Captive at Christmas (7 page)

The excuse of coffee gave him a chance to stand up without giving her a view of his straining arousal which he had found damn near impossible to relieve since he met her. For a man used to denying himself pleasure, Mac thought that he could get over this insane fascination that his body had for hers.

The problem, he grasped the answer now, was that her mind attracted him just as much as those devilish curves she possessed. And he couldn’t forget the intensity of her kiss, the way she responded to him.

The past few nights, he engaged her in conversation as a means to pass the time. More often than not, she managed to compel him into discussions with such heated passion and well-formed opinions that, for the first time in years, Mackenzie looked forward to each new day simply because she was a part of his life.

But for how long?

Once the repairs were made to his house, he would be heading back to southern Oregon and, there was a very good chance that he would have a permanent house-guest. One who was just a mere twelve years younger than Hannah.

Even if, somehow, they managed to work things out, how the hell would she react to that?

“Quit thinking long term,” he scowled to himself, sitting on the edge of the bed as he pushed his feet into the black boots.

No, as soon as this was over, they would both go back to their lives. Regardless of what happened in the time they spent together, he could never fully trust either of them – Hannah to be who she claimed to be and him not to accidentally hurt her.

Physically or emotionally.

Outside, the wind hit them hard but Hannah did not let on that she might be cold. She had some guts, he’d give her that much. He allowed her to set the pace and pick the trail, mostly so he could continue to watch her.

But was it because he still thought of her as a threat, or so he could admire her backside? Mac couldn’t tell for sure, though his eyes frequented that very spot as she walked through the knee-deep snow.

“I know you have more questions for me,” Hannah paused to look behind her, “so go ahead and shoot.” A stunned expression crossed her face and her hand went to her lips so quickly that she twisted, lost her balance and fell.

Before she hit the ground, Mac threw himself down in the snow like some kind of love-sick fool to catch her. The feel of her body on top of his proved to be his undoing. “Are you alright?” his voice cracked as she wiggled against him.

“I just, I can’t believe…” She burst out laughing. “I’m sorry. I said shoot, and then realized, well…”

The steel tucked against his lower back was a harsh reminder of the number of times he held a gun to her head. Mac cursed inwardly. “Hannah, I think it’s safe to say that, if you were going to kill me, you would have done it already.” He pulled her up with him, resisting the intense desire to brush the snow from her body. “You’ve had ample opportunity. So…there’s no need for me to–”

“Right.” Straightening her clothes, Hannah pulled her lower lip between her teeth and looked up at him. “I’m glad that you finally seem to be allowing yourself to trust me, John. And, maybe after this is all over, we could stay in touch.”

Touch.

God how he wanted to touch her.

Since that first morning when he almost kissed her – and then when he finally
did
feel those silken lips on his, her body writhing beneath him, so hot, so ready – Mac was having the hardest time keeping his hands to himself. He made excuses to touch her, including the offer of massage when her muscles ached.

And he was a man who really didn’t find much joy in giving another person a massage that did not lead to other things.

“John?”

Damn that name.

Why didn’t he tell her the truth?

Fear seemed the most logical explanation – fear of losing his heart to someone that might turn out to be something other than what they portrayed themselves as.

Fear of giving himself over to something that he did not deserve and having it taken away.

“Hey.” Hannah removed her glove and pressed her warm hand to his stubble-roughened cheek. “It’s okay, John. You can be yourself around me. I’m no stranger to the effects that war and violence can have on the people who protect us from our enemies.” She searched him with her eyes. “I think I have a pretty good idea of the things you may have done and gone through in the name of your country and freedom. And I want you to know that it’s okay to feel deserving of friendship, even love.”

This woman kept shocking him and Mac severely detested the feeling. Like she could possibly know what he had done. And if she truly knew, Hannah most certainly would
not
be standing there with so much compassion in her eyes. She would be running from him faster than she ever ran before.

“John,” she captured his attention once more, forcing him to meet her gaze. “It’s okay.”

A low growl sounded in his chest and Mac shook her hand from his face, immediately missing the feel of her skin on his. “You don’t have a fucking clue what is and isn’t okay when it comes to me, Hannah, so stop trying to understand me! Jesus Christ! Just…stop trying to fix me!”

Wide eyed, she stuttered, “B-but I–”

“Keep walking,” Mac instructed.

With a defeated frown and a heavy sigh, she replaced the glove and continued on in front of him, pushing through the snow as if she had a destination in mind. He should apologize to her for his abrupt behaviour but they both knew this thing they felt could never amount to anything. Regardless of the difference in their backgrounds, they lived in different countries.

And he might have a daughter.

After wandering for over two hours, stopping for some coffee and heading back to the cabin, Mac took up the task of chopping more firewood while Hannah slipped inside to begin supper. The heavy thud of the axe echoed around him, breaking the peaceful stillness every few minutes. Pine trees scented the cool mountain air, giving him a sense of security.

When his phone buzzed again, Mac rested the axe against his leg to retrieve the device from his pocket. His friend had some more information for him about Hannah. He asked Aaron to check out the house she owned and find out if there were any more bank accounts in her name, what the sums were.

He did not disappoint.

The house, a large mansion to be precise, belonged to her family and she used it to run the foundation. She also gave people a place to stay for free there, as a kind of shelter-cum-free hotel when they came to visit for foundation events or services not covered by the government. The sentiment warmed his heart.

No other bank accounts, except for one in the name of her foundation and all monies going in and out were accessible by those who worked with her. It seemed like he had no choice but to admit that Hannah Magnus was simply a good, kind woman who went out of her way to improve the lives of others.

That much he became aware of on his own.

Regarding her knowledge of the psyche of veterans of war, Aaron came up blank. She had never been married, no mention of family in the military that the man could find. However she came to know so much about it, nothing could be uncovered as of yet. Mac would have to ask her himself.

Getting back to the task of chopping wood, he picked up the axe and started swinging again.

One.

Thwack
.

Two.

Thwack
.

Three.

Thwack
.

Four.

Thwack
.

Five.

Thwack
.

He stopped to look through the small kitchen window. Hannah blushed and turned away. That woman was trouble, pure and simple.

Trouble for him. Already, she lodged herself into his heart and he longed to keep her but Hannah belonged to the world and it was selfish to want her all to himself.

In a steady rhythm, Mac split each log into two, cleared the pieces off of the stump and put a new log on. It was so peaceful, doing the same things that he would usually do at home and comforting too. Although at home, he didn’t have someone like Hannah walking around, making a gourmet meal for them to share.

Too engrossed in his task, Mackenzie didn’t hear anything but the steady sound of the axe hitting wood and the thumping of his heart at the light physical activity. Though he did experience an odd stillness around him and raised his head for a quick glance around. He regretted the action immediately.

Hannah, wonderful, beautiful and perfect Hannah, stood across from him in the entrance to the cabin holding a gun. He dropped the axe to reach into the back of his jeans.

Damn!

My own fucking gun!

The woman waited until she gained his trust, until he had his guard down and now she would take him out with his own weapon.

His chest ached; a crushing pain flowed through his entire body.

Why didn’t she just pull the God damned trigger already?

She kept inching closer to him, moving with the stealth of a mountain lion over the snow in her sock-covered feet.

I am the biggest fool in the universe
, he mused disdainfully, bringing the protective hardness back up around his fast-beating heart.

Mac promised himself never to trust a woman again, not after he was captured by one and held in that God-awful place, and then here he went allowing it to happen again.

Hannah continued to close in on him and Mac bent his knees slowly to retrieve the axe. If she thought he would go down without a fight, the bitch was sorely mistaken.

Fingers closed around the wood of the handle as she cocked the gun and took aim. There wouldn’t be enough time for him to take a proper swing at her with the axe so that the blade hit her skin.

He focused on causing her any kind of damage possible and hated that he allowed his thoughts and indeed feelings to run rampant. Despised the fact that he actually let himself start to fall for this woman.

At the same time she squeezed the trigger, Hannah shut her eyes.

Mac waited for the inevitable sting, the burn of hot metal tearing through flesh on impact.

But he felt nothing.

She missed!

What kind of assassin missed?

Tears sprang from her eyes and she dropped to her knees, the gun falling to the snow before her. Try as he might, Mac couldn’t figure out what just transpired – until a strangled moan sounded from behind him.

Whipping around, he saw a man in the snow, his white winter gear pooling with red as he bled out. The snow splattered with pink. Wire in the man’s hands. The guy had been sneaking up on Mac while he chopped wood and Hannah…

Turning back towards her, Mac saw her clutching her chest and sobbing.

What the fuck just happened?
he wondered, taking in the scene around him.

She saved his life, that’s what happened.

The woman who tore down his defenses and crept into his heart just saved his God damned worthless life.

“Hannah.” Kneeling down in front of her, Mac held her chin and forced her to look into his eyes.

“I…I called out…” she whimpered. “I yelled for you. I-I cried ‘John! John!’ but you…you didn’t reply. He…he was going to…and then I saw that–” she nodded to the glint of black in the snow, “–just outside the door on the ground. Oh god, is he…? Did I…?”

She saved his life. He could hardly believe it. And if he told her his real name in the first place, Hannah never would have had to fire the weapon.

“Oh god, I-I killed him…” she choked out another round of sobs.

“Shh,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms. It felt so natural, having her against his chest. Except he knew they were not finished here, not by a long shot. “Hannah. I need you to remain calm.” Mac leaned away, holding her small, frightened face in his hands. Those sapphire eyes were wide, staring up at him in hopes that he could make it all go away. Unfortunately, it never did. “I need your help, Hannah. Can you help me?”

She nodded, her entire body trembling violently. “Okay.”