In Safe Arms (3 page)

Nate stretched the taut muscles in his neck. His desperate gamble had paid off, the Valenti’s semi-isolated choice of abode the only reason he’d managed to intercept Josie in time. That, and sheer dumb luck he’d recognised the family portrait hanging on the kitchen wall behind her. He’d commented on that portrait the night he’d sat in the kitchen drinking coffee with her mother as Josie heaved in the bathroom.

Was it only two years ago? God, it felt like ten.

‘You won’t get away with this.’

Nate made a conscious effort to unclench his teeth and loosen his grip on the steering wheel. ‘I didn’t kill Mulvaney.’

‘But you’re going to kill
me
— aren’t you?’ Her voice sank to a whisper. ‘I heard what he said.’

‘Don’t tempt me.’ But he couldn’t help smirking at the wobbly defiance in her voice. He had to admit it, the princess had balls.

‘Why did you people kill him?’

‘You people?’ Nate raised his eyebrows. ‘Now that sounds like something an overly privileged, private school educated, North Shore
brat
would say.’

Her eyes turned wounded, and for the first time since he’d forced her off the road two red patches stained her cheeks, visible even in the light from the dash.

‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ she said, clearly taken aback.

He turned his attention to the road. She didn’t know it, but her cultivated accent had always gotten under his skin. He decided to change the subject.

‘Where are your parents?’

‘In Singapore. And don’t address me as if I’m a child. I’m twenty.’

For the first time in hours Nate’s heartbeat slowed as some of the tension left his body. He’d broken every speed limit and run every red light to get to the house as fast as he could after Mitch Kennett ordered he find Josie, and silence her — permanently. He’d watched the home for ten minutes, and then she’d come out, alone.

It was the only break he’d had in a while. And he desperately needed a break.

Needed to finish this — and get out.

Needed to feel normal again.

He raked a hand through his hair, not wanting to dwell on the direction his life had taken. Right now, he’d kill for a haircut. ‘Who’d you tell?’

‘The police.’

‘Anyone else?’

‘No, but the police will find my car — they’ll know someone ran me off the road.’

Nate gave an amused shake of his head at the allegation in her voice. He had to hand it to the little upstart, scared half to death, she still had a mouth on her. ‘You panicked, hit the loose gravel and slid into a tree. You should’ve pulled over.’

‘No,
you
ran me off the road.’

Nate ignored her. He could already see the street lights on Mona Vale Road shining through the trees. Any minute now, they’d be smack bang in the middle of greater metropolitan Sydney.

Keeping one eye on the road and one hand on the wheel, he reached over and covered her with the striped beach towel just as they passed under the first street light.

‘Don’t speak or move. There are cameras on the motorway. I can’t risk you being caught on one. You need to disappear for a while.’

Disappear?

Josie went lightheaded with renewed panic. He said he wouldn’t hurt her, yet running her off the road and abducting her proved just how desperate Nate Hunter was.

She leaned weakly against the door and stared at his bare chest from under the towel’s fringed edge. Where was the seriously straight guy from two years ago? The leather pants and boots, the studded belt, even the missing black tee-shirt were pure biker. And he wore his thick brown hair long, having traded the clean shaven look for the dense black stubble shadowing his chiselled jaw and neck.

Though she’d recognised him, he looked very different from the ruggedly handsome man she remembered dealing with two years ago.

So what was he now?

Security expert gone rogue?

Fear lodged like a cold stone in her throat. ‘Where’re you taking me?’

‘We’ll talk when we get there,’ he said, looking big and menacing and totally pissed off. ‘If you want to stay alive, princess, keep your mouth shut and your pretty head down.’

When Nate finally brought the car to a halt and came around to open the passenger side door, Josie could only stare up at him. An hour and a half in a crouch had left her mind and body numb, and without the use of her hands, she had no hope of levering herself off the floor.

He leaned inside, eyes the colour of Jack Daniels locking on hers. ‘Duck your head.’

Then two large hands pressed the sides of her breasts as he grasped her under the arms and lifted her out.

She went to grab his shoulders, stifling a cry as the zip ties bit into her wrists, cramped muscles screaming in protest at the sudden movement. He set her down in what was obviously a garage, one large hand wrapped around her upper arm, holding her steady.

‘Stand there, until you’ve got your legs back.’

He made no attempt to switch on a light and Josie blinked in the gloom, willing the feeling and strength to return to her limbs. Iron shelving lined the wall nearest them, and beside the ute, a car cover obscured a second vehicle. On the front wall, metal brackets held a variety of sporting equipment, skis, poles, and what looked like ropes and harnesses used for abseiling.

Calm down, Jos. Lead with your best foot
.

After a while, he let her go and leaned inside the ute. He dragged out the black tee-shirt, donning it in one economic movement. Then he leaned in again and brought out her things.

‘This way.’ He pointed towards the front of the garage, indicating she precede him, and Josie took a tentative first step, conscious of him close behind. She took her time, careful not to stumble in the dark. She’d have no way of breaking her fall if she tripped.

Musty air filled her nostrils, and she opened and closed her hands, stretching out her fingers in an effort to eradicate the numbness. If Nate removed the plastic ties, she’d need to use both hands in any bid for escape.

Then her fingertips brushed his leather pants. Right
there
.

Oh God!

She jerked her hands away, cringing in the excruciating silence that followed.

SHIT!

When he spoke, Nate’s voice was an amused drawl in the dark. ‘Forward as ever, I see.’

Heat flashed deep within Josie’s body, spiralling upwards until her face and scalp burned. Typical of him. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to remind her of her drunken offer to hook up that night.

‘Don’t flatter yourself, bikie, I was wearing beer goggles. You’re a sober five and a drunk nine on anyone’s scale.’

Seconds of ominous silence slipped by, and Josie held her breath.
Oh God! Why can’t you just play smart and hold your tongue?

A vibration tickled her shoulder blades, a warm rumble breaking free from deep within his chest.

The bastard was laughing at her.

Vowing to stay silent, Josie continued on, halting when she reached a sturdy looking fire door. Spine stiff, she stepped aside, letting him draw level so he could unlock the door. He was bigger than she remembered — and built. He had at least a foot on her in height, and shoulders broad enough to block out her entire line of vision.

He entered a series of numbers into a control panel, the alarm disengaging with a high pitched beep. Then they were in a white tiled entrance hall, the silence punctuated by the snick of the door closing behind them.

Nate cocked his head. ‘You first.’

The room was a shade lighter than the garage, and the rubber soles of her Doc Martens squeaked on the tiles as she walked. On the far side, she reached a carpeted landing and stood looking around at the shadowy interior of a home. Two steps led to a large sunken living room, its exposed brick walls and high-raked ceilings reminiscent of a mountain cabin or ski lodge.

‘Where are we?’

He didn’t answer, just reached under the leg of his pants to draw a revolver from a holster strapped to his calf.

Alarm bells rang in Josie’s ears, her gaze following his every movement as her heart gave one big thump. She screamed, lashed out with her foot and kicked him hard in the shin.

He gave a loud groan. ‘
What the hell are you doing?’

She backed away, fear sending her voice an octave higher. ‘You pulled a gun on me.’

He tipped back his head, closed his eyes and grimaced at the ceiling. ‘I’d have shot you by now if that was the plan, not that I’d mess up the rug.’

He turned on his heel and strode away, seemed to think better of it, and came back. ‘I was going to undo the ties, but they can bloody well stay there now.’

Black clothing merging with the shadows, he took both steps in one long stride and skirted around two comfortable looking sofas. At the far end of the room he opened the plantation shutters a crack, and with a watchfulness that mirrored hers, stood for a full two minutes, looking out.

Silent.

Gun held close to his body.

Internally battered from the cocktail of emotions waging a war inside her, Josie listened for traffic noise, the ocean, any sound that would indicate where they might be. But only the cadenced call of a tawny owl and the answering hoot of its mate, fractured the silence.

After a while, Nate closed the shutters and retraced his steps, shoving the pistol into the back of his pants as he paused to switch on a lamp.

‘This is my home, in the Blue Mountains.’ He dimmed the lamp to a faint yellow glow. ‘It’s private. Overlooks the Jamieson Valley. Very few people know I keep this place.’

His home?

‘Why bring me here?’ Josie watched as he came up the stairs and stood facing her. ‘And why did that bikie murder Lizard Mulvaney?’

‘One thing at a time, princess.’

‘Lose the “princess” tag will you?’ she snapped. Her parents might be loaded, but she was hardly rich in the things that mattered. ‘Are you that guy’s security?’

He looked at her as though she’d lost her mind. ‘The guy’s a thug. He hardly needs a bodyguard.’

‘Then why are you mixed up with him?’

‘As a
witness
,’ he continued on as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘You need to stay here for your own protection.’

Josie’s heart skipped a beat, got back in its rhythm, then skipped another one. ‘The police can give me any protection I need.’

He threw back his head and laughed, the sound strained, different to the natural way he used to laugh when he worked for Luke. Back then, he’d taken a delight in teasing her, until the night she hit on him.

After that, he’d kept his distance.

‘The police will find my car.’ Her words tumbled out. She stopped, drew in a breath. She had to stay calm if she were to have any hope of opposing what Nate Hunter had in mind for her. ‘They were expecting me to come in. Whatever your involvement, you’re not going to get away with this.’

A suggestion of a smile played around his lips as he unsnapped a leather cuff from his wrist. ‘You see, Josie, that’s the key. I
am
the police.’

The fog of confusion lifted a little and her body sagged with relief. And then she wondered why he hadn’t told her in the car — spared her the torture.

‘Let me reintroduce myself, shall I?’ He inclined his head, a lock of long, dark hair falling across his forehead. ‘Detective Ignatius Hunter. Sydney Gang Squad.’

With an impatient movement, he flung the leather cuff onto the nearest couch. ‘For two years I’ve been deep undercover with the Altar Boys, and there’s no way on this earth, you,
princess
, are going to jeopardise my operation.’

Ten minutes past midnight: Monday

Josie sat on the couch wondering when Nate Hunter had become so cruel. In the car, she’d gone to a bad place, imagined him burying her in a shallow grave, her body discovered years later by a group of hikers.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

He moved aside one of the easy chairs and squatted on his haunches, leather pants moulded to muscular thighs like a second skin. ‘That’s not how it works. If you’d given me the slip, you’d have blown my cover, and the entire operation with it.’

He pulled back a corner of the carpet square, hooked an index finger through a silver ring embedded in the polished floor and opened a small trapdoor. ‘It’s a safe.’

‘It’s messed up,’
Josie retorted, still too angry to converse with him in any reasonable manner.

He ignored her outburst and spun the dial of what sounded like a combination lock. Something clicked, and he reached inside the floor cavity and took out a notebook computer, phone and leather wallet. Then he placed her laptop, mobile and money wallet inside the safe, spun the combination and stood up.

‘No phone calls. No internet. As of now, you’re off the grid.’

He straightened, set the furniture back in place and came towards her, holding his wallet open to display a police I.D. ‘I’d like to say pleased to make your acquaintance —
again
. But it couldn’t be further from the truth.’

Stung by the remark, Josie leaned forward and checked the identification. Dressed in a business suit, shirt and tie, he was clean cut, the way she remembered him coming into Grace and Poole on behalf of Neilson’s.

“By the book”, perhaps even “conservative”, was how she would have described him back then.

Not now.

‘I won’t risk carrying it on me, not until I’m ready to make an arrest.’ He rattled off the I.D. number and raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘Okay?’

Reassured by the familiar image of him, Josie’s anger dropped a degree, and she nodded, taut muscles restricting the movement in her neck and shoulders. But the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the ramifications of what she’d witnessed tonight. And what it meant that Nate had brought her here.

Glimpsing a photograph of a blonde haired young boy in another plastic window of the wallet, she looked up in surprise. ‘You’re a father?’

A shadow crossed his face, and he flicked the wallet closed. ‘I wouldn’t go undercover if I had a family. Stay here while I make sure the house is secure.’

Josie watched him disappear down the dark hallway and wondered about the boy. Perhaps he was a nephew, or a godson. Someone close, if Nate carried a picture in his wallet.