Enemy Waters Page 8

  He didn’t speak, just waited. She was more than a little shocked that she was talking to him at all about this. But after he’d been so open about his father, after he’d said just the right things about her mother, it just seemed natural to trade confidences. Despite the warnings going off in her head, something about the way he looked at her, something warm and steady in his eyes, made it easier to talk than not.

  “I married a man who made me feel that way again. Safe. He was charismatic, powerful and I felt like he could stand between me and the darkness.”

  He was looking at her so intently it was almost unnerving. It seemed more than simply paying attention to what she was saying, it was as if he were thinking rapidly, as if he were looking for some kind of answer in her words. Which nearly made her give a bitter laugh; she had no answers, she didn’t think she ever had.

  “What happened?” he finally asked when she didn’t go on.

  She didn’t know if he’d chosen her own words purposely, to make her feel she had to answer as openly as he had. If he had, it worked.

  “I woke up one day and realized I’d become…an accessory, polished up and kept on a shelf until he needed me for some display.”

  His gaze narrowed. She felt a spark of satisfaction as she guessed he was wondering what on earth was display-worthy of the plain little bird she’d become.

  It was a sour sort of recompense for her efforts. She stood up and began to gather the few items to be taken back to Roger. He took them as soon as she had them together. She picked up the wrappings and discardable things and walked over to a garbage can and deposited them carefully.

  When she turned back he was standing by the motorcycle, watching her, no doubt wondering why she’d ended the intense conversation so abruptly. Yet he didn’t ask, didn’t push. In fact, as she came up to him he didn’t say a word.

  “Thank you for today,” she said, rather formally. “It’s beautiful here. I haven’t explored much since I’ve been here, but now I’d like to.”

  “It’s not over yet,” he said.

  True, she thought, the ride back was yet to come, and although the days were getting noticeably shorter—another oddity to her, here in these northern latitudes—they still had a lot of daylight left.

  When he turned off the main road shortly after they’d gotten back on it, she realized he’d had something more specific in mind. They were going along the river, she realized. Then after two or three miles, crossing over it. She’d barely had time to register that when he was pulling over and parking.

  “Where are we going?” she asked after, at his indication, she pulled her helmet off again.

  “You’ll see,” he said cryptically, and fastened both helmets to the bike.

  He led her off the road, into the trees. He kept going to where a metal gate controlled vehicle access to a narrow track. He slipped past it. She hesitated, and he reached back and took her hand, tugging her after him.

  She went forward a couple of steps, although she was wary. Then she spotted a small, cement block building. A windowless place, with a set of heavy double doors and a large power meter of some kind beside them.

  She stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Nell?”

  He was looking at her in what seemed to be simple puzzlement. But he had a tight grip on her hand, as if to keep her from running. And that was exactly what she wanted to do.

  The panic that was an old companion now flared, searing her into immobility. Visions of every kidnapping movie she’d ever seen flashed through her head. The shadowy woods, the isolation, the spooky, escape-proof-seeming building, it all looked like the perfect place to hide something.

  Or someone.

  All the nightmares she’d been living with for months seemed to coalesce into this moment. She wondered if this was it. She wondered if Roger’s lunch had actually been her last meal.

  And she wondered how long it would take for anyone to find a body buried in these woods.

  Chapter 12

  Cooper sensed the moment when she changed from curiosity to fear, but he had no idea why. She was pulling back, and he was holding on, trying to understand. True, the little hydro plant building wasn’t particularly inviting, but they weren’t going there.

  “We have to go past this,” he explained, as she kept trying to pull away. “The trail runs on the other side of it.”

  “Trail?”

  “It’ll be worth it, I promise. And it’s not hard, or steep, or even very long.”

  “To where?”

  “That’s the surprise,” he said.

  For a long moment she simply stared at him, as if she were trying to see into his mind.

  “Nell? What’s wrong?”

  This woman was going to make him crazy. And not only because her brief reference to her marriage bore little resemblance to what her brother had told him. She wasn’t just skittish, she was downright spooked, and he couldn’t figure out why. Some pieces he’d thought fit neatly together suddenly didn’t anymore. He needed to think about this, but right now he just needed her to calm down.

  “I know it doesn’t look like much from here, but you’ll like it. Trust me.”

  She looked at him as if nothing could convince her he was trustworthy. Some part of his brain was trying to understand how the admitted tragedy she’d fled had brought her to this; the fleeing all the memories he understood, but the fear made no sense to him.

  She tried to pull away again, and this time he let go. He held up his hands. “Okay, okay. It’s up to you. I’m going, you can follow, or not. But you’ll miss something worth seeing if you don’t.”

  He started around the hydro plant building, toward the almost hidden trail. He was twenty feet away before, finally, and hesitantly, she followed. He let out a relieved breath and continued on, although he slowed for her to catch up.

  It had been a while since he’d been here; he only hoped he hadn’t oversold it. Not after going through that little scene to get her there.

  He pondered it as he walked, figuring silence was the best option just now; if he didn’t talk, he couldn’t scare her off, right? He supposed he didn’t have to make sense of it, or her, he just had to keep her from bolting, from vanishing again. It didn’t matter if he didn’t understand why she would.

  Except that she was afraid, and that bothered him. Not knowing why, or what he’d done to spark that fear, bothered him.

  She bothered him.

  He only needed to remember their conversation over lunch to pound that home. He so rarely talked about his dad, about what had happened and about the guilt he’d carried around ever since, no amount of telling himself it wasn’t his fault, he’d been only a kid, able to ease it. Yet it had seemed to pour out of him, and he wasn’t even able to tell himself it had been to get her to open up in turn, even if it had turned out that way, a little at least.

  It hit him then, belatedly. He should have tumbled to it sooner. Was that the simple answer for her wariness, her distrust? She had, in effect, been abandoned by both parents. Her mother by accident, her father by intent, which had to be worse.

  He tried to think what his life would have been like if, after his father’s death, his mother had done what Nell’s father had done. Gone into a downward spiral and then disappeared. He couldn’t even imagine it. He and his mother had clung together in the aftermath. If he had lost her, too…

  And he thought he understood a little better now the depth of the bond between brother and sister. If they had drawn together as he and his mother had, it made sense that thinking she’d lost him, too, would be devastating. And if she truly felt that way about her husband, regardless of if it was valid or not, she must feel like everyone she cared about left her, in one way or another.

  He’d been, he thought grimly, pretty thoughtless about it, all in all.

  Story of your life, Grant.

  He turned to look back at her. She was trudging along steadily, but still looking uncertain about the wisdom of it. They
were close enough now he wanted her to focus on the ground, the trail, wanted her looking anywhere but up ahead.

  “It may be a little slick from here on,” he said quietly. “Watch where you put your feet.”

  And then he held out his hand to her. But this time he waited, leaving the decision to her.

  Nell looked at his hand, remembered how he’d held it down by that scary little building, refusing to let go. She’d be a fool to take it again, wouldn’t she? Except this time he was giving her a choice. All she had to do was say she’d be fine and keep walking. She sensed he would let it go.

  But if she was right, and he would, then there was no reason not to take it, was there?

  Lord, her mind was turning into Jell-O. Quivering and soft.

  “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said. “It’s only a little farther.”

  She stared at his proffered hand. This somehow seemed like a much bigger decision than simply accepting some assistance over the occasional rock that was, indeed, rather slick. Everything was a bit damper now, more than seemed normal, simply from their getting deeper into big trees.

  She’d come this far. If she’d been going to run, she should have done it back at the beginning.

  Crazily, that made the decision—right or wrong—clearer, and she finally reached out and took his hand. He squeezed her fingers for a moment, as if he knew it hadn’t been easy for her.

  As if staring at his hand like it had seven fingers, or was covered in scales hadn’t made that pretty clear, she chided herself when he proceeded to indeed simply help her the rest of the way.

  Again he cautioned her to watch her feet, although to her it didn’t seem the trail itself was bad at all. But what rocks there were were indeed wet and slick with algae, so she did as he said and concentrated on the trail. Still, she realized she was hearing something, a sound that grew nearer, a sound she recognized, but before she could put a name to it, Cooper stopped in front of her.

  “Okay, you can look up now.”

  Startled by his words—had he been purposely trying to keep her from looking around?—her gaze shot to his face. And then he stepped aside, and she realized he’d been intentionally blocking her view.

  What she saw made her gasp. A waterfall, at least a hundred and fifty feet high. Not a roaring, gushing torrent, but a tracing of countless little streams down a rocky face, making the whole almost delicate, ethereal. They flowed into a pool at the bottom, again no churning chaos but a calm, peaceful gathering of myriad trickles.

  She stared, thinking she’d never seen anything quite like it, and certainly not such a short distance from a main road. It was beautiful, yes, but many other things, too. It seemed to scour out all the fear, the pain, and leave her, for just this moment, able to do nothing but take it in and let it fill her with a sense of wonder she’d not felt in a very long time.

  He said nothing, just let her look, let her drink it in. At last she turned to look at him, feeling a complete fool for her earlier fears, all at the sight of a tiny, remote building.

  “Thank you,” she said, heartfelt.

  “It’s a lot fuller, more of a traditional falls later, when we’ve had more rain,” he said, “but I like it now. It looks almost…intricate.”

  That told her a lot about him, she thought. She would have assumed most men would appreciate the roaring torrent over this almost delicate tracery.

  “Not that Snoqualmie in full run isn’t massively awesome,” he said. “You stand on the observation deck and you can literally feel the power of it.”

  Okay, so he liked both. That told her even more, she thought.

  The ride back to Roger’s was just as exhilarating as the ride out. The difference was, she felt a niggle of regret that the wonderful day was nearly over. She felt as if the cloud that had surrounded her, wrapped her gloom for so long, had lifted, at least for this golden afternoon.

  And she had him to thank for it. She felt sillier every minute for having been so afraid, thinking of kidnappers and killers when in fact he’d done one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for her. It seemed all too soon that he was parking the bike back on the edge of Roger’s driveway.

  “Thank you. That was wonderful.”

  He gave her that crooked grin that reminded her so of Tris. “Liked the waterfall, huh?”

  “I loved it. But the whole time was wonderful.”

  “We’ll have to take a run out to Snoqualmie, so you can compare. That’s a couple of hours, though, but a great ride. Maybe your next day off?”

  That he’d also enjoyed today, enough to suggest that, warmed her. As did the fact that he’d thought of that walk to the falls and, more, had wanted to surprise her with it, keeping her distracted until they were almost upon it.

  Yes, she was an idiot. As if a man who would think to do that would be some crazed secret murderer, or be doing the bidding of a man like Jeremy.

  “I’d like that,” she said. “I haven’t had a day like this in a very long time.”

  “Too long,” Cooper said. “This is beautiful country, you should see more of it. It’s a lot different here than…where? California?”

  The old fear flickered, but failed to catch this time. Besides, it was safe enough, California was a very big state. And people left it every day. Lots of people. No reason to deny it, she thought.

  “Yes. Only waterfall I’ve seen there is Yosemite.”

  That had been so long ago, in her blissfully ignorant childhood.

  “Never seen that one.”

  “My parents took us one summer. We sort of camped, in one of those platform tent things. My dad cooked on campouts. My mom herded us but gave us a lot of slack, because it was a vacation.”

  She stopped, unable to believe she’d run on like that. She’d been hiding so long and so completely it felt almost like speaking a foreign language to talk about such things.

  “Why’d you leave?”

  The fear was a spark this time, brighter, closer to catching.

  “What?”

  “Sounds like you had a good life there.”

  “I did,” she said, the old wariness back in her voice. “A great life. But everyone who made it great is gone.”

  He didn’t give her the expected platitude, for which she was grateful; there was never an easy way to respond.

  “Nell…”

  There was a world of empathy in his voice, and if she pushed her imagination a little, it would be all too easy to interpret it as genuine caring. And then he stepped forward, took the blue helmet from her and set it on the bike’s seat.

  And put his arms around her.

  Every bit of common sense she had screamed at her to pull away.

  Every bit of yearning and longing in her made her stay.

  He was strong, and warm, and at the moment tender, and the warmth she felt in his embrace was too tempting, too soothing. It couldn’t hurt, could it, to just take this, for a moment? She could be allowed that much, in the cold, empty place her life had become, couldn’t she?

  She felt a slight pressure, realized his chin had come to rest atop her head. He said nothing, simply held her, as if somehow he knew words would be too much.

  She didn’t know how much time passed before she realized he was somehow sapping her strength. That somehow her legs were weakening, and she was leaning into him, as if her body had made a decision her mind was unaware of, to seek more and more of his steady, strong heat.

  The fear roared to life this time, caught and flared. She had to get away. It was too much, the wonderful day, the crushing return to reality, and now this.

  She pulled back. For an instant he resisted letting her go, as if he were savoring it as much as she had, which was possibly the most ridiculous thought she’d had all day.

  “Thank you again.” It came out stiffly, but she couldn’t help it. “I have to go get ready for work tomorrow.”

  In fact she’d already washed her café shirts, they were ready to go, but it was the o
nly thing her frazzled mind could come up with.

  When she turned and left him standing there, it was all she could do not to run.

  Chapter 13

  Cooper stood in the main salon of The Peacemaker, trying not to pace. He needed to be still, because his mind was racing in so many directions at once.

  He’d managed to make her relax. That was good.

  Then he’d somehow spooked her on the trail. Not so good.

  But she’d loved the falls. Good.

  And the ride back. Also good.

  Then he’d revved her back up with his questions. Not so good again.

  Then he’d hugged her. Held her. For too long. And he had absolutely no idea where that fell on the good-not-so-good scale. All he was sure of was that his own fierce response to holding her had taken him by surprise. Who’d have thought the quiet little bird she’d become could spark that?

  And what the hell was he doing, making plans with her for a week from now, when it was very likely he’d be long done with this job by then? Damn, he’d practically asked her on a date. A real one. And no amount of telling himself he didn’t mean it, it was just part of the job of keeping her in sight as much as possible, seemed to be working.

  He only realized he’d lost his battle to be still and think when he stopped pacing at the polished mahogany shelf where he kept his cell phone and keys. He’d turned the phone off today, not wanting any interruptions.

  That should have been a clue you’re out there, Grant, he told himself, as he picked it up and turned it back on. And as he did, he wondered why she didn’t have a cell phone. There were pay-as-you-go phones that put them within reach of almost everyone. But maybe that was it—she didn’t want to be within reach herself. Maybe it was part of cutting herself off completely from her old world, which she seemed so determined to do.

  The world in which her brother was dead.

  He realized he was pacing again, gave up trying to stop. Damn it, he wanted to tell her. The more he saw of her, the more bruised and battered and tormented he saw she was, the more he wanted to put an end to it.