Pure Dynamite (25 page)

He stood and toed off his shoes. She noticed for the first time that his jeans were as ripped and muddy as hers. Her eyes drifted, taking in the wet T-shirt plastered against his chest.

He bent and scooped her into his arms once again just as Nevin walked back in, a plastic bag of ice in one hand.

"Hey! Where are you taking her?"

"The bathroom," Adam said.

"Put me down!" Renata demanded. "I can get there on my own!"

He did not set her down until they were both inside the bathroom down the hall. Then he shut the door and crossed his arms, looking mean and fierce as he towered over her.

"We need to get something straight. I'm the captor. You're the hostage. I give the orders. You follow."

"Or what? You'll shoot me? Beat me up?"

Her response, while not what he wanted didn't surprise him. She wasn't easily intimidated. She viewed her botched escape as a setback, not a defeat.

He eyed the window. They were in a different bathroom, but this window was the same size as the other. And she'd make another break first chance she got.

It was time Adam enforced his point: that they would do things his way from here on out. Stepping back, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor, heard her muffled gasp as she spied his bare chest.

He'd expected it.

It had been a long time since he'd undressed in front of a stranger. A long time since a woman had seen his scars. Knives, acid did horrible things to human flesh. Most women overlooked them, especially after he dropped his pants.

But this wasn't about seduction. To her, his chest probably looked gruesome. Of course in comparison to what Lyle had told her, the truth was a fairy tale.

"They're not what you think," he said. Six kills.

Transfixed, Renata extended her hand and traced light fingertips over the six precise notches carved above his left nipple. Then her fingers skimmed lower, brushing the scarred patches of mottled flesh that covered his stomach and sides. Her hands were gentle, thorough, as they examined him. Healing hands.

"This doesn't look self-inflicted" she murmured. "Prison?"

"Childhood."

The flash of pity in her eyes was unbearable. That was the last thing he wanted.

Eager to shatter the moment, he unfastened his jeans and lowered the zipper.

Her face flushed as she twisted away. "What are you doing?"

He turned on the water in the tub. "We're taking a shower and going to bed."

"You're crazy! I'm doing no such thing."

She tried to shove past him but he stopped her by putting his hands on her shoulders. With a flick of his wrists, he ripped the remnants of her tattered shirt and bra apart, let them fall to the floor.

She ceased struggling and covered her bare breasts with her arms. "You bastard!"

Paying no heed Adam pressed on. He tugged at the snap on her jeans, slid them down. Unwilling to expose her breasts, she couldn't stop him.

He straightened leaving her underwear in place, her jeans bunched at her feet. "You can take them off yourself. Or I'll do it."

"This is my punishment, isn't it?"

"For escaping? Hardly. So undress. Now."

When she didn't obey, he stepped closer. "Your choice."

"Please don't." She lowered her head.

Catching her chin, Adam forced it up. He ran a hand through the wet hair at her nape, then held his fingers in front of her face. Thick muck caked them.

"Believe me, we're both this filthy. I need a shower just as much as you. And while I don't trust you alone, I won't hurt you, Renata. I promise. Get in."

There was no mistaking the finality in his tone.
Get in or be put in.

Renata's options were excruciatingly limited. Fighting him was ludicrous. Even without her injuries she'd lose a physical confrontation with this man. And if Nevin came in to
help...

Avoiding his eyes, she awkwardly stepped out of her jeans and underwear, keenly aware of her nudity. And his. To his credit, he didn't gawk.

Without warning, he tucked his hands under her arms and lifted her into the tub. "You first."

His touch scalded her flesh. He set her beneath the spray, cupping her elbow until she found her balance. Then he released her.

For a moment she thought he was leaving her alone to shower. Then he stepped in behind her and closed the curtain. She panicked. The area was too small for two adults, especially one as large as Adam. And as
naked...

She slipped.

His hands shot forward, steadying her. "Breathe."

He whispered the word so softly she thought she'd imagined it. She struggled to draw in air. Couldn't.

"Exhale." His breath brushed her ear. "Blow."

She forced air out, inhaling again on reflex.

"One more time," he ordered.

Her trembling subsided.

"Here." He pressed a washcloth into her hand,
pointed to the bar of soap on the ledge. "Trade places with me."

Renata twisted sideways as he slid past. Moving mechanically, she lathered her body, in a hurry to finish. Each sweep of the washcloth confirmed new hurts. The abrasions on her side stung. Biting her lip, she worked loose the bits of debris.

She glanced over her shoulder. Adam had his back to her as he scrubbed vigorously at his own skin. Unlike his chest, the skin on his back was smooth. Except for a small round scar on his left shoulder. A bullet.
In the back.
What all had this man suffered?

She turned away. Reaching for the shampoo, she soaped her hair, working free the clods of mud and small twigs. Brown water pooled in the bottom of the tub. She'd been even dirtier than she'd imagined.

When Adam touched her shoulder, she jumped, nearly fell.

Once again, his hand was there. "You can rinse your hair."

Turning sideways, Renata inched toward the front, grasping the molded ledge for support. But in the close confines their bodies brushed. She recoiled trying not to think about what part of him had brushed her buttocks.

Shampoo dripped into her eyes, stinging. Closing them, she turned her face up to the spray. When her hair was rinsed, she glanced back, wary.

Adam stood, unmoving, watching her. His arms were folded casually across his scarred chest and one shoulder leaned against the wall, in a stance that said he was uninterested. Bored.

Then her eyes dipped lower, grew wide.

With a strangled sound she turned away. Mortified. She hadn't meant to look at his groin, but once she had, she couldn't stop. It was impossible not to notice his penis. Semierect, it seemed overlarge. Too long. Too thick.

And that fast it had swelled, rising away from the dark whorls of pubic hair. Perilous. Threatening.

She sucked in air, recognized the signs of hysteria.
Calm down,
she ordered.
Think.
His wasn't the first penis she'd ever seen. She was a doctor, damn it! She knew the biophysical mechanics of erections.

But she was also a female. In a vulnerable position.

She heard the shower curtain move, the wet plastic making a slashing noise. Open. Close. She looked, found Adam had stepped out, left her alone. But not for long. The curtain parted slightly right behind her.

He set a disposable razor on the edge of the tub. "If you want to shave, be quick."

Without another word he jerked the curtain closed. She knew he remained in the bathroom, could hear water running in the sink.

She stared at the cheap razor, dumbfounded. The man makes her shower with him . . . then this? His show of thoughtfulness unnerved her. He was a bad guy. Her expectations of him were dirt low.

Yet he hadn't misbehaved in the shower. Which was probably a ploy to throw her off. His true colors would show through soon enough.

She examined the single-blade razor, satisfied it was new and dismissing its value as a weapon. It was useless. Even if she wanted to save it for later, where would she hide it?

Grabbing the soap, she lathered her leg. It was awkward shaving with her injured ankle and she nicked her skin twice. She gave up just as the water turned cold. When Adam stuck his head in the shower again, she automatically turned away.

"Give me the razor." He shut off the water.

She handed it to him, then watched over her shoulder as he checked that the blade was intact. "Satisfied?"

"Yes. Here's a towel." He thrust his arm forward.

Her fingers brushed his, the sensation as startling as grasping a live electrical wire. The towel dropped.

Adam bent to pick it up and when he straightened, their eyes met.

She lurched as his transformation registered. The three-day stubble that had enhanced his thuggish appearance was gone, leaving those high, perfect cheekbones that she'd admired that first night when she'd thought he was a doctor. She'd been struck then by his good looks. Now that fist-in-the-stomach returned.

He had his hair combed straight back, the wet coal- colored ends brushing his shoulder. But it was his eyes that held her. They were too blue, too deep. Too hypnotic. They haunted. Seduced.

She felt her nipples tighten almost painfully. Alarmed, she dropped her eyes to break the spell.