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The twinkle in his dark eyes and that dimple in his cheek...oh, so tempting. She had to marshal all her resources to push back and fight off the energy zipping around inside her. “That still doesn’t get you a bed for the night.”
“I’ll take the couch.”
This guy had a ready response for everything. “Hank...Holt...” She actually didn’t know which was right, let alone who he really was and if he could be trusted. Her instincts told her yes, but even letting him plant the seed about being in a relationship with her amounted to a big risk. “Okay, I give up. What do I call you?”
“In public, Hank. If it makes it easier and helps you remember not to slip up, always call me that.”
She preferred Holt. The name fit him. It felt big and secure and special. Not that she could let him know any of that. “I don’t know you.”
He winked at her. “Right back at ya.”
Maybe it was the voice, all rough and husky. Maybe it was the fact he could have hurt her a dozen times, dragged her right up to the compound or let the two goons who broke into her house do it. For whatever reason, a sense of calm washed over her when he came around.
She wished she knew why. “Why should I trust you?”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Wrong. That was the one thing—possibly the only helpful thing—she’d learned from her father. “People always have a choice.”
Holt shrugged. “Fine. Leave town until it’s safe.”
He gave her the out and she should have grabbed it. The words sat right there on her tongue. She could leave, take a few days away and get her bearings. But the idea of leaving him, of running, made her stomach fall. “When will that be?”
“I don’t know.”
The guy did do honesty well. It didn’t always serve his case, yet he stuck with it. She liked that about him. That and those shoulders...and the face...and the hair that looked so soft. “I have work to do.”
“Which is what exactly?”
She couldn’t exactly say: rescuing people from the camp. That would open a whole new line of questioning, and she was not ready to go there with him. Or with anyone. “We’re spinning in circles.”
His arms dropped to his sides and he moved in closer. “Look, I get that you’re afraid and wary and don’t know me. Up until a few hours ago I only knew you as the woman in town who looked so hot in dark jeans.”
Wait... “What?”
He just kept talking. “Now I know you’re messed up in New Foundations, which is a crappy thing to be. Some of the people up there are dangerous, possibly delusional.”
They were all those things and more. She knew because she’d lived there, fought them. Escaped and hadn’t stopped emotionally running since. “I need to stop them.”
“You need to stay away and let me take care of them.” His eyebrow lifted. “You just have to trust me.”
She wanted to believe. She’d been in this battle so long exhaustion had crept into her bones. The idea of turning over the reins and walking away sounded like sweet relief. But she knew things that he didn’t, and not seeing this through would slowly pick away at her.
No, she needed to bring down New Foundations on her own. Every cabin. Every workshop. Send every person home.
If only Holt didn’t look so sincere. His laser-like gaze never slipped. He watched her until she started to squirm in her skin. She knew what he wanted and she couldn’t give it to him. “You’re asking a lot.”
“I know.”
His ready acceptance chipped away at her defenses, just as so much of him did. “You seem to take for granted I’ll look at that face and those shoulders and fall in line.”
He cleared his throat. “You like my shoulders?”
He stood very close now. Right there until only a few feet separated their bodies. His ego just might kill her.
Time to bring him back down to earth. “You’re missing the point.”
“I am here to assess what’s happening at the compound, determine the danger level and, if necessary, get people out before things blow up. Literally.”
That sounded so promising. She’d been stymied by her limited resources and inability to safely infiltrate the fence surrounding the place. To divulge everything to him might help her case against the camp, but it would put her identity at risk. The constant balancing act got old.
Still, if he really could help, really was willing to step in, she couldn’t ignore that offer. “But you’re not FBI.”
He shook his head. “Not FBI or ATF.”
“I want to believe you’re one of the good guys.” But that left a lot of other possibilities, both legitimate and not.
