Oleg pulled her toward the door of the first bedroom, stretching as far ahead as possible, silent now but riveted on the room beyond. She saw why before she reached the doorway. Alarm zipped up her arms. They weren’t alone.
A man was propped up on a bunk against the far wall. His denim-clad legs were half sprawled off the mattress. Melted snow mixed with mud dripped from heavy boots onto the planked flooring. She knew it was a man by the shoe size and the heavy corded thighs pulling tight against his denim. She couldn’t see his face. His head was in shadow against stacked pillows. He was still. Very still. Asleep?
She took a step forward, trying to see who he was. Oleg had bared his teeth, sharp fangs glistening in the meager light. He barked once, high and sharp.
The man jerked, caught himself in what sounded like a painful choked-off cough, and opened his eyes. A pale gaze met hers from across the dim room. And then his tight mouth stretched and his teeth showed. “I knew you’d find me.”
Yardley froze, uncertain that her eyes weren’t playing a cruel trick on her in serving up the sight of the man she’d been longing to see for months. “David?”
“God. It’s good to see you.” He paused, seeming to need to catch his breath. Yet so far, he hadn’t expended as much energy as needed to sit upright. “You didn’t bring your boyfriend along, I hope.”
“Who?” Her confusion seemed to please him, for his smile deepened.
“I’m asking if you came alone?”
“Yes.” The shock was wearing off, leaving Yardley a little dizzy with joy, but something held her back from launching herself at him.
Are you alone? That kind of question was asked only when it mattered. If it mattered now, it meant he was in trouble. And that made her hesitate.
She stuffed away the feelings of relief and joy that had come bursting out of her at the sight of him. None of those thoughts and feelings were helpful at the moment. Not until she knew why he was here. For her, or for another reason?
“You can call off your dog. I promise I don’t bite.” His teeth gleamed in the dim light. “Much.” His voice sounded stronger now but he still hadn’t moved.
Yardley glanced down and double-fisted the thick leash that Oleg strained against, eager to put himself in charge of the encounter. “Lehni!”
The K-9 didn’t so much as glance back at her but ceased straining against the leash. “Pozor.”
As soon as Oleg lay down facing the doorway to guard it, she dropped the leash, assured that they wouldn’t be disturbed without warning.
She turned back to David, still ten feet away. Her feet wouldn’t move forward. Details and context, that’s what she taught her handlers to stay prepared for when working a dog. She felt like a K-9 herself, all senses on alert as her gaze roamed the man she’d been searching for against everyone’s advice.
He wore a cheap puffy jacket, plaid shirt, and jeans. Nothing like the casual but expensive clothing she’d most often seen him wear. The hard angles of his jaw and slash of dark brows were the same. As was the shock of choppy hair streaked blond in places by the sun. There were changes. The pleats around his eyes and mouth were etched more deeply. But it was his eyes that made her draw careful breaths. They weren’t the same. The once clear-sky-blue gaze of a man accustomed to making life-and-death judgment calls with confidence was clouded. Something significant had changed. It electrified the space around them.
“Did you get my text?”
She nodded and made her voice sound casual, as if he’d just dropped by without notice and rung her bell. “Why are you here, David? What’s going on?”
He frowned. “Aren’t I welcome?”
“Of course. But it’s weird. Three months of silence and suddenly you show up here. Why the silence? Where have you been?”
“Come closer.” He held out his hand to her, seeming to sense her reluctance. “You’re not afraid of me?”
She crossed her arms and cocked a hip. “You haven’t answered my question.”
He patted the mattress with his left hand. “I’d rather not shout.”
That’s when she noticed that something dark streaked the red-and-cream-striped coverlet on his right side. Then her eyes homed in on the dark-rust-red spill from a tear in his jacket’s right sleeve above the elbow. Blood.
She gave up the pretense of indifference and came toward him. “You’re hurt.”
“Shhh.” He lifted his good arm and pulled her down beside him. “I’ll survive.”
Yardley didn’t think of herself as squeamish but at the sight of his bloody arm things took a nasty turn in her mind. All of them translating into danger. A dozen questions rushed to mind. Who wanted to hurt him? And why? Why was he hiding? Because, obviously, he was hiding. Most of all, why had he come to her? But that couldn’t be her first consideration.
She glanced with a troubled expression toward the doorway that Oleg was guarding.
His left arm slid across her possessively to hold her by the waist as she perched on the edge of the mattress. “I thought you’d be happier to see me.”