Way of the Shadows. Cynthia Eden

Noelle to her feet. Their SUV was partially submerged and sinking fast. Damn it.

      “Are you all right?” Thomas asked her as his eyes swept over her. He didn’t see any injuries, but he wanted to be sure she was all right.

      “He just tried to kill us!” She sounded incredulous.

      She was also shaking.

      Because it was cold out there. He shouldered out of his coat and pushed it toward her. When she tried to refuse, Thomas just wrapped it around her shoulders. “Senior agent,” he snapped at her, still remembering the flash of fear he’d felt in the SUV. “That means you do what I say. Right now, I’m saying...take my coat.”

      She pulled the coat closer. Thomas yanked out his phone. They’d rolled a good twenty feet from the road. A heavy darkness was already sweeping over the area. He lifted the phone—and realized it had been smashed to hell and back during the tumble.

      “Tell me your phone’s working,” he said.

      “I...I think it’s in the SUV.”

      Hell.

      The temperature was too low. It was getting too dark. No one was going to see them down there, and if anyone did happen to come along that lonely stretch of road again, it could very well be the same jerk who’d just tried to kill them.

      Noelle started to climb back up toward the road. He caught her arm, stopping her. “Was your gun in the vehicle, too?” Thomas demanded.

      She gave a grim nod. “Yours?” Noelle asked softly.

      “You know I don’t need a gun to kill.” She was still shivering. They had to get to safety, fast. “But I’ve got the weapon.”

      “Stay to the shadows as much as possible,” Thomas told her, keeping his voice quiet, too. In this area, any noise would carry easily. “He could come back, but we have to travel close to the road because running through the wilderness sure isn’t an option for us.” Not unless they wanted a slow death.

      “I thought I saw a turnoff, a mile or so before the bridge,” Noelle told him. When she spoke, a small cloud appeared before her mouth. It’s too cold out here. “Maybe there’s a cabin there. Someone who can help us.”

      Maybe. Right then, that turnoff sounded like their best chance. He kept his hold on her arm, and they started walking through the darkness.

       Chapter Two

      “You need to strip.”

      The cabin door slammed closed behind Noelle. At Thomas’s growled words, Noelle stiffened. “Excuse me?”

      They’d been walking for what felt like an hour. They’d taken the turnoff from the main road and slogged ahead until they’d found this place—a rundown, one-room cabin, which looked as if it hadn’t been used in years.

      It was as cold inside as it was outside. Noelle couldn’t stop the shivers that rocked her body.

      “Your core temperature is too low,” Thomas told her flatly. “We have to get warm. The snow wet our clothing, so we have to ditch it.” He was leaning over what looked like one very ancient fireplace. “Lucky damn night,” he rasped. “There’s some old wood here.”

      Uh, yeah, but how were they going to light that fire and—

      He pulled out a small kit from his pocket and went to work. A flame flared seconds later.

      Her breath expelled in a relieved rush.

      Still kneeling in front of the fire, Thomas glanced back at her. “There was no way I’d come into the Alaskan wilderness without a fire kit.”

      She shivered. Again.

      “Strip,” he ordered once more.

      The cabin was deserted, so they sure weren’t going to get any rescue crew out there that night. But if they didn’t warm up, soon, Noelle realized the odds of them making it until morning weren’t going to be high.

      Thomas headed toward her.

      Noelle tensed.

      “There you go again,” he said, and he sounded angry. “When will you learn, I’m not going to bite?”

      “I—”

      He brushed by her and yanked open a small closet. No, he yanked down that closet’s door; the old thing just literally fell off its hinges. “This will have to do for kindling ’cause we aren’t finding any dry wood outside.” He broke the door into heavy chunks. He had the fire flaring even higher when he added it. His back was turned to her as she inched toward that inviting warmth.

      “My clothes are hitting the floor,” Thomas told her bluntly. “Yours need to do the same.”

      Because they were soaked. But...

      He stripped out of his sweater. Dropped the shirt he’d worn under it for layering. When he bent to remove his boots and socks, the firelight flickered over the tight muscles in his chest and arms. He had to work out—a lot. She’d never seen anyone with such sculpted muscles. As she stared at him—probably too long and too hard—Noelle could just make out the...scars on his body. Twisting, sharp, they snaked around his abs and lined his back.

      She remembered the wound notations in his files. He’d been captured on a mission a while back. Held. Tortured. But, by the time rescue had come, all of his captors had been dead.

      Thomas turned then. He still wore his jeans. His eyes met hers. “It’s not personal,” he told her in his deep, dark voice. “It’s survival.”

      She felt her cheeks burn. Well, at least burning was better than freezing. Noelle fumbled and her clothes started to hit the floor. His jacket. Hers. Her sweater. Her undershirt. Her boots. Her socks.

      Her fingers were fumbling, uncoordinated, as she tried to unhook the snap of her jeans.

      “Let me.” His voice was rougher than before, and his fingers were suddenly working at her waistband. He was so close, seeming to surround her with his strength. Noelle tried to pull in a deep breath, and his scent—masculine and crisp—wrapped around her.

      Her zipper eased down with a hiss of sound.

      She jerked back from him. Nearly fell. Would have, if Thomas hadn’t snagged her arm so quickly. “Easy,” he murmured.

      Easy was the last thing she felt right then.

      His fingers slowly uncurled their grip. “I’ll spread out our clothes to dry. We should try to get some rest near the fire.”

      Noelle didn’t hold out a lot of hope regarding rest. She bent and pushed her jeans down her legs. Then she looked up. Thomas had turned his back to her, but he’d stuck his hand out behind him, obviously waiting for her jeans. She pushed them into his hand.

      “The rest,” Thomas pressed.

      “No way,” Noelle said, aware that her voice held a sharp snap. “I’m keeping on my underwear, and I want you to do the same.” Her panties and her bra were dry enough, and she was absolutely not planning to flash him any more than necessary.

      Noelle thought she heard Thomas sigh, but he bent and finished spreading out her clothes. And his. And—

      “Sorry,” he said, voice a bit wry as she jerked her gaze off him and back toward the fire. “But I’m not wearing underwear.”

      No, no, he hadn’t been.

      Noelle dropped toward the fire. She sat on the floor and pulled her knees up toward her. She was still shivering, and the tips of her fingers and toes were starting to ache.

      A few moments later, Thomas eased down next to her. He reached for her.

      The flinch was instinctive. She’d been withdrawing from people ever since—well, ever since she’d