Page 31 of Deadly Attraction
“Soon as I put up the horses,” Will said, “I’ll see if I can pick up his tracks.”
Mitch was torn, she could see it in his eyes. He wanted to do some tracking himself, but his mission was to stick close to her and make sure she was safe.
That was his issue to work out. She moved away, heading for the house, the dogs falling in beside her.
She heard Mitch mumble something to Will but couldn’t make out what he said. He caught up to her halfway across the yard. She tensed, waiting for the lecture about how they needed to leave.
It didn’t come.
On the porch, Mitch caught her hand before she could grab the doorknob. His big, strong hand held hers immobile.
The rest of her body went immobile too. “What are you doing?” she asked, trying to pull away.
“Shh,” he said, drawing her close. “I go in first, make sure it’s safe. You follow.”
His eyes told her the reason why. The stranger behind the barn might have been a decoy. Chris or Linda might actually be inside.
She couldn’t stop the involuntary tremble that snaked down her spine.
His hand tightened on hers. “I’ll protect you, Emma.”
His voice was low and controlled. Totally confident.
Emma.
He’d used her first name instead of Dr. Collins or Doc.
Progress? Or a tool to make her feel safe?
His confidence was not simply a show of bravado. He truly believed in himself. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours and she believed in him too.
“I’m okay,” she lied. She didn’t want to, but she found herself returning the hand squeeze. She liked the strength, the control that simple movement gave her. “Let’s get this over with.”
Which was another lie. A part of her didn’t want it to be over with because then he would let her go. Right now, his hand was the only thing keeping her grounded. Keeping her knees from giving out.
I am nuts.
She told the dogs to stay, gave him a nod.
He raised his gun and nodded back.
Her clinical mind came to the rescue. As he opened the door, she watched him, analyzed his movements. He flinched at the noisy squeak of the door and she made a mental note to oil the hinges.
Mitch Holden was something to behold as he entered her house. His body was that of a panther stalking its prey, ready to strike. Ready to defend her. His lanky body glided with silent ease.
As he pulled her behind him, he went right, sweeping his gun in front of both of them, his gaze taking in every detail. At one point, he stopped and cocked his head to listen to something. She cocked her head too, but heard nothing except the hum of the fridge.
They moved on.
The tightness in her chest loosened. He’d kept her with him. That said something, didn’t it? He could have shoved her in a closet or the kitchen pantry and told her to stay put, but instead, he kept hold of her hand and allowed her to trail after him.
Mimicking his position, she kept her gun pointed at the ceiling and her senses attuned to the environment.Don’t screw this up.
After clearing the first floor, they climbed the stairs. Emma locked her gaze on Mitch’s back, trying to be as quiet as possible and amazed at his ability to avoid the weak points in the wooden stairs whereas she seemed to find every spot that groaned and creaked.
The price you paid for living in an old farmhouse.
The last room they cleared was her bedroom. Her bed was still unmade, a breeze coming in the open window and billowing the curtains.
