Ella sank beneath the water, washing her hair before she rose and dried off. The water gurgled out of the tub as she dressed slowly. The underwear was serviceable, nothing girlie, just plain cotton. He’d left her with sweats, a T-shirt, and a sweatshirt that had New Mexico State emblazoned across the front. There were thick socks, but no shoes.
In spite of her situation, she smiled at that. Jude wasn’t going to make her escape easy.
She searched for a hair dryer and found one under the sink. Turning her back to the mirror, she dried her hair and pulled it up into a ponytail. She hadn’t cut it in over a year. It reached her mid-back and was a serious detriment in a fight, but she didn’t have the energy right now to put it up any other way.
Bathed, dried, and dressed, Ella reached for the toothbrush on top of the vanity, tearing off the wrapping and putting a liberal amount of toothpaste on it. Jude used to make fun of her for how much toothpaste she used. “Damn, how big is your mouth anyway?” he’d once teased her.
A smile creased her lips, causing her cheek to hurt, and her gaze instinctively rose to the mirror.
As she wiped the condensation off the mirror, her gaze roved over the planes of her face. Her cheek was a mess. Green, blue, and purple covered the left side of her face. The scar at her temple taunted her. She stuck out her tongue and eyeballed the damage. It wasn’t split but looked like it’d been chewed on. It was healing though, so she wouldn’t complain. Dresden’s physical strength was formidable. Or maybe his rage lent him such power. She looked like she’d barely survived a prizefight.
That didn’t bother her. Not the bruising. Not the pain. The only thing that bothered her was that Jude had seen her this way. That he hurt because of her.
She finished brushing her teeth and gingerly wiped her mouth. She couldn’t waste any more time in this bathroom.
Ella reached deep for her strength, felt it flicker to life, and opened the bathroom door. Jude was nowhere to be seen.
She quickly searched the room for anything that would tell her where she was or that she could use as a weapon. If her time with Dresden had taught her anything, it was that weapons could be as small as a thumbtack or as soft as a pillow. Pick your poison, and you could temper it to the perfect degree of deadliness.
She searched for a few minutes until her mind reminded her just who had her right now. And it wasn’t Dresden.
Jude Dagan must have been born a soldier. His every move was calculated to win whatever campaign he was currently engaging in. Ella was the current war he was fighting. He’d made sure there was nothing in the room that could be used against him.
Points to Jude, she thought.
Ella glanced out the window and noticed the wind blowing snow all over the place, so hard and thick she could barely make out the mountains in the distance. Damn. She wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
She walked to the door of the room and listened. The sounds of pans banging together below assured her that’s where she’d find him. Her stomach rumbled.
Her heart ached.
She took the steps and came to the lower level. The cabin was huge, and the more she saw, the more she had the uncanny feeling it belonged to Jude.
He’d never told her about another property. She’d only known about the beach property they’d bought so they could steal away between missions.
She swallowed thickly and pushed those memories down. They had no place here. Ella needed to get her bearings, remember why she was here, how she’d come to be here, and where she was headed.
His smell haunted her though, pleading with her soul to come out and let Jude ease her. There was a time, before Savidge had hurt her, that she would have sheltered in Jude and allowed him to fix everything for her.
She’d been confident in her strength then. Confident enough to let her man carry the load. Now? She was nothing more than cracked glass, waiting for the hammer that was Horace Dresden to complete the break Savidge had begun. There was no way she’d allow Jude to carry her load now. It was way too heavy.
“Dinner’s ready,” he called out from the kitchen.
Ella walked to the huge living room opposite the kitchen. She was delaying the inevitable, but somehow she needed to pull the tattered pieces of herself together before she saw him again.
Then he was there in front of her. His broad shoulders blocking her vision, his eyes taunting her to give him everything.
She loved him. She loved Jude Dagan.
And she wouldn’t allow him to be harmed by her decisions.
“Did you hear me?” he asked, but her gaze snagged on his full lips. Strong lips that had suckled at her skin and given her more pleasure in a single kiss than she’d ever known before him.
His head cocked, and a small grin curved those lips. Her knees weakened.
His mother was Hispanic, from the Jalisco state of Mexico. He’d inherited her coloring—from his sienna-toned skin to his black hair and eyes. His father had been American, a “big, blond motherfucker” Jude had called him. Jude had gotten his size from his dad. The only other thing she knew about his father was that he’d been a mean drunk who’d given up on Jude the moment his mother had left them both.
Jude rarely spoke about his mother, but Ella knew the woman had hurt him deeply. So much, in fact, that when he said her name, it was usually with a sneer. He never talked about his father. Anything Ella knew, she’d learned from his tia Rosa. His great-aunt was the only family member Jude
