“Wrong.”

Anger radiated off him. She knew it was directed at some feud with his brother but still felt caught in the crossfire. Whatever plagued him now and drove him and Rick apart qualified as the type of thing that should have been in her file on him but wasn’t. That meant the fight was new or so deeply personal that no one talked. Both options piqued her curiosity. “Correct me then.”

“He’s on the government payroll.” Gabe leaned against the counter and gripped the top on either side of him. “I’m not.”

She knew all about Rick and his black-ops career. The guy had a go-to operation for off-the-book infiltration and extraction jobs. Nasty stuff. Not something a guy with deep emotions and a bright-line sense of right and wrong could pull off. Word was Rick didn’t let either get in his way. He’d been seriously injured about eighteen months ago and came back twice as lethal.

“Is that why we hate him? His job choices?” she asked, trying to make light of an obviously heavy subject.

Gabe’s grip tightened until his knuckles turned white. “No.”

Could be Rick’s mind-set and personality clashed with Gabe’s. She could see that. Gabe talked tough and absolutely qualified as lethal, but something about him said bone-deep decency to her. He’d followed orders and gotten the job done, killed when necessary, but she had a hard time imagining him torturing someone under the guise of information-gathering and enjoying it.

But then this kid issue hovered. She didn’t get that part of his life at all. Abandoning a son he never disclosed in the first place didn’t fit in with the guy she thought she knew, so maybe she didn’t know anything at all.

Except the stubbornness. He didn’t bother hiding that trait. “Gabe¸ honestly, it would be easier to talk with a tree.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I don’t want to talk.”

That would be consistent with his personality. Still, she didn’t intend to let him get away with the lame excuse. Not when they had days, possibly weeks, to get through with nothing but each other and a few elk for company. “We’re stuck in here. We may as well burn through some time.”

For a few seconds he just stared at her. Stood stock-still and toured his gaze over her, his frown deepening with every second. “Do you want me to fuck you? Is that what this is about?”

The icy words crashed over her, and she held back her flinch. She morphed from half-amused and wanting answers to fighting off the urge to punch him. Hell if he didn’t deserve it. “I don’t know Rick but from your description of him it’s starting to sound like you’re a lot alike.”

Gabe pushed off from the counter and came toward her. “Sorry, do you want me to use a prettier word?”

Every syllable slashed into her. Ripped and tore until she expected to see blood puddle on the floor. She shouldn’t care. She had protective walls to keep shit like this out. But something about him attacking, about him using sex and what they’d shared as a weapon, struck against something deep inside of her.

“I want you to drop the attitude.” That qualified as an understatement, but she went with the comment anyway. Much more and the tension would skyrocket.

“We are not friends.” He took another step.

She refused to get up. To show any sign that the words landed with the force he intended. “True.”

“If the plan is for me to spill my guts for your entertainment, forget it.” He stood right in front of her, blocking the light behind him and looming over her seat.

“Understood.” He could not be clearer, and she could not hear one more thing.

Fighting with her need to battle back, she stood up. If he wanted to piss all over someone, he’d need to find another target. He’d slipped into nonsense mode, and she refused to follow right behind him. It was as if he thought no one else got the crap stick when it came to family. Wrong.

She got up and snagged her jacket off the peg by the front door. Her palm touched the knob before she felt him behind her, bearing down, breathing hard and filled with fury.

With a hand on her arm, he turned her around to face him. Grabbed the coat out of her hand and threw it over the couch. “Where are you going?”

“Wherever you’re not.”

His head snapped back and his eyes grew wide. “Now you’re sensitive?”

“What the hell does that mean?” She sensed the load of sarcasm headed her way but pushed. If he had something to say, he should just say it.

“You played the cold fish for weeks before we got to this cabin. You’d barely look at me.” His eyes flashed with fire. “Now we get here and you get bored. You figure out there may be a division between the MacIntosh brothers and you move in.”

She put a hand on his chest and shoved. Used all her strength and barely moved him. “I think you have cabin fever.”

“Maybe this amuses you, but I’m not an assignment.” He pointed his finger right in her face. “You are. You are the file. My personal life is off-limits.”

She slapped his hand away. Seriously thought about kneeing him in the groin. Maybe that would put his life and this fight back into perspective for him. “You think you could be blowing this out of proportion?”

“You know what? You stay in here.” He reached around her for the doorknob. “I’ll head out for a few minutes.”

She stepped away. Let him open the door before she took the shot. “And people think I’m the runner.”

The door slammed shut with a loud whack as he turned around to face her again. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Tread carefully, Natalie.” His voice stayed deadly soft.

He needed a wake-up call, and she decided to be the one to deliver it. “What are you going to do? If you think I’m afraid of you, sorry.” She shook her head as much to make her point as to drive the horrible memories of her past away. “The days of me cowering in a corner for any man are over.”

He went still. “What does that mean?”

Her words ran right over his. “Honestly, I will shoot you before I let you physically hurt me.”

“I would never do that. You have to know—”

“Stop talking.” A swirl of energy caught her. She felt a great crashing inside her. It was as if the emotions she had long suppressed—fear, frustration—boiled up and spilled over, wiping out everything else. “I’ve been terrified by the best of them, and you don’t even register on the scale.”

The color drained out of him. Shock and something that looked suspiciously like guilt moved behind his eyes. “Your dad.”

Wasn’t that convenient. “Oh, I see. My personal life is open to interrogation but yours isn’t.”

“Natalie.” He reached for her.

She took a step back, just out of touching range. “Don’t.”

“Fine.” He held up both hands. “Tell me what to say. What you want me to do.”

“Nothing.” And she meant it. He couldn’t reach back and erase the words or stop the firefight he’d set off inside of her. But he could redirect it. “Actually, one thing.”

Her fingers went to her belt and the button underneath for her jeans. He didn’t comment. Didn’t try to stop her or help. Part of her wondered if he knew what she wanted. That she needed him to help burn off the raging inside her.

She just said it. “Sex.”

No feeling, no emotion. She craved bodies sliding against each other. Friction. A true burn-off of energy and a few minutes to forget everything.

She got her zipper down and reached for his pants. With a finger tucked in the waistband of his jeans, she pulled him closer—brought his body right up against hers—and he didn’t fight her.

Forget smooth. Her hands jerked and tugged until she had his pants open. The whole time he stood there, letting her undress him. When her fingers slipped into his briefs, he put a hand over hers. Before she could say anything, he stepped away from her.

The move had her falling back against the wall as rough breaths rocked her body. Her mind went blank. She forced it to stay that way before feelings of vulnerability and failure seeped in. She’d made a pass, a serious one, and he was pushing her away. In terms of ego, this amounted to a killing blow.