Out of Time Read online

  Her sarcasm and his anger at his own thoughts brought him up sharply. What the hell was he doing? How could he have forgotten even for a moment? “This isn’t a James Bond movie, Natalya. Eight of my men were killed because of what you did.”

  She immediately sobered, the Academy Award–winning portrayal of heartfelt sorrow back in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Scott. You have to believe me. I never meant for any of this to happen. I know you don’t want to hear it right now, but I lov—”

  “You’re right,” he said before she could get the word out, every muscle in his body taut with anger. “I don’t want to hear it. Ever.”

  How could she say that to him now? Before he’d gone on that damned mission, it would have made him the happiest man in the world. But not now. Now it just brought home how much of a lie it had all been.

  None of that mattered anymore, and he had to focus on what did: getting her back to DC to clear his name and face her punishment. She could explain herself to a court. He didn’t care about her feelings or her reasons. This supposed baby was just a temporary hiccup.

  And if God forbid by some hideous twist of fate she actually was pregnant?

  He wouldn’t even think about it. She wasn’t. But he’d give her the night to prove it.

  * * *

  • • •

  Natalie feared her plan wasn’t going to work. She’d gone to bed without a shower, unable to bear the idea of undressing near him even with the half-closed door partially blocking his view.

  Considering how fast he’d divested her of her clothes that first night, it would have been funny if it wasn’t so painful.

  Due to the nice, oversized window in the bathroom, he’d refused to let her close the door even to pee. She’d forced him to take her to the downstairs half bath—without a window—to do that. Some indignities were too much to bear without objection.

  He’d waited for her in the kitchen, blocking the exit to the back door, and helped himself to one of the blueberry muffins she’d made the day before.

  “Hungry?” she’d asked. “I can make you some more with some nice almond flavoring.”

  His mouth twitched. He’d almost smiled before catching himself. “I think I prefer them arsenic-free.”

  She gave a small, indifferent shrug of her shoulders. “Let me know if you change your mind. I could also make you an omelet—without the poison. I’m assuming you didn’t have dinner.”

  “The muffin is fine.” He took another bite. “These are really good. You made them?”

  “You don’t need to sound so surprised.”

  “You never cooked for me.”

  She shrugged again. “It didn’t fit the ambitious, hardworking-businesswoman-by-day, sex-siren-by-night image you wanted to believe.”

  “You mean that you wanted me to believe.”

  “Don’t blame me for your unrealistic fantasies. Do you think women like that really exist other than in porn movies?”

  He tossed the rest of the muffin in the sink. His gaze was as hard as onyx. “You faked it well. You could make millions on the Internet when you get out.”

  She flushed, ignoring the jab at prison—and at porn. Of course he missed the point. “That wasn’t what I was faking.”

  No one could fake that kind of passion. But just thinking about what they’d had—what they’d shared—made her feel like crying. The cold, professional way he’d touched her earlier had been horrible. It reminded her of all that she’d lost.

  Her cheeks still heated when she thought of the humiliating way her body had responded. He was patting her down like a prisoner, but she was so desperate for his touch that her body had jumped into full sex mode.

  She’d gotten Scott back, but he wasn’t her Scott. He was essentially a stranger. A stranger who didn’t smile, joke, or look at her lovingly. A stranger with ice-cold eyes and an unyielding, granite-hard expression. A stranger who hated her.

  Ironically, it wasn’t until she’d seen the hatred that she realized how much he must have cared for her. Scott was so good at hiding his emotions—at keeping his thoughts to himself—that she’d never been sure.

  Their eyes held for one long heartbeat. She thought he wanted to say something, but he let the subject go.

  She was too exhausted to try to press. It was clear he wasn’t going to believe anything she said. She knew it would be like this, but it still hurt.

  She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow with him sitting in the chair opposite her bed, watching her like a hawk. A giant hawk who filled the whole room with his presence.

  Scott’s size had been something she’d had to get used to. She didn’t like overwhelming men, and he certainly fit the bill—big-time. He was six feet three inches of solid muscle. Broad shoulders, washboard stomach, powerful arms. Basically the type of physically imposing guy she avoided.

  But rather than threaten her there was something about his size and strength that made her feel safe and protected. He’d become her rock in a world that had been turned upside down by Mick. A world that had become dark, tumultuous, and scary. Scott was something solid and steady to hold on to. When they were together it felt as if nothing could harm her. Lying on his chest and wrapped in his arms, she could forget Mick and the nightmare her life had become.

  And after months of running, having him here watching over her—even in these horrible circumstances—allowed her to relax enough to sleep solidly for the first time since Jennifer had been killed.

  She’d let him wake her up twice before putting her plan into action. She was counting on the glass of water he had next to him to do its job.

  After he’d woken her up the second time, she didn’t go back to sleep. She only pretended to while she waited. And waited. While trying to ignore the pressure in her head that seemed to be getting worse.

  She’d almost given up hope. Had he changed biorhythms in three months and gone earlier while she’d been sleeping? He always got up to go to the bathroom when the sun came up.

  It was just after dawn when her patience and faking-asleep abilities were rewarded. He quietly stood from the chair and slipped out of the room into the hallway. She waited until the light went on in the bathroom to make her move.

  If she’d ever held out any hope that she could turn to him, she didn’t anymore. From the first moment she’d seen his face, she’d known that leaving was her only option. Any feelings he’d once had for her were gone. She’d betrayed him, and he wasn’t going to forgive, forget, or even try to understand. He didn’t even want to hear her explanation—or that she loved him.

  None of which surprised her. It was why she hadn’t gone to him for help in the first place. She knew him too well. Scott held himself and those around him to a very strict code. It was one of the things that made him such a good leader, and one of the reasons she loved him so much. His moral compass only went in one direction. He wouldn’t understand her betrayal no matter how well motivated. To Scott, honor and integrity would always win out over treachery.

  Doing the right thing always seemed so easy for him. Scott pushed himself and those around him to be their best, like the old army “be all you can be” slogan. Rules, honor, personal integrity, discipline, loyalty . . . as long as you adhered to those principles you were fine, but he had no use for people who didn’t. For proof of that, all she needed to do was think about his biological father.

  Ironically, Natalie had been thinking about confiding in Scott until he told her about his fathers—both the man who’d raised him and the man he’d refused to meet even though he was dying of cancer. Scott was intractable on the subject, no matter how much prodding from her or his sister, Kate, whom he’d confided in her about. He had no use for cheaters, and he would never forgive the man who’d cuckolded the man whom he admired above all others.

  As overjoyed and relieved as Natalie was to learn that Sco