There might be things she could hide, but not this. Her file outlined some pretty awful family secrets. He didn’t know all the details, but he knew enough. Enough to know her father killed her mother and that he should kick his own ass for asking the question in the first place.

She nodded. “Right, that’s what I thought.”

“Natalie.”

“Technically, that was your three.” She brushed her hands against her jeans and bent down to retrieve her gloves. Slid them on, one at a time, before heading for the steps.

He called out to her. “You have one more chance.”

She didn’t even bother to look around before she hit the door and opened it. “I’m suddenly not in the mood for games.”

Yeah, neither was he.

SIX

Silence might be golden but it was slowly driving Natalie nuts. She’d grown accustomed to the bustle of the office and being on call twenty-four hours a day. Going from being needed and vital to an operation to sitting in a cabin staring at a wall made her want to claw her way through it.

Sure, she had to be on guard in case anyone came after her. Even though she now saw the futility of running from Gabe and his assistance, she wasn’t the type to hide while he took the hits. Not her style at all. But in between those stark moments of tension were long periods of unending boredom that books and cards couldn’t shake.

But now something else worked its way into the cabin. A heated sensation. A simmering just below the surface. They hadn’t said a word since the hatchet game. Hours had passed, and they sat across from each other at the small folding table Gabe set up after he finally got bored with cutting wood.

The soup came from a can, but it was warm and it was food of some sort, so she didn’t complain as she’d dumped it into a saucepan and figured out how to heat the burner. She’d had worse. In survivalist training she’d had to go days on little sleep and dig for worms. The whole deal. It supposedly toughened her, but honestly, she was pretty damn tough already.

In those moments when her confidence faltered she let the memories flood her mind. All the blood. Her mother’s screaming. The knife. Amazing how that could shift her whole world back into perspective.

Despite all the turmoil of the past two months, those old haunting memories had remained blocked. She’d had enough to deal with thanks to the immediate danger. Watching her team walk into a setup on a rogue mission. Being called in to answer questions. Hunting the mole while Elijah and the rest of the team scattered, only to be picked off one after the other. She’d stepped in, thrown her weight around, took risks she never thought she’d take to save the last two—Elijah and Becca—but not before facing down another bloodbath.

It was as if death followed her. But never, during all of those dark CIA days and the ones that followed at the negotiating table, listening to Bast weave his magic with words and schemes that made her think he’d missed his calling by being a lawyer instead of an agent, had she called up the soul-sucking memories from those years before. Not until Gabe stood outside today and asked his question. Now the images ran through her mind until all she wanted to do was forget.

Done with the thin broth, she dropped her spoon next to the bowl with a soft clink and glanced across the table. “Since I cooked, you get to do the dishes.”

“Technically, you opened a can.” He actually grinned at her. Sent all that smoking heat in her direction.

She never knew she had a thing for beards or big men or quiet talkers until him. But the punch of that combination made her dizzy. And she didn’t get breathless or silly for any man, not before him.

She cleared her throat because she had to. “Same thing.”

“Not really.”

A knocking sound grabbed her attention. It took her a second to realize it came from under the table where she’d crossed one leg over the other. Seemed one foot had taken to a fit of wild jumping. She rested a palm against her knee to stop it. “You’re an expert at cooking, too?”

He leaned back with his arms folded behind his head. “I know my way around most rooms in the house, including a kitchen.”

Prey. That was the only way to describe what set off the wild thumping inside her. She suddenly knew what a gazelle felt like the second before a big cat pounced.

She forced her voice to stay even. “You sound very domesticated.”

“I am.”

“You, the former sniper.” That didn’t make any sense to her. She pictured him going from assignment to assignment, bedding women here and there. Enjoying a country then moving on, with brief stops at what functioned as home for him before heading out into danger again.

The chair screeched against the wood floor as he sat up straight again. “Not to keep throwing the word out there, but technically I’m still a sniper.”

The move put him closer. A table still separated them, but she was ten seconds away from flipping the thing to get to him. The answer was to circle back to a safer topic. Something mundane and not open to debate. “Well, the cooking might help if you ever decide to put the gun away and settle down to start a family, but I don’t think the other skills will.”

“Already did.”

Words screeched to a halt in her brain. “What?”

He rested his elbows on the table and stared her down. “I have a family.”

The air hiccupped in her lungs. So much for thinking anything with this guy would run smoothly.

“You mean your brother Andy?” She’d met him in the office. Actually, knew him from before, back when she knew Andy and Elijah slept together on a regular basis because Eli was on her team and her responsibility. Even knew that when Eli walked out, Andy struggled to deal and ended up in a rough place. She could understand why Gabe might be protective. It seemed ingrained in his DNA.

“I mean my son.”

“I just . . . You mean . . . ”

He leaned in. “Yes?”

He just put it out there. No explanation or anything. Surely he was joking or she misunderstood . . . but he just sat there.

When she just sat there, he continued to stare. Finally, he spoke up again, which was good because she couldn’t find the words. “I have a son.”

That couldn’t be right. She’d read his file and wanted to shake her head in denial, but she could see the truth in his eyes. She struggled to imagine him as a dad. Holding a kid and throwing a ball. All normal, or so she’d seen on television and in movies. Her life had never worked that way. She knew exactly what it was like to have a lethal father, but not Gabe’s kind of lethal. Not the controlled kind.

And a kid meant a wife or a girlfriend. Yeah, that.

A wave of nausea rolled over her. She was going to kick his ass if he really thought she’d be some sort of vacation candy for him.

She dropped both feet to the floor, ready to shove him if needed. “You have a kid?”

“That’s what ‘son’ means.”

Wrong time to be a smartass. She still had that gun he gave her. He’d be wise to remember that. “So, you’re married?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

“Divorced?”

“Never.”

The game of verbal gymnastics ended right now. A sudden fury on behalf of a woman she didn’t know and envied in a weird way overtook Natalie. “All those passes and comments about getting me into bed—”

“Which is not something I do on a job.”

“—and you have a wife.” Her voice vibrated from the restraint of not launching across the table to smack his smug face.

He shook his head. “No wife.”

The two words had the tension fizzling out, but Natalie’s head kept spinning. Her emotions bounced from anger to relief. Fought with being ticked off for feeling either. He was her bodyguard, and an unwanted one at that. Getting wrapped up in his life, caring, all amounted to a huge mistake.