Chapter Five

      Only the soft crackle of the smoldering fire and the quiet hiss of their respirations relieved the sudden blanket of silence that fell over the cabin. Outside, snow continued to fall quietly as Landry listened for any out-of-place noises.

      Olivia moved away from the fireplace and picked up the Mossberg shotgun leaning against the wall by the desk. She slanted a quick look at Landry before she started toward the front door and grabbed the thick leather jacket that hung on a hook by the entry.

      He caught up with her, closing his hand around her wrist. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

      She shook off his grasp and turned to look at him, her blue eyes glimmering in the low light. “I’m going outside to see if I can tell what knocked the power out.”

      “Didn’t you hear a single word I said about a siege?”

      “If there are people out there who want to take me captive, I’d rather get the fight over now than hide like a coward in the cabin.”

      “Well, you’re not going out there alone.” He chambered a round in the P-11. “I’ll go first.”

      “Why? Because you’re the guy?”

      He angled a quick look at her. “Because you’re the target, and the target should never be the first person out the door.”

      She frowned but stepped back. “You need a jacket.”

      He backtracked and shrugged on the thick fleece coat he’d picked up earlier that day at the thrift store in Barrowville, hurrying in case she changed her mind about allowing him to join her.

      But she waited for him at the door, her gaze drawing him all the way in as he closed the distance between them. She was a tall woman, nearly as tall as he was, and if anything, she looked even stronger and fitter than she’d been when they’d worked together in the FBI.

      They’d always been a good team, right until the case that had broken them. He hoped the old instincts would kick back in for them now, despite all that had passed between them, because if there really were people out there lying in wait for Olivia, it would take all their skills and a whole lot of luck to make it out of the situation unscathed.

      An icy blast of air greeted them as they stepped out onto the cabin porch. Wind had swirled snow beneath the porch roof, depositing about two inches halfway onto the porch’s weathered wooden floor.

      Landry paused at the top of the porch steps and surveyed the cold white expanse in front of him. If there had been anyone moving around out here in the past little while, they hadn’t come close to the porch. The snowfield was pristine and undisturbed.

      “The snow probably knocked a branch on a wire somewhere between here and the nearest transformer.” Olivia’s low voice, only inches from his ear, sent a ripple of pure sexual awareness darting down his spine.

      He turned to look at her. “We should check all the way around the house before we let down our guard.”

      Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t protest as he led her down the steps into the thickening snow. Almost five inches covered the ground, even more gathering at the edges of the porch where the wind had blown the snow into rising drifts. It was a soft, wet snow, flattening under his boots as they slowly circled the cabin, looking for any signs of intruders.

      But nothing had disturbed the snow around the cabin, save for a small set of tracks belonging to what he guessed was probably a foraging raccoon, looking for a meal.

      “It was just the snow,” Olivia murmured, giving him a nudge toward the front of the cabin.

      He trudged back through the tracks they’d left in the snow and nodded for her to precede him up the porch steps. She climbed the steps with a soft sigh he recognized as a sign of impatience and turned to face him when he joined her in front of the door.

      “Fine,” he said. “It was just the snow. This time.”

      Olivia shook the slush from her boots and opened the cabin door to head inside. He knocked the snow from his own boots before he followed her in.

      She closed and locked the door behind him, shrugging out of her damp coat. “Are we going to do this every time you hear a noise you can’t identify?”

      He tamped down a flood of annoyance. “If I think it’s necessary.”

      She released another sigh as she hung the coat back on its hook. “Okay, fair enough. Let’s get the fire cranked up. I’m freezing.”

      He took off his coat and hung it on the hook beside hers. “How can I help? Need more wood?”

      “It’s in a bin by the back door. Straight down the hall.”

      He found the wood bin and grabbed a couple of pieces for the fire then returned to the front room. He found Olivia kneeling in front of the hearth, adding newspaper as kindling to the charred logs still glowing faintly red. He added the wood to the fire and looked around for matches.

      Olivia reached into a small steel canister on the mantel and withdrew a narrow fireplace lighter. “Here.”

      He touched the butane flame to the kindling. It ignited with a soft whoosh, and the logs soon caught fire, emitting a delicious wave of heat into the room.

      “Nice,” Olivia murmured, extending her hands toward the flames.

      He pulled the room’s two armchairs close to the fire. “Sit.”

      She did as he said, leaning toward the warmth. “Thanks.”

      He sat in the chair next to her, holding his icy fingers toward the fire until some of the numbness subsided. “No, thank you.”

      “For what?”

      “For extending a little Southern hospitality to a poor, weary traveler?” he suggested with a smile.

      Her lips curved in response. “You didn’t give me a lot of choice.”

      “Maybe not. But I am grateful to be here in front of this fire instead of out there in all that cold white stuff.”

      Olivia fell silent, her gaze directed at the flickering fire. Settling back in the chair, Landry allowed himself to study her profile, take in the lean lines of her body only partially hidden by her sweater and jeans. His earlier observation was correct; she was in excellent shape. She’d always been a curvy woman, and that hadn’t changed, but the curves were matched with toned muscles and an overall look of vibrant health.

      Leaving the FBI and going to work for The Gates seemed to have been good for her, at least physically.

      But what about her spirit? The Olivia Sharp he’d known and loved had been a firecracker, full of explosive energy and a fierce inquisitiveness that had taken her very far very fast in the FBI.

      But not this woman in front of him. She was quiet, contemplative and remarkably still.

      She stirred as he watched her, turning her gaze to him. “I could heat up some milk over the fire for hot chocolate. Or even water for coffee, if you’d prefer that—”

      “You’ve changed.” He hadn’t meant to blurt the words aloud, but he couldn’t take them back.

      Her eyelids flickered and she looked away. “So have you.”

      Now