Read Online Mountain Investigation by Jessica Andersen - Free Book Online
Authors: Jessica Andersen
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portrayed could have been interested in her, never mind being smitten, as he’d claimed to be. She simply wasn’t the type to inspire strong emotions in other people. Not her parents, not men, not anyone.
Drifting in her hospital bed, dozing in that half-aware state between sleeping and waking, she thought of the hopes and dreams she’d brought into her marriage, and how Lee had extinguished them one by one.
As if summoned by the memories, she heard his voice in her mind, low and beguiling. You’re going to help us whether you like it or not, he’d whispered against her cheek, his breath feathering the hair at her temple as she’d lain bound and helpless, slipping into drugged oblivion. It’s simple, really, all you have to do is tell me where—
“Deep thoughts?” Gray’s low, masculine voice said, breaking the reverie.
Mariah jolted alert, yanking her attention to the doorway of her drab hospital room even as she scrambled to hold on to the memory. Or had it even been a memory? She wasn’t sure, didn’t know if it would help even if it had been real. Confusion churned through her, and it didn’t dissipate one iota at the sight of Gray standing there. If anything, her tension increased, not because she was afraid of him, or even because of the misplaced resentment she’d harbored against him for far too long.
No, this tension was purely a product of the situation and the man.
Deciding to keep the partially remembered whisper to herself for the moment, she shook her head and answered his question with a neutral, “Just resting.”
His gray suit hung on him a little, disguising the broad shoulders, flat waist and strong legs she now knew were part of the package. He looked as though he’d lost weight since he’d bought the clothes, making her think that in the past he might have carried some softness that was no longer evident in his tough, honed frame. That same toughness edged the sharp planes of his face and lent intensity to his expression as he crossed the room and took the visitor’s chair beside her bed.
Mariah was unable to keep herself from noting the smooth, almost feral grace of his actions. She was equally unable to squelch her body’s unexpectedly sharp yearn in his direction when he sat. She wanted to move closer, wanted to lean into his heat and steadying strength. Because she did, and because she knew she didn’t dare, she scooted away a few inches instead.
Ever since he’d rescued her in soldier’s guise, she’d been unable to go back to thinking of him as the cold, uncaring man she’d thought he was before. If he’d been motivated solely by the needs of his job, he would have tried to capture Lee and Brisbane as they’d chased her from her cabin. Or he could’ve let them recapture her, waiting until al-Jihad arrived to make his move. Instead, he’d sheltered her with his own body and carried her down the mountain when she’d been unable to walk. And now he was doing everything in his power to keep her safe. Granted, that was part of the job—it was all partof the job—but she couldn’t help thinking there was something more there, something personal. Something that hummed in the air between them as silence lingered. Some of it was because they didn’t dare speak freely, due to all the FBI surveillance equipment, as well as the surveillance they assumed Lee and his terrorist colleagues were using. That meant they were careful to act as though he was nothing more to her than a federal agent assigned to the case. Not the man who’d saved her life, and not a bodyguard awaiting Lee’s next move.
That awareness, though, hung heavy between them.
Finally, she broke the quiet to ask, “Do you have more pictures?”
Several times during her hospital stay, he’d brought mug shots of men the FBI thought might be Brisbane, none of which had been a match. Other times, he’d stopped by to see if she needed anything, or to update her on the progress of the investigation.
Drifting in her hospital bed, dozing in that half-aware state between sleeping and waking, she thought of the hopes and dreams she’d brought into her marriage, and how Lee had extinguished them one by one.
As if summoned by the memories, she heard his voice in her mind, low and beguiling. You’re going to help us whether you like it or not, he’d whispered against her cheek, his breath feathering the hair at her temple as she’d lain bound and helpless, slipping into drugged oblivion. It’s simple, really, all you have to do is tell me where—
“Deep thoughts?” Gray’s low, masculine voice said, breaking the reverie.
Mariah jolted alert, yanking her attention to the doorway of her drab hospital room even as she scrambled to hold on to the memory. Or had it even been a memory? She wasn’t sure, didn’t know if it would help even if it had been real. Confusion churned through her, and it didn’t dissipate one iota at the sight of Gray standing there. If anything, her tension increased, not because she was afraid of him, or even because of the misplaced resentment she’d harbored against him for far too long.
No, this tension was purely a product of the situation and the man.
Deciding to keep the partially remembered whisper to herself for the moment, she shook her head and answered his question with a neutral, “Just resting.”
His gray suit hung on him a little, disguising the broad shoulders, flat waist and strong legs she now knew were part of the package. He looked as though he’d lost weight since he’d bought the clothes, making her think that in the past he might have carried some softness that was no longer evident in his tough, honed frame. That same toughness edged the sharp planes of his face and lent intensity to his expression as he crossed the room and took the visitor’s chair beside her bed.
Mariah was unable to keep herself from noting the smooth, almost feral grace of his actions. She was equally unable to squelch her body’s unexpectedly sharp yearn in his direction when he sat. She wanted to move closer, wanted to lean into his heat and steadying strength. Because she did, and because she knew she didn’t dare, she scooted away a few inches instead.
Ever since he’d rescued her in soldier’s guise, she’d been unable to go back to thinking of him as the cold, uncaring man she’d thought he was before. If he’d been motivated solely by the needs of his job, he would have tried to capture Lee and Brisbane as they’d chased her from her cabin. Or he could’ve let them recapture her, waiting until al-Jihad arrived to make his move. Instead, he’d sheltered her with his own body and carried her down the mountain when she’d been unable to walk. And now he was doing everything in his power to keep her safe. Granted, that was part of the job—it was all partof the job—but she couldn’t help thinking there was something more there, something personal. Something that hummed in the air between them as silence lingered. Some of it was because they didn’t dare speak freely, due to all the FBI surveillance equipment, as well as the surveillance they assumed Lee and his terrorist colleagues were using. That meant they were careful to act as though he was nothing more to her than a federal agent assigned to the case. Not the man who’d saved her life, and not a bodyguard awaiting Lee’s next move.
That awareness, though, hung heavy between them.
Finally, she broke the quiet to ask, “Do you have more pictures?”
Several times during her hospital stay, he’d brought mug shots of men the FBI thought might be Brisbane, none of which had been a match. Other times, he’d stopped by to see if she needed anything, or to update her on the progress of the investigation.
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