The Awakening: Britton (Entangled Covet) Page 4

  …

  Val fidgeted in her seat, smoothing the material of her pants, crossing and uncrossing her legs, a squirm here, a twitch there. Anxiety wreaked havoc on her nerves. What would it be like to work with Britton again?

  Last time, every minute they’d searched for Liam together had been complete torture. Oh, how she’d wanted to slap that arrogant smirk off his face. Bad enough he constantly made her resort to childish bickering, but to actually itch to feel her palm meet his cheek with a resounding smack was infuriating. She was better than that. She hated how he made her lose control.

  She’d never understood what she’d done to the man to garner such virulent distaste. Yes, she had his job. But she hadn’t gone after it. She’d been offered the position after he’d screwed up. So holding a grudge over that was just plain juvenile.

  Unfortunately, sometimes a person met someone who simply made their insides crawl.

  She guessed she must do that to him.

  He managed his hatred for her pretty well in front of others—unless he was around his friends—but once they were alone he allowed the disdain to really show. She hated the way his eyes narrowed on her and that arrogant smirk of his quivered with barely disguised loathing.

  All she could hope for was that the High Council would assign a task force to them so she and Britton weren’t obliged to be alone. Dea, she did not want to be alone with the man. She didn’t get paid enough to deal with him.

  The phone rang at Maddy’s desk. A few seconds later, she hung up and looked over at Val. “You can go in now.”

  So the serum had been administered.

  Sighing, Val stood, headed down to the end of the hall, and entered the massive double doors. Britton looked over his shoulder, his jaw clenched, then he returned his attention to the members.

  Since there was nowhere for her to sit, she came to stand beside him. His face was as relaxed as ever, and she could’ve pinched him for it.

  Councilman Harwood looked at her. “The procedure is done. Detective Townsend’s abilities should return fairly quickly. The sooner you two get on this case the better. We’ve reserved a room for you at a cabin about five miles from where you found the letter. The humans who own the cabin believe you are a couple. Do you understand?”

  Val pressed her lips together, before saying, “Yes, sir.”

  A couple. Right. As if she and Britton could ever pull that off.

  “You will be the only two working the case. Detective Calhoun, you will answer to Detective Townsend. Whatever he says goes.”

  Shame washed over her and she had the hardest time speaking past the tightness in her throat. “Yes, sir,” she finally gritted out.

  She couldn’t look at Britton, refused to see his triumph shining back at her. The only thing she’d ever really had over him was his job. The one protection against the way he treated her, the one way to put him back in his place.

  And now it was gone.

  He held all the power. And he knew it.

  “The SPAC unit will be informed that you are working on a special case and will be MIA for the foreseeable future.”

  “And Homicide?”

  “Your mother is in the hospital. You’ve gone back to Jersey for a week to see her.”

  She hated them using her family as an excuse for her absence. It was bad mojo they were putting out in the stratosphere.

  Harwood slid a file across the table. “This has your undercover identities, licenses, some money, and all the information we have right now. You are to call me directly for anything else you may require and I will get whatever you need. You are to leave here and go directly home to pack for a few days in the woods. Stick to the cover story. No one is to know where you are going. Help yourself to the armory and load up on tranquilizer darts. We want these bastards alive.”

  When she stepped forward to take the file, Britton shot to his feet and snatched it off the table, raising a brow as if daring her to protest.

  Biting back a scathing remark, she reminded herself that he was her superior now. It was his right to take the lead, and he was merely flexing his leadership muscles. As much as she was tempted, she wouldn’t take the bait.

  She compelled a strained smile onto her lips and stepped back.

  “Now get out there, and fix this.”

  Turning, she knew Britton would follow. They were stuck with each other for the duration. If she was going to survive, she needed to make the best of it.

  She opened the door for him. With his back to the council, the hostility was open on his face as he scowled at her. She pursed her lips in a syrupy fake smile.

  Nope, she didn’t get paid enough.

  Chapter Three

  She was taking a much-needed, much-earned vacation after this assignment.

  Val hadn’t been in the jackass’s company for more than an hour and a half, and already she was damned near close to killing him. Not that he’d done anything specific, just sat on the passenger side of her car in stony silence, acting like a pouting child who’d just been put in time-out. It wasn’t her fault they couldn’t take his stupid Jeep.

  Hell, if anything, she was the one who should be angry after the High Council had demoted her and coerced her into working with the dickweed.

  Now, granted, she may have rubbed a nerve wrong. When Harwood had said they should take her car since she was the one supposedly going out of town, she’d innocently said that was good because his Jeep was too easy to hotwire.

  She’d practically seen the fury flowing off him at the reminder that she’d taken his precious Jeep a few months ago. She hadn’t actually stolen it. Just borrowed it to get Liam’s mate to the hospital.

  But Britton had been pissy ever since. Well. More pissy.

  Get over it.

  At least she’d had thirty minutes away from the butthead to pack. Not that she’d had a clue what to bring. She’d never gone camping in her life. But apparently Britton had…or else he believed in taking his entire wardrobe with him—which was more probable. The amount of luggage he’d shoved in her trunk would’ve impressed even the fussiest girl, and made Val’s lone bag look pathetic crammed beneath his.

  Now they were minutes from their destination.

  It had taken everything in her to keep from balking when Britton found where they were headed on a map. He hadn’t been able to hide his reaction, or more likely hadn’t wanted to, and had made a nasty scoffing noise with a muttered, “Yeah, right.”

  Yeah, right was pretty damn accurate, though.

  The two of them snuggled away in a place called the Lover’s Nest was completely unbelievable.

  Of course, she’d heard of the Lover’s Nest. Everyone had heard of the cabins. Couples came from all over the south to enjoy the private and tranquil setting that was within an hour’s drive of Carnal Ridge.

  Couples.

  Not mortal enemies.

  She took a right turn that led up a steep hill. As they crested it, the terrain flattened. A small cabin with the word “open” flashing in the window came into view. This must be the office.

  As she parked the car, Val let out a slow breath.

  Here went nothing.

  Britton popped open the door and jumped out, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt hiked up to reveal a very toned, very appealing stomach. She froze with one foot planted outside on the gravel and one inside the car and couldn’t look away.

  Just as she had, he’d changed his clothes. But unlike hers, his attire should be considered indecent. His jeans rode too low on his hips, and the Carolina Panthers T-shirt was one muscle ripple away from busting at the seams. Add in the damned leather jacket, and Raquel’s reverently spoken desire to lick him up one side and down the other had never rung truer, even to Val.

  Damn him.

  His arms lowered and his head popped back down to the door window, one eyebrow raised. “We don’t have all day, Calhoun. Get your head out of your ass.”

  Double damn him.

 
; After she shoved out of the car, she made her way to the front door without a word, Britton following behind her.

  As soon as they stepped inside, an older woman greeted them with a grin. “Welcome to Lover’s Nest!”

  Britton passed her, walking up to the desk, one side of his mouth tilted in a crooked smile. “We have reservations for Michaels.”

  The woman clapped her hands together and pressed them to her chest. “Oh! The honeymooners!”

  Val would have laughed at the momentary slip of Britton’s normally arrogant expression if she hadn’t been as stunned as he was. Harwood had said a couple. That was bad enough. But honeymooners?

  Well, that was just a big flip of the middle finger to the sanctity of marriage, wasn’t it?

  Britton recovered quickly. “Er…yes.”

  His jaw tightened as he wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her against him, knocking the wind from her lungs. Literally. The feel of his forearm against her lower back sent disturbing tingles over her body. She struggled to make her lips curve up, which made her worry the attempted smile came out more like bared teeth than an actual smile.

  Yeah, they looked the perfectly happy couple.

  The woman gave a nervous laugh. “Do we have some wedding night jitters?”

  You’re supposed to be a loving couple.

  Shaking herself, Val put on her most mischievous smile and half wrapped her body around Britton’s, trying to ignore the way he shuddered against her and how his fingers suddenly bit into her side. “Anxious, is all. We’ve…um…delayed things.”

  Understanding dawned on the woman’s face. “Oh! Oh yes. I’m sure you’re anxious to be alone.” She riffled around behind the desk and produced some keys. “You’re in the Fireworks cabin. It’s more private than the others. More off on its own. You’ll go to the top of the mountain past a cluster of other cabins. It’s the last one. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you.” He grabbed the keys from the woman, latched onto Val’s hand, and hauled her along behind him. As soon as they were out of sight of the woman, he released her and moved to the front of the car with his back toward her. She could see the quakes raking through his body before he scrubbed both palms over his face then shook his head, making that sound men tended to make when trying to control an emotional breakdown.

  Was the man about to cry? Or was he in pain?

  “Good gracious, are you okay?”

  He froze, his head snapping up and then he snarled—snarled!—before yanking open the passenger door, slipping inside, and slamming it closed behind him.

  Alrighty, then. She wordlessly got back into the car, cranked it, and pulled onto the road, all the while aware of the rigid man sitting beside her, staring straight ahead.

  They passed a cluster of cabins and climbed higher into the mountains. Thick trees surrounded them. Yeah, the manager was right. It was definitely remote.

  Finally she parked in front of a small log cabin. A little too small for her taste. Not that she expected luxury, not on the PD’s dime, but a little more space between Britton and her would’ve been appreciated.

  Before she’d even opened her door, he had shot out of the car and was inside the cabin.

  She followed slowly. As she walked in, the first things she noticed were the vaulted wood ceiling and the huge wall of glass that gave a spectacular view of the mountains. A leather sofa was placed in front of a stone fireplace with large flat-screen TV above it. Off in one corner was a pool table. The kitchen was part of the living room, complete with stainless steel appliances and deep cherrywood cabinets.

  Double French doors led to a deck. She walked across the room and peered out. On it were a gas grill, a hot tub, and an outside fireplace. Not too shabby.

  She continued her appraisal of the interior. Another door revealed the bedroom. She scowled at the king-size bed positioned in front of a third fireplace. One bed. Looked like someone would be sleeping on the couch, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be her.

  From behind a closed door, a shower turned on. At least she’d get a few minutes alone.

  With a groan of frustration over the whole stupid situation, she strode to the kitchen table and tossed her purse on top, then stepped out onto the deck and into the chilly air. She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned her elbows on the railing, staring unseeing out across the beautiful mountain landscape.

  They’d worked together in the past. It hadn’t been pleasant, but she’d done her job.

  As long as she kept her focus on the case, and not him, she’d get through this, too.

  …

  Britton let the water stream over him as he leaned his forehead on the ceramic tiles behind him. The moment he’d put his arm around Val, his insides had begun to shake with the need to distance himself from her, but when she wrapped herself around him, every fiber of his being had shuddered in disgust. It’d taken everything inside him to stand there and not shove her away.

  He’d never touched her before…or her, him.

  And he didn’t want it to happen again. Ever.

  He hated recoiling from her, hated the way his body flinched at physical contact with her. Or the aftereffects.

  In the car on the way up here, the moments in front of the clerk had replayed over and over in his mind like some horrific movie loop, and the same reaction came over him every time. It was weird. Unnatural. Visceral. And always immediate.

  He hated his weakness when it came to her.

  Why did she affect him this way?

  When it came down to it, Val was a respected member of the community. She wasn’t unattractive. She had friends, even if they weren’t many, which he threw in her face often enough. She did her job well, as much as he hated to admit it. And she had helped find his friend. If it hadn’t been for her, Liam and his mate would most likely be dead.

  Dea knew what kind of afterlife Val had saved Liam from in Anavrin. Since his buddy had fewsed himself to his mate, but Ava hadn’t reciprocated the bond, there had been a possibility that if he’d died, he would have spent his eternity in utter torment, aware on a physically painful, emotionally anguished, visceral level that his mate was lost to him forever. How fucking horrifying was that? But Val had stepped in and rescued them, Ava had bonded herself to Liam, and they were now anticipating their eternity together, so happy it was almost sickening.

  So he should have a modicum of appreciation toward Val.

  He didn’t.

  Everything in him wanted to call Harwood and beg off the case. Get away from her.

  But that wasn’t an option.

  He sure as fuck didn’t want to spend the next sixteen years in Kerker. If learning to deal with that woman was what he needed to do, then he’d learn to deal.

  After he got out of the shower, he quickly dried off. Had Val been any other woman, he would’ve sauntered around the cabin in just his towel. But she wasn’t, and the last thing he wanted was to tease her.

  He put on his old clothes. At least the shudders were gone. Maybe now he could concentrate on the case.

  Stepping out of the bedroom, he found Val on the deck.

  She turned as he entered the great room. Their eyes connected and once again that unnerving shiver racked through him. He schooled his expression, put as much relaxed swagger as he could in his steps, and approached her.

  Pretend.

  You’ve done it for years.

  But not with her…alone.

  She quirked a brow. “The quicker we start the faster we finish.”

  So she was just as ready to get this over with as he was. Good. Maybe the distaste wasn’t all one-sided.

  “I agree. Let’s start with the cabin where you found a piece of Charlie’s blanket,” he suggested.

  Nodding, she stepped back into the room. At her advance, Britton stiffened, which she didn’t miss, and her brows furrowed. Then she slammed her hands on her hips. “What the hell is your issue with me, Townsend? This”—she waved her hand at him in exasperation�
�“is childish and ridiculous.”

  Actually, he couldn’t agree with her more. He’d always thought it was ridiculous. Never understood why he simply couldn’t control his body’s reaction to her. “I don’t like you.”

  A mock look of surprise crossed her features. “No-oo! Really? I’m so hurt.” She stormed past him and snatched her keys off the table. “Get it the hell together and act like a professional, would you?”

  She slammed out of the cabin and a few seconds later her car’s engine sputtered to life. Britton shoved a hand through his hair. So much for having the upper hand. As long as he couldn’t hide his feelings she would always be one step ahead of him, whether he was her superior or not. And that infuriated him.

  He followed her and yanked open the driver’s side. “I’m the lead detective in this case. I’ll drive.”

  She stared at him a moment, then her lips pursed and she raised her hands from where they had clutched the steering wheel. “By all means, drive.”

  They traded places, then he put the car into gear and made his way back down the mountain. At the end of the road, he silently groaned. Left or right? He had no clue. He should’ve just kept his damn mouth shut and let her drive. She had to be eating up his moment of stupidity, which explained why she’d given up the wheel without any fuss. He couldn’t even look at her and see that smirk on her face.

  Her little happy toe dance in his peripheral was enough.

  “Anytime, Townsend.”

  Oh, he so wasn’t asking her. On the drive up here, she’d said she’d scouted around the cabin before going back to the PD. The cabin was accessible from this road, but a fence barricaded the dirt road to the cabin. They had not passed a gated dirt road on their way up here. He took a left onto the road. Her little toe dance paused.

  He suppressed a smile.

  Ten minutes later, he parked the car and got out. Behind him, the passenger door slammed. They followed the single car path that led to the cabin. A slight tinge started to hit his nose. Like fresh-cut grass. “It’s a little early for mowing, isn’t it?”

  She shot him a look. “Why do you ask that?”

  “Can’t you smell it?”