Pure Dynamite (20 page)

Outside, Adam once again gave her rudimentary privacy, but there was no place to run. The rain fell in torrents, soaking her anew. When she finished she followed him back, nearly colliding with him when he stopped short of the door.

"Watch." He stood close to the eaves where the rain fell in sheets. Cupping his hands, he caught the water then scrubbed his face.

"Try it," he encouraged. "It's the closest thing to a shower we're going to get. And we can't get any wetter standing here."

Tentative, Renata cupped the cold rainwater and sluiced it over her face. It felt surprisingly refreshing. She repeated the motion, combing water through her hair, then wringing out the excess. She couldn't imagine what she looked like at this point—she'd been in and out of rain, living in the same clothes for two days. And she'd long ago lost the elastic holding her hair back.

She shivered as the wind gusted. The temperatures were cooler and when combined with the wind and rain, it felt downright icy. Even in July.

"Cold?" he asked.

"No."

"Guess that means you wouldn't be honest enough to tell me if Lyle's been bothering you, either." He turned toward her, his voice low. "If he's done something that's upset you, I want to know."

Her jaw tightened. "Upset me? He said you killed some men. And your girlfriend. And that you have scars to prove it."

Adam turned his face up to the rain, scrubbed it yet
again, buying time before answering. He should have known Lyle would tell her that. To the kid's hoodlum mentality, killing someone was the ultimate badge of criminal high achievement.

He could imagine how she felt hearing that. So how could he dispel her fears without destroying the myth he purposely created in prison?

"Don't believe everything you hear. Some rumors are baseless, but it's advantageous to let them stand."

"What about your girlfriend?"

"I make it a point to never discuss past affairs. But— just between us—last time I saw her, she was alive."

"Just between us? It sounds like you want Lyle to believe something different. How do I know you're not lying to both of us?"

"You don't. So trust your instincts. And if it's any comfort, I'll try not to leave you alone with him again." He drew close and caught her chin in his hand. "I will not let anyone harm you, Renata. You have my word. Now, come on. You're shivering." He held the broken door open.

Inside, the lantern light cast flickering shadows around the small enclosure. Lyle snored unnaturally loud, a clue that he'd helped himself to painkillers again. She checked his IV

When she looked up, Adam held out a bottle of water, then pointed to the box of supplies. "Sardines or crackers?"

She wrinkled her nose but took the water. "I see the menu's no better than the accommodations."

"You expected a chocolate on your pillow?"

"Right. And French-milled soap in the bathroom." She struggled to remove the cap on her bottle. The cheap plastic threads had stripped, leaving it to spin uselessly.

Adam offered the bottle he'd just uncapped. Shrugging, she traded with him.

He gave her the crackers while he ate a tin of sardines. "We'll save the apples for later."

When they finished eating, Adam lowered himself to the tarp-covered ground close to where Lyle slept. Sitting with his back against the wall, he pointed indicating she should do the same.

Renata tried to step away to the opposite side, wanting to be closer to the door but Adam caught her hand and tugged. Balance lost, she pitched forward.

He caught her, pulling her onto his lap. His hands closed over her hips and forced her back against his chest. No part of her touched the ground.

"Get some sleep."

"I...
I can't sleep like this." She tried to rise.

Adam locked an arm across her abdomen, holding her in place. "You can. And you will. I won't hurt you, Renata. Just relax."

"Let me sit beside you. Then I'll relax."

"If I'm not holding you, I have to handcuff you."

"Fine," she extended her wrists. "Do it."

He sighed. "You've been bound too long. And short of shoving Lyle off the tarp, I've got the only available dry spot, though there's no guarantee how long it will stay that way."

As if to emphasize his point, thunder echoed, low and heavy.

"Seeing as we're both soaked that's a moot point," she snapped.

"Regardless. For now I'm your makeshift mattress. I'm also the best chance you have at getting warm."

"I'd rather freeze."

Adam ignored her remark. "If you prefer we can lie down, side by side."

"No!" She bucked her body, trying to get away.

He wrapped his other arm across her chest and tightened his grip. "If you don't quit wiggling we're going to do exactly that."

Immediately she stilled. The last thing she wanted was to lie next to this man. One second passed. Then two.

She heard his slight snore and wanted to scream. How could he do that? Fall asleep so deeply, so completely? So totally unbothered by the fact someone sat in his lap?

She waited for him to relax his hold. He didn't. His heavy arms remained wrapped across her breasts and stomach in an impersonal manner, his thighs solid beneath her buttocks. Some mattress.

To her chagrin, her shivering subsided. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, the man did radiate welcome heat. Waves of it.

Rain pounded the metal roof, the sound hypnotic. She leaned her head back. Drowsiness overwhelmed her so completely she felt sick with the need to close her eyes.

I'll just close them for a second,
she thought, shifting slightly. Just a second...

Adam had started to wonder whether Renata would ever let herself fall asleep. When struggling against him proved futile, she had tried to hold her body rigidly away from his, as if he'd contaminate her. That hadn't lasted long either. After two nights of no sleep, she simply gave in.

He had known the minute she'd succumbed; her body slumped against his in a boneless unconsciousness. He shifted her slightly, studying her. Wet, her hair
looked black as ebony. His eyes dropped. He noticed the way her nipples pearled beneath her wet shirt and bra.

In sleep she squirmed, snuggling deeper into his arms, her mouth open slightly. Damn if he didn't want to kiss her again. Which she'd never allow.

Hell, she hadn't liked the fact he'd insisted on holding her. He also knew she'd have preferred the mud to his arms, so he hadn't bothered allowing her a choice. Besides, he'd been looking for any excuse to touch her again.

In prison, touch was associated with punishment. Or a demeaning act. It brought a sense of fear. Dread. In some small way, holding Renata healed that.

Relaxing slightly, he drifted in and out of consciousness, not sleeping, continually monitoring his environment. It was a habit he developed in the army. He'd enlisted the day he turned eighteen, spending ten years working covert ops with Special Forces before joining the FBI.

The army, while tough, ultimately provided the only stability Adam had ever known. He recalled what he'd told Renata earlier about his childhood. It had been basically the truth. Except for changing the names and places, that part of his background had been real.

His parents' roller coaster marriage dissolved when he was eight. And while his father was brutally abusive when he drank—which was always—his mother had been no better. A drug addict, she had split, taking Adam's younger brother, Zachary, with her.

If Adam's childhood had been hell, Zach's had been no better. Zach had been only six when they left. Up till that point Adam had virtually raised his younger brother, protected him as best he could from their father's abuses and their mother's neglect.

His mother had resurfaced once, looking for money. She told them Zach had died in a car accident. Adam didn't see or hear from her again until three years ago, when he was notified that she'd been institutionalized. When he finally went to visit, she didn't recognize him. Worse, she thought he was Zachary.

And she apologized for selling him.

She had lied about Zach's death. From her ramblings, Adam pieced together the truth: that his mother had sold his, by then, eleven-year-old brother to a drug dealer.

Adam had searched without avail, until last year when he'd found Zach's flowers at their mother's grave and traced him through the floral service. It had been an awkward reunion.

Adam was on leave, recovering from the shooting. When he returned to active duty, he learned Zach's background was as shady as some of the outlaws he'd chased through Central America.

Zach offered little explanation for the years after his mother sold him, but from what Adam had gathered he'd survived a situation that few could. Compared to the drug dealer, their mother looked like a saint.

The haunting guilt over what his brother had endured never left Adam. Hell, it was part of the tangled reasons he'd taken this assignment. To clear his brother's name. As if it could make up for Adam's failure to protect him all those years ago. But what if Ethan Falco was lying about the information he had? Like he'd lied about the length of Adam's prison stay?

Uneasy, Adam slept.

When he next flicked his eyes open to check the cabin, he sensed something wrong. Taking care not to move or change his breathing pattern, he looked around and immediately discovered the problem.

His hand was under Renata's shirt.

He didn't question how it got there. And in spite of the fact that it was wrong... damn it, it felt divine. In sleep, she had curled into him, pinning his hand in place with her arm. The weight of her breast pressed against his wrist. Pure torture for a man too long without. He needed to do something, fast.

Wind buffeted the small building, the rain drumming harder on the metal roof, warning of the approaching storm front. The deteriorating weather would wake her if he did not.