Blind Trust: A Military Romantic Suspense (Men of Steele Book 6) Read online

  “I can only imagine.”

  They fell into silence, and he drifted off with her in his thoughts. When he woke several hours later, a pale glow lit the inside of the tent. Next to him, Lindsey slept soundly, her deep breaths slightly raspy in the quiet air. She was a disheveled mess, but still beautiful and serene with her eyes closed, her face relaxed.

  Snap.

  Todd froze. Had JJ caught up with them?

  Slowly lifting the covers, he grabbed his weapon and slid out of bed, tucking the edges of the sleeping bag around Lindsey. He sat up and peeked through the ventilation flap.

  Just a pair of squirrels chasing each other up and down the trees.

  As quietly as possible, he left the tent and relieved his bladder. That done, he grabbed two collapsible water containers, and walked up and over the deserted trail to a stream bubbling merrily on the other side. Ice framed the edges of the creek, reflecting the sun as it crested the mountains, painting the frosted forest in glitter. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with crisp, clean air, and basked in the sun’s faint radiant heat.

  Maybe he should never go home.

  As if that would change anything. It wouldn’t bring back his cousin Bethany or heal his friend Jason’s wounds. But he wouldn’t have to face his family or his best friend either.

  Focus on Lindsey. He could help her.

  Maybe.

  And then he could get back to his purpose here. Locating Pete Lassiter wouldn’t turn back the clock, but it could give everyone closure. Justice.

  Todd dipped each container in the running stream until full, and then added water purifying tablets. Back at the camp, he let the containers sit for thirty minutes while he gathered everything he needed for breakfast and a basic wipe-down.

  After heating several cups of water over his tiny camp stove, he added a bit of fresh water to cool it down. Inside the vestibule, out of the cool breeze, he began a quick wipe-down routine. Normally, he wouldn’t bother, but they were heading into town today. And, if he were honest, Lindsey made him acutely aware of his dirt. He’d just pulled one arm out of his shirt when she unzipped the tent and peered through.

  “Good morn— Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Sorry.” She dropped the flap.

  He laughed. She acted like she’d never seen a man’s chest before. But he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. They’d slept together, but with several layers of clothing between them, and she was in a desperate situation. For all he knew, she was only putting up with him so he’d keep helping her.

  Sobering thought.

  He finished up, threw on a new shirt and his puffy jacket, and moved outside. “All clear.”

  A few seconds later, she emerged slowly, blinking against the bright sun. “I don’t suppose you have a comb I can borrow?”

  “I can do better than that.”

  He doodled on a small drawing pad and sipped at his coffee until she reappeared twenty minutes later in one of his clean shirts, her long waves combed back into a neat ponytail. “Feel better?”

  “Yes,” she said on a long sigh, plopping down next to him and offering him a grateful smile as he handed her a blanket and a cup of coffee.

  He started making oatmeal.

  “I almost feel human again,” she said, snuggling into the blanket with both hands wrapped around the mug.

  “You look better.” Not just better, stunning. “You have color in your cheeks, and you can keep your eyes open. How’re your feet?”

  “Still tender, but better. I should be able to keep up with you today.”

  “Any other injuries that need tending? I really was trained as a paramedic.”

  She shook her head. “My ribs are a little sore, and I’m scraped up, but nothing serious. Maybe dehydrated.” Reaching out, she stopped short of touching his face and winced, dropping her hand. “How’s your head? It looks painful.”

  He gently pressed the tender spot where Harris had kicked him the night before. “Probably looks worse than it feels.”

  She made a little noise of disbelief.

  “Trust me. I’ve had worse.” He’d put a cold pack on it last night.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to his sketchbook, which he’d accidentally left open when she’d appeared.

  He shrugged, feeling his face heat as he fought the urge to snatch up his drawings before she could see. “Just something I do to keep myself busy when I have downtime.”

  She leaned over for a better look at the squirrels he’d captured from his memory of this morning’s encounter. “Wow. That’s really good.”

  “Thanks.” Before she could ask to see more, he stuffed the little book into his pack and focused his attention on their breakfast.

  “I can barely draw a straight line.”

  “Straight lines are more useful in architecture than art anyway,” he said.

  “You know what I mean.” She made a face at him. “I’d love to be able to recreate what I see like that. I’m in awe of how you can get the essence of something with so few strokes. Have you ever considered an art-based career?”

  “Nah. It’s just something I do for fun.”

  She hunched over her drink and watched him. “What do you think you’d be doing if you weren’t a security…what did you call it?”

  “Specialist.” He threw some raisins and almonds into the thickening oats.

  “Right, that.”

  “Physical therapy.”

  “Really?” She tilted her head. “That’s a big change.”

  “Not so big from my old job as a medic. Helping injured people, and not stuck behind a desk. The big difference is that I’d get to see the patients improve, rather than just handing them off and never knowing the outcome.”

  “You think you’ll ever pursue it?”

  “I doubt it.” No. “It’s a doctoral program, and I don’t even have a BS. Plus, the space is really limited. It can take years to get in. Not sure I have that kind of patience.”

  “So you’ve looked into it,” she teased. “I had no idea it was such a commitment, but it seems like it’d be worth it if that’s what you want to do.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Long before Pete killed Bethany, Todd had been ready to change gears. He wasn’t getting any younger. He could only play bodyguard for so long before it took too much of a toll on his body. And his mind. But he couldn’t imagine leaving his team. Steele Security had become a second family for him, and he couldn’t imagine going solo.

  Which is why he’d jumped on Kurt Steele’s offer to take over recruitment and training once the new year rolled around. He’d have more responsibility, even better pay, and fewer days away from home.

  He just needed to see Pete behind bars first.

  “What’s wrong?” Lindsey asked, far too perceptive for his taste.

  “Nothing. Just thinking about everything we need to do to get moving.”

  They ate their oatmeal in silence, letting the food warm them from the inside. After breakfast, he filled a water bottle for each of them, and they finished off the remainder of the purified stream water before packing up and heading out. The sooner they got on the trail the better.

  Once they started walking, she kept up a good pace, her stride nearly as long as his. “Where are you from?” he asked.

  “LA. Specifically Hermosa Beach, if you’re familiar with the area.”

  “Not really, but I know it’s one of the few places with worse traffic than DC.”

  “Depends where you have to go. I’m lucky,” she said. “I’ve always worked pretty close to home.” Her pretty mouth twisted. “I don’t get out of The Bubble much.”

  “Are you from LA originally?”

  “Yep. One of those rare specimens who was actually born and raised in the area, only a few miles from where I live now. There’s an Air Force base nearby, and my parents both work for one of the defense contractors.”

  “I was in the Air Force for ten years, but I was never stationed there.”

  “O
h, my dad too. What did you do?”

  “Security police to start, then pararescue.”

  “You were a PJ?” she asked, shading her eyes to look at him. She wore his extra knit cap down over her ears, but he didn’t have another pair of sunglasses, and she wouldn’t take his when he offered, making the argument that blue eyes were more sensitive to the light. Probably true. “That’s what you meant by having paramedic training.”

  He nodded.

  “Bit of an understatement,” she said with a playful push against his arm. “That’s like calling a Navy SEAL a soldier.”

  “Technically, they’re sailors.” But she was right. PJs were far more than just paramedics, both in medical knowledge and operating environment. As part of the Air Force’s special operations, they rescued service members and allies trapped behind enemy lines or under fire, including pilots and special operators—the old joke was that when a SEAL was in trouble, he called the PJs. “I’m surprised you’ve even heard of the PJs. The SEALs and Delta get all the media attention.”

  “My dad made the same argument once, grumbling about how the Navy had a better PR machine. Top Gun easily could’ve been an Air Force movie with F-16s or something.”

  Todd laughed. “He has a point. What did he do in the service?”

  “Engineer. Just for four years. He’s much happier designing airframes,” she said with obvious fondness for her dad. “My mom too.”

  “So you come by your affinity for numbers honestly.”

  “Not sure I had a chance. But I don’t have the spatial intelligence they do. I can’t turn objects around in my head and tell you what they’d look like from another angle. Or read upside down. My mind doesn’t work that way. But numbers? They’re my bitch.” She grinned.

  Todd laughed. Damn, he liked this woman. A lot. “Why’d you choose accounting and not a math major?” He couldn’t imagine anything worse than sitting at a desk running numbers all day.

  “I guess I like the structure of it. The rules. Everything has to add up, to balance.” She watched a hawk circling overhead. “Numbers are consistent and reliable. They don’t lie.”

  “Unlike people.”

  She nodded. “Exactly.”

  Lost in their own thoughts, they trekked on. Todd soaked up the golds and greens and the vivid blue sky, taking in Montana’s incredible scenery and shedding layers as the day heated up. Despite the freezing temps overnight, it would probably hit the sixties by noon.

  As the morning wore on, they talked about his two older brothers, and what her life was like as an only child. He told her about his mom, who’d been an X-ray tech in the Air Force until he was six and then returned with Todd to Oklahoma after she and his dad divorced.

  “That explains the accent.”

  “What accent?” he deadpanned. It wasn’t that strong, but he didn’t sound like a West Coaster either.

  “Okay, twang, maybe. Faint, but there.”

  He shrugged.

  “I like it.”

  “I’m fixin’ to take a break,” he said, playing it up by mimicking his granddad’s much heavier accent. “You might oughtta join me.”

  She laughed and followed him just off the trail to a large fallen tree where they sat side-by-side after he dropped his pack. “Might oughtta?”

  “Might oughtta, might could, might should.” He found two protein bars and handed her one. “No commitment required.”

  “I might could get used to that.”

  He ripped open his snack, unable to hide his smile. “I knew you were a quick study, Cali girl.”

  Her grin made his heart skip a beat. “Like, totally.” She tossed her ponytail, making the sun throw sparks off the red and blond highlights in her dark hair.

  Todd couldn’t look away.

  She caught his gaze and they both stilled.

  Her eyes darkened as she stared deep into his soul, past the barriers he’d erected long ago, beyond all of the death and pain he’d witnessed, straight to his core.

  She licked her lips, and something sparkling and liquid slid through him, warming his chest like a shot of whiskey.

  He stopped breathing and leaned in, pulled by an invisible thread.

  With every ounce of patience he possessed, he waited. Waited for her to stop him. Waited for her to shift away.

  He shouldn’t have lowered his head, but she was so goddamned compelling, how could he not? He watched her face as he moved closer, expecting her to pull back and break the spell.

  But then, hot damn, his lips were pressed against hers and he was lost.

  Lindsey welcomed the soft press of Todd’s mouth, the searing heat of his tongue as his confidence seemed to grow and he teased her to open to him. She cupped his face, letting her fingernails scrape through the thick stubble before sliding her hand around the back of his neck.

  He groaned and deepened the kiss, caressing her cheek. His touch sent sparks zinging through her body and her breath picked up. She was floating, moored only by the feel of his hot skin, aware only of this moment, of this man and the rasp of his beard on her face, the slide of his tongue against hers, the growing heat between them.

  Wait until she told Megan what—

  Lindsey abruptly pulled back. “I’m sorry, I…”

  He dropped his hand, his breath coming fast as he shook his head slowly. “Don’t apologize. I know this is shitty timing.”

  “Yeah.” That too.

  What the hell had she been thinking? They’d be parting ways within the hour. All too soon, she’d find the police, hopefully get Megan back safe, and go home to California. That was all that mattered. How selfish to want to linger with Todd while her friend suffered God-knew-what at the hands of those horrible men.

  Reluctantly, she tried to shake off the lust that tugged at her like an undertow.

  Awkward now, they finished their snacks, took turns relieving their bladders, and resumed the trek downhill, saying little.

  Her mind pretty much played the kiss on a loop. She’d never been that taken in by such a simple act before. Nothing she’d experienced even came close. New categories needed to be invented to describe kissing Todd.

  Was he particularly skilled, or was it just kissing him that made it so different? So special?

  Him. Definitely him.

  She was thirty-two, not nineteen. She was nowhere close to being a virgin. Yet, not a single man, not even one of her three long-term boyfriends, had prepared her for Todd.

  A man you’ve known for a day.

  Maybe she was more susceptible to him because of her current state. Hell, she’d nearly died and he’d saved her life. That could do a number on anyone.

  Plus, he was still helping her. She considered herself too much of a feminist to be into the whole knight-in-shining-armor thing, but she’d read about how shared trauma and danger brought people closer. And she couldn’t deny the appeal of a man who was willing to risk himself on her behalf.

  But then, he’d been a PJ and was now a bodyguard. Risking himself for others was his job. He’d probably do it for anyone.

  But, he’d rescued her.

  Dammit, she wanted to kiss him again. And do more. She’d had another glimpse of his incredible body this morning, and—holy wow. He was all carved abs, sinewy arms, lightly freckled shoulders…

  She fanned herself and removed the long-sleeved quarter-zip he’d loaned her, tying it around her waist.

  Gorgeous as he was, being a good guy was his best asset. Caring, competent, confident. The whole package was so sexy she could hardly look away.

  Get a grip, Linds.

  “I see the trailhead from here,” he said, bringing her mind back to the mountains, “but it’ll be another thirty, forty minutes.”

  “Okay.” Her toes throbbed and her ribs ached, but she was too close to take a break now. “Thanks.”

  “You doing all right?” He lifted his sunglasses and looked at her.

  She nodded. “Fine.”

  “I’m sorry if I ma
de things awkward between us. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  “You didn’t force yourself on me,” she said, not wanting him to regret the best kiss of her life.

  “I know, but you’re under stress and depleted and in a state of heightened emotion. I feel like I took advantage.”

  “Maybe I took advantage of you.”

  He gave her a wan smile. “You’re welcome to do it again, anytime.”

  She held his gaze and her heart crashed against her ribs. His piercing blue eyes held her rooted to the ground. She could stare into them all day.

  No. Bad Lindsey.

  Forcing herself to start walking again, she asked, “How long are you in Montana?”

  He waited a beat and then followed, shoving the shades back onto his nose. “As long as it takes.”

  “For what?”

  “To be ready to go home.”

  What the hell did that mean? Was he on some kind of journey of self-discovery, like that woman who hiked the Pacific Crest Trail and then wrote a memoir about it? Lindsey glanced over her shoulder at him. “You can just stay out here as long as you want?”

  He shrugged, and something dark gnawed at her stomach. He was hiding something. But then, they barely knew each other, were less than an hour from never seeing each other again. He didn’t owe her his entire life story. He owed her nothing. Nada.

  She returned her attention to the trail, unaccountably disappointed. The humidity had dropped drastically over the last few hours as the air warmed, but at the same time, the wind had picked up and now tore strands from her ponytail, whipping them around her face. She fought to get her hair under some semblance of control.

  Up the hillside, a stand of aspens shimmered like golden sequins against the backdrop of dark green pines. Or firs. Something evergreen. She knew little of foliage except that Montana was as beautiful as she’d hoped. Too bad she could take little joy in it now.

  “Were you just starting out when you ran into me yesterday?” she asked.

  “No. I’m about ten days in. Exploring the different trails.”