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‘What on earth gave you the idea I was taking you to a resort?’
Her nose curled. ‘Wishful thinking.’
He grinned and her heart sped up. Just like that. Idiot heart.
‘Then where on earth are you taking me?’ She made her voice tart. ‘Or do we have to wait for a Cone of Silence to descend before that’s to be revealed?’
‘I’m taking you to a cabin.’
Her lip and nose curled this time. ‘Please tell me it has running water and electricity.’
‘It has both.’
How gullible did he think she was? ‘I don’t see any powerlines.’
‘There’s a generator.’
‘Is there a flushing toilet?’
He flashed her a grimace pregnant with apology.
She huffed back in her seat and folded her arms. ‘Why can’t I go to a resort under an assumed name or something? I’ll pay out of my own pocket.’
‘It’s not a question of money, Tash. It’s a question of keeping you safe. The best way of doing that is to make you disappear, take you out of circulation.’
‘You can’t keep me here against my will.’ Though they both knew that, if he chose to, he could.
‘Do you really want to risk leaving?’
She glared out at the ghost gums and banksia trees.
He parked the car beneath a makeshift shelter that blended into the native Australian landscape. ‘We have to walk the rest of the way.’
Oh, this was getting better and better.
He held his hands up at her glare. ‘I swear it’s only three minutes of easy walking.’
It would’ve been easy if it hadn’t been for the bull ants. She yelped the moment she saw the first one.
Mitch spun around. ‘What’s wrong?’
She pointed.
‘For heaven’s sake, you’re wearing work boots. They’re not going to hurt you.’
‘I hate them.’ She’d sat on a nest of them once when she’d been small and she’d never forgotten it. They’d injected so much venom she’d developed a fever that night and had ended up in the emergency room of the local hospital. Her father had clouted her at the time for being so stupid as to sit on an ant nest. Then he’d clouted her when they’d got home from hospital for the additional inconvenience.
The memory made her stomach churn. She pushed a hand into the small of Mitch’s back. ‘Go faster.’ He felt lean and hard beneath her fingertips. ‘In fact, run.’
‘Tash!’ Exasperation laced his voice. He swung around to her, but whatever he saw in her face cut off the rest of his words. He knew she had demons. And she really hated him for that.
Thankfully, he didn’t say a word. With a shake of his head he started to jog, her suitcase tucked easily under one of his arms as if it weighed nothing. She stayed close at his heels, her handbag bumping at her hip and her feet tingling in abhorrence at the thought of ants.
Mitch slowed to a walk when they emerged into a clearing. Tash checked the ground for signs of bull ants before lifting her head. The clearing of lush grass opened up to a view so unexpectedly elemental and beautiful, so unspoilt, it momentarily robbed her of the ability to speak. She stumbled forward, her jaw sagging.
The curve of land they stood on caught an ocean breeze and below stretched a small beach. What the beach lacked in size it made up for in perfect golden glamour—the sand glittering in the sun and the waves whooshing up on the shore in perfect curls, the water stunningly clear and the whitecaps gloriously white. Beyond the bay the sea glimmered blue and green without a whitecap in sight.
To the left of them lounged a largish cabin, screened on its seaward side by wattle trees. The flowers were long gone, but the delicate green tracery moved in the breeze as if dancing to something slow and dreamy. Behind it stood a forest of ghost gums and banksia trees.
‘Where...where are we?’
Mitch turned from unlocking the cabin’s door. His mouth hooked up when he saw where she’d stopped. ‘Pretty, isn’t it?’
‘Beautiful.’ It might just make up for the rustic amenities. Suddenly, spending a few days in a secret cabin with a private beach didn’t seem such a hardship after all.
She followed Mitch inside. She didn’t bother trying to hide her relief.
He grinned. ‘Not as bad as you were expecting?’
The main room, complete with a rug on the floor and a comfy-looking sofa against one wall, was warm and welcoming. To the left was a fully equipped kitchenette, with a microwave oven and bar fridge. A table with three mismatched chairs stood nearby and a solid wooden bookcase full of books and knick-knacks acted as a kind of divider between kitchen and living areas. There were even pictures on the wall.
He gestured to a doorway and Tash moved aside the blanket tacked to its frame to glance inside. It held a big double bed with a blue-and-white patchwork quilt. A white blanket box sat beneath the window. She shook her head, turning on the spot to take it all in. ‘It’s lovely. Truly lovely.’ If she’d owned a cabin, this was exactly what she’d want it to look like. ‘Who owns it?’
He glanced away. ‘I do.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘This is yours?’
‘I bought the land five years ago.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve spent my holidays and free weekends building this cabin.’
He’d what? For one outrageous moment she wanted to run away. Instead, she swallowed. ‘Thank you for letting me use it.’
He didn’t say anything.
She moistened suddenly parched lips. ‘I guess you’d better show me the lavatory, and how the generator works. And then you can get back to cleaning up the streets and keeping the peace.’
Would he have to face whoever had hurt those women? Her heart surged against her ribs. She took a step back. She wouldn’t want anyone to have to deal with someone that angry and unbalanced. Not even Mitch.
He frowned and cleared his throat. ‘Tash, I think you’ve misunderstood the situation.’
She straightened from surveying the titles in the bookcase. Not that she’d taken in a single one of them. ‘Oh?’
‘I’m not leaving you here alone. I’m your bodyguard for the duration of the operation.’
She dropped down onto the sofa. It really was very comfortable.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_4424e566-e3f2-5748-857f-3db5620fce29)
TASH’S EXPRESSION TOLD Mitch more than words could that she’d rather face whoever was responsible for hurting those women than spend any more time in his company.
He swung away, biting back a curse. They both knew the person responsible was Rick, and no doubt she still thought she could save him. Just as she’d thought eight years ago. He wasn’t going to let that happen. He wasn’t giving Rick the chance to hurt Tash again.
He waited for hysterics.
And kept right on waiting.
He should’ve known better. Tash didn’t do hysterics. Not anymore.
Eventually he rolled his shoulders. She might never forgive him for putting Rick behind bars, but she was right—she wasn’t the sweet, easily-rocked young girl she’d once been either. His heart bled a little at that, knowing he’d been partly responsible for that hardening, for her toughening up. He’d tried to apologise back then, but she hadn’t wanted to listen. A part of him hadn’t really blamed her.
He rubbed the back of his neck. Ancient history—that was all it was, and that was how it should stay. He pulled his hand back down to his side and bit back a sigh. It’d help if he didn’t remember the events of eight years ago as if they’d only happened last week. His lips twisted. And how those events had changed his life forever.
For the better.
And for the worse.
‘Is that really necessary—a bodyguard?’
He turned back and aimed for neutral and professional. He’d found that difficult eight years ago and he didn’t find it any easier now. ‘I don’t make the rules, Tash. I just follow orders.’
‘To the letter.’
He ignored her sarcasm. ‘Naturally, you’ll have the bedroom.’ He gestured. ‘I’ll be on the couch.’
One quirk of her eyebrow told him that had never been in doubt.
A reluctant grin tugged at his lips. He had to admire her spunk. ‘Let’s get a couple of things out of the way and then we can relax.’
‘Relax? You really think that’s going to happen?’
Her hazel eyes, a bit too large for her face, mocked him. They wielded the same power, the same kick of awareness now as they had eight years ago. When she’d been a slip of a girl and he’d been a hungry young constable eager for promotion. Seventeen. He’d had to keep reminding himself of that fact at the time.
She’s not seventeen any more.
His chin shot up. He had no intention of letting his guard down while they were out here in the wild. None! He wouldn’t relax until Bradford was in custody. There might be history between him and Tash, but he refused to be distracted by it. Or by her.
Besides, his lips twisted, she’d rather drink poison than become involved with him again.
It didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and make this as easy on her as possible, though.
‘What do we need to get out of the way?’
Her question hauled him back. ‘First I’ll show you the amenities.’ The sooner she’d had a chance to rant about those the better.
She sighed when she saw the small outbuilding with its pan toilet and the bucketful of dirt and small spade beside it. ‘At least it has a door.’ She glanced in. ‘And seems to be relatively spider-free.’
He remembered her reaction to the bull ants and made a mental note to make sure it remained spider-free. ‘And this is the shower.’ He gestured to the canvas hut nearby. A camp shower he’d only erected yesterday.
‘Hot water?’
He shook his head. Her shoulders drooped a little and he had to fight the urge to swear. Tash might act tough—as if she could take on anything the world wanted to throw at her—but beneath it all he knew how vulnerable she was...and how gentle. If he found Rick first...
His hands clenched again. He would keep her safe. He swore that much.
No one would find them out here.
And the undercover detectives would deal with Rick with their usual efficiency. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t envy them their job. Arresting Rick again would give him no satisfaction. Other than to know Tash was safe, that was.
Instead of a stake-out he got to spend the next few days in paradise with a beautiful woman. Who hates your guts. He planted his hands on his hips and glared up at the sky. Professional, keep it professional. It was all he had. In his bones he knew that as long as they stayed out here they’d be safe. All he had to do in the meantime was maintain his professionalism.
He turned back to find her surveying him with narrowed eyes. She pointed to the shower. ‘When did you put that up?’
‘Yesterday.’
‘So you knew—’ She broke off and folded her arms. ‘No, you didn’t.’
‘I was spending a few days on leave out here.’
The brown flecks within the brilliant green of her irises gleamed like amber. He’d never seen eyes like them before.
‘So I’m interrupting your leave.’
‘It’s no big deal.’
‘Well, it only seems fair as you’re interrupting my holiday,’ she drawled. But the way she gripped her hands in front of her was at odds with the tone of her voice. The space between them filled with an edgy silence.
He cleared his throat. ‘I’m impressed,’ he managed, suddenly thirsting for an ice-cold beer and it wasn’t even lunchtime. But her hair gleamed a dark rich brown and the sun bore down on his uncovered head. ‘You don’t seem too horrified by the amenities.’
She smiled. It was sudden and unconsciously sweet and it jammed his breath in his throat. ‘I’m just thankful I don’t have to relieve myself behind a bush. Rick and I would sometimes take off to the National Park for a couple of days and that was usually the case there.’
The moment the words left her mouth she looked as if she’d like to call them back.
He should change the subject, try and put her at her ease. But... ‘You want to talk about it? Clear the air?’
She turned to face him fully. ‘About Rick?’ she said, obviously deciding not to misunderstand him.
‘I know you hate me for arresting him.’
‘I stopped hating you for that years ago, Officer King.’
That Officer set his teeth on edge. She wanted to bait him, wanted to prick and needle him. Normally he could shrug that kind of thing off. He tried to focus on the content of the conversation rather than the tone. ‘If that’s the case, then what’s the problem?’
‘The problem is I haven’t forgiven you for using me to do it. I haven’t forgiven you for pretending to be in love with me, for making me trust you, and then betraying me the way you did.’
The accusation in her eyes cut at him. His mouth filled with acid. She’d given her friendship to him freely and he’d abused it. ‘Would it make a difference if I told you how sorry I am about that?’
‘No. And frankly, Mitch, I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just focus on getting through the next few days as easily and quickly as possible, all right?’
So that was what he could do with his olive branch, huh? Right. He nodded once and rolled his shoulders to try and ease the burn between them.
