Hard Core (Onyx Group) (7 page)

He remembered the bruises that marred her flesh. A dark ring
remained around her slender neck. He’d never been partial to a woman’s neck,
but hers was beautiful.

Slade swallowed hard. Gave himself a mental shake. He’d been
here before. It never ended well. He didn’t need any more scars.

Sweat trickled down his back.

His hand slipped to her neck, cupped it, felt the delicate
bone structure so utterly feminine he lost his breath. Her smoky green eyes
widened, but not in fear. He traced the edge of the bruises. A soft curse
escaped his lips.

Another time, under different circumstances, he would have
hunted down the man who’d dared do this to her.

Hand still on her neck, he pulled her into the hut and
kicked the door closed. Surprise flashed across her face, followed by something
he didn’t want to read.

Her eyes lifted to meet his. Desire burned deep, unbanked.
In his mind he spoke the words he couldn’t say, but should. She didn’t want to
know him. He was a soldier of fortune. He had no heart to give anymore.

“Cristian, I…” Her eyes drifted closed when he stroked
lightly over the pulse fluttering wildly in her neck.

His given name on her lips snapped him out of his trance.
Rigid, he said, “Don’t call me that,” and stepped away to put distance between
them.

She blinked, her hand fisted at her side, confusion written
on her face. “But…”

He shook his head, fought dizziness, and held up a hand when
she took a step toward him. “No. I don’t know where you heard that name, but
that’s not who I am.”

Color suffused her cheeks. Her eyes snapped. “That’s the name
you gave me. So don’t bite my head off, pal.”

Slade’s turn to show surprise. He told her? No one except
his birth parents knew him as Cristian. Mariette had known him as Cary Sayer,
the name under which he’d enlisted in the French Legion under. Neither man
existed anymore.

His gut clenched. Nothing short of truth serum would cause
him to give up his full identity. Cristian was the part of him he didn’t share,
couldn’t share.

“You don’t remember, do you?” she asked in a soft voice.
“You don’t remember telling me anything.”

Christ, what else did he tell her?

He didn’t wait long for an answer.

“Then it may not be true.” She stepped closer to study him.

Slade actually started to take a step back before he
realized what he was doing. Damned if she’d intimidate him. She met his eyes
with a direct stare. “Are you a mercenary?”

Geezus!
What the hell had she given him? She knew his
name, now she knew his profession. Good God, what else had she’d gotten out of
him? He didn’t advertise what he did for a living and he sure as hell didn’t
share his past.

Her eyes widened when he didn’t answer. “Oh my God,” she
gasped. “It’s true. You’re a mercenary.”

Slade leveled his hardest stare on her. “Forget what you
know and forget you ever met me. For your safety and mine.” He walked away with
no intentions of ever seeing her again.

He didn’t even make it to the door.

“Forget it? Are you kidding me? I’d like nothing more than
to forget I ever met you, but like it or not, mister, we have a relationship. A
doctor-patient
relationship. In case you forgot, I’m the doctor, you’re
my patient, and I haven’t given you a clean bill of health. Just how far do you
think you’re going to get in this environment with an infected wound?” Haughty,
angry, and clearly annoyed.

Slade went rigid, freedom only a few steps away. “Then
consider me AMA.”

She scoffed. “You’re leaving against medical advice? I don’t
think so.”

Slade turned slowly around to look at her. “You don’t think
so,” he repeated softly. Had he heard her right?

Her chin lifted stubbornly. “That’s right. You can’t just
walk out AMA. We’re in the jungle. On an island. In the middle of the ocean.”

Irritation like he’d never experienced rode up his spine.
She truly had no idea who she dealt with. He would never hurt her, but he
didn’t take orders from her, doctor or not. And she sure as hell didn’t have to
remind him where they were.

“What is it with you?” he demanded. “God complex? Or are you
just a pain in the ass?”

Her chin lifted another notch and her eyes flashed. “The
latter, I’m told. Look, I don’t care if you go out and get yourself killed by
Gavin Ross. I wouldn’t care if you killed each other, but I do care if you die
from something I could have prevented.”

His respect for her kicked up another notch. He didn’t
believe she had a God complex as most doctors did, but he did believe her
dedication ran bone deep.

Her comment about Gavin Ross, on the other hand, surprised
him. She was dedicated to her patients, but not her boss? Ross would settle for
no less than one hundred percent loyalty.

Clearly, he needed answers.

Intel hadn’t shown evidence of a tribe of Indians living on
the island. Only Ross in his tropical paradise. Shit. Ever since he’d taken
this assignment, he’d had a knot in his gut. She made it worse. He didn’t need
complications.

“Who are you?” he asked, needing to know her role in all of
this.

“Your doctor.”

“No.
Who
are you?”

She frowned slightly. “My name?”

He nodded.

“Why does it matter?”

He waited until she bristled beneath his stare and answered.

“Alana O’Grady. Happy now?”

Not even close. “What are you doing here?” Emphasis on
here
.

She sighed, dropped into a chair, and rubbed a weary hand
over her face. “That’s a long, inconsequential story. Why are you so interested
all of a sudden?”

Ignoring her question, he asked, “What is your relationship
with Gavin Ross?”

“Well, I’m not here to assassinate him,” she said pointedly.

Slade didn’t bristle. “Then why are you here?”

“I’ll make you a deal. You get back into bed and take your
antibiotic and I’ll answer that question.”

That question. She was good. She played her cards close to
the vest. Smart woman. His head swam. His stomach rolled. He hated weakness.

The last time she’d given him an antibiotic, she’d stuck a
needle in his leg.

As if reading his mind she said, “A pill, no needles.
Promise.”

He narrowed his eyes on her and measured her for truth. She
could try to stick him with a needle again, but wouldn’t succeed. He was strong
enough to stop her this time.

His side ached. Getting shot hurt like hell.

“Come on, Superman, back to bed.” She rose to her feet and
moved slowly toward him.

Too damn hot in here. He’d never be able to rest in this
heat.

A wave of dizziness washed over him and he swayed, blinking
rapidly to fight it off. An arm slipped around his waist along with a muttered,
“Stubborn man.”

The next thing he knew, he lay with a cool cloth pressed to
his forehead and his boots once again beside the bed. No woman had ever gotten
him into bed this easily. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea.

“Now,” his persistent doctor said. “You are on bed rest
until I tell you otherwise. Your body needs time to heal, and in this
environment it’s going to take twice as long. You won’t recover as quickly as
normal, so just do as I say. Got it?”

Too dizzy to tell her he didn’t take orders from anyone,
Slade closed his eyes and waited for it to pass. The cloth brushed gently over
his cheeks, down his neck. Not cool by any means, but it made the heat a little
more bearable. Or maybe it was her soft touch.

The cloth left and returned to begin the ministrations all
over again. As each minute passed, Slade began to relax. The dizziness faded,
but his stomach still roiled. The ache in his side remained, as it would until
the infection healed.

Pain, he could control. His response to Alana he couldn’t.
Her touch soothed more than his body, but he didn’t let it go any further than
a thought. He couldn’t. Never again.

“See?” she asked quietly. “Feeling better already.”

No, not better. His thoughts had turned in the wrong
direction. As always when around her. What was this power she had over him?

Behind closed eyelids, he imagined her sponge bathing
herself in the soft light of a lantern. Every time she touched him, he
remembered that night, her soft skin, the sensual way she moved. The way her
hair had glowed like fire in the light and brushed her waist as she washed.

“Cristian?”

The sound of his name brought his thoughts to a screeching
halt. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? It’s your name. Why don’t you like it?”

Because it reminded him of where he came from. But he didn’t
say that. The past needed to stay where it belonged. In the past. Why did she
consistently kick it to the forefront?

“Ah, again with the silence. Don’t think I haven’t noticed
how you only answer non-personal questions. I’ll let you off the hook because
you’re not a man I want to get to know, so forget I asked.”

They shouldn’t have, but those words rankled. Like a sliver
under a thumbnail. He didn’t want her to know him. He didn’t want to know her.
He wanted to get the hell out of here and finish the job he’d been hired to do.
Then he was getting the hell off this island. And never taking another job in
any kind of jungle or rainforest. Ever.

He pretended to fall asleep, let his head loll to the side.
After a moment, he heard her move away. The door opened softly and he knew the
instant he was alone.

Slade immediately sat up and reached for his boots.

Gavin leaned over the sink and looked at the mirror, using a
washcloth to wipe a splatter of blood off his cheek. Dr. Ilom Kwei was a
genius, the best in his field, if a bit demented. Gavin never felt threatened
by the man, since Dr. Kwei worked for him, but he did wonder about the
surgeon’s state of mind.

Ah, well, what did it matter as long as Ilom continued to do
the job he paid him to do? And paid well. Not only did Ilom love his work, it
made him rich. Along with Gavin. He had his eye on an island in Fiji. Private,
completely unpopulated, with a house already on it.

A big, beautiful home with the luxuries he needed, including
a master suite that would suit Alana to a tee. Sleek, graceful, full of angles
to complete the image. A beautiful design. He’d already pushed the paperwork
through. In three short months it would belong to them.

Gavin straightened and laid the washcloth aside. The end was
in sight. Or should he say, the beginning. Everything he’d worked for,
established, was coming together nicely. He’d soon achieve immense wealth, a
beautiful partner in every sense of the word. Riches came in droves and he
lapped them up.

Walking out of the bathroom and across his bedroom, he cast
barely a glance at the woman who lounged on the king-size bed, half-naked. She
served a purpose, but he didn’t desire her. Any of them. They were simply a
means to an end. They’d serve him in a multitude of ways. Sex and then money.

“Leave now.” He strode past her out the door and almost ran
over Jose when he turned the corner.

“Sir,” the second-in-command said. “Sorry, excuse me.”

“What’s the rush, Jose?”

“It is Dr. Kwei. He is leaving.”

Gavin frowned. “Leaving? What are you talking about? He just
finished working.”

Jose nodded. “
Si
, but he received a phone call. He
must go.”

Gavin cursed and strode down the hall. He didn’t own Ilom,
but they had an agreement. His services were still needed. They had another
client coming in three days.

He made his way through the house and down to the basement,
where he found Ilom in his quarters muttering to himself as he hastily packed a
suitcase. The doctor barely spared Gavin a glance when he walked in.

“What are you doing?” Gavin demanded in Ilom’s native
tongue.

“Packing.”

“How long do you plan on being away?”

Ilom glanced at him, then continued to pack. “Until I am not
needed. My family comes first.”

Yes, they did, but it had never been an issue until now.
“You’re going back to Africa?”

Ilom nodded and closed his suitcase.

“What about the client arriving in three days?”

Ilom shrugged. “Reschedule.”

Gavin forced a laugh. “We can’t exactly reschedule something
like this.”

“I am sorry. I have to go.”

The look in the man’s black eyes made Gavin swallow any
other argument and step back as Ilom passed.

“I am taking one of the boats.” Ilom disappeared down the
hall.

Gavin cursed again.

What the hell was he going to do now?

Things were already in motion. There could be no
rescheduling or canceling. He needed a doctor.

He needed Alana.

With a deep breath, he turned and walked out of the room. He
didn’t have three months.

Dammit
.
Things were not going according to plan. The
mercenary was still on the loose. Dr. Kwei was gone. He had a buyer for a
kidney who’d put down a hefty payment to have it expedited. He would have to
force his hand.

He would deal with the consequences later. Right now, he
needed a doctor.

Time to collect on a debt.

* * * *

“There’s a storm rolling in.”

Alana looked from her father to the darkened sky. It was the
season. Storms in the rainforest were never mild. They raged, with heavy
downpours that flooded the small island. Not like the thunderstorms in Boston.
These were unpredictable tropical storms.

“Looks like it. We better batten down the hatches.” She
accepted a chunk of papaya he handed to her. They sat on the church steps,
shoulder to shoulder. She popped it into her mouth, savoring the sugary flavor.
In her lap lay a plate of food for her patient, prepared by the women of the
tribe. He’d been out like a light when she left him and since she’d heard his
stomach grumble, she’d decided to slip away and find him some food.

“Already being done. How about your patient? How is he
fairing?”

“Well. A couple more days and he’ll be strong enough to go.”
She hadn’t told her father anything Cristian had shared, apparently on
accident. Accident or not, she believed it. He was a man of few words. Unless
he spoke tenderly in French to a woman named Mariette.

Squelching those thoughts, Alana accepted another chunk of
fruit and bit into it. It troubled her that Cristian was a mercenary. He killed
for a living. And it stood to reason that he was here to kill Gavin Ross. Why
else would he have shown up on her doorstep beaten and shot? Ross wouldn’t do
that to one of his own men. Well, he would with reason. Maybe Cristian had
given him a reason. She could see that. The man was the most infuriating she’d
ever met.

Honestly, she didn’t know how to feel about him. If he’d
come to eliminate Gavin, her troubles were over, but she was in the business of
saving people, not condoning murder. As much as she despised Gavin Ross, she
wouldn’t be part of this. Her job was to treat her patient. What he did after
that was up to him. She had no say once he left her care.

Then there were her feelings for him to complicate matters
and cloud her judgment.
A mercenary.
Not the kind of man she should be
attracted to. Not the kind of man she’d expect to make her long for the life
Gavin Ross would steal from her.

Sadness settled over her, as it always did when she thought
about her future. It had to be done, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. She
would do it, no doubt, but that didn’t mean she liked it. The thought of
becoming Gavin Ross’s lover made her sick.

A shudder worked its way down her spine. Where would she
find the strength to get through it? Even for a short time until she found a
way out.

“Feeling all right?” Her father wrapped an arm around her
shoulders.

Alana rested her head on his shoulder so he wouldn’t read
her thoughts. “Just tired.” She couldn’t tell him he gave her the strength to
get through. To know he would live out his last days in peace and the tribe
would forever be safe was all she needed. For them, she would do it. She would
live a life with a man she didn’t love.

Traitorous thoughts kicked that thought into left field and
reminded her no one had ever made her feel the way Cristian did. No touch had
ever ignited a flame inside her like Cristian’s. Never made her want like this.
So much, it caused a physical ache every time she looked at him.

She had never been attracted to a man on this level. It went
beyond lust. She’d been certain Cristian was going to kiss her after he’d
pulled her inside and kicked the door shut. It was unsettling to admit the act
turned her on instead of scaring her. Something primal and raw about him made
him a danger to her heart.

She’d wanted him to kiss her. Wanted it even now. To feel
his hands on her body, taking her places she’d never been. She never probed
into the darker side of herself, as Cristian had. It frightened and excited
her.

“You sure you’re all right?” her father asked.

She lifted her head. “Fine. Don’t worry about me. I better
get this to my patient before he tries to run away again.”

“Would that be so bad?”

Alana shot her father a chiding look. “What kind of doctor
would I be if I let that happen?”

Her father smiled. “Not the one I raised you to be.”

Alana smiled and rose to her feet. “Need help securing your
hut?”

“No, a couple of the men did it for me earlier. How about
you?”

“Nope, all set. See you at dinner?”

She couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that brewed inside her
as she headed toward her hut. Storms didn’t worry her--she’d been through
enough of them to know what to expect--but something ate at her. She just
didn’t know what.

She cast a glance over the small village and tried to nail
down her unease. Women and children scurried around in preparation of the
storm. The men watched over them. Nothing out of the ordinary, so why did she
feel so…unsettled?

Dismissing it, she crossed to her hut, breathing the thick,
heavy air. A sure sign of bad weather ahead. Thunder rumbled in the distance,
confirming it. Dark, heavy clouds filled the sky. Any signs of sunlight that
might have made it through the thick canopy faded way.

Alana stopped with her hand on the door to draw in a deep
breath. She’d never known rain had a scent, but it did. She smelled it now. The
sweet, earthy richness filled her lungs and reminded her how different life was
here.

She wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Deal or not, she belonged here.

She pulled open the door and stepped in, prepared to feed
her patient, only to find him gone.

Alana glared at the empty room. She’d been gone what? Ten
minutes? Fifteen, tops. How did he sneak away so quickly without being seen?

Angry thunder cracked overhead, followed by the first
splatter of rain on the thatched roof. That only drove her mood down more.

She set the plate on the table with a
thunk
and
looked around the room, irritated it felt so empty.

“Damn you, Cristian,” she muttered as a gust of wind blew
the hut and shook the walls.

She crossed the room and stopped beside the bed, staring
down at the sheets. Cool to the touch. He hadn’t been asleep. His tricked
worked; she’d fallen for it. Did he really think he could get far in this
weather? Injured and weak? He’d be dead by morning, the fool.

She didn’t know what bothered her the most. The fact she
hadn’t cleared him to leave or that he put his life in danger and she wasn’t
going to get any sleep knowing it.

Rain started to come down in earnest and her tension
ratcheted up another notch. How far did Cristian think he would get in weather
like this? Didn’t he see the storm clouds when he left? It wasn’t safe to be
out in this.

Well, she couldn’t sit around and wonder what happened to
him, so she set about cleaning her hut. She stripped the bed, put her spare set
of sheets on, and then straightened the rest. Outside the storm raged, building
with each second that passed. The Indians knew how to build their homes so they
wouldn’t blow down in the strong storms that rocked the island every year.

It didn’t take long to clean the small space. By the time
she finished, the storm had hit the camp head on. Wind whistled through the
cracks, gusting over the thatched roof. Thunder and lightning put her more on
edge. She hoped her patient was smart enough to find adequate shelter for the
night.

Not wanting to be alone, she reached for her hiking boots. A
bolt of thunder cracked through the night and made her jump. Lord, she was
never this nervous. Just as she bent over to slip on her boots, lightning lit
up the sky with a loud boom. She ducked and covered her head as it struck
outside her hut.

Hastily she pulled on her boots, grabbed her lantern, and
ran through the door. Screams echoed through the darkness.

The fire had gone out and plunged them into inky blackness.
Her lantern lit a small stream of light through the night. What it shone on
made her heart sink. Across the clearing was a fallen tree. It covered one of
the huts.

She gasped as a bolt of lightning flashed across the path
and illuminated the devastation in front of her. The center of the hut had
caved in, crushed by the weight of the tree.

She broke into a run and joined the people coming out of
their homes to see what happened. Before she knew it, she was tearing through
what remained of the hut to get inside.

Men tried to push her out of the way, insisted she go back
to her own hut. Alana shook her head, sending water droplets in all directions,
refusing to leave. They let her stay, but they weren’t happy about it. Right
now the family trapped inside beat out their customs.

Rain soaked her within seconds and slicked her clothes like
a second skin. Alana ignored it as she put her shoulder to the door and heaved
with the men to bust it open. A tree branch jammed it, but they managed to
break through.

Without hesitation she burst inside. Rain pounded down on
her through the giant hole in the roof. The hut was destroyed. Behind her, men
ordered her to stop, wait for them as they tore down the walls to make a bigger
opening. Their warnings went unheeded as she looked around with a heavy heart,
searching for the two children and their parents.

Something moved to her right. She did a double-take when she
saw a hand waving from beneath a tree limb. “Over here!” she shouted and
stumbled over debris to get to them. She dropped to her knees on the floor,
where one of the children lay beneath a limb, and grabbed her hand.

“It’s okay,” she soothed. “Help is on the way.”

The little girl cried for her mother with a death grip on
Alana’s hand. The storm raged, but she stayed focused on the girl as the men
moved carefully around them.

“Let us get her,” one of them said a few minutes later with
a hand on her shoulder.

He helped her to her feet and took over at the girl’s side,
reassuring her as three men joined him and began to saw the limb that pinned
the girl to the floor.

More shouts came from behind her. Alana spun and wiped wet
hair out of her eyes. She saw the girl’s mother being led out, barely standing,
but walking on her own, so she joined the search for the husband and son.

She pushed debris and branches out of her way and stumbled
toward the trunk, where men dug furiously. The husband and little boy had been
pinned beneath the trunk of the tree.