Page 16 of Hunted By the Mountain Man

“Not fucked up. Understandable.”

“Understandable?” He growls. “Patricide?”

“Self-defense under the circumstances.”

His eyes level on mine with a newfound intensity, one so powerful it steals the breath from my lungs. “You need to understand something about me. When I say I’d kill any man who lays a hand on you … who even thinks about hurting you, I mean it with full conviction. But the man I’m most afraid of hurting you is me.”

“Why?” My voice cracks, and my chin trembles.

“Because you’re too good for a guy like me. Too normal. Too functional. Too generous with your spirit and heart. Too honest.”

“But aren’t you being honest?” I question.

“Doing the best I can. But it’s tough when you’ve spent large parts of your life believing lies about yourself and your role in the world.”

“Like what?”

Suddenly, he jumps to his feet, his face guarded. “I’ll spare you the details. We could both use some shut-eye. Have a good night, Butterfly.” Turning on his heels, he doesn’t look back as he pads barefoot down the hallway leading towards the bedrooms.

ChapterEight

BRYNN

“Wait,” I call after him. “What about the fire?”

He clears his throat, calling over his shoulder without looking back, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got everything handled.”

But I’m leaving Murrieta soon.I want to add, my heart sinking. For every step I’ve taken towards this mountain man tonight, I feel like a large, impassable gulf has been permanently sunk between us.

How do I bridge it? How do I make Beau understand I want so much more from him?

“Beau, I feel like I said something wrong. I’m sorry. Please,” I say, standing up quickly and following him down the hallway.

He turns on his heels unexpectedly, bringing us within inches of each other. I stare up into his stormy mahogany eyes, trying desperately to read his guarded thoughts. Our breaths co-mingle in the achingly beautiful, frustratingly impenetrable space between us.

“I’m sorry if I asked too many questions. Brought up stuff you don’t want to talk about.”

“You don’t get it,” he says darkly. “I did things in the Corps I’m not proud of. Things I can never repent for or change. One of the last men I targeted—murdered if you want to get technical—had a wife and children. I’m no longer certain he was truly a military target, though no one ever told me why I was assigned to take him out. It had more to do with geopolitics and finances than anything, I’d imagine. But I can’t help feeling I robbed the man of his life, so how in the hell can I deserve to lead one myself? Especially considering there were probably other targets … targets assigned to me in the name of freedom and making the world a better place, though their demises were never intended to do either. You deserve better than that, Brynn, no matter how much I feel your soul calling to mine.”

He turns away, and my hand comes up reflexively, palming his shirtless back. Desire crashes into my core at the innocent gesture, quickening my desperate need for this man.

But his pain is real, his thoughts anguished. So, I push my desires to the side, drawing closer and wrapping my arms around his waist. “Please don’t reject me, Beau. I need you.”

He grabs my arms, drawing me closer until my soft core is pressed tightly against his firm back, my lips against the angular planes of his shoulder blade. An undercurrent of intimacy runs between our bodies, as if our spirits touch. “You have to know I’m not the kind of man who can watch injustice happen, especially injustice against women and children. I will act, I have acted … taking the law into my own hands when justice fails.”

His words hammer into my head, and yet I find them comforting rather than menacing. Softly wrapping myself even more tightly around him, I ask, “That doesn’t surprise me, Beau. You’re my protector and probably other people’s, too.”

“And a chastiser.” He exhales sharply. “That’s why you shouldn’t get tangled up with me.”

“I don’t agree.”

“Need I remind you, yoga girl, what karma looks like for a murderer…”

“You mean the karma of a soldier? The same as for any other person. It’s based on their intentions.”

“My intentions have always been good, honorable, bathed in the desire to serve my country, to protect the most vulnerable, to prove to the world I’m worthwhile … enough. God, your truth-telling experiment has me spouting shit I’ve never admitted to anyone. Even myself.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper against his back. “You need this.Weneed this.”

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