Chill Page 7

  He wasn’t going there. He wasn’t revisiting memories.

  Isabella let out a squawk of pain, and Luke jerked his attention back to her. She was on her knees again. Her long hair was tangled, her clothes muddy.

  He swore and forced himself not to go to her, but each time she stumbled, it was getting more difficult. “Come on,” he whispered. “You can do it.”

  There was only another mile until she’d hit a road. If she could make it there—

  “Get up, you lazy dog,” Isabella muttered. “This is the perfect way to burn off all the junk food you’ve been eating the last three days. Feel the burn, dammit!”

  Luke grinned as she surged to her feet again. “Atta girl,” he said quietly. “You can do this.”

  But as he watched, she began to sway.

  Dammit.

  With a feeling of certain impending doom that he was going to damn them both, as well as Cort and Kaylie, Luke acknowledged that without him, she was done.

  And that was something he couldn’t live with.

  No other woman could die because of Marcus, no matter what the circumstances. “Damn you, Marcus.”

  Isabella staggered and her knees began to buckle, and all hesitation fled.

  Luke was by her side before she hit the dirt.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Luke caught Isabella just as she started to fall. Her body was lean and curvy as he scooped her up.

  She tensed instantly and leapt out of his arms. Her eyes were wide as she stumbled backward to get away from him. “No!”

  He held up his hands. “It’s Luke. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She stared at him, her black eyes unreadable in the darkness. “Luke?” she repeated. Her voice sounded foggy with confusion and exhaustion. “What are you doing here?”

  “I don’t know.” He walked over to her. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine. I needed the exercise.”

  Luke frowned and pulled out the penlight he kept stashed in his pocket whenever he was flying. It was tough as hell to fix an engine in the dark without a light. He flashed it over her face and narrowed his eyes at her ashen skin tone. “Let me see your shoulder.”

  She pulled back farther. “My shoulder?”

  “I can tell it’s hurt.” He gestured impatiently, trying to keep it professional. Not so easy when she was calling upon every protective instinct in his body. “Let me see.”

  She hesitated, and for a moment he thought she would resist. Then she grabbed the cuff of her sweater and pulled her arm out of the sleeve.

  Luke averted the flashlight as Isabella pulled her sweater half off to reveal her shoulder. But even with the light redirected, he was viscerally aware of her bare midriff, of the shadows of her bra across her breasts.

  “Ready.” Her voice was throaty and trembling with nervousness.

  Instead of inspecting her shoulder, Luke gently cupped her chin, his fingers gliding over the softness of her skin. “Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you. Relax.”

  She stared at him, and after a moment, she took a shuddering breath and nodded. “Okay.”

  He smiled and thumbed the scratch on her cheek. “Good girl.”

  She pulled her chin out of his grasp. “Just look at my shoulder.”

  Luke raised his brows at her resistance, then grinned. Yeah, the woman had pluck. Damn if he didn’t like pluck.

  Isabella closed her eyes as Luke released her chin at her command. The moment he stopped touching her, she was consumed with raw regret at the loss of physical contact. Yet at the same time, she shuddered with intense relief.

  How long had it been since a man had touched her in such gentleness? It felt so good, so amazing. To feel the heat of his fingers on her skin.

  But at the same time…it terrified her. After falling so hard for Daniel, she didn’t want to put herself out there again. She couldn’t do it. Not for any man.

  And Luke was all male. Elemental, raw and rugged. Everything she responded to…which was why he terrified her. Her need for Luke was so much more intense than what she’d felt for Daniel, and even the little of herself she’d offered to Daniel had burned her so badly. She’d been unable to see what was really going on because she’d been so desperate for what he’d offered her. All he’d wanted was to get his hand in Marcus’s till, and she’d been so needy to belong to someone, to have a home, that she’d refused to see the truth until it had almost been too late.

  And that was nothing compared to the intensity of her need for Luke. For his touch, for his kiss, for his arms around her, for him to protect her…

  But she couldn’t trust her reactions anymore. For God’s sake, she’d even been wrong about Zack. His invite to Marcus’s birthday had turned into a near abduction. No more trusting men, especially not in Marcus’s world. They all wanted something from her, and she was going to make sure she controlled the situation. Luke had so much baggage, so much pain and so much hatred for Marcus that he was the last one she could afford to fall for.

  “I’m going to move your sweater up so I can see your shoulder,” Luke said.

  “Okay.” She tensed when his fingers brushed her arm as he lifted her sweater aside. God, it felt good to be touched. She wanted to lean into him and just breathe in the feeling of his skin against hers.

  Light flashed as he turned his beam on her arm.

  For a moment, he said nothing.

  She twisted around to try to see her arm, but her sweater was in the way. “Is it infected?”

  “Someone shot you.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. His voice had gone hard. Low. “Jesus, Isabella.”

  She shuddered at the violence in his voice, an icy chill that sounded exactly like Marcus at his worst. “I know, but how does it look?”

  Luke flashed his light to the side, so both their faces were lit up. He looked grim. “You need antibiotics.”

  She sighed. “I thought so.” Not good. So not good. “Do you know anywhere I can get them?”

  Instead of answering, Luke laid his hand across her forehead. His hand was so cool against the raging heat burning her up, and this time, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning into his touch. It just felt too good.

  “Fever.” His voice was grim.

  “Felt like it,” she whispered, resting her head against his palm. She was too exhausted to fight her need to lean on him. “I’ll pay you to take me to a doctor who won’t report my visit to anyone.”

  “No, thanks.”

  He wouldn’t even help her get to a doctor?

  He began to pull her sweater back down.

  Tears of exhaustion filled her eyes, and she pulled out of his grasp. “I can get dressed myself.” She tried to work her arm into the sleeve. She didn’t want him touching her anymore, not now that she knew he wouldn’t help her even get to a doctor. God, she was so exhausted…No. She could handle this. She would find a way to do it on her own.

  She struggled to get her arm in, but moving it was too painful. She sucked in her breath at a stab of pain, and he silently caught her forearm and helped guide it into her sweater. His touch was gentle but firm, not giving her the chance to fight it.

  Not that she could.

  She needed his help, and she had to be smart enough to take advantage of what was offered, even while making sure not to count on it. He’d already said he wasn’t going to help her. He was leaving. Period.

  At least he was honest about it. That was a point for him over Daniel and Zack.

  “Can you walk?” he asked.

  She nodded. To her surprise, as she began to walk, he fell in beside her. He said nothing, and the tension built. Why was he staying with her?

  She stumbled, and he caught her arm and righted her almost before she’d lost her balance. “Thanks.”

  He gave her a grim smile, but said nothing.

  She resumed walking and he again stayed beside her. He caught her again when she tripped. After the third time she stumbled, he cupped
her elbow and didn’t let go. His grip was strong, and he somehow absorbed her instability each time her legs wobbled. She felt as if she were being supported by a steel beam that would never falter.

  She’d never felt protected like that before. It felt as though even a tornado wouldn’t be able to move a hair on her head because Luke would block the wind for her. How did he make her feel like that? Especially when he wouldn’t commit to helping her?

  He was so tough, he was exactly what she needed right now. Not just because he was Marcus’s son and because of his background and expertise, but because he was so solid. A rock.

  “Luke?” God, her head hurt. She was cold. Hot. Sweaty. Trembling. Focus, Isabella.

  “Yeah.” His grip tightened on her arm, and she realized she had just stumbled again.

  “I would make it worth your while to help me.” She tripped again, and this time she would have gone down if Luke hadn’t caught her.

  Without a word, he picked her up and turned her so she was tucked against his chest, front to front. Too intimate, and she started to pull away.

  “Stop fighting.” His grip tightened behind her back. “Put your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. It’s easier to carry you this way. Unless you think you can walk another mile.” His voice was calm and businesslike with none of the intentional seduction Daniel always had used on her.

  His professional attitude eased some of her tension, and she realized he was right. She couldn’t walk anymore, and he clearly wasn’t trying to cop a feel. She would take it. Cautiously, she slipped her arms around his neck and locked her feet together behind his back, still holding herself stiffly so her breasts didn’t touch his chest. “Where are we going?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.” Luke anchored his hands beneath her bottom and began to stride out through the forest. His grip was secure and his step was steady and direct. Despite his claim, she sensed he knew exactly where he was going and what he was planning.

  It felt good to be taken care of.

  Until he ditched her. Unless she could convince him to take her money, there was nothing keeping him around to assist her. “Luke,” she said. “I—”

  “I’m not taking money.”

  “But—”

  He squeezed her to silence her. “I’m not getting involved in anything relating to Marcus Fie.” His voice was cold and hard. “I’m going to get you safely out of Alaska, and that’s where it ends. I don’t want money.”

  It was getting difficult to hold herself away from him, and she cautiously let herself relax against his chest. The heat from his body warmed her, and she closed her eyes. “I appreciate that, but getting me out of Alaska won’t make me safe.”

  He said nothing, but his grip tightened.

  “Your dad—”

  “He’s not my father.”

  She nestled her face into the curve of his neck. The gentle sway as he walked was soothing, and she could almost imagine she was somewhere safe, in the arms of someone who actually loved her, who would never leave. “Fine,” she mumbled. “Marcus, then. He’s—”

  “He’s irrelevant.” Luke shifted his grip on her, tucking her even more tightly against him. Creating a cocoon of warmth and safety. She hadn’t felt safe since she’d left Marcus’s party three days ago. Hadn’t relaxed. Had barely slept.

  But in Luke’s arms…he was keeping an eye out for her. She could rest, for just a few minutes. She should rest. Take advantage of the moment.

  “Why?” she mumbled, too exhausted to keep her head up any longer.

  He moved his head, and his cheek brushed her hair. “Why what?”

  “If you hate Marcus so much, why are you helping me?”

  It had been so long since Luke had held a woman.

  And it felt so damn good.

  “Luke?” Isabella’s breath teased his neck. It was warm and gentle, a seductive tease across his skin. “Why are you helping me right now?”

  Luke ground his jaw at the question. A part of him didn’t want to tell her about how truly bad Marcus was. He could already tell she held an affection for the bastard, and on some level, he felt like a jerk stripping her of that belief. Isabella Kopas was clearly tough and a survivor, but at the same time, the way she was huddled against him made her seem so vulnerable. He wanted to protect her, not shred her world with a truth he sensed would rock her. He could feel the heat from the fever burning up her skin, and her body was shaking against his. And a bullet wound…Jesus.

  The moment he’d seen her injury and realized what it was, he’d known he was in. Regardless of whether Isabella had invited this fate by aligning herself with Marcus, he was simply incapable of walking away from a woman who was endangered by Marcus.

  “Why do you hate him?” Her question was muffled against his neck. “He’s a good man.”

  Luke closed his eyes for a second at her tone. He could hear the genuineness of her statement. She really did believe in Marcus.

  And that delusion would kill her, as the bullet wound showed.

  The truth might hurt her now, but if it saved her life, if he could save one life with what he had gone through…it wouldn’t atone for those who had died—nothing would—but it might take one bit of the edge off the pain. He decided to be honest…to a degree. There was no point in lying about who he was anymore. Isabella knew Marcus personally, which meant she’d known he was Marcus’s son the moment she’d laid eyes upon him. If the truth could save her life, he needed to do it. “He killed my mother.”

  Isabella stiffened against him and she lifted her head to look at him. “What are you talking about? I thought she died on vacation.”

  “Yeah. Vacation.” Suddenly, he was back there again. Eight years old, stashed on some Caribbean island with his mom. And then the men had come. With guns. His mother dead. Sprawled across the floor.

  “Luke? You’re hurting me.”

  Luke immediately loosened his grip, startled to discover he’d been crushing Isabella against him. A bead of sweat trickled off his brow, and he shook his head to flick it off. He stopped walking and pressed his face into her hair, breathing in her scent. The hint of lavender, the perspiration, the musty scent of real woman. He narrowed his mind until he was entirely focused on the scent spreading through his body. He drilled his attention down like he did when he was engaged in an experiment, or flying in bad weather. Utter focus.

  Isabella squirmed in his arms, and Luke lifted his head from her neck. “You okay?” he asked.

  “You’re wigging me out.”

  He grinned, hoisted her higher on his hips and resumed his trek toward the road. “Psychotic Alaskan redneck?”

  “Something like that.” But she sighed and put her head back on his shoulder. It was actually more like she let her head flop back down because she couldn’t hold it up anymore. “Why are you helping me get out of Alaska? And for free?”

  Her repetition of the question triggered something in Luke, and he frowned as it registered. It wasn’t a casual question. Isabella needed to know why he was helping her. Why was it so important to her?

  “Luke?”

  “I won’t allow another woman die at the hands of Marcus Fie,” he snarled. His mother first. Then Anna.

  Anna had been what changed it all for him. Anna had been the point of no return. Anna had been a tragedy that still made his very soul turn over at night when he tried to sleep. Which was why he avoided sleep as much as possible.

  Isabella tensed against him. “You sounded like Marcus when you said that,” she said. “The Marcus that scares me.”

  Luke stopped in his tracks, stunned at her words. “I did?”

  She lifted her head to look at him. There was fear in her eyes. “Does that side rule you, or can you control it? I can’t live with it.”

  His fingers dug into her hips. “I am not Marcus,” he snapped. “I would never hurt you, or anyone.”

  She stared at him, searching his face for answers. He tensed at her hesitation, and he replay
ed his response in his mind.

  And even when she shrugged and put her head back on his shoulder without answering him, he wasn’t satisfied.

  He knew she was right. He had, for a split second, once again become the man Marcus had spent a lifetime trying to turn him into. Cold, ruthless, willing to kill.

  A man he had become for one night eight years ago, and the blood was still caked on his hands.

  Luke had walked away from that life, from that destiny, from that side of himself eight years ago, when he’d moved to Alaska.

  And in one night, Isabella had taken him back to that person, to the edge of that path that led to hell. To the side of himself that was his truth. A truth he despised. A truth he would not allow.

  Even if it meant leaving Isabella to the vultures trying to kill her?

  He swore as he looked down at the injured woman clinging to him. After Anna, after his mother, after that night eight years ago, he had to protect Isabella.

  But as God was his witness, she was not going to bring his old life back to him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It took almost three hours for Luke to circle back through the woods to the airport. Isabella had long since fallen asleep in his arms, her body slumped against his as he worked his way unerringly through the woods. She was trembling from the cold, and he’d long ago ditched his sweater and wrapped it around her. His adrenaline was so high he barely felt the cold wind whipping through the trees.

  Like most bush pilots, Luke flew on instinct more than on instruments, a talent that allowed him to cover dense forest on foot without a compass and never make a misstep. He’d decided that heading toward the road with no transportation was asinine, so he’d decided he needed to get back to his plane to get out.

  But he had to do it without being seen.

  Luke crouched at the edge of the woods, surveying the airfield. He’d crossed the street a couple miles up from the airport, and worked his way back down carefully.

  And now, he’d been watching the airfield and his plane for almost twenty minutes, and he’d seen no movement. No action.

  The black cars were still in the parking lot at the bar, and he knew those guys wouldn’t let up until their big boss called it. They’d turn every stone, trying to figure out where the hell their prey had disappeared. He itched to find out who they were, to learn whom they were working for, to take them out one by one, Alaskan style…