Pure Dynamite (26 page)

Immediately she raised them, blushing. He was still fully erect. And, damn it, she was still naked. How could she just stand here like this? Zoned out...

She wrapped the towel around her, nearly losing her balance when she put too much weight on her ankle.

Adam caught her, lifted her out of the shower and set her next to the sink so she could balance against the counter. "Dry off." Then he handed her a packaged toothbrush.

"Can I have a little privacy?" she asked.

"To use the toilet? Yes. For everything else, no." He stuck out his hand pointing to the towel. "In fact, I'll take that with me. I doubt you'll climb out the window
naked. The person you flag down for help might not be such a gentleman."

"My expectations of gentlemen were left in Durham," She stuck out her ankle. "Besides, I've had enough climbing out windows for one night."

He shrugged unapologetic. "Me, too. So hand over the towel. Or I'll take it."

His unspoken I-don't-trust-you angered her. "I hope you burn in hell for this."

"I have a seat reserved."

Turning away, Renata tossed the towel. When the door closed she looked longingly at the window. He was right. She'd try again first chance she got.

When Adam returned, she once more turned her bare back to him. He set a pair of jeans and a T-shirt on the counter beside her. She recognized them from the boxes that had been left on the kitchen table earlier.

"Where are my clothes?" she asked, momentarily forgetting her nudity.

"They were ruined. I threw them out."

The clothes had been Calvin's, so she didn't care about them, but she did want her underwear, had hoped to repair her bra.

"I meant the clothes I had on originally."

"I left them in the RV'

"What?" Incensed she looked up and caught his reflection behind her, in the mirror. He wore jeans, his chest bare.

And he could see every inch of her in the mirror.

Embarrassed, she snagged the shirt and slid it over her head, relieved it at least fell to her hips. She whirled to face him. "You had no right getting rid of my things."

"Give it a rest. These are dry and clean."

"But they're not mine!"

Adam reached for the jeans and withdrew. "Fine. Stay naked."

"Damn you!" She held out her hands for the jeans.

But instead of giving them to her, he dropped to one knee and held them open.

"I need underwear."

"I'll write Santa. Until then, we all go commando."

Her cheeks burned at the thought of him naked beneath his jeans. She thrust her injured foot forward wanting to get dressed as quickly as possible.

He leaned in, carefully tugging the pant leg over her ankle. The move put his mouth at the same level as her groin. She jerked, nearly falling and had to brace a hand against his shoulder. With one smooth move he caught her, supporting her weight.

"Let me," he whispered.

He pulled the jeans up easily, his fingers inside the waistband, trailing lightly along her leg. Sparks of awareness danced along her skin. Memories of him in the shower flitted across her mind. His wet, gleaming, muscles. His erection.

Alarmed, Renata drew her knees together and shoved his hands away, acutely aware she wore nothing beneath the shirt. His fingers would have touched her...

She cut off the thought, zipping the jeans. They were snug across the hips, had obviously been included for
Lyle.

Adam picked her up.

She protested. "I can walk " That he took extra care not to hurt her only made her madder. She didn't want his thoughtfulness.

"Keeping weight on that ankle is only going to aggravate it."

He carried her into the smaller bedroom and shut the door avoiding the living room and Nevin altogether. He sat her down in the middle of the double bed that was pushed against the wall. Propping her ankle on a pillow, he laid a plastic bag filled with ice across it.

"Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation," he said. "Just not in the right order."

She frowned, not wanting to give him credit for correctly identifying the treatment for a sprain. "Your medical training is showing again. You were a medic, right?"

He shrugged away her question. "I still need your help with Lyle, so don't get any more ideas about leaving. Not until I'm sure he's out of the woods."

This last gave her hope. "And once he's out of the woods—then what?"

"We'll discuss it later." He nodded toward the door, reminding her of Nevin's presence. He picked up a tube of antibiotic ointment from the nightstand. "Raise your shirt."

She crossed her hands over her abdomen. "I can take care of myself."

"It's quicker if I do it."

"Why the big hurry?"

Out of patience, Adam shoved her hands away and raised the shirt to expose her abraded side. "The only reason you got away tonight is because I'm sleep deprived. And as much as you may think otherwise, the only thing I'm interested in right now is getting some sleep."

It was only a partial lie. Adam was exhausted. But that did little to abate his interest.

He eyed the white cotton T-shirt she wore. He could just make out the dark shading of her aureoles. The soft fabric outlined the thrust of her breasts perfectly,
called attention to the fact her nipples were on high alert.

He wasn't a eunuch. He'd seen her fully naked, had enjoyed memorizing every sweet detail. Hell, he'd have to be dead not to be interested—but that didn't matter.
She wasn't interested.

Oh, she was curious. They all were, making him feel like a circus freak some days. He was used to that. But he required more than curiosity from a woman. End of story.

He grabbed a square of gauze and covered her side. "That cut on your breast needs salve."

She snatched the tube of ointment so fast he almost laughed out loud. Instead, he gently picked up her ankle and began wrapping it with an elastic bandage.

"It needs more ice," she said.

"In the morning." Finished, Adam looked down at her. "Scoot over."

"I am not sleeping in the same bed with you."

"Don't fight me on this, Renata. You'll lose." He put a knee on the bed, hovering.

She backed away, eyes darting toward the door.

That fast Adam pinned her flat. His hand cradled the side of her neck, his face just inches from hers. "You won't get away again," he whispered. "I promise."

"And I promise: I will! You'll see!"

Shaking his head, he rolled away, freeing her. But not for long.

Punching his pillow, he stretched out and caught her waist. Drawing her close, he threw one leg over hers, effectively shackling her to his side.

"You're right. We'll see."

Willy McEdwin shuffled through the last of the paperwork Tristin had given him.

While his eldest son, Nevin, shared Willy's military and ordnance genius, Tristin and his twin, Burt, were computer experts. Whoever said that spending too much time on the Internet was bad for kids didn't have a clue how hackers were groomed.

He closed the file. Tristin had accessed every record that existed on Adam Duval. Duval had been a delinquent since high school, but had avoided serious trouble with the law until his senior year. Then he'd been accused of selling test results he'd stolen from the school's mainframe. Accused but never charged.

Duval's penchant for getting away with murder started early. A guidance counselor had suggested a deal in which Duval enlisted in the army in lieu of expulsion. He'd spent six years in the military, earning an honorable discharge. Two years later his name popped up in a federal investigation of stolen military arms. But without proof, he remained merely a suspect.

The man was good, with one exception: his poor judgment when it came to women. Duval had been sent to prison after he and his girlfriend were busted with stolen property. It was obvious to Willy that the man had been set up. The FBI had cut his girlfriend a
generous deal. Too generous. The sneaky little bitch had sold him out. They weren't called the weaker sex for nothing.

"Still no word on the girlfriend's whereabouts?"

Tristin nodded. "They're calling her Number Seven."

Seven. Willy knew the story behind the notches Duval had carved on his chest. One for each person who'd betrayed him. Once more: There was no proof Duval had murdered anyone. But whether it was truth or legend, it made him a fearsome enemy. Willy admired that.

"What did you get on his partner, Daniel Montague? Anything?"

"From what I gather, Montague's a brainiac. He hacked the prison computer, moved Lyle and Duval onto the same road gang, then scheduled the bus for a trip to BF, Egypt." Tristin leaned forward. "There seems to be a link between Duval, Montague, and a military project called the Jade Labyrinth."

"What the hell is that?"

"Near as I can figure, Uncle Sam has caches of weapons scattered about that could be accessed by small, specialized military units in the event of a widespread terrorist attack. Top, top secret. We're checking on it now."

Willy narrowed his eyes. Had Duval and Montague raided these stockpiles? "Where's this Montague at now?"

"The FBI thinks he fled to Canada, but they have no real leads. The man's a master at disguises, too. You can bet your ass that Duval knows exactly where he's at."