Chapter 5
What the hell is she doing? Nate slammed on the brakes, bringing his Jeep to a screeching halt a few feet away from Cyn Porter, who stood in the middle of the road.
He stuck his head out the open window. "Are you trying to get yourself killed, woman? I nearly ran over you."
Cyn cursed the fates that had thrown her together with Nate Hodges again. After their ill-fated breakfast ended yesterday, she'd sworn she'd never go near him again. By his less-than-friendly attitude, she could tell that he felt the same way.
Walking around to the driver's side of the Jeep, Cyn counted slowly to ten before replying. "I can assure you that I'm not suicidal. If you'd been driving at a normal speed on this dead-end dirt road, you would have had no problem stopping."
"What were you doing in the middle of the road?" he asked, trying not to notice how good Cynthia Porter looked in her jeans and sweater.
"Wasn't it obvious? I was trying to get your attention."
"There are other ways, you know."
"Don't get smart with me," she said, her voice growing steadily louder and more agitated. "The deliveryman left a package at my house for you."
Nate tensed, every nerve in his body going deadly still. He hadn't been expecting a delivery. "Where's the package?"
"I just told you that it was at my house."
"Why didn't you just bring it out here?"
"Look, your swords are lying in the middle of my living room floor where they fell out of the package. I'd appreciate it if you'd come and get them." She flashed him a quick, phony smile, then turned on her heels and walked back toward her cottage.
Swords! Who the hell had sent him swords? And how had they wound up in the middle of Cynthia Porter's living room floor? Nate turned his Jeep into her drive. By the time he'd parked and gotten out, she was on her doorstep.
"Wait up," he called out, taking giant strides to reach her before she entered the house.
Turning on him just as he stepped up behind her, Cynthia blocked the doorway. "Just go in, get them and leave."
"What else did you think I'd do?" he asked.
"I didn't want you to think that I was inviting you to stay or anything after you made it perfectly clear yesterday that you neither want or need my friendship." Stay angry, she told herself. If you stay angry, he can't get to you. And whatever you do, don't look into his eyes. You'll be offering him more than friendship if you see that passionate need he can't disguise.
"Will you move out of the way, please?" he asked.
She moved inside. He followed. "There they are," she said, pointing toward the floor where a long box lay, one end open. Part of a heavy metal sword lay half in and half out of the box, and beside it was a matching sword, only a few inches of the tip still inside the box. Nate recognized the pieces immediately. They were excellent reproductions of Norman swords.
Who the hell had sent them? And why? Everyone who knew Nate knew about his collection. Even Ryker.
"I didn't open them," Cyn said. "When I walked in here with the box, the bottom just came open and the swords fell out. I was so startled, I dropped them."
"Have you touched them?" Maybe Romero could get some prints if the sender had been careless enough to leave any. If it had been Ryker, the swords would be clean.
"Most certainly not. The very sight of those things repulses me." What was wrong with him? Cyn wondered. For heaven's sake, the man collected knives, why was he so surprised that an order had arrived? "And I didn't touch the card, either."
She nodded toward the floor, then tapped her foot beside the small envelope that had floated out of the box when it sprung open.
Nate hesitated no more than a second, but long enough for Cyn to notice. He acted almost afraid to touch the card. She shook her head to dislodge such a ridiculous notion. Nate Hodges afraid? Don't be ridiculous.
He glanced around the room. "I need to use your phone."
"Is something wrong?"
"I want you to stay out of this." He made the mistake of grabbing her by the shoulders. The moment he touched her, he wanted to pull her closer, to tell her everything, to confess the danger he was in and the danger that would threaten her, too, if she became a part of his life.
"Nate, if something's wrong—"
"Why don't you go for a walk on the beach... or take a ride. Go somewhere until I can get this mess cleared up." Hell, he knew she wasn't about to leave. He hadn't given her an explanation, he'd just issued her an order.
"You forget, this is my house." She had sense enough to realize that Nate Hodges was in trouble whether or not he thought she was clever enough to figure it out. "You may not want me involved in this, whatever it is, but don't you think it's a little too late, now?"
"If you're smart, you'll pack your bags and go back to Jacksonville. Right now."
Cyn walked around him and the weapons lying so deadly in their stillness on her living room floor. Sitting down on the couch, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Do whatever you need to do. I'm not leaving."
Nate uttered a few choice words under his breath. He wished he could order Cynthia Porter to leave, but he couldn't. For whatever reason, she was determined to stay. Hell, it was as if she honestly thought she could help him, and there was no way he could persuade her otherwise without telling her the truth. And he wasn't about to do that.
"Fine, sit there and behave," he told her. "But stay out of the way and don't ask any questions."
"The portable phone is right there on the coffee table."
Nate picked up the phone, punched out the numbers and waited. The moment he heard Romero's voice, he said, "I'm at Cynthia Porter's cottage. While I was out, a guy delivered a package containing two Norman swords. He left them here. They're lying in the middle of Ms. Porter's floor. There was a card enclosed."
"Has she touched anything?" Romero asked.
"Just the outside of the box."
"You think they're a gift from our friend Ryker?"
"That's my guess." Nate watched Cyn. She sat quietly on the sofa, her hands crossed in her lap, her chin tilted upward as she gazed at the ceiling.
"Probably no point in checking for prints, but I'll bring a guy with me. Just stay put."
Nate laid down the phone, then sat beside Cyn. "You remember my friend, Nick Romero, from the Brazen Hussy?"
She nodded, but didn't look at him.
"Well, he's coming over and bringing someone with him. Romero will probably ask you a few questions about the deliveryman—"
"Just who are you, Nate Hodges? And what sort of trouble are you mixed up in?" She uncrossed her arms, reached out and touched him, her hand covering his where it lay on his leg.
He pulled away from the warmth of her touch. It wouldn't be easy to open up, to tell her the truth, to share his past with her, but God in heaven, he wanted to. By choice, he'd been alone all his adult life. But he was tired of being alone, tired of being afraid to care.
"Nothing that needs to concern you, Cyn."
She felt as if he'd slammed a door in her face, the door to his life that was clearly marked Private. Why was he so afraid to let her help him? Didn't he know she was very good at taking care of others? "It'll be... interesting to see Mr. Romero again," she said, smiling, but still not looking directly at Nate. "He's very charming, isn't he?"
Nate gave her a harsh look. "You aren't interested in Romero, so don't bother pretending you are."
"What makes you think I'm not interested in Nick Romero?"
Reaching out, Nate cupped her chin in his hand, his grasp infinitely tender, his thumb and fingers biting gently into her flesh. "Because you're interested in me."
She looked at him then, unable to stop herself. What she saw in his eyes both frightened and excited her. "You need me," she said, her voice no more than a faint whisper.