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Winter Thaw
Kit Tunstall
Kit Tunstall reserves the copyright to WINTER THAW. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Thank you.
Chapter One
Kane paused in the act of turning the newspaper page, his brown eyes drawn to the column taking up the lower half of the front page. The headline wasn’t a surprise: Senator Edmond Rich Assassinated. Normally, he would have skipped right past such news, receiving no pleasure in reading about the details of his work. This time, he folded the paper down to get a better look, not interested in the article, but rather the picture.
Senator Rich stood beside his young wife, his arm draped around her waist possessively, his hand cupping her distended, pregnant belly. She stood proudly beside him, with a soft smile curving her lips. Her hair was a curly halo around her head, blown slightly by a wind that disheveled it as the photographer took the picture. Her face was delicate and heart-shaped, but with a crooked nose that suggested it had been broken. His brow wrinkled at the incongruousness of such a detail before his gaze settled on her eyes.
It was like a punch to the solar plexus, and he immediately realized why this picture had caught his attention. Her dark eyes, an indiscriminate color because the photo was black-and-white, bore a haunted look, despite her Madonna-like smile and pose. Those eyes had known fear and called out for something the world ignored.
Kane wrenched his gaze from the troubled visage of Danika Rich, and it settled on the most recent picture of his sister at her college graduation, just a few short weeks before her death. She had the same expression in her aqua-blue eyes that shadowed the widow’s gaze. Even then, she had hidden her private Hell, refusing to endanger her family.
He sighed, forcing his gaze away from Melissa’s picture, although her image had burned into his brain long ago. He saw it now, so why hadn’t he seen it then, before it was too late to save her?
Hands balled into fists, Kane scanned the article, having no need to absorb the details. He knew them intimately. Most of the article was uninteresting, highlighting the senator’s many great works, his devotion to his community, family, and church, and his determination to make their state a better place to live. A few paragraphs gave a mostly factual account of the execution. A man on a motorcycle had shot the senator on the expressway during a traffic jam. The killer was still at-large.
After skimming the details of Rich’s memorial service, he finally got to a paragraph of interest.
When questioned, Mrs. Rich indicated she thought she was in no danger, that her husband had been a target because of politics, but expressed her intention to add to her security staff, at least for the time being.
A glance at the clock revealed it was a little past eight. That gave him time to change into a suit and prepare a new background worthy of a security consultant.
Kane paused in the act of rising from the breakfast table, his oatmeal untouched. Was he really considering trying to get close to this woman? It wasn’t to protect her. He knew she wasn’t in danger. The orders for the assassination had been the senator himself. Her precautions were prudent, but unnecessary. He owed her nothing. He had provided his services for a handsome fee. Nowhere in the deal did it include looking after the widow of the man he had killed.
As his gaze fell on her face again, her haunted eyes once again brought an ache to the pit of his stomach. They called to him, pleading for help. It was a foreign reaction to Kane, who prided himself on being methodical and unemotional, especially in anything remotely related to a hit. Assassins who cared were the ones who bungled assignments, got caught, or ended up dead. Even a shred of vulnerability could jeopardize everything for which he had worked.
Yet, he couldn’t resist the siren song of her eyes. Despite his internal urgings to ignore this unfamiliar emotion—surely not guilt—he stood up completely and walked to the bedroom, preparing to transform himself from assassin to security guard in hopes of getting close to Danika Rich, to discover what made her eyes so troubled. Maybe it wasn’t too late to save her. In the widow, he sensed a chance to atone for failing to save Melissa.
Danika Rich’s eyes were a startling light-gray, rimmed with black, and fringed with thick lashes several shades darker than her hair. They were also just as haunted in person, if not more so. As Kane sat across from her, beside Johnston, who had interviewed him before introducing him to the senator’s wife, he studied her through narrowed eyes.
Not only had the picture failed to capture the true extent of the shadows in her eyes, it hadn’t done justice to the rest of her appearance either. Her hair was a gleaming shade of brown so dark it was virtually black, with sable highlights. It framed her delicate bone structure in a cloud of loose waves that fell below her shoulders.
Her figure showed pleasing feminine roundness that wasn’t attributed just to the presence of her pregnant belly, discreetly concealed in an Anne Klein forest-green suit jacket with a boxy cut. Although seated behind the desk, she appeared to be taller than average. Fingers adorned with a French manicure rested loosely on the desk, giving the appearance of complete control. Only the lines of tension around her mouth, stiff set of her shoulders, and darting eyes betrayed her true emotions.
She leaned forward in the Presidential chair, causing the leather to creak slightly, extending her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Winter.”
He nodded his head as he accepted her hand. Kane’s breath escaped from between his teeth with a gasp, and he hoped neither Danika nor Johnston heard it. His head spun at the reaction, as darts of electricity arced up his arm, emanating from where she touched him. How could this be? Drawn to her the moment he saw her picture, he had assumed it was because of the similarities between the widow and his sister. Never had he suspected attraction was part of what brought him here.
Or had he? Hadn’t he appreciated her delicate beauty in the picture? Hadn’t he experienced a moment of anger at the thought of her supple young body fused with the senator’s, a man old enough to be her father? Had he allowed his mind to entertain thoughts of him beside her in bed, without acknowledging those fantasies flickering through his brain?
He couldn’t deny that he had with any sort of confidence, but could certainly push away the notion for examination at a more appropriate time. “Mrs. Rich, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Her reply was a brisk nod before she turned to Johnston, who slid across the credentials Kane had brought with him. She examined the paperwork in silence for several moments before looking up again. “This is all impressive, Mr. Winter. Do you do your job well?”
“I’m the best.” Kane wasn’t boasting. It was simple truth that he was one of the best assassins, both by reputation and deed. Perhaps it was stretching the bounds of her question to refer to his real profession, but he knew he could keep her safe—if there was anything to keep her safe from, which he doubted. If she had been a target, he would have received orders to eliminate her along with Edmond Rich.
The thought of killing her brought a lump to his throat, and he frowned at the reaction, discomforted by the emotion. He approached assignments with levelheaded logic, refusing to allow emotion to intrude. In his line of work, vulnerability was dangerous. For a moment, he was tempted to cut short the interview and get the Hell out of the confines of what surely must have been the senator’s office, judging by its dark furniture, masculine colors, and general male aura.
He looked up, catching her gaze, and opened his mouth to say he had changed his mind. The words refused to come, because her eyes drew him in once again.
She seemed not to have noticed his temporary lapse. Her eyes were frankly assessing, as she looked him over. Once again, Danika nodded. “Welcome to the team, Mr. Winter.”
Johnston cleared his throat. “Mrs. Rich, there are several other candidates to consider.”
She gave him a cold look, dismissing him. “Please inform them the position is filled.”
He stiffened, sitting straighter in his chair. “I don’t think you understand. I was amenable to letting you meet the applicants, but I must insist on full hiring discretion, ma’am. I’m trained for this.” His eyes raked over her with barely hidden scorn.
Danika didn’t blink. She met his eyes, her own as cold as ice. “Mr. Johnston, I want a security agent who is loyal to me, not to my dead husband.” Her eyes spoke volumes, although Kane didn’t know what they were saying. Apparently, Johnston did, by the way he slumped in the seat. “If you aren’t comfortable with me making this decision, I will accept your resignation. After all, there is a pool of highly qualified candidates awaiting an outcome to their inquiries.” She didn’t overemphasize her threat. The silence remained unbroken for a moment, as Johnston seemed to mull over his options.
Finally, he turned to Kane, a pained expression on his face. “Welcome to the team, Winter. Report in at nine tomorrow, and I’ll have your assignment.”
“Actually, you’ll report to me at nine, Mr. Winter.” Danika straightened his packet of information before sliding it back to Johnston without looking at him. “File those, and see that his employment documents are taken care of today. I want him ready to start in the morning.” She gave Kane a small smile before rising from her seat to walk to the door.
Kane stood impassively beside Danika, whose dark sunglasses shielded her eyes and helped hide her emotions. From the corner of his eye, he watched her watching the reverend as he spoke. Her face remained focused in the direction of the cleric, not once straying to the handsome mahogany coffin where Edmond Rich would rest eternally.
Her posture was rigid, and the dark suit accentuated her height, while minimizing evidence of her pregnancy. On this day, she had bound her hair in a sophisticated roll, and a black pillbox hat with a short veil rested atop her head. She was the picture of elegant aloofness, except for the tense way her fingers clutched the straps of the black Vuitton bag in her hand.
He let his attention stray to the closed coffin of the man he had shot just three days past. The casket had been open in the church, and the man had looked dignified, without a hint of the bullet wound showing. Someone had taken great pains to hide the head wound with cosmetics and a toupee.
He cast his mind back to the moment he had stood a couple of feet behind Danika Rich, as he did now, and gazed over her shoulder to look down at Senator Rich. Once again, he mulled over the unexpected rush of emotions that had assaulted him when looking down at the man. Guilt had been among them. Not true guilt, maybe, for he didn’t regret taking the man’s life. No, what he regretted was causing the woman beside him a moment’s pain.
Kane shifted his weight slightly, letting his eyes wander over the attendees gathered at the graveside, trying to block out earlier memories of being in the church, and of his reaction. He wasn’t comfortable with the changes happening to him, and analyzing his feelings just seemed to make them clearer and more real. He didn’t want to closely examine his motives for being near the widow Rich, or for wishing he hadn’t taken the assignment of killing her husband in the first place. After thirteen years, it was no time to develop a conscience.
Movement to his left caught his attention, and his hand moved to the gun holstered under his jacket. He relaxed his posture when he realized it was just the senator’s daughter moving closer to the coffin. He wondered what instinct had prompted him to reach for the gun anyway, knowing full well Danika wasn’t a target. He couldn’t deny the press of the crowd made him nervous, and he hated having his back exposed to more than a hundred people. The police lining the edge of the crowd did nothing to reassure him. Maybe he was worried about his own hide, not Danika’s.
With an impatient shake of his head, he turned his brown eyes back to Danika just as the reverend finished speaking, closing his Bible with a soft thump. Kane took a step closer to her as others surged forward, some seeking to offer her their condolences, while others tried to get one last avid glimpse at the senator’s coffin.
A woman in a navy-blue suit stopped by the coffin, touching the wood reverently, before lifting two white orchids from the bunch draped across the top. When she turned to Danika, Kane recognized her as Senator Rich’s aide. In her mid-forties, she still presented an attractive picture, with flowing auburn hair, large green eyes, and a pale complexion, with just a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. The tears in her eyes and general stance indicated she felt very strongly about Edmond’s passing.
He speculated about the closeness of their relationship as Sheila Weathers approached, extending a gloved hand to Danika. The gesture seemed extravagant and insincere, as if the other woman was performing. Danika seemed to be debating about whether to facilitate the act, hesitating for a moment before taking the offered hand. They stood without speaking for a long second.
Finally, Sheila said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Danika nodded just once. “Thank you. I know how close you were to Edmond. This must be difficult for you as well.” Her words were bland, but Sheila stiffened, her eyes narrowing.
“I’m sure you’ll want this, for remembrance.” There was no mistaking the cool note in the redhead’s voice when she pressed an orchid into Danika’s hand. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her high heels leaving deep impressions in the slightly wet ground. With a smile of amusement, Kane decided the stiletto design was better suited to a nightwalker than an executive aide attending a funeral.
He allowed those greeting Danika to fade to a blur, while remaining constantly alert for any signs of trouble. The line seemed to be never-ending, but he stood silently behind her, admiring the way her shoulders never sagged. Her cool mask didn’t slip once as she endured the same platitudes over and over again. Still, he could detect her relief when enough people had finally left that the cemetery. Staff began the process of removing the tarp and covering the fresh earth before lowering the coffin into the ground, via a wench that emitted an efficient whine.
He followed a step behind Danika as she walked over to stand beside her stepdaughter. Stephanie turned away from the hand she tried to place on her arm, her eyes never wavering from the coffin slowly disappearing into the ground. It was only when it had settled into the hole that she turned to Danika, giving her a ferocious glare before turning and stalking away.
With a soft sigh, Danika allowed Stephanie a head start before following behind her, as if sensing her stepdaughter’s need to be alone. Kane followed like Danika’s shadow, glancing down only once when he stepped on something. His eyes widened when he saw the orchid recovered from Edmond’s coffin by his aide. Apparently, the widow Rich wasn’t sentimental, or else she had no desire to remember the events of this day.
Chapter Two
He was driving her to distraction. Danika set aside the ledger she had been reviewing, yet another detail of Edmond’s estate that his attorney needed her to look at, finding it impossible to concentrate on the numbers blurring before her eyes with Kane standing so near. Not that he was really that close. She sat at Edmond’s desk, while he stood by the door, a good fifteen feet away. He shouldn’t have seemed to be looming over her, but it felt that way. He exuded an aura that overwhelmed all those around him. It wasn’t unpleasant or domineering. In fact, it was too warm and comforting.
She snorted under her breath. No, that wasn’t it. His presence didn’t soothe her. Instead, it chafed, making her constantly aware of him, of her, and the short distance separating them—of how quickly she could close that distance and be in his arms, pressing her constantly beaded nipples against his chest after divesting him of the staid black jacket, white shirt, and black tie he wore each day.
The thoughts were indecent for a woman widowed only a couple of weeks. Or they would be if she’d had any love left for her husband. Since Edmond had successfully killed any positive emotion she felt for him years ago, she wasn’t afflicted with guilt over her attraction to the mysterious security guard.
Mysterious—that was the perfect word to describe Kane. Even after almost fourteen days of having him constantly shadow her, except during the nights, when he retired to the guesthouse provided as part of his compensation package, she knew nothing about him, other than what had been on his résumé. Her gentle queries had yielded nothing, and she was to the point of giving up. Really, why did it matter if she knew anything about him? Soon enough, she would be able to dismiss him, along with the rest of the security team, and return to her hometown in Virginia, where she would be plain Danika Fallow again, not the wife of Senator Rich. There was no logical reason for her compulsion to know what made Kane tick.
Logic had nothing to do with it, she acknowledged, tapping the pen against the desk, while trying to watch him without him becoming aware of her gaze. It was pure desire that drew her to him, caused her to be curious about what made him so aloof and withdrawn. Had he always been that way, or were there secrets in his past? She suspected the latter, just from her own experiences. Everyone had secrets. Some were hardly worth shielding, while others could ruin a person’s life.
With a disgusted shake of her head, she mentally tossed aside the deep thoughts and pushed away from Edmond’s desk. The huge house with its pristine antiques and art deco style stifled her on a normal day, and today, she seemed to have trouble drawing in a deep breath. Knowing it was her own mind causing the reaction didn’t lessen her physical distress. She had to get out for a while.
Kane took a single step toward her as she walked across the wood floor, her heels tapping rhythmically. His back remained pressed against the wall, and she got the feeling his senses focused on the door behind him, even as his eyes met hers.
“Let’s get out of here.”
He nodded his head. “Where do you want to go, Danika?”
The way he pronounced her first name, now that she had finally convinced him to use it, incited shivers to race up her spine, while lighting a fire in her belly. She had no trouble imagining him whispering her name with passionate intensity while he took possession of her body.
Clearing her throat did little to clear her mind of the erotic thoughts, but the action allowed her to speak. “Shopping.” Christmas was less than two weeks away, and she still had several personal gifts to buy. Her mouth twisted when she contemplated selecting something for Stephanie. Invariably, it would be the wrong thing, just because it came from her hated stepmother. Danika tried to be understanding, but the girl’s hostility had only grown during the past four years of her marriage to Edmond, instead of lessening. She was at a loss on how to connect with the teenager and merely went through the motions now, just as Stephanie had, but only around her father. In private, she never hesitated to voice her true feelings for the stepmother only five years her elder.
If Kane thought it strange that she would go shopping just days after burying her husband, a scant two weeks after his assassination, he refrained from mentioning so. Instead, he followed a step behind her all through the house, as he always did. In many ways, it seemed as though he had always been there, watching over and protecting her. Even without speaking or touching her, he managed to impart warmth and security. Once again, as she slid into the front passenger side of the silver BMW after they reached the garage, she wondered what it was about him that made her feel that way. Perhaps she was simply transferring her newly found sense of peace onto Kane, connecting his arrival with her rejuvenated sense of safety. Danika preferred to think it was because she sensed something special in him, something he kept hidden from the world, but couldn’t hide from her.
The mall was crowded, which should have exacerbated her sense of suffocating, but instead, made her feel welcome and free. She was just one of many pressing their way through the crowds, searching for the perfect gift, with only days left to find it.
With a start that almost elicited a giggle, Danika realized she was looking forward to Christmas for the first time in years. The new baby growing inside her gave her the promise of something wonderful to come, and she knew this would be a magnificent holiday.
The presence of the man walking beside her somehow encouraged her optimism, and she moved through the mall with purpose, looking for bits and pieces that would enhance the holiday.
She detoured into an ornament shop, with Kane right beside her. The teenager behind the register chirped a bright, “Merry Christmas,” as they walked past the counter. With a smile in return, Danika nodded to the girl before turning her attention to the decorations. It was a small specialty shop, open only between November and December, but they had packed the aisles full of Christmas cheer. Glass baubles caught her eye, and she walked over to the display, turning to Kane with a smile of delight. “My mother has ornaments just like these, passed down from her grandmother.” With a reverent hand, she stroked a long dangling bulb, admiring the angel etched into the glass, outlined with glitter. “How I’ve missed these.”
He had a peculiar expression when he touched her shoulder. “Don’t you have them at home?”
Danika sighed. “No. Edmond preferred to have a decorator do our tree. She chooses a different theme each year.” One she usually hated. The designer’s vision of Christmas was always chic and slick, without any of the warmth or charm of a country Christmas.
“What’s this year’s?”
Danika shrugged. “No one consulted me. I suppose I’ll find out when she comes in next week.”
He leaned closer, dipping his head so she could hear him over the loud chatter of a group of shoppers to their left. “Here’s a novel concept. Cancel her design and do your own tree.”
It hovered on the tip of her tongue to issue an automatic denial, remembering the first year that she had tried to convince Edmond to let her decorate the tree. He had laughed at her description of the perfect tree, called it amateurish, and went ahead with the designer he had always used. No, he wouldn’t like it if she decorated the tree herself.
A mischievous grin flashed across her countenance. “Yes, why not? Perhaps Stephanie will help me.” She pulled a face at that thought, bracing herself for the rejection she would receive, should she issue the invitation.
“I haven’t had a tree in years.” He spoke the words matter-of-factly, but a trace of melancholy underscored them.
Turning toward him, Danika arched her brow. “Why not?”
Kane shrugged. “I wasn’t moved by the spirit of the season, I suppose.”
Impulsively, she took his hand. “I hope this year will be different. You’ll have to help with the tree.”
“If you wish.”
She immediately released his hand, sensing his emotional withdrawal. Cursing her spontaneous gesture, she turned her back to him to select several of the clear decorations, busying herself with the task to avoid his eyes. Clearly, Kane didn’t want her touching him or trying to draw him into the holiday celebration. She would do well to remember he was her companion because she paid him to be, not because he wanted to be there.
The teenager at the register admired the bulbs as she wrapped them in tissue paper, chatting about her family’s plans to ski over the Christmas holiday. Danika pretended to listen, while attempting to dismiss the urge to cry. Had it had been so long since she had an affable presence nearby that she couldn’t distinguish the difference between friend and employee any longer? At times, Kane seemed very approachable, until she actually tried to get closer to him. Then a wall appeared, shutting her out.
As she accepted the shopping bag, Danika plastered on a smile, determined to recapture the lightness of mood she had experienced only moments before. It didn’t matter if Kane was with her by choice or for compensation. She enjoyed being near him, relishing the attraction sparking between them, even if his response was only in her mind. It had been a long time since she wanted to be desirable to a man.
They continued through the mall, Danika stopping each time something caught her eye, seldom buying, but enjoying the simple pleasure of window-shopping. Those around her seemed of a similar frame of mind, and smiles were the norm, along with cheerful greetings. Holiday shopping was still at the fun point, not having crossed into the desperation of those leaving it until the last minute.
As they walked past a maternity store where Danika had not yet ventured, a wine-colored silk dress in the display window caught her eye, and she veered through the crowd, aware of Kane sticking close, despite his smothered curse at her sudden detour. He followed her into the store without a peep of protest, and she discovered there was one nice thing about paying a man to accompany her while she shopped—he couldn’t refuse to go with her, or complain about how long she took.
The saleswoman looked elegant, wearing a wool dress in Christmas red, along with black leather boots rising to her knees, allowing only an inch or two of her stocking-clad leg to show under the hem of the dress. She looked like the kind of woman who would never voluntarily spend time around children. “Good afternoon, ma’am. What are you looking for?”
“I’d like to see the dress in the window.”
She nodded, her eyes briefly skimming over Danika’s thickened waist. “You’re about six months, right?”
Her eyes widened. “Twenty-six weeks. How did you know?” She wasn’t showing much yet, so it was a shock to have the sales associate so closely guess how far along she was.
She lifted a delicate shoulder, a hint of warmth shining in her eyes. “After four of my own, and twelve years at this store, it’s second nature.” She nodded to Kane as she passed him, asking over her shoulder, “The wine color, ma’am? Or would you prefer pine?”
“Wine,” Kane said, a tinge of red appearing in his cheeks when Danika looked at him. His eyes skipped away from hers, for which she was grateful. She didn’t want him to see the similar stain of embarrassment on her face. Perhaps the attraction wasn’t all on her side, if he had a preference.
The clerk returned seconds later, the silk dress draped over her arm. The rich purple-red clashed with her wool dress as she escorted Danika to a dressing room, opened the door, and placed the hanger on a hook. Kane had followed them back and made no move to depart with the clerk when she left.
Feeling awkward, Danika entered the dressing room. The door closed behind her with a reassuring click, and she leaned against the thick wood for a long moment, remembering the glint of heat in Kane’s eyes moments before. She placed her palm against the door, conscious of him just inches away.