Deep Freeze (West Coast 1)

He was waiting for her in the kitchen, one hip pressed against the counter, her portable phone in his hand.

“I called Jake,” he said with a smile that told her he was proud of himself. “Mission accomplished.”

“Meaning?”

“He’ll take the job.”

She was floored. “Sight unseen? Without meeting me or even looking around?” She motioned to the interior of the house. The setup didn’t seem right. “Did you discuss pay? Hours? Jesus

, Harrison, you’ve got to stop doing this, right now. You cannot run my life.” She was advancing upon him, her face turned up to his, anger radiating from her in hot, furious waves.

“I’m just trying to help.”

“You’re suffocating me.”

“You’ll like Jake.” The man was impossible, staring at her as if he didn’t understand a word she said.

She squared her shoulders and set her jaw. “That’s not the point, okay? I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Because you’re doing such a bang-up job on your own?” he asked, a nasty gleam surfacing in his eyes.

“Because I don’t want you to! It’s as simple as that. Maybe you should just leave, okay? Whatever you think we’ve got going here, is a mistake.”

He stared at her as if she’d gone insane. “Wait a minute. You’re not making any sense. You need help.”

“But I don’t need to be smothered! I’m a grown woman, for crying out loud. So back off. And, please, just leave me the hell alone.”

For a second he just stood in the kitchen, his boots unmoving, his mouth slack, and then, as if he finally got it, he sucked his breath in through his teeth. “If that’s what you want.” Zipping his jacket, he made his way to the back door. “I’m sorry I was so pushy, Jenna,” he said, one hand resting on the doorknob as he looked at her over his shoulder. “It’s just my way. Years of taking command, you know.”

She didn’t back down. Just glared at him.

“Listen, I’ll look over the security system just for my own peace of mind, and then I’ll leave you alone. If you change your mind, give me a call.”

She wouldn’t. She knew it.

Most likely, he did, too.

His blood was pumping. Thrumming through his veins. Snowflakes melted against his flesh, drizzling cold trails of water down his face and along his bare skin. He wore only gloves, no other article of clothing. His muscles quivered as he pulled himself up on the bar he used for chin-ups, a cold metal rod lodged deep into the rough bark of giant firs.

Pull up…slowly…let down even more slowly. Body rigid. Feet together. Up. Down. Up. Down. One hundred times.

Exercise was part of his daily regimen. Day in, day out. Regardless of the weather.

“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night…yeah, that was it, just as regular as the U.S. Postal Service.

Dependable

But deadly.

Invincible in winter.

Made strong by the very cold he abhorred. Mentally clicking off the reps, feeling the ache in his muscles as he strained, he felt the need to kill again, the pulsing need begin to throb through him. Gritting his teeth, he finished his regimen, then dropped lithely to the ground, his bare feet sinking into the drifting snow.

The sheen of sweat on his skin mingled with the icy drops of snow. Hot and cold. Freezing air rushing over his nakedness. Steam rising from his flesh.

The wickedness of the night crept under his skin.

He closed his eyes for a second.