regional head of police, and a chill had run down his spine when he’d recognized his boss’s boss.

Jacob had only met Runar four or five times over the course of his career, and Jacob would not be his favorite person right now, not when he’d just let a witness die while in his custody.

So, if the deputy commissioner had taken it upon himself to contact Jacob, then it must be damn important.

Important enough to override his current suspension and bring him back online, even if it was under strict instructions to get this done as quickly as possible and not stray from his directive.

Which was why he’d hightailed it here, running through the snow and ice for two miles to get to this woman, aware he may already be too late.

His relief when he’d opened the door to the sauna and found her was immense, but that was only the start of his assignment.

Now he had to convey her to his hut, then keep her safe until he received further orders.

“Let me help you up,” he said, curbing his impatience and taking her arm.

“Leave me alone.” She snatched her hand away, but not before he felt the slight tremors running through her.

She was afraid. Of him, or of her predicament, he wasn’t sure.

Right now, it didn’t matter, he just needed her to get moving.

“I can do it myself.” Nikki struggled to stand, yanking her robe more tightly around herself and swiping at the tears on her cheeks.

“You need to dress warmly. Hat, gloves, boots, thick jacket. We’ll be walking through the snow,” he said, taking a few steps closer, herding her toward the door he presumed led to a bedroom. “As quickly as you can,” he added, as she backed away, those big blue eyes still wide with fear and anguish.

She turned and fled into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her, and he prowled around the small house, stopping at each window to examine the surrounding countryside.

Looking for what, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was there was a threat to Nikki’s life.

Two people had died, and they felt sure she was going to be next.

Something to do with a recent project she’d been working on with her colleagues.

Jacob didn’t know whether he sought a lone sniper, a gang of thugs, or someone in between.

If he could get her out of here and safely back to his hut, then hopefully he would throw whoever was hunting her off the scent.

This was the first time he’d been inside this little holiday house.

Of course, he knew of its existence, had seen it on one of his many hikes from the other side of the lake.

Knew that it belonged to Andreas Eriksson, who lived in Jokkmokk ten miles away, and rented it out on Airbnb.

It was a traditional Swedish house, the wooden exterior painted red, the rustic interior decorated in pine and pale colors.

Small but functional, with one large main room including a kitchenette, a single bedroom with ensuite to the side, and a wood-fired stove for heating.

Which Nikki had stoked up well. So well, he was now sweating profusely inside his snow outfit.