Sorry we got shot at, or sorry that you didnt tell me everything up front? he prodded.
Both.
A pause stretched out between them until it became awkward. Still, he waited, some of that stubborn pigheadedness of his apparently kicking in. There was no help for it. She absolutely wasnt going to answer his question. She jumped when he abruptly got out of the vehicle and walked around in front of it toward her side of the car. Cringing, she waited as he jerked her door open. She was surprised when he merely held a hand out to her to help her out of the car. Shed pegged him for bodily dragging her out of the vehicle in his current state of irritation.
But he did back her up against the side of the Land Rover in no uncertain terms, his hands on either side of her shoulders, trapping her in place. What the hells going on, Melina?
Whats your gut telling you? she asked lightly. It was a feeble attempt to remind him of the closeness theyd shared back in the hotel-okay it was a blatant attempt to distract him by reminding him of the great sex theyd had in Lima.
He considered her for several seconds in stony silence. Then he surprised her by answering. Remember those two legitimate reasons I thought of for you coming out here to meet someone?
She nodded.
I think weve pretty much ruled those out as possibilities.
She couldnt help but smile. But as he continued, her humor evaporated.
Which means youre up to no good. Youre out here to meet someone on the wrong side of the law. Very much on the wrong side of the law, or you wouldnt be having to jump through these hoops to even make contact with them. I can only think of a few people who qualify as that criminal and that cautious. And I gotta say, babe, every last one of them is a heaping bad problem.
He continued grimly. Youre dragging me around on a wild-goose chase out here, which tells me your criminal contacts dont trust you. Theyre vetting you out before they close in on you. So, Im thinking you either have something you want to sell- at that, his gaze raked coarsely down her body -or youre being blackmailed.
She had to work to keep her face from showing anything, either the hurt at his insinuation that shed sell herself, or her panic at how close hed come to the truth.
My guess is blackmail. Youre too naïve to even know how to begin doing business with these sorts on your own initiative. They approached you. So, what do you have that they want?
She stared up at him, her lips pressed together defiantly. He could ask the question until the cows came home, but she was not going to answer him.
He leaned forward. It was a subtle thing, but he invaded her personal spaceand not in a nice way. It wasnt even remotely sexual in overtone. It was just intimidating.
Were out here all alone, he murmured in a silky tone. You and me. Nobody for miles to hear you shout for help. Im all youve got.
He said the words in threat, but they resonated all the way to her soul. Im all youve got. Good Lord, he was exactly right. She had nobody else. Her parents, whom she might have turned to in a crisis, were at the heart of this one. Her younger brother, Mike, was flighty at best, and foolish at worst. Definitely not any help. Her colleagues, neighbors-shed never bothered to get close to any of them, so involved in her work had she been over the years.
And men? People thought she had it easy in that department because she was reasonably good-looking. But they didnt realize that it got really annoying having to constantly fend off men on the prowl for easy sex with hot chicks. Somewhere along the way, shed gotten so good at driving off the macho jerks that it had become a habit to push all men away.
She was headed down the fast track to withering up and becoming old and lonely before her time. Heck, she didnt even have anyone shed call a friend. Oh, she had a few acquaintances whom she went out with socially now and then, but no one shed tell her deepest, darkest secrets to.
She looked up at John in dismay. And was even more dismayed to realize her vision was strangely blurred and her eyes suddenly burned.
Oh, for crying out loud, he muttered. Do you have to go and get all weepy on me now?
Pardon me for having feelings, she sniffed. We women happen to cry, occasionally, you know. Maybe you should give it a try, sometime.
He recoiled strongly from that suggestion. No thanks, he shot back.
She frowned at the violence of his reaction. What was that all about? In a blatant attempt to deflect him from pursuing why she was crying, she announced, Youre so busy demanding to know everything about me and my life, but I dont see you telling me a whole hell of a lot about yourself.
Im the hired gun you bought to get you to your destination. Ive played ball in this part of the world before. I know the players and I know the rules of the game. I can get you where youre going, and youre paying me top dollar to get you there in one piece. What more is there to know about me?
She cast around for something personal to ask him. What are you taking muscle relaxants for? And how did you get that gunshot wound in your back?
He shoved away from the Land Rover and whirled away from her abruptly. Her eyebrows shot up as he presented her his back and shut her out in no uncertain terms. Uh-huh. That was what she thought. He was all hot and bothered to know her secrets, but he wasnt about to share any of his with her. It was okay for him to act all dark and tortured and mysterious, but it wasnt okay for her to be the same way.
He paced a few yards away and then spun and stalked back to her. She held her ground but not for lack of an urge to flee in the face of his advance.
I hurt my back a few months ago. And to anticipate your next question, no, Im not telling you how I got shot. So dont ask.
She reared back from the vehemence in his voice. Wow. She must have really hit a nerve. She asked casually, Hows your back feeling now? Are you up for a hike through the high Andes?
My back doesnt feel great, actually. It could have done without all that banging around in the Land Rover.
Can I take a look at it? she asked gently.
What? Are you a doctor or something?
Yeah, or something.
His head jerked up. Come again?
She winced. She didnt often admit her academic credentials to men. It always seemed to put them off. Apparently, intelligent, educated women put off the kinds of guys who were drawn to women who looked like her. The jerks. Praying under her breath that John didnt fall into that class of men, she answered reluctantly, Dr. Melina Montez, at your service.
Can I take a look at it? she asked gently.
What? Are you a doctor or something?
Yeah, or something.
His head jerked up. Come again?
She winced. She didnt often admit her academic credentials to men. It always seemed to put them off. Apparently, intelligent, educated women put off the kinds of guys who were drawn to women who looked like her. The jerks. Praying under her breath that John didnt fall into that class of men, she answered reluctantly, Dr. Melina Montez, at your service.
What kind of doctor? he bit out sharply.
Medical. But I dont practice. I do medical research.
For a pharmaceutical firm, he affirmed neutrally.
She nodded. He didnt sound tremendously put off by her education. Of course, the proof of the pudding would be if he tried to bed her again or not.
Do you test medications? he asked.
I develop new ones, actually, she corrected cautiously.
Do you mistreat monkeys and run torture labs for rats?
She laughed. No. I dont do any animal testing. I work with lots of boring chemical compounds in test tubes and use the occasional petri dish or Bunsen burner.
He absorbed that with far more thoughtfulness than she would have wished for. At least he didnt look completely put off by her profession. But she got the distinct impression he was making leaps of logic she could seriously do without him making just now. Did he always look for the angle behind what people said, the words unspoken? He certainly seemed to do it to her.
Turn around, she directed in her best doctor voice. Let me see your back.
He cocked an amused eyebrow at her. You want me to take my shirt off?
She pursed her lips. Youd better not. Its going to be distracting enough having to put my hands on you.
He laughed quietly, a masculine sound of satisfaction.
Jerk, she thought without any real heat. She stepped up to him as he turned away from her. Even through the soft cambric of his shirt, his body heat scalded her palms as she laid them on his back. Tell me where it hurts, she murmured.
My lumbar vertebrae.
She nodded and slid her hands down heavy ridges of muscle to the small of his back. She expected to feel knots and corded muscles, but was surprised to feel smooth, supple tissue beneath her hands. Any spinal injury? she asked.
MRIs showed hot spots on the L-3 and L-4 vertebrae where the bullet obliquely creased them.
Hed been lucky, then. If a bullet had lodged in that part of his spine, hed be paralyzed from the waist down right now. The potential tragedy of that was doubly poignant to her after having made love with him and felt all his vital power from the waist down. How long ago were you shot?
He recited emotionlessly, Eight months ago.
She frowned. That was plenty of time for the body to have laid in calcium deposits and strengthened the affected area. He shouldnt still be in acute pain. But those painkillers back in the hotel said it all. Did you lay off and rehab your back or did you keep pounding it after the initial injury?
He was silent for a long time, as if reluctant to answer the question. Why? It wasnt a hard one.
Finally, he exhaled slowly. I walked and crawled on it for thirty miles right after I was shot. The bullet wasnt removed for several days and it was pretty infected by the time a doctor saw it. I couldnt really clean it out myself. It took some extra time to heal.
Holy crap. Thirty miles? Shot in the back? Was that how far hed been from a phone or help of any kind? Frankly, he was lucky to be alive. Bullet wounds were among the dirtiest of injuries. Not only was there the contamination from the lead, but then there was gunpowder, grease residue, dirt in an open wound and the deep, puncture nature of most bullet wounds to contend with. No bullet wound was supposed to go for days without treatment.