Sheltered
She'd always preferred handling things on her own. Until a sexy undercover agent stepped in to protect her.Strong-and-silent Holt Kingston has one mission: to infiltrate a dangerous cult with more firepower than faith. But when the compound’s ruthless leader has a gorgeous former member in his sights, single-minded Holt won’t rest until the mesmerizing Lindsey Pike is safe.After living undercover for years helping others flee, Lindsey isn’t used to someone else calling the shots. Not even someone as capable and captivating as Holt. But now someone knows she’s back—and wants her captured. Maybe even killed. As the cult slowly closes in on them, Lindsey can no longer hide how much Holt’s protection soothes her peace of mind. And heals her wounded heart.
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âDo you need something?â
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. âYou.â
She couldnât have heard that right. All the adrenaline and crackling of her nerves had her brain misfiring. âWhat did you just say?â
âNothing.â
The mattress dipped from his weight and her body slid into his. âI canât seem to calm my nerves. I feel like Iâm six seconds from flying apart.â
His palm slipped over her thigh. âItâs aftermath.â
âDo you always feel like this?â
âJust sometimes.â He slid his hand over hers and their fingers entwined. âYour nerve endings are on fire. The danger and fear, the sadness and pain. Itâs all mixing and getting jammed up inside you.â
âHow do I get rid of it?â
âDifferent things work for different people.â His thumb rubbed against the back of her hand. Slow, lazy circles that soothed her even as her insides continued to churn.
Bold had worked for her once before. She tried it again. âAny chance kissing does the trick?â
HELENKAY DIMON, an award-winning author, spent twelve years in the most unromantic career everâdivorce lawyer. After dedicating all that effort to helping people terminate relationships, she is thrilled to deal in happy endings and write romance novels for a living. Now her days are filled with gardening, writing, reading and spending time with her family in and around San Diego. Stop by her website, www.helenkaydimon.com, and say hello.
Thank you to my husband, James, for the trip to Oregon. All that beautiful open space gave me tons of suspense ideas.
Contents
For the third night in a row the wind and rain whipped up the Oregon Coast and smacked into the side of Lindsey Pikeâs small cottage. The temps dipped into lower than normal range for late summer, but that was only part of the reason for keeping her windows closed. The other sat about eleven miles away, up a steep hill and behind a locked gate.
But cool temperature or not, a steady banging put her already zapping nerves further on edge. The rattle came first, then the thud. That would teach her to wait on fixing the shutter in the family room until âsometime next week.â
She leaned back into the stack of pillows piled behind her on her bed and reopened her book. After she stared at the same line for what felt like the billionth time, she decided maybe this wasnât the right night for dry research reading. She slipped her legs over the side of the bed and winced when her bare toes hit the chilled hardwood floor.
She made it two steps down the hallway in search of the perfect mindless magazine before she stilled. Something was off. In the air, in the tight space...something.
Up on the balls of her feet, she spun around, thinking to head back to the bedroom and to the gun she kept locked in a safe in her nightstand. Then it hit her. No banging. The wind still howled and the rafters shook now and then. But no more noise.
Torn between possibilities, she stood there. The poor shutter probably finally blew off. That meant hunting it down tomorrow and reattaching it, properly this time. Even as the rationale hung in her mind her unease increased. The slow churning of dread deep in her stomach spun faster. Yeah, sheâd lived through paralyzing anxiety before and knew the sensation never led her wrong.
She turned back toward the family room and saw him. It...whatever. Big and looming and shadowed. Without thinking, she took off in a sprint in the opposite direction. Her feet tapped against the floor as she broke for the bedroom. For the gun and the phone. Sheâd use the lamp as a weapon if she had to. Anything to survive.
Footsteps thundered behind her, louder and faster. Just as she hit the doorway a hand fell on her shoulder. Fingers clenched against her pajama top and dragged it and her backward. She landed with a thump against a solid mass.
âListen to me.â The deep voice vibrated as he whispered.
âNo.â She scratched and clawed. âLet go!â
She wound up for the most deafening scream of her life, but it choked off in her throat when his hand landed on her mouth. âLindsey, stop.â
In the haze she didnât recognize the voice. Didnât matter if she did. Forget that he knew her name. This person broke in. She had to get him out or take him down. Those were the only two options. She would not be a victim again.
âLindsey, itâs me.â He pulled her in tighter against him, banding an arm around her middle and trapping her legs with one of his.
âGet out,â she screamed, but the words got muffled against his palm.
She went with biting. Clamped down hard on the fleshy part of his hand and heard him swear as he jerked back. His arm loosened and she scrambled away. She couldnât get the bedroom door shut, but she could get to that lockbox.
