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Quinn didn’t even look at her.
“I’ll get everybody inside, and out of sight,” he told Liam. “You get with Teague and secure the bird.”
Liam nodded.
“He has to eat,” she said again.
He turned then. “Shouldn’t you be worried about how and whether we’re going to feed you?”
She never hesitated. “He comes first.”
He blinked. “He’s a dog.”
“I’m responsible for him. He trusts me to take care of him. It’s part of the deal.”
He thought she might be getting a bit esoteric about it, but he couldn’t deny he admired her sense of responsibility. And thankfully, Charlie believed in overkill when it came to stocking up for an indefinite stay.
“He can eat what we eat, for now.”
She seemed to relax a little at that, letting out a breath of relief. And she still didn’t ask if that we included her. He watched the dog for a moment as he sniffed around the barn. And then, as if aware of Quinn’s gaze, the dog turned, head up, looking toward them. And unbidden, started toward them at a tail-up trot. He really was a distinctive-looking dog, with alert, upright ears and a dark head and thick ruff that gradually shaded back into a lighter, reddish-brown coat over his body. He looked intense, like the herding dogs he’d seen in Scotland on the many pilgrimages he’d made.
“His name’s Cutter?” he asked, almost absently as he watched the animal cross the yard between the ramshackle barn and the even more ramshackle cabin.
“Yes,” she said. “And mine is Hayley, not that you bothered to ask.”
No, he hadn’t asked. Hadn’t wanted to know. Had been much happier when she’d just been “the woman,” an unexpected annoyance that had to be dealt with.
“Don’t tell me,” he said. “Tell Liam. He thinks you’re a welcome addition to the scenery.”
Like you don’t? a traitorous little voice in his head spoke up.
But she didn’t seem bothered by the implied aspersion. Instead she looked around at the barren landscape before saying with a grimace, “Middle of nowhere, careful what you wish for, and now damning with faint praise. My life’s suddenly full of clichés.”
Quinn nearly gaped at her for a moment as her first words echoed his exact thoughts of earlier. Any other normal woman he could think of would be in hysterics by now. Or at least too frightened to think straight, let alone come back at him with wit. He was beginning to think she was going to be more than just a fuel-eating inconvenience.
He’d better tell Liam to keep a really close eye on her.
Chapter Six
Hayley stopped dead in the cabin doorway, startled. No, beyond startled, she was stunned. After the outside, she’d been expecting thick dust, holes in the walls, broken furniture if any and traces of wildlife.
Instead, she was confronted by a spotless and amazingly whole and modern interior. Most of the main floor was one big room, the upper level an open loft that looked down into the main room. There was new-looking furniture that was surprisingly nice. A sofa in a soft green and tan, and four armchairs in a matching green, seemed to echo the colors outside. Yet where they were drab out there, inside they seemed soothing. There were loose pillows on the sofa for lounging, and a knitted green throw for cozying up in front of a fire in the big stone fireplace. Decidedly—and unexpectedly—homey. Except for the large, utilitarian metal locker that sat between the door and one of the few unblocked windows.
There were even coordinating area rugs on the floor, which was wood burnished to a high sheen, although it was slightly uneven and looked distressed enough to be the original. It fit, she thought. With the big, square coffee table, it was a comfortable and inviting setting. Which shocked her to no end.
“I thought you wanted a bathroom.”
Quinn’s voice came from right behind her, sounding clearly impatient.
“Judging from the outside, I didn’t expect one inside,” she snapped.
To her surprise, his mouth quirked at one corner, as if he were about to smile. If so, he efficiently and almost instantly killed the urge.
She stepped inside, looking around even more intently. There was a big table with eight chairs, in the same style as the coffee table, over near a half wall that formed what appeared to be the kitchen. There was a compact stove, a small refrigerator, and even a microwave sat on the counter, so clearly they had power. Which, come to think of it, was puzzling as well, since she hadn’t seen any power lines. Not surprising; if they told her they were literally a thousand miles from nowhere, she’d believe it. A generator? She hadn’t seen that, either, or heard it. They weren’t uncommon where she lived, she had one herself, and she’d never heard a truly quiet one.
Maybe they’re environmental fanatics and there are solar panels hidden somewhere, or maybe that windmill wasn’t really broken and had been converted to power production instead of pumping water, she thought, not finding the idea particularly comforting. Zealots of any kind made her nervous.
She nearly laughed at herself. Nervous? How about terrified? Spirited off in the middle of the night by one of those black helicopters that had become a cultural myth….
Something else registered as she studied the kitchen area. Instead of cupboards there were open shelves, and they were clearly well stocked with easily stored food, some canned, some freeze-dried, some packaged. So well stocked, her stomach sank; just how long did they plan on keeping them here?
“In there,” Quinn said, pointing toward one end of the room where a narrow hall led off to the right.
The need was rapidly approaching urgent, so she followed his gesture. For a moment she wondered if he was going to follow, to watch, and she frowned inwardly. But, in one of those constant trade-offs of life, dignity lost out to bodily imperative.
To her relief, he let her shut the door. Probably, she thought as she flipped on the light and glanced around, because there was no window in the small bathroom. The sink, with a narrow cabinet, was in the far corner, with the toilet—thankfully—opposite. There was no tub, and the stall shower was tight quarters; she couldn’t imagine a man the size of Quinn using it easily.
Oh, good, she thought caustically, let’s start thinking about the man in the shower, naked and wet.
Although she had to admit, it would be a good way to keep her mind off the fact that he’d kidnapped her and dragged her off to a place that looked, on the outside at least, as if it could belong to some crazed, manifesto-writing bomber or something. Probably about the only thing that could keep her mind off it; for all he’d done, she couldn’t deny Quinn—was that his first or last name?—was a fine-looking man.
“The laws of the universe really should include one requiring bad guys to look like trolls,” she muttered as she finished making use of the facility.
Then she turned on the water, quickly washed her hands and dried them on the hand towel politely waiting on a wall hanger. With the outgo problem resolved, she took a quick drink, her dry mouth and throat welcoming the soothing wetness. Then she left the water running while she investigated the cabinet and the small medicine chest.
She found nothing but more towels, and unopened packages of soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes and safety razors. She pocketed one of those, even as she told herself they were called safety razors because you couldn’t do any major damage with them. It just made her feel better, and she left it at that.
And then, for the first time, she looked in the mirror over the sink. Bleary, tired eyes stared back at her. And as if they’d been a signal her brain had until now been too revved up to hear, a wave of weariness swept her.
She shouldn’t be so tired, she told herself. She’d often pulled all-nighters with her mother in those last, grim days. She’d learned then to nap in small increments when she could, getting just enough sleep to keep going. And that had gone on for months, so one sleepless night, even a stressful one, shouldn’t make her feel like this.
Maybe being kidnapped is a different kind of stress, she thought, then nearly laughed aloud at herself, trying to be reasonable and logical when her entire world had gone insane.
“The water supply isn’t endless.”
The sharp words came from outside, and with a start she quickly shut the water off. When she opened the door, Quinn was leaning against the doorjamb, left thumb hooked in the front pocket of his jeans, his right hand loose at his side. Keeping the gun hand free? she wondered, scenes from a dozen movies coming to mind. Did he really think she was going to attack him or something?
It was all she could do not to reach into her jacket pocket and finger the razor she’d snagged.
“Find anything?”
The question was pointed, in the tone of a man who knew perfectly well there was nothing to find, and was just letting her know he knew she’d looked.
“I’m sure you already know the answer to that. What do you think I’m going to do, sharpen a toothbrush?”
“No, although it’s been done. You might want to use one, though.”
She instinctively drew back; was he saying her breath needed it?
He’s just trying to keep you off balance, she told herself. And succeeding, she amended sourly.
“How kind of you to offer,” she said sweetly. “Should I waste the water?”
His mouth quirked again, but he only shrugged. “Just don’t be profligate. You’re already an extra person. Unless you want the dog to go thirsty.”
“He’s going to need water,” she protested instantly. “In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s got a pretty heavy coat.”
“Not my problem.”
“Yes, it is. He didn’t ask to be dragged off to the middle of this desert, wherever it is.”
“Then you can give him your share.”
She would, of course, if it came to that. “I didn’t ask for this, either,” she reminded him.
For the first time she saw a trace of weariness around his eyes. Blue eyes, she saw now, in the growing morning light. Very blue.
“I know,” he said, that barest hint of weariness echoing in his voice. “But there was no choice.”
Was he softening, just slightly? She was torn between wanting to demand answers and a gut-level instinct that she might be better off not knowing the answers.
“I am very sorry, miss.”
The quiet words came from her left, and snapped her head around. It was her neighbor, looking at her with troubled dark eyes.
“It is my fault,” he began, formally, still apologetically. “I—”
“Enough, Vicente,” Quinn cut him off sharply. “Don’t talk to her.”
Hayley smothered a gasp, as if he’d slapped her. So much for any softening, she thought angrily. Vicente sighed, and retreated to the living room. Then Quinn turned on her.
“You, get upstairs. And stay there. Don’t leave except for the bathroom.”
She had to fight the urge to scamper up the narrow stairs like a skittish cat. It took every bit of nerve she had to meet his gaze.
“He was just trying to apologize.”
“And he did. Go.”
“Cutter—”
“We’ll round him up later, if he hasn’t taken off.”
Her mouth quirked this time, at the very idea of the loyal animal deserting her. Even if he was fascinated by their captor.
“Never had a dog, have you?” she asked.
His brow furrowed, as if thinking her words a complete non sequitur. Then, slowly, a distant sort of look crept over his face.
“Not in a very long time,” he said, not even looking at her. And Hayley couldn’t help wondering what inward image he was seeing.
It lasted only a couple of seconds. Then the cool, commanding Quinn was back. And even she could tell he was out of patience, such as it was.
“You going, or do I have to drag you?”
“Going,” she muttered.
Liam was coming in as they came out of the hallway.
“All set,” he said. “You guys came in on fumes.”
“Extra weight,” Quinn said.
Hayley kept her expression even this time; he’d gotten to her with the toothbrush comment, and she wasn’t going to let it happen again.
“Not much,” Liam said, eying her with male appreciation that was a marked contrast to Quinn’s sharp impatience.
“She goes up in the loft. And don’t forget the dog,” Quinn said with a grimace.
“Who could be very handy,” Liam said, shifting his gaze to Quinn. “Warned Rafer off a rattlesnake out there.”
Rattlesnake. Wonderful, Hayley thought. Her home was blessedly free of the venomous types, so this was a new one. She had no problem with a nice garter snake, or the helpful kings, but—
“Don’t like snakes?” Quinn asked.
Did the man never miss anything? “I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” she snapped.
Liam let out a whoop of laughter. Quinn gave him a sour look.
“She’s definitely all yours,” he muttered, and walked away.
Chapter Seven
Quinn wasn’t one to believe in omens or premonitions, but as he stood in the doorway of the cabin, he was starting to have a bad feeling about this. Usually one or two, or even more, little things would go wrong on a job. Didn’t mean a thing. And this job had gone like clockwork—until they were leaving the target’s location.
Then, from the moment that damned dog had blasted out of the woods at him, things had gone to hell.
The dog. Where was he, anyway?
On the thought, the animal trotted around the far end of the barn where, if there were more delays and this turned into a long stay, the helicopter would be stored. With the ease of long discipline he managed not to think of the ramifications of a long stay with a recalcitrant, smart-mouthed woman, one he just knew wasn’t going to settle into any easy waiting routine.
The dog’s head and tail came up, and he started toward Quinn at a gallop. Quinn shook his head in puzzlement. Why would a dog he didn’t even know act like this? He’d never even seen such a dog, with that distinctive coloring. He was a very square, lean animal who moved with a swift grace that Quinn could appreciate.
Teague had apparently been following the dog, and as he came around the barn he gave Quinn the hand signal that meant hold. Quinn had put the order out for silent ops, until they knew they hadn’t been seen or followed. And thankfully, he thought as he watched the dog slow to a trot, then came to a halt in front of him, the dog didn’t seem to be a barker.
Quinn waited, guessing from the signal Teague had something to report. Almost absently, he reached down and scratched the dog’s ears. The blissful sigh the animal let out made one corner of his mouth twitch, and it was all he could do to keep from smiling. He didn’t get it, this sudden and inexplicable reaction from a strange dog, but he had to admit it was … enjoyable. Flattering. Something.
Teague slowed to a trot, then a halt, much as the dog had. The man’s right arm moved, then stopped, an oddly jerky motion. Teague was the newest member of the squad, and Quinn guessed the movement, if completed, would have been a salute. It would be a while before he got over the automatic response.
