God. He was definitely a lot of man. Thick and hard, his erection had shocked her with its size. But his body in general had shocked her. Darkly tanned flesh stretched and rippled over hard-packed muscle. It wasn’t the awkward, graceless look of obscenely bulging muscle, rather it was corded, hard, filling out each inch of his body and shimmering beneath the skin with an aura of intense power. Like an animal, well honed and conditioned and used to hard, intense battle. She swallowed the fluffy eggs and quickly polished off the breakfast before turning back to the television. It was a good thing she had eaten before watching the news, because what she saw would have easily put her off the meal.
They showed the victim’s face, if you wanted to call him a victim. Elizabeth sat up straight, staring in shock at the image on the screen. She knew him. It was the same bastard who had tried to ambush her and Cassie in their apartment the day before. He wouldn’t be ambushing anyone else. He was found in the basement, his throat cut. The newscaster called it a professional, highly skilled hit. He still carried his money. The diamond ring on his hand. His credit cards. His identity was given, as was the police record and information on the current warrants for his arrest. She trembled, barely aware that the shower had shut off and the bathroom door had opened. A sudden flashing memory had her gaze swinging to Dash. Beside the gun had been a long, curved, sheathed knife. The wide hilt had looked imposing. Now she knew why. He stopped, gazing back at her somberly as she stared at him in shock. For the first time she realized that Dash’s confidence wasn’t as misplaced as she had feared it was. He appeared to be a welloiled fighting machine because that was exactly what he was.
“You killed him,” she whispered, watching him in amazement. No one who had gone against Grange’s men had succeeded. They were either bought off or killed, according to how disposable his hit men considered them to be. Dash had been neither bought off, nor harmed. He had killed instead. Broad shoulders, still gleaming with moisture, shrugged carelessly. He wore soft sweatpants and white socks, but nothing more. In one hand he carried the clothes he had worn into the bathroom, in the other he carried the holstered gun and the knife.
His eyes went to the television, narrowing on the report as the reporter spoke into the camera.
“Took them long enough to report it,” he grunted as he walked over to the bed he had lain his leather case on.
He pulled out a black plastic bag, stored his dirty clothes then repacked them. The weapons were tucked beneath his pillow.
“You killed him,” she repeated, careful to keep her voice low in case Cassie woke up. Dash turned back to her. There was no regret in his gaze, no sense of remorse or apology. His gaze was steady, though slightly quizzical, as though he didn’t understand her shock.
“He was a diseased animal, Elizabeth,” he said with a distinct air of unconcern. “He was waiting on you, certain you would come back, and intended to make you and Cassie pay for getting away. Anyone else who tries for you will die just as quickly.”
Silence filled the room. Elizabeth could only stare at him as he moved away from the bed, taking the other chair and pulling two of the platters free as well as the last cup of coffee.
“You need to take a shower and sleep the rest of the day. From now on, we travel at night. If this blizzard has blown over by evening then we’ll head to a ranch just out of town. I fought with Mike overseas. He’s dependable, and he can put me in touch with some people who can help us.”
Elizabeth shook her head, wondering at the dream-like fog that seemed to fill her mind. He was talking as though he hadn’t been forced to kill a man because of her and Cassie. As though his life had never been in danger and he had done nothing out of the ordinary.
She could feel her heart racing at the knowledge, her mind scrambling to accept what he had done. No one had been able to stand against Grange’s goons before. They always fell, one way or the other. And yet here Dash sat, remarkably unconcerned about the danger involved. Of course he wasn’t concerned. She blinked warily. He was stronger than they were, tougher and smarter and evidently a hell of a lot more determined. For the first time she realized just how intent he was on protecting her and Cassie.
He glanced over at Cassie, a light frown creasing his brow as her little snuffles of sleep filled the room. Following his gaze Elizabeth watched as the little girl moved beneath the blanket, a little smile tilting her lips, her legs stretching out as though in play.
“She sounds like a little pup when she sleeps.” Elizabeth shook her head, trying to accept the changes occurring so quickly. “She’s always done that. At least I know she’s sleeping, not dreaming, when she does.”
She shook her head. Cassie had nightmares. Sometimes, she couldn’t sleep well for days straight. Right now, she was stretched under the blankets, her slight body relaxed and comfortable. Her dark hair framed her sleep-flushed features as she breathed softly, evenly. No. There were no nightmares now.
“I want you to wake her up. She needs to eat and shower, then she can sleep until we head out tonight. I want her alert and focused.”
Elizabeth swung around, anger erupting through her system then. Protector or not, she wasn’t about to allow him to ruin the only true sleep Cassie had known in weeks.
“Do you have any idea how long it’s been since she’s slept so well?” she hissed. “I’m not about to wake her up.”
He sighed deeply. There was no returning anger, just determination.
“If you don’t wake her up, keep her up for a while, then she’ll sleep while we’re awake and be asleep when we all need to be at our best. Or even worse, too damned tired to hold onto us, or run if she has to. We have only a few nights to get her ready for the trip we’ll hopefully be making next. Now wake her up, or I will.”
His gaze was level, commanding.
“You can’t just make these decisions without talking to me first, Sinclair.” She was shaking, fury nearly robbing her of any control. “That’s my daughter. And I won’t allow you to jerk her out of a perfectly sound sleep just because you say so. And you sure as hell aren’t making any more surprise trips with her without letting me in on what’s going on first.”
Her fists clenched with her anger as she stared up at him. He watched her with that cool, assessing gaze, as though she were an amusing little insect under inspection at the moment.