Silver Storm: Timewalker Chronicles, Book 2 Read Online Free Page A

through the soft flesh of her neck, unnaturally hot, but he ignored it for the moment, intent on his goal…getting the wet mass of her hair contained in the towel. Moving the sopping strands on her head around was worse than battling tangled rope. He grimaced at his lack of finesse, absolutely certain he was only making it worse.
    “Sorry.” She couldn’t hear him, but it made him feel a bit better about the hack job he was doing to her head. Towel in place, he stepped back and debated what to do next. She’d said his name. He’d never met her before, he was sure of it. The whole thing screamed trouble, and that was one thing he couldn’t afford if he wanted to stay off the Rear Admiral’s radar. He didn’t care who she was, it wasn’t worth the risk.
    He reached for the cordless phone on the end table and studied her face while he went over the facts again. She wasn’t bleeding or obviously injured. No black eye or bruised ribs from a fight with a boyfriend. No wedding band. No marks on her perfect body whatsoever. How she ended up next to his boat in the middle of an electrical storm, he had no idea. But her arrival wasn’t normal. There was no logical explanation for where she came from or how the hell she’d managed to get that close to his boat without alerting either him or Bandit.
    So, that left illogical explanations.
    Illogical, like the feeling he had that he’d seen her somewhere before, or that he’d kill to protect her.
    The two feelings were equally unwelcome. First, she was gorgeous. He was sure he’d remember her if he’d met her before. And he hadn’t. His life the last ten years hadn’t left much room for a woman, and he hadn’t felt right asking one to put up with what he did. He’d seen the wives of soldiers wailing in grief too many times to go there.
    And protect her? Kill for her? He didn’t do that anymore. He’d put in his time. Followed in daddy’s footsteps, first at West Point, then flight school, a few very long years fighting bad guys in the field and he should’ve been over the whole hero complex. But no. He was hard headed. After that, his father had sucked him into the world of government contracting and top-secret weapons development on the private side. Give him a rifle and a clear objective any day of the week over the last couple of years that he’d spent locked in the lab. He’d woken up from that insanity. Walked away. No thanks. That game was over. He’d made sure of it.
    9-1-1. Three numbers, a few questions, and she was someone else’s problem.
    He dialed the numbers, stared at the green Send button, then her face. Bandit’s head tilted in a sweet mixture of curiosity and all-out adoration as she stared at the woman. “Dumb dog.”
    He couldn’t do it.
    “Damn it!” He needed some kind of explanation from the mystery woman. She’d arrived practically on his doorstep, less than fifty yards from his home, in the middle of the most bizarre electrical event he’d ever seen. Curiosity might kill him, but he had to have some answers.
    Hell, maybe the Casper boys had sent her. Maybe he hadn’t been as thorough with his diversion and misdirection as he’d thought. He put the phone down and rubbed his hands on his thighs, unsure of what to do next. Gently shake her? Maybe a cold, wet cloth on her forehead? He snorted. Hell, how about a cold bucket of ice water over her head? That’d do the job.
    If his mother were here, he’d let her fuss over the mystery woman. Oh, how his mother would just love the drama. But she wasn’t here. The thought made his chest ache, so he buried it and sat on the edge of the couch, staring. He wasn’t an eight-year-old, he knew, but the loss was still fresh, and living in his boyhood home made it harder to stay objective. Especially when the problem was a beautiful, naked female in his personal space.
    Bandit tilted her tiny little head at him now and grinned like the know-it-all little female she was.
    “Shut up, Bandit.