Chapter 6

A month. That's how long it had been since Khai had stepped into his cabin in the middle of the night and had his life turned upside down.

He was pretty sure that was the day the light came on in his world. He hadn't stopped smiling since then, either.

Grace was sunshine and warmth. She was all that was good in the world. She was his life, and he had no idea if the same was true for her because he was afraid to ask.

Right now, she was lying on her stomach on their bed, her elbows propping her up, reading a book. She had her knees bent and was swinging her legs in the air. She always looked like an angel, but this was his favorite pose. He loved it when she went into a book and lost herself. Her body relaxed, and she let herself be more carefree. It was as if she escaped the real world.

He bought her more books every few days. He'd offered to let her use his phone to read from his app, but she'd scrunched up her nose. He'd also offered to get her a phone, but she'd lost her shit at that suggestion.

Khai had stopped asking her anything when he bought her things. He just did it and set them in front of her, end of discussion.

She had clothes now. Not a lot of them, but plenty. She had nightgowns and lingerie, too—panties and bras. He had only seen the latter off her body because he hadn't risked taking their relationship to the next level, but he knew what she owned, and he could imagine how damn sexy she would be if only he peeled off her clothes.

Khai finished wiping down the counter, leaned a hip against it, and watched her. He did this a lot. If she had any idea how much he adored her, she would probably panic.

He hadn't slept on the couch since the second night when she'd once again woken up screaming, and he'd once again climbed up beside her and calmed her back to sleep.

The third night, the night she'd finally had on panties and a nightgown, he'd climbed on top of the covers next to her, pulled her back against his front, and kissed her temple without a word.

She hadn't said a word either. She'd let him hold her. For a few days, she'd been stiff and uncertain, but after that, she'd learned to relax. She only had nightmares every few nights now. They were always the same. She would start thrashing, put her arms up as if to avoid being struck, and mumble about promising to be good.

It unnerved him. Someone had abused her. Badly. A boyfriend? Husband? Relative? He didn't think it could've been her grandfather. Her grandparents were the only people she ever spoke of, and she did so with devotion and fondness. She'd loved them. There was no way they had abused her. Which meant whatever had happened had occurred after they'd died.

The days had ticked by, and every day, Khai hoped he could show her how much he cared until she finally trusted him enough to tell him her story.

A buzz sounded, yanking Grace out of her book and causing her to sit up and look around. It was the washing machine. After the first week, he'd purchased a washer/dryer combo. It was now sitting in the corner of the room. Khai had routed the water from the bathroom to the washer. At least they had clean clothes.

Khai had planned to stay here for a month or two, but if it had been just him, he would have taken his laundry into town and gone to a laundromat. There was no way he could take Grace into town, and there was also no chance he would leave her alone, so he'd bought the machine.

When it had arrived, she'd disappeared into the trees without a word. He'd gone in search of her after the delivery man had left and silently guided her back to the cabin.

Neither of them had left the property. Food could be delivered. When he'd placed an order for toilet paper, toothpaste, and other bathroom supplies, he'd thought to add tampons and pads. He hadn't asked her what she preferred, but he assumed she would eventually need one or the other.

Books, games, puzzles, and anything else they'd needed showed up on the doorstep. Anytime Grace heard a truck coming down the gravel drive, she hid in the bathroom until it was gone.

They couldn't keep this up forever. He'd never felt closer to another human being in his life. At the same time, he'd also never felt more distant.

What are you hiding, love?

"I'll change the laundry," she announced as she slid off the side of the mattress. She took a moment to adjust her shorts and straighten her T-shirt. She did this every time she stood from a chair or the couch or the bed. It seemed like the movement reminded her she was wearing clothes, and she would glance down and try to make them more comfortable.

That made no sense. She also rarely put on shoes. Only if they were going to the dock or to walk in the woods. As soon as she put them on, she winced. As soon as they returned, she took them off.

He was starting to wonder if she'd been raised in the Appalachian mountains or somewhere off the grid. The kind of place where people still lived without modern conveniences. She had an education, though. She'd definitely gone to school like she'd told him.

In fact, he would bet money she had never once uttered a lie to him. When she didn't want to talk about something, she simply shut down. She never made something up to satisfy him.

He watched her slim body as she moved the laundry from the washer to the dryer. She had no idea how sexy she was. Even changing the laundry was sexy. Every time she rose onto her tiptoes, his cock grew stiffer.

His cock was close to revolting. The only time it got any attention was when he jerked off as quietly as possible in the shower. He had no idea if she was aware he took care of himself or not. He was pretty certain she did not.

"I can feel you staring at me," she said without turning around.

He chuckled. "I enjoy looking at you."

After closing the dryer door and turning it on, she spun around and leaned against the machine. Her brow was furrowed, and she looked concerned.

Shit. This was what he'd tried to avoid. If he pushed her too hard, she would take ten steps back, but keeping his feelings to himself was growing difficult.

She was a conundrum. She let him hold her, stroke her hair, kiss her temple, and just about any other show of affection, but he'd never kissed her lips or touched her intimately. He'd never mentioned it. Neither had she.

He knew why. It was the same for both of them. There was no way he would cross that line without answers. Hell, he didn't even know for certain she wasn't married.

Now, she wouldn't meet his gaze. This was a bad sign.

He needed to get them back on track. She was like a drug. He was constantly afraid she would leave him and take away his addiction. He walked a fine line, teetering on the edge all the time.

"I can't give you more," she said.

He swallowed. This was the first time she'd ever mentioned what they had.

She lifted her gaze. "I can't give you more, and it's not fair to you, and I'm wasting your time. I should leave."

He shuddered. "No, love. And when have I asked for more?"

She licked her full pink lips—the ones he badly wanted to ravage. "You're too much of a gentleman to ask for more, but I see how you look at me. I know you wish you could have more."

It was time to take some risks. "Are you married, Grace?"

She shook her head. "No."

That was a relief. What was holding her at arm's length? "I know you feel as strongly about me, Grace."

She flinched and bit her lip. That was her telltale sign that he'd hit the nail on the head. She did this when she wasn't willing to agree or disagree. It kept her from committing without lying.

"There's no sense pretending I'm not head over heels in love with you," he hedged boldly.

She shook her head. "You can't be."

He chuckled. "Grace, I can't control my feelings. Neither can you." He took a step toward her, feeling the need to push her. It was inevitable. They tiptoed around their feelings every day. The dam eventually had to break. Now was as good as tomorrow.

She didn't move or try to duck away from him when he reached her and tipped her chin up. He met her gaze. "You're in love with me, too."

She bit her lip harder and said nothing. Thank God.

"Let me in," he encouraged.

"I can't."

"Let me in, Grace. No matter what happened to you, I can handle it. I've been deployed three times. I've seen damn near everything."

She swallowed hard, held his gaze, and said, "You have not seen everything."

Her words struck him hard. She might as well have slapped him. She spoke them as if he was audaciously misinformed.

The look in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her how sorry he was for whatever she'd been through. But he was afraid to lose precious ground.

"Okay, you're right. That was presumptuous of me. I apologize."

She pushed his hand away from her chin, but instead of darting away from him as he feared, she fisted the front of his T-shirt and leaned her forehead against his chest.

Khai wrapped his arms around her, pulled her closer, kissed the top of her head, and rocked her back and forth. "I'm so damn sorry for whatever happened to you. I'd give anything to fix it. I know I can't do that. I can't undo it. But I promise it helps to talk about it, purge it, and dump it on someone else. It's holding you hostage. It has power over you."

"You sound like a shrink," she said, her head still pressed against his pecs.

He chuckled. "I've been to enough of them."

"Why?"

He lifted his right leg and shook it. "You've never asked me about my leg."

She tipped her head back. "I didn't figure I had the right to ask you about your past since I'm unwilling to talk about mine."

"Well, I'm going to tell you anyway." He cupped her face. "On my last tour, I was in a Humvee accident. The damn thing flipped on its side, and I was pinned under it. Crushed most of the bones in my lower leg. I was airlifted out and spent a year having five surgeries and rehab. It's getting stronger all the time, but I'll probably always limp. I'm sure you've seen the numerous scars."

"I'm sorry. That must've been very scary. Were you afraid you might lose your leg?"

"Yes. For months, no one was certain. I worked my ass off to get back on my feet."

"And that's why you left the Army."

"Yes."

"And then you came here?"

"No. I was in Denver for a while, still doing rehab. A few people have offered me jobs, including a guy I knew in the Army who's retired now and working in the Denver area. I've been putting him off. I've been putting everyone off. After I finished my last official visit to the physical therapist, I took off on a road trip to see the Grand Canyon. I needed some oxygen and nature. As I approached Denver on my return, I felt compelled to come out here to my cabin for a month or two before I pondered my next move. I used to come out here every once in a while to get away. Fish. Relax. It's so peaceful. This is my happy place." He smiled.

"It's not so peaceful this time. You have an annoying houseguest who wasn't invited."

He chuckled. "Love, I wouldn't undo you being here for all the money in the world. Don't you realize that? I've never been so fucking happy. I might have intended to hide away and continue to nurse my physical and emotional wounds, but not for one second have I regretted finding an angel in the form of Goldilocks sleeping in my bed."

He took a step closer, pressing her against the dryer. He threaded his fingers in her hair at the sides of her face and held her cheeks, leaning in close. "I want more. I want everything. I want forever. I want you to marry me, take my name, and have my babies. I want to crawl into bed next to you when I'm ninety-five and still pull you into my arms, preferably under the covers instead of on top." He grinned, hoping that the last part would lighten his declaration a bit. He'd certainly laid it all out on the table.

She was panting and staring at him. Seconds ticked by. Finally, she whispered. "In another dimension, I would give you all that, but I can't." Tears ran down her cheeks.

"Love…" He set his forehead against hers. "Do you think I will judge you for whatever happened to you? Do you not realize I don't even care if you killed someone?"

She flinched, or maybe she jumped. She wiggled free and ducked out of his grip to pace away from him.

When he spun around, he found her holding her hands over her ears as if she could silence him or silence the universe.

"Grace…" He took slow steps toward her. "Love…"

She didn't acknowledge him or even look at him. She didn't lower her hands either. She paced back and forth. She wasn't with him. She'd gone somewhere else. "What if I did, Khai? What if I did kill someone?"

He grabbed her from behind and pulled her back to his front. He kissed her temple. "Then I'm sure they deserved it." It was hard to remain calm. She was on the verge of talking to him, and he wanted her to tell him everything. If he interrupted her, she might not continue.

Suddenly, the sound of an approaching car made him jerk his head up and glance out the window. What fucking horrible timing.

Grace tugged herself free of him and glanced out the window, too.

It wasn't a delivery truck, and they weren't expecting anything. And then…shit. It wasn't just one car. It was three.

"Oh, my God," Grace muttered.

Khai glanced at her. All the blood drained from her face. He grabbed her shoulders. "Go in the bathroom. Don't come out."

She nodded and ran toward the bathroom. Before she shut the door, she turned back to him. "I'm sorry." And then she ducked out of sight.

Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck. Khai wished he had a fucking clue what the hell was about to happen.

Whoever this was, he didn't want them inside his cabin, so he stepped out onto the porch, shut the door, and stepped down to the ground, continuing toward the first car.

Two men stepped out. In suits. They looked fucking important. They were packing, too. They didn't even hide it. They weren't wearing their suit coats and had weapons strapped to their chests.

Two more men climbed out of the second car, and then two more. Six fucking men. FBI?

Panic climbed up his spine, but he was trained to deal with stress. He'd been in worse situations than this dozens of times. He was on fucking U.S. soil. No one was going to pull a gun and start shooting.

Khai set his hands on his hips and planted his feet so he wouldn't look as intimidated as he felt. "Can I help you, gentlemen?"

All of them approached. They were looking around. Looking for Grace, no doubt. If that was even her name. He still suspected it started with a T.

One of the men approached. He pulled out a badge and held it up. "Jagger Whitley, FBI."

Khai didn't doubt him. He wasn't even surprised. If he was perfectly honest with himself, he would have to admit he'd always known something like this would happen. But Grace was his woman now, and he would do everything to protect her. There was a reason she hadn't wanted the authorities to know where she was, and he would respect that.

"Are you sure you're at the right property? Something huge must have happened for six FBI agents to descend on my fishing cabin."

Jagger pulled a folded paper out of his pocket and held it up. "We're looking for this woman. Have you seen her?"

Khai nearly swallowed his tongue. It was a sketch. It was definitely Grace. He didn't hesitate to answer. "Never seen her."

"Mind if we take a look around?" another man asked as they spread out with the obvious intent to surround the cabin.

"You're going to need a warrant." Khai was no idiot. He knew his rights.

Jagger faced off with Khai, his hands also on his hips. A yard separated them. He drew in a deep breath. "I can get that warrant, Mr. Dervis. I can also have half the sheriff's department out here in thirty minutes while we wait. It would be a lot easier if you just let us speak to the woman."

"The woman?" Jagger's choice of words caught Khai's attention. "Do you have any idea who you're looking for?" He pointed toward the sketch. "All you have is a sketch? No name?" This was fucking weird.

Jagger drew in another breath. "Look, Khai. It's Khai, isn't it?"

Khai stared at him without responding. His blood was pumping hot through his veins. He was barely containing himself. He'd been in some of the most dangerous situations of any man on earth, and yet, right this moment, he'd never been more scared.

"Here's what I think," Jagger continued.

Khai glanced around at the rest of the men in his peripheral vision. No one had approached the house yet, but they were snooping around. Fuck. Khai crossed his arms and stared down Jagger. "What do you think, Agent Whitley?" He was actually curious to hear what the man might say. Freaked the fuck out, but curious.

"I'd bet my last dollar that this woman is inside your cabin. I'm guessing you have no idea who she is, either. And to be honest, I feel confident you had nothing to do with her disappearance. Unless I'm reading you wrong, you're not in any trouble."

"But your mystery woman is? What did she do?"

Jagger chuckled.

It grated on Khai's last nerve, making him scowl. "Did I say something funny?"

Jagger sobered. "No, man. She hasn't told you a damn thing, has she?"

Khai glared at him, not answering, pulling a Grace. If he said nothing, at least he wasn't lying. Though he had already lied.

Jagger sighed. "She's not in trouble either, Khai. I swear. I'd rather not break her confidence and air her laundry to strangers without her permission. I just want to talk to her. Do I need to contact the local police?"

The sound of the door closing behind him made Khai jerk his gaze over his shoulder to find Grace stepping out onto the porch. Her face was white as a sheet. She was wringing her fingers together. "Please don't call the police," she begged.

All the agents returned to the front of the house.

Khai had no idea what the fuck to do, but he wasn't going to let her face this alone, so he jogged back to her, ignoring the sharp pain in his leg, jumped onto the porch, and pulled her into his arms. He cupped the side of her face, lowered his lips to her ear, and whispered, "I've got you, love. Always."

She wrapped her arms around him and held on tight.

A storm was about to light up the sky, but he'd be damned if he let anything happen to Grace.