"If you wait twenty minutes, I'll get cleaned up and go with you. There's a good trail nearby."
"You like to run?"
"It's just something I do to stay in shape."
Nick felt his brain begin to function again. He was still wearing his holster and ruined jacket. He took them off, laid the rig on the coffee table. He took the H-K from the holster, pulled the slide partway back, still a round in the chamber. He dropped the magazine and inserted a fresh one, set it back on the table.
He went into the other room. She'd made the bed. He stripped and went into the bathroom. The hot water soothed the aches and bruises and he started feeling human again. He thought about Selena. She looked good in that outfit. He felt the beginning of an erection, turned the water to cold.
He toweled off, wiped the steam off the mirror and shaved. He went back into the bedroom and pulled on shorts and a tee, put on his running shoes.
He thought about yesterday. It seemed there was always someone with a gun waiting for him, somewhere. He thought about people who would cut the finger off an old man. Someone had to do something about people like that. It was what kept him going.
He got a Colt .380 auto from the safe and tucked it out of sight under the tee. It was a lot lighter and smaller than the .45. Good for a run. After yesterday he wasn't going anywhere without something to make holes.
He came out of the bedroom.
"What happened to your leg?" she asked.
His leg looked like someone had run a cheese grater on steroids over the thigh and then taken a few digs at the calf for good measure. The scars were colorful, red, white and blue, very patriotic. Under his clothes there were puckered ridges of scar tissue on the side of his hip and ribcage.
"Afghanistan happened. A little kid threw a grenade at me. I shot him."
She looked at him. He thought he saw unspoken accusation.
"I didn't have a choice. The fragments missed the knee and the groin. Still a couple in the leg. It bothers me sometimes, but not bad. One reason I run is it keeps the leg strong."
"Let's run, then."
They headed out the door and up the hill. The morning was cool, perfect for a run before the heat built up. The trail was shady and soft underfoot. Birds darted in and out of the branches and leaves. A doe bounded across the trail in front of them. In the cool elevation and shade of the foothills, purple and yellow wildflowers still bloomed along the edge of the trail.
Carter's breathing settled into an easy rhythm, the sounds of the run and the feel of the path under his feet filling his thoughts. He felt yesterday begin to slip away. Then he remembered the man shooting at him and screaming as he went down.
The man he'd shot had tried to kill them. He'd failed, and Nick had survived. Maybe there was meaning in it, maybe not. That was a question for people who found value in probing theological and metaphysical mysteries. He wasn't one of them.
He didn't look for meaning anymore. When it came right down to it, it was all about survival. The way he dealt with it was one day at a time. It had been one day at a time for the last fifteen years. It didn't do any good to think about it. It was what he did, a job. Someone had to do it.
About two miles from the cabin they paused for a breather.
"You were right, this is a great trail." Selena looked out over a wide valley.
"I make this run every morning when I'm here."
They were soaked in sweat. Selena rested her hand on his arm, catching her breath.
"Nick…," she began. She looked at him, thoughtful. "Oh, never mind. Let's talk when we get back."
"After you." He gestured at the trail.
Back at the cabin Nick stood by the sink with a glass of water looking out the window. He felt her hand on his shoulder.
"Nick," she said.
He turned and she reached behind his head and pulled him to her. He set the water down and put his arms around her. She radiated heat. He tasted the salt of her sweat, pulled her close, probed her mouth with his tongue and felt himself stiffen. Her hands moved on his back, his shoulders, then she reached down and cupped him, rubbed her hand over him.
He broke the kiss. He didn't think about it.
"Maybe we should go in the bedroom."
"Maybe we should."
He kissed her again, on the mole on her lip. They moved together to the bed, stripped and stood naked.
Her breasts were firm, her nipples pink and erect, her abdomen flat with narrow hips. A fuzz of blond descended from her navel to the tangle between her legs. She grasped him in one hand and kissed him while she ran her other hand along his back. Her fingers traced over the scars. He picked her up and laid her across the bed.
She was wet. When he entered she sighed, raised her legs and pulled him deep inside. They moved together and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight. Her skin was smooth, glistening with sweat. Her fingers dug into his arms. After a few minutes she suddenly moved faster, arched her back and let out a long, wild yell. Nick exploded inside her.
He slipped out of her and they lay next to each other. Gradually their breathing slowed to normal.
"Whew," he said.
Selena brushed hair back from her forehead, looked away. He felt her withdraw. She got up and turned her back toward him.
"I'm going to take a shower."
He lay on the bed, feeling awkward.
She went into the bathroom, closed the door. He heard the shower running. Nick remembered how it used to be with Megan.
"Do you think we'll still be lovers when we're old and gray?"
He'd stroked her hair, kissed her, run his hands over her body. They were tangled around each other in her big king sized bed, where they'd been all afternoon. Half-packed boxes were scattered around the room.
He'd kissed her breast.
"We'll never get old and gray."
"Not if you keep doing that."
"Like this?"
She'd gasped, reached for him.
"Yes, Nick, yes."
Megan, he thought. I couldn't stop it from happening. I couldn't will that plane back into the air. His thoughts turned bleak.
One day at a time.
When Selena came out, she dressed quickly. She went into the kitchen.
He pulled on Levis and a light shirt. They made breakfast in silence. They sat down at the table with fresh coffee.
She was pensive. "That mine was no fun."
He picked up his cup. "Hell of a way to get to know each other."
"You know something," she said.
"What?"
"I've heard that people who go through serious stress together jump into each other's arms." She paused. "I never felt so mortal before. Nothing's the same. The moment seems more important now, everything seems more intense."
"I know. More alive."
"Even the colors are brighter. I'm glad I'm alive." She looked out the window, then over at him. "I'm glad I'm here with you."
She drank coffee. He didn't know what to say. She was an unknown force he hadn't expected. He couldn't think of something to say that wouldn't sound stupid.
Time to call in and see what was on Harker's mind. Maybe they'd found something at the house.
Chapter Nineteen
"No bodies. Lots of forensics." Harker said. "We've got casings, blood trails, tire impressions, prints and DNA from a wine bottle."
"Selena's and my prints are on that bottle."
"We know that. There are others. Where's the book?"
"In a safe here at my cabin."
"I want you two back here now. I've sent a plane to pick you up at Beale Air Force Base. You know where it is?"
"Yes. It's about an hour from here. When do we leave?"