Second Nature (When Seconds Count) (6 page)

Grant ducked as a wave crashed over the bow, glancing over his shoulder to see how much water had rained down on the stubborn woman still passed out behind him. Satisfied she wasn’t going to drown, he turned his attention back to navigating the traffic lane of the shipping channel.

It was busy for the pre-dawn hour.
They should have been there hours ago, but tending to Thalia and uncapping the freshwater well for Winston had cost them precious time. He needed to be docked and loaded before the sun rose. He couldn’t risk anyone at the marina seeing her. Or rather she couldn’t. He was still trying to figure out why he gave a fuck.

The damn woman didn’t know the word quit, he’d give her that. He only wished he knew what drove her to such extremes. He shook his head as he nosed the boat into an empty
dock slip and quickly tied it off before jumping out and making his way to the street. As soon as he had them stashed away, he’d get every answer he needed from her, one way or another. He wasn’t going to settle for bits and pieces of half-truths. If she wanted his help, and it seemed she had shit for other options, she was going to start talking.

A misty fog choked
the alley and concealed his form as he leaned against the driver’s door of an older model SUV. Two tries and the locks popped, the door hinge creaking as he swung the door open and climbed in.
You’re getting rusty, Dusty.
Two attempts weren’t bad, but he should have had it in one. A couple of sparked wires later and he was pulling up at the end of the short dock. He let out a relieved sigh when he saw Thalia lying undisturbed beneath the blanket he’d laid over her.
Why the hell does she matter so much?

Not lending
enough time to ponder that question, he shouldered the strap of the one cargo sack he hadn’t let burn with the cabin then hoisted the trunk onto his other shoulder. Leaving Thalia behind grated on his nerves, but he couldn’t carry everything and her as well. Leaving her unattended in the vehicle while he went back for his shit didn’t sit well, either. She was safer covered up in the boat.

Depositing his cargo into the back of the SUV
, he ran back to retrieve Thalia. After quickly wiping down the boat, he hoisted her over his shoulder and then threw a match into the plastic bucket he’d filled with some of the island clothes he would no longer need. By the time the bucket melted and the fire reached the disconnected fuel line, they would be long gone before the ensuing explosion destroyed his boat and any remaining traces of them.

Thalia woke with a start as he buckled her into the passenger seat. “Where are we?”

Grant smirked. He wasn’t sure why, but he pressed a kiss to her fevered forehead before he closed her door, running around to jump into the driver’s seat. As he pulled away from the dock he laid a hand on her neck and cursed. “You’re burning up, fossa. I’m taking you to a doctor.”

He grabbed her wrist when she reached for the seatbelt buckle in a panic. “You’re not going to win this fight, Thalia. Your body is shutting down with or without your consent.” When she tried to jerk her hand away he tightene
d his grip, his gaze darting between her and the narrow road as he weaved through the old marine district. “I’m taking you to someone who knows how to keep their mouth shut.”

He could see how badly she wanted to fight him, to deny what was so obviously the truth.
He had never wanted to kiss her more than at that very moment. He was a little stunned when she cast her haunted eyes to her lap and relaxed against her seat without more of a fight.
What the hell is that about?
He let it go, determined to get her leg seen to so they could get to ground and he could get some damn answers.

Thalia looked down and studied her tan shorts, the tiny gray checkers in the seat cover, anything to keep from looking at Grant. She could barely hold her head up as it was. She couldn’t handle the jumbled up ball of confusing need that knotted in her stomach when he looked at her with such fierce intensity. No way could she handle that kind of assault again.

Her head felt like the fluid surrounding her brain had drained away, leaving behind nothing but sticky cotton.
She couldn’t remember anything beyond her ill-timed panic attack back at the cabin. The ache in her leg had bloomed, spreading tendrils of pain throughout her entire body. She hated feeling helpless. It was more suffocating than the damn nightmares. She hated that Grant was right again even more. She’d have to let him help her. At least for a day or two. The moment she could put one foot in front of the other though, she was gone.

I need a phone.
Even in a daze, Thalia kept a tight hold on her plan. She cringed against the inevitable. She wasn’t going to make that drop. If she could get to a phone she might be able to convince Jauhar to reschedule.
He’s going to kill me anyway.
She shrugged, looking down at the mangled, swollen flesh on her leg.
Death might not be so bad at this point.
No. Death was not an option. Not until Issa’s death had been fully avenged. A phone and a slight adjustment in her plans was all she needed.

“Where are we?”
she asked again. The one and two story sandstone slums went by in a blur as Grant plowed down the narrow streets. Hopefully they were near an airport. Mozambique was only an hour’s hop from Madagascar, an hour and a half at most by plane. It would take half a day if she had to stow away on a boat.

“La
Panch.” Thalia braced her palm against the dash as the SUV lurched to a stop at an abandoned four-way intersection.

“La
Panch? Where the hell is that? I’ve never heard of it.” She turned her head to see what Grant was looking at out the back window.

Grant shifted into reverse, throwing his arm around the back of he
r seat as he backed down the street. “It’s a small island near Reunion. Working class for the tourist islands.”

Dammit
!
Reunion was about as far away from where she needed to be to get to where she was going. And it was full of elitist, high class vacation homes. No freighters coming and going around this place. “I don’t suppose they have an airport, huh?” Just her luck. Tarzan had her marooned on another shitty island.

She chewed
on her thumbnail as he reached a small alley they’d passed and slammed the SUV back into drive, pulling down the dark and narrow side street. “Nope. Why? You’re not planning on leaving me so soon, are you?” Thalia deadpanned her expression, determined to keep him from seeing the truth in that suggestion
.

“Good,” Grant
said when she didn’t reply. He parked alongside one of the taller buildings that made up the alleyway and cut the engine. Leaning up, he wrapped his arms around the steering wheel and looked up at the pale orange sky, the first rays of the sun peeking through the darkness. An incredulous smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. “Because I’d sure miss that sweet, rosy disposition and beauty pageant smile of yours.”

Thalia flipped him off
, but he didn’t see it. By the time her pain rattled brain caught up to his sarcasm he’d pushed open the door and rolled out of the SUV. She flinched when the driver’s door slammed hard behind him.
Dammit!
There was that guilty feeling again, clawing at her insides. Even though she didn’t
want
to need his help, she did. He hadn’t asked one thing of her in return yet. The least she could do would be to keep her mouth shut. When he rounded the front of the car and opened her door, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him, focusing instead on the suddenly interesting crushed soda can on the floor at her feet. “You’re good at it, you know.”

“I’m
good at a lot of things, sweetheart.” He unceremoniously unbuckled her seat belt and scooped her from the front seat. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

She pounded her fist on his shoulder as he walked to the only visible door into the building. “I was talking about being nice!” She pushed against his hold on her but got nowhere
fast, as usual. “I was trying to
be
nice, you jerk!”

Grant stopped in his tracks and peered
down at her, his amber eyes searching hers. Searching for what she had no clue, but damn if that panty-melting fire in his eyes didn’t cut right through the bullshit in her brain. “You really think I’m good at being nice?”

Thalia forced herself to look away. “I take it back. You totally suck at being anything but an asshole!”

He studied her, a big goofy grin on his face. “I think you like me, fossa.” Heat flushed her cheeks; heat having nothing to do with her infection or fever.
You should have just kept your big mouth shut!

Grant continued to the door, still holding her cradled in his arms. “You hate needing my help
, but,” he reached up and pounded three times on the door, then three more, “I think you like me and you don’t know what to do with that.”

When no one answered h
e carefully sat her on her feet. “Okay, Captain Psychology, what does this mean?” She elbowed him in the gut, extracting a satisfying groan.

Grant
recovered and struck with the stealth of a panther. Lacing his fingers into her hair he pulled her head back, forcing her to look at him. His breath billowed out, hot and moist against the shell of her ear as he leaned in and spoke with a growl. “It means my little fossa, that as soon as I get you someplace safe and your leg is healed, I’m going to bend you over and spank that smart ass of yours.”

Thalia froze, unwanted images of being naked and on display flashed through her mind. His heavy hand splayed across her ass and she could almost imagine the sharp bite of erotic pain. Grant’s h
ot tongue slipped out and traced along the outer shell of her ear, sending a tingling blanket of electricity dancing along her skin as he sucked on her sensitive lobe.

“Then I’m going to fuck you.” He turned her face and kissed along her jaw. “Long,” he sighed, the tip of his tongue tickling the corner of her mouth. “And hard,” he said in a low, baritone whisper just before his hand tightened in her hair and he crushed his mouth to hers. Devouring her, his tongue rushed along hers in long, demanding strokes like a prophet to his promise.
Oh, damn! That feels incredible.
She could almost feel his long, hard cock tunneling through her, sliding in slowly to the hilt, filling her completely.

Thalia cursed the moan that escaped through the tattered
bare threads that were left of her control. Again her instincts were screaming for her to fight against his hold. Again some insane part of her welcomed his power over her.

Three pounding knocks barely
registered as she floated in Grant’s arms. The reality of her situation crashed full force into the fog of erotic need that had engulfed her. She opened her eyes to see Grant’s amber irises focused on her, his lips still tasting hers. His fist pounded on the door with three more rapid knocks before his lips left hers, his other hand still clenched in her hair. “Get ready for it, fossa.”

She saw the promise in his ey
es. There was no escaping this. No escaping him. She wanted him. She really wanted him. For the first time in her life, or the parts she could remember, she actually wanted sex. And he was right. She had no clue what to do with that. She had a feeling she didn’t need to know. Grant was going to show her exactly what she could do. What he could do
to
her. The mixture of anticipation and anxiety had her nearly gasping for breath by the time the door creaked and a petite, young woman peeked out through the small opening.

“Salina
.” Grant nodded and scooped her back into his arms. The woman opened the door, looking around the corner before she backed up and motioned for them to come in. “We’re clear.” He turned to watch as Salina closed and bolted the door behind them. “No one followed. I’ll ditch the car while you’re seeing to her leg.”

“Who is she?” Thalia asked as Grant followed the woman down a long, narrow hallway, the scents of sandalwood and antiseptic
jarring her senses.
What a disgusting mix.

Grant scowled down at her. “
You don’t ask questions and neither will she.”

Thalia didn’t have enough strength left to wonder what the hell
that
look was for, but he did have a good point…again. The woman blew past a row of closed doors and then stopped, pulling a wad of keys from the front pocket of her pink sweater. With ease and familiarity, she plucked out a key and unlocked the door at the end of the hallway, flipping the light on as she entered.

“On
the table. Strip her shorts.” Thalia jerked away from Grant when he sat her on the cold, stainless steel table.

“I can manage my own clothes.”
Thank you very much.
She didn’t know who the hell this woman was, but the term
bitch
didn’t seem that far off the mark. No greeting or introductions, nothing. Just an order to strip and sit in a snotty French accent.

The woman
didn’t balk at Thalia’s protest as she rifled through a row of cabinets, throwing what seemed like random crap into a metal bowl. “I don’t care who does it as long as you’re naked from the waist down by the time I’m ready.”