Long Road Home (6 page)

Manny swore softly then pulled back onto the highway. “Get some sleep, Jules. If you don’t, I swear, I’ll call Tony and have you transferred to the hospital like we’d planned. It’s what I should’ve done in the first place.”

“Who the hell is Tony anyway?” she grumbled as she lay back against the leather seat. She shivered, and Manny reached over to turn up the heat.

“Tony is my partner.”

“Partner in what? Somehow I doubt you’re still in the computer software business.” He looked far too dangerous to be a computer nerd. She had never been able to reconcile his image with his profession.

“Rest,” he said in a warning tone. “We’ll talk when we get there.”

“Wherever there is.”

He smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“You are. You’re sounding more and more like the Jules I know all the time.”

She sobered instantly, the throbbing in her head resuming with a vengeance. “I’m not her. Maybe I never was.”

Manny gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Rest.”

Not arguing, she turned to the window. She could never go back to that carefree, naive girl she had once been. She’d seen and done far too much. She was glad Mom and Pop had never gotten to see the person she’d become. Their disappointment would have been more than she could bear.

She raised trembling fingers to her lips, lips still swollen from Manny’s kiss. What exactly were his feelings for her? She’d never imagined that he returned her sentiment, that he might want her just as badly as she’d wanted him, but in the face of the way he’d kissed her, she could hardly ignore the possibility. Had she been blind to the signs?

She thought back, trying to analyze Manny’s behavior toward her. As a teenager, she’d idolized him, fantasized about being Mrs. Manuel Ramirez, but she’d been careful to keep her girlish imaginings to herself. She would have died if he’d found out the extent of her infatuation.

Three years ago, she would have done anything for Manny to kiss her like he just had, but now it only complicated matters. No matter how much she wanted him to be more than a big-brother protective figure, it wasn’t possible. And if he knew the truth about her, he wouldn’t want her anyway.

“It’s snowing.” He turned to her when she looked over. “You used to love the snow.”

“Yeah,” she said faintly. But she didn’t now. It was too easy to be tracked in the snow. She remained silent, not voicing that tidbit of information. Instead she watched the flurry of snowflakes through the windshield wipers.

The heat pouring from the vents and the steady hum of the wipers lulled her into a state of relaxation. Soon her eyes grew as heavy as her heart, and she allowed them to close. Her final thought was that she hoped it wasn’t snowing wherever they ended up.

Chapter Eight

Manuel pulled to a stop outside a large log cabin and shut off the engine. He glanced over at Jules who was still sleeping soundly. He hated to disturb her, but he wasn’t going to leave her in the car while he went in to check out the cabin. She’d probably bolt. He had seen the resolve in her eyes. She may have conceded defeat for the moment, but he had no illusions that she was suddenly going to become complacent.

He got out, walked around to her side and quietly opened the door. He unbuckled her seatbelt and slipped his arms under her slight form. She came awake instantly.

“Jules, it’s okay. It’s me.”

She reached down for her duffle bag and held it close to her. “I can walk.”

He ignored her and scooped her up into his arms. As he headed for the front porch, he examined the area around them. The scent of pine was strong, and in the distance he could hear rushing water. The cabin was up on a slight hill that gave the surrounding area a good view from the inside. On two sides the forest was dense. From the sound, it seemed a river provided a natural barrier between the back of the cabin and the outlying woods. The only opening was the narrow drive leading to the front of the cabin.

Not willing to take any chances, he eased Jules from his arms and put a finger to his lips. “Stay behind me.” He drew his gun and cracked open the door. Jules stared at him in surprise but showed no discomfort over the appearance of the weapon.

After a quick run-through of the house, he was satisfied that it was safe to remain. He motioned for Jules to sit on the couch, and he flipped on the lights in the large living room.

She settled on the couch, clutching her duffle bag tight against her chest. He was certain she hadn’t had it at the hospital, but where she picked it up he couldn’t be sure. Despite his curiosity, he held his tongue, wanting her to calm down before they had their talk.

“Want something to eat?” he asked, turning toward the kitchen.

She stood, and he leveled a hard stare at her. “Sit down, Jules. I’ll get us something.”

Slowly, she complied. “Okay.”

He could see her from the open kitchen, and he was careful to keep a close eye on her as he rummaged through the cabinets. Tony had proved thorough as usual. They could easily survive weeks here if they had to.

“Want some pancakes?” he called.

A ghost of a smile formed around her lips. “That would be great. You always did make the best pancakes.”

“They were your favorite.”

“I haven’t eaten them since the morning I left for France.” Her voice cracked, and she looked away.

A rock settled in his stomach. She had been so excited that morning. The Trehans had given her a trip to France to celebrate her graduation from college, and she was bursting at the seams to go. He’d come home to see her off. They had gotten up early so he could cook her favorite breakfast, then he’d driven her to the airport. It was the last time he’d seen her.

The Jules who had left, the ready-to-take-on-the-world girl who wanted to do and see it all, was a far cry from the wounded woman he now faced.

He mixed the batter, adding the ingredients mechanically. At his side, his cell phone vibrated. Wiping his hands, he stole a quick glance at Jules before backing toward the pantry where he would be out of her sight. He snapped up the phone. “Make it quick,” he said in a low voice.

“You get to the cabin yet?”

“Yeah, we’re here.”

“You want what info I have now, or you want to call me back later?”

Manuel expelled a long rush of air. “Let me call you back. I want to hear what she has to say first.”

“Okay, give me a holler when you’re ready.”

“Is it bad?” Manuel asked, suddenly aware that he was holding his breath.

Silence settled over the line. “It ain’t exactly good,” Tony finally said. “By the way. A heads-up. Sanderson is going to give you a call in a few. He wants to know what the hell is going on. I’ve played dumb, but I know he’s not buying it.”

Manuel quietly ended the call and stuck the phone back in his pocket. Why it was so important that he hear it from Jules he wasn’t sure. But it had to come from her. He wanted to be looking her in the face when he found out what the hell had happened three years ago. And maybe he wanted to see how honest she would be with him.

On cue, the phone rang again. Manuel saw it was Sanderson and answered.

His boss cut straight to the point. “Manuel, what do you have to report?”

“Nothing yet, sir. I’m still in Denver.”

“Do you need more agents on this?” Sanderson asked.

Panic crept up Manuel’s spine. “No, sir. I want to do this. I need to. I’ll find her.”

“All right. Keep me posted. You’ve got three days, Manuel. Then I call in backup.”

The phone went dead, and Manuel cursed vividly under his breath. Three days. It wasn’t much time to cover three years. He shoved his phone in his pocket and went in search of Jules.

“Soup’s on,” he called, rounding the corner into the living room. He looked at the empty sofa.
Fuck!
He glanced around the room, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw her standing by the fireplace.

“Jules?” He crossed the floor and put a hand on her shoulder. She whirled around, her eyes flaring for a moment.

“Didn’t mean to startle you. Your pancakes are ready.”

She flashed a smile that didn’t reach any higher than the corners of her mouth. “Can’t wait.”

She followed him back and sat down at the table. He put a plate heaped high with pancakes in front of her then took a seat across from her.

He watched as she picked at the food, nibbling a few bites. She looked away most of the time, never at him, never meeting his gaze. Perhaps she knew the time had come.

Still, he waited. He wanted her to eat and relax her guard before they bared their souls. And truth be known, he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear what had happened to her. How cowardly of him to be so afraid to know what she had been forced to endure.

If she had been forced.

Her last words to him echoed in his mind, the phone call, the last time he’d spoken to her. Her fear, her terror. It ate at him. Had eaten at him for the last three years. He’d imagined the most awful scenarios, and he prayed that none of them were true.

When she finally shoved the plate away, she looked up at him, and he locked gazes with her. “You know it’s time for us to talk.”

She closed her eyes and nodded.

He reached over and took her hand. “Don’t be frightened, Jules. You don’t ever have to be afraid again.”

Still holding her hand, he helped her up and led her into the living room. “Sit down. I’ll build us a fire.”

He quickly stacked wood from the box over a few pieces of kindling then struck a match. In a few seconds, a steady flame licked up over the logs.

Returning to Jules, he settled beside her, his gaze sweeping over her face. She was so fragile-looking he feared touching her. She looked poised to break into a million tiny pieces, and he wondered not for the first time how hard he should press.

He pushed a strand of hair over her ear and let his palm rest against her cheek. “Talk to me, baby.”

Her eyes were enormous in her face. Fear, fatigue, apprehension. They all crowded to the front.

Wanting to put her at ease, he pulled her against him, feeling her heart beat frantically against his chest. He stroked her hair then moved his hand up and down her back in a soothing motion.

Her arms crept around him, and his chest tightened uncomfortably. How long he had waited for this moment. For her to be in his arms where she belonged.

Jules tentatively burrowed into his embrace, seeking comfort she’d long been denied. His broad chest cradled her cheek, and she nuzzled deeper into his muscled hardness. She didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to unleash her tightly held demons.

She’d held them close for so long, they clawed at her, seeking release. If she hated herself so much, how could everyone else not do the same?

His warm hand cupped her chin and slowly forced her to look up at him. “I can’t help myself,” he murmured as he lowered his lips to hers.

But the past was burning too brightly in her mind. All she saw were the shadows closing in around her. Frightening images. Suffocating memories.

Her breathing lurched and sped up. Panic. Groping hands. Self-loathing.

Manny jerked away from her, fire in his eyes. He was angry. She’d never seen him angrier. His entire body bristled, power shrouding him. He looked every inch the predator. Gone was her childhood protector, the object of her teenage crush. In his place was a dangerous man. One who looked as though he could take apart someone with his bare hands.

She shivered involuntarily, and his expression grew even blacker.

“Who hurt you, Jules?” he demanded, his voice dangerously low.

It took her a moment for her to realize that he wasn’t angry with
her
. He had picked up on her utter terror, and now he was a seething mass of muscle. She opened her mouth to speak, to reassure him in some way, but no words came out.

Her throat was fast closing in, and once again, harsh despair swelled inside her. Though she hated the person she’d become, she recognized that at least
that
person was strong.

He reached hesitantly for her, and she turned away, curling herself into an impenetrable ball. It was all crashing down. Her carefully constructed balance was rapidly deteriorating.

“Manny, I can’t breathe,” she gasped.

Manuel grabbed her shoulders and turned her back to him. “Look at me, Jules,” he ordered. He forced himself to be calm, though he boiled just beneath the surface.

Her eyes flitted up to him, dull, lifeless. He swore long and hard under his breath. This was his fault. He pushed her too hard, too fast. And he couldn’t keep his damn hands to himself. Finally being able to hold her, touch her, had overwhelmed him. He needed to be close to her. Reassure himself that she was really here.

“You’re safe. Nothing can hurt you anymore. Do you understand me? I won’t let anyone hurt you again. Ever.”

Regret flickered in eyes that had shone lifeless just seconds before. “It’s out of your hands, Manny.”

The sound of glass shattering startled them both. Instinctively, Manuel shoved Jules to the floor, shielding her with his body.

Gunshots sounded, the rat-a-tat peppering of bullets spraying through the windows and into the walls on the other side of the cabin.

“Let me up, damn it!”

“Stay down,” he barked, reaching for his gun.

She shoved hard at him and reached for her duffle bag, her fingers straining to capture the handles.

“For Christ’s sake, Jules. This isn’t the time!”

He returned fire, spacing his shots a few inches apart in the direction of the gunshots.

Jules kicked him in the gut, and one of his shots went wild. “What the hell are you doing?”

She managed to snag her bag and tear it open, the contents spilling onto the floor. She grabbed a mean-looking Russian assault rifle in one hand and a Glock in the other.

“Cover me.”

“What the… Get back here!”

She rolled across the floor, laying down a spray of fire.

“Son of a bitch.” He turned and began firing as well.

The front door burst open, and before he could react, Jules put a bullet straight through the intruder’s forehead. She had impressive aim.