Taking Fire Page 13

  “This wasn’t a good idea.” He spoke in a low rumble.

  “What isn’t?” Her voice came out in a husky whisper.

  He found himself staring at her soft, full lips. Lips he wanted to kiss.

  “Bringing you here.” His raw throat ached as he spoke. “Being alone with you.”

  She reached up and stroked his stubbled jaw. “I want to be here.”

  He put his hand over hers, stilling it. “Christie.” He wanted to say more but couldn’t get it out. He couldn’t begin to move away from her. Somehow he had to find the strength to do it.

  Christie wanted more from Trace than she’d ever admitted to herself.

  Too soon, girl, she told herself. Don’t go there. Not now.

  “Tell me why you’re really here.” One little movement closer to him and they would be kissing. Maybe she should shut up and kiss him. Too soon, echoed in her mind again.

  He shifted her in his arms and stroked her hair. For a long moment, he just looked into her eyes before he finally spoke. “It’s been over a year since the first time I saw you. I’ve never been able to get you out of my mind since the beginning. I’ve even dreamed of you.”

  Her breath caught. She hadn’t expected him to tell her that. He hadn’t been able to forget her. Like she hadn’t been able to forget him.

  She didn’t stop to wonder why the words came so easily to her as she spoke them. “I’ve thought about you so many times, Trace. Not simply because you saved my life and not just because you took care of me afterward.” She placed one hand on his chest. “There’s so much more I’ve wanted to know about you. I’ve wanted to get to know you, but I didn’t think it could ever happen.”

  “From the very beginning, I’ve wanted nothing more than to steal you away from everything and take care of you.” He slid his fingers into her hair. “You’re such a strong woman and I’m so proud of you.”

  “Thank you. That means so much.” She couldn’t get enough of him. “Right now, I want you more than anything.”

  An expression of hunger flashed in his eyes. “I don’t think you have any idea what you do to me, Christie.”

  She slid her palm up his chest to his shoulder. “If it’s anything like what you do to me, then I might have an idea.”

  He searched her gaze as if needing to affirm the truth in her words. In a swift movement, his mouth captured hers, like he could no longer hold himself back. He filled the kiss with the same need, longing, and desire that burned within her.

  She kissed him with a passion she hadn’t known she possessed. From somewhere deep inside her, feelings bubbled to the surface, long held back feelings she’d never experienced.

  Something knocked at the back of her brain. The last time she’d been with her ex, he’d raped her, more than once. She hadn’t been with a man since.

  But this is different. This is Trace.

  He wouldn’t hurt her. He would never hurt her like Salvatore had.

  Trace was her knight in shining armor, not the cause of emotional or physical pain.

  She didn’t need a man to rescue her in life. But when it came to rescue from a bullet, apparently she did need some help. Outside of that, she felt much more powerful.

  At the same time, perspiration broke out on her skin and she started to shake as panic took flight inside her and she pulled away. He let her out of his arms with no resistance.

  “I can’t.” Tears started rolling down her face. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”

  “I’m the one who should apologize.” He grasped her hands in his. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  “It’s definitely not you.” She hoped her voice sounded steady. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It shouldn’t be that hard to let go of the past.”

  “You have every right to feel the way you do.” The flint gray of his eyes had darkened nearly to charcoal as he brushed a tear from her cheek with his fingertips. “You’ve been to Hell and back and you have overcome so much. I’m proud of you, Christie.”

  She looked down at her lap before meeting his eyes again. “Thank you.”

  “Time for a game of Trivial Pursuit.” He smiled. “You kicked my ass at Scrabble last night. Trivial Pursuit is my game.”

  She sniffled then gave a little laugh. “You’re on.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Trace woke with Christie in his arms for the third morning in a row. Each night, all he’d done had been hold her while she’d slept. She’d stirred this last time but hadn’t woken from nightmares.

  Dim light from the overcast day barely made it through the skylights. The fire had died down and a chill had descended over the room.

  He watched her for a long moment, her face relaxed in sleep, more peaceful than any time since he’d met her. It had felt good holding her each night.

  At the same time, it had been rough. He’d wanted her so badly he hadn’t slept well at all. He’d finally fallen asleep but each day had woken up with morning wood.

  His arm had grown numb and he hated to move and wake her. But Mother Nature called and became ever more insistent in her demands.

  Tingles prickled in his arm as he managed to adjust Christie and move her onto the pillow. He slid out of bed, hardly able to take his eyes off the beautiful woman lying there.

  He passed Dallas, who lay in front of the hearth, as he headed to the bathroom and took care of business. She still slept on after he returned. He shed his sweatpants, pulled on his jeans and belt, and attached his phone holster to the belt.

  Dallas settled in front of the hearth as Trace built up the fire again. He glanced at the dog. “I wonder if Houston or Arizona won the Super Bowl.” He hadn’t thought about it until now. “Who do you think, Dallas?”

  The dog yawned and laid his head on his paws.

  Trace nodded. “Doesn’t make much of a difference after the past few days.”

  His thoughts returned to sleeping with Christie and how much he wanted her. His desire for her grew more and more intense each day.

  He had to stop thinking about sleeping with her and needing her in ways he’d never needed any woman before.

  Trace took a bag of coffee out of a cabinet and went straight to the propane coffee maker. In no time he had the thing going and the aroma filled the cabin.

  Trace got out the steel-cut oatmeal, canned milk, butter, brown sugar, and raisins, as well as wholewheat bread. He turned on the Coleman stove and cooked the oatmeal before adding the toppings. He also toasted slices of buttered bread on a griddle. Soon the smells of breakfast joined the coffee aroma.

  “The coffee smells like heaven.” Christie’s sleepy voice came from behind him. “And whatever else you’re making.”

  He looked over his shoulder and she smiled. “Good morning, sunshine.” He returned her smile and glanced at the dressings. “How’s your arm?”

  She tentatively extended it. “Better.”

  “Good.” He nodded. “We’ll change your bandages again around lunch.”

  She stretched, her T-shirt tightening over her full breasts. Her nipples pressed against the fabric. His morning wood had just become something that someone could set on fire with a match.

  He faced the griddle, trying to gain control over his body.

  A popular kids’ show theme song rang in his head and that did it—the best remedy he knew to get rid of an unwanted erection. Most of the night he’d had that stupid music in his head just to keep his cock restrained. Thank God for small favors.

  While he finished up breakfast, Christie took one of the big eight-hundred milligram ibuprofen tablets out of the container in her purse. She swallowed it down with water from a bottle she’d grabbed out of a cabinet.

  Breakfast had become so easy and natural between them, as if they’d always been together. They discussed Belle and Dylan’s growing family again. Christie’s face lit up when she talked about the baby and warmth grew within Trace just by watching her. She’d make such a good mother.

 
They started gathering the empty plates and his phone vibrated twice in its holster, telling him a message had come in. Considering how far up the mountain they were, cell service was touch and go. He pulled his phone out and saw Dylan’s name across the screen, and a message that he’d sent another short video.

  Trace grinned and motioned for Christie to sit beside him. A delighted expression came over her face as they watched the video together.

  In it, Belle held Shane and chatted as Dylan followed them through the ranch house with the camera phone. She showed the baby’s room with a changing table, a bureau, a line of stuffed animals sitting along a shelf and a mobile of the solar system hanging over the crib.

  The video ended and Christie gave Trace a wide smile. “I swear the baby is impossibly more adorable each time we watch him on video. And Belle looks amazing. Tired but amazing.” Christie laughed. Trace loved the way she sounded as she laughed. “The stuffed horse I brought for the baby will fit in with his animal collection.”

  Trace couldn’t take his eyes off Christie. Her beauty and her radiance mesmerized him as she talked about Dylan’s family. Trace wanted to reach out and touch her, and capture some of her glow. He wanted to fill himself with her and her light.

  She cocked her head as he just stared at her. “Is something wrong?”

  He smiled. “Just thinking of what a wonderful mother you will be someday.”

  The moment he said it, her eyes became haunted. “I can’t have children. I’m sterile.”

  He might as well have been punched in his gut when he saw the beautiful woman appear so desperately sad. He brought her into his arms because she needed it.

  “Adoption is always a possibility.” He rocked her close to his chest. “A lot of babies in this big world need good women like you to be their mothers.”

  “Thank you.” His shirt muffled her voice and she drew back. “I’ve considered it in the past, but Sal—my ex—refused to think of adoption as an option.”

  Trace ground his teeth at the selfishness of the bastard and all the ways he had caused Christie pain.

  She gave Trace a brave smile. “Considering the man he turned out to be, I consider it a blessing we didn’t have children, including adopting.”

  “One day you’ll have a child to mother.” He put his finger under her chin. “I have no doubt.”

  She spoke softly. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am.” He gave her a quick kiss. It seemed so natural. He drew back, the surprise on her features matching his. It had come so easily. He figured he’d better change the subject. “We have a whole day to enjoy. What would you like to do?”

  “How about a walk? I’m sure I’ll be okay this time.” She glanced at the window that muted sunlight now streamed through. “It won’t be long until I’m stuck inside a hotel while waiting to testify. Right now, the outdoors sound great.”

  “Good idea.” He helped her slip her jacket on then pulled on his own. He hoped a walk wouldn’t cause her to relive what she’d gone through just a couple of days ago.

  Soon they were outside the cabin, the sun tenacious in its attempt to warm the clearing around the cabin. Dallas bounded ahead of them, chasing rabbits and squirrels. The dog would never have done so if Trace hadn’t allowed it. As a K-9, the German Shepherd was a professional, but once he had retired, he’d developed a puppy’s joy for the simple things.

  Trace led Christie down a nearby trail, in the opposite direction of the path they’d taken before. She walked beside him on the wide parts and in front of him where the trail grew narrower.

  The clean and crisp air smelled of pine and rich dark earth. Patches of snow clung to shadowed rocks and grass in dark areas.

  Christie walked by his side as the path widened again. “Your work must be rewarding.”

  “In a lot of ways it is.” He pushed aside a branch encroaching on the trail. “Taking down the bad guys is a real good feeling.”

  “And saving damsels in distress?” She gave him a little smile. “Like me. Twice.”

  He settled his hand on her lower back as she stepped over a fallen log. “I’m just damned glad we were there.” If he and the other agents hadn’t been—he couldn’t stand the thought of what could have happened to her.

  Trace could have been thrown into a rage, just knowing her ex-husband had abused her emotionally and verbally. The fact the bastard had tried to murder her made Trace all the more furious. Salvatore Reyes was a lucky man just to be alive.

  Trace’s only satisfaction had been seeing Dylan punch the bastard for what he’d done to both Belle and Christie. Brooks had cuffed Salvatore, and Trace had watched the son of a bitch being dragged away. Trace had stayed by Christie’s side, feeling the need to make sure she someone took care of her.

  A twig crunched beneath her shoe. “Tell me about your family.”

  “It’s not a pleasant story.”

  She glanced up at him. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  For a moment, he said nothing. For some reason, he did feel the need to share with her the intimate details of his life he never talked about. With anyone.

  “My father physically abused my mother for as long as I can remember. He murdered my mother when I was fourteen.”

  “Oh, my God.” Christie came to a stop. “I don’t know what to say.” Her eyes were wide and sad. “Sorry doesn’t come close to expressing how awful I feel for you and your mother.”

  Trace paused, stopping with her. “I nearly killed him when I came home and found the cops there, my mother dead, and my father in handcuffs. I had neighbors who held me back or I would have killed him before the cops had a chance to stop me.” Trace clenched his jaw. “I have no doubt.”

  Christie put her hand on his arm. “I can’t imagine.”

  They started walking again, as if by some unspoken agreement. He put his hand at the small of her back again as he kicked aside a small branch that had fallen across the path. “Child Protective Services sent me to live with my mother’s sister. My aunt’s new husband verbally and emotionally abused her. I was young, but I got in his face and told him I’d kill him if he laid one finger on her.”

  Trace gritted his teeth. “I left for college then found out he’d started physically abusing her, just like my father abused my mother.”

  Christie audibly caught her breath.

  “I went home and laid into him.” Trace could picture the encounter as if it had just happened. “My cousin and I tried to convince Aunt Barb to stay away from Brody, but she went back to him. He didn’t touch her for a long time, but then it started all over again.”

  He worked to control his emotions. “Can’t tell you how many times I’ve returned to Texas to face the bastard. Being a sworn officer of the law, I can’t do a lot about it myself. And since she keeps dropping charges, there isn’t much anyone can do.”

  He intended to return to Texas and deal with Brody as soon as the court sentenced Christie’s ex to prison, and he knew the bastard would never have the opportunity to hurt her again.

  “Any man who abuses a woman or child should be castrated,” Christie said with vehemence.

  Trace bit back a curse as he thought of Salvatore. “I know someone I’d put at the top of the list.”

  She brushed a loose strand of hair from her eyes. “At least he only abused me emotionally and verbally for all of those years…up until close to the end of the marriage.”

  This time, Trace brought them to a stop. He caught her by both shoulders and looked at her intently. “Words and actions are as bad as fists, Christie. Don’t ever minimize what that bastard did to you, including the end when it became physical. Understand?”

  A hesitation, then she nodded. “You’re right. That old ‘sticks and stones’ saying is so very wrong. Words can haunt you for the rest of your life. Not to mention actions. The rape might as well have been occurring throughout my marriage rather than in the last few days.”

  He wanted to wrap
her in his arms and take away every bad memory he could.

  “I want to know more about you.” She clearly needed to turn the subject from herself. “What happened to your father?”

  Trace stiffened. “Not only did he kill my mother, but he murdered the first responding sheriff’s deputy. Shot them both,” Trace continued, putting no emotion in his voice. Ever since the murders, the bastard had been dead to Trace. “Texas has the death penalty for capital murder. The state put the man who fathered me to death by lethal injection fourteen years ago.”

  “I know I’m repeating myself, but I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through.” Her pain for his mother and for him filled her voice.

  “Rich Davidson got what he deserved,” Trace said flatly.

  “Yes.” Christie gave a slow nod. “Yes, he did.”

  Trace’s voice hardened. “It’s only a shame he lived long enough to spend any amount of time on death row. He shouldn’t have been allowed to breathe for as long as he did.”

  A squirrel chittered and scampered in a tree above them and a chilled breeze caused the vegetation to sway. Christie folded her arms across her chest and hunched, clearly feeling the cold now. It might make her wound hurt more, too.

  “Let’s head back.” He put his arm around her shoulders and they turned on the trail. “Tell me about your family.”

  “I did have a good upbringing.” Her wistful, sad expression spoke volumes. “My mom and dad passed away too soon. First my father of a heart attack four years ago, then two years later my mother died due to a brain aneurism. All I have left are my grandparents who live in Florida and my cousins in Indiana.”

  Trace squeezed her closer to him. She’d said it already. Sometimes he had a nearly impossible time putting into words how he felt about what another person was going through or had gone through.

  “They never liked my ex.” Silence hung in the crisp air as she grew quiet. “I wish my mom and dad were still here. I wish I had listened the times they discouraged me.”

  Trace and Christie walked in silence the rest of the way to the cabin, clearly lost in their own thoughts. The companionable silence only seemed to strengthen the growing bond between them. Dallas slowed down beside them.