Hard Core (Onyx Group) (15 page)

Mercer held up a hand to stop her.

She pushed it aside and knelt in front of him. “I’ve about
had it with tough guys,” she warned.

“Just let her treat you,” Cristian yelled. “It’s easier.”

Mercer stared down at her as she rolled up his t-shirt, not
trying to stop her. Wise man. She really was tired of battling stubborn men.

“You’ve been stabbed,” she said. “How long have you been
bleeding?” That hit to the ribs she’d given him must have hurt like hell. She
regretted it now.

“You got stabbed?” Sarver asked, leaning over Alana’s
shoulder to look. “That’s a first.”

“The fifth took me by surprise,” Mercer groused.

“Fifth?” Alana repeated, startled. “You went against five
men alone?” Protecting her and Dave, she thought guiltily. She cast a chiding
glance at Sarver and Cristian. “How could you let him fight five men alone?”

Sarver frowned and glanced at Cristian, who only shook his
head.

Mercer shrugged. “Just patch me up, Doc.”

“I need a First Aid kit,” she said to Cristian, who had dark
circles under his eyes and looked a bit worn himself.

Sarver opened a compartment under his seat and handed it to
her. She’d thought it was him bleeding in the car, but it had been Mercer. And
he hadn’t said a word.

“Are all mercenaries stubborn idiots?” she asked, tearing
open a packet of gauze pads. When no one answered, she turned her attention to
Mercer. “You could have bled to death. The knife he used was serrated on one
side. You need stitches.”

“I can do it myself.”

Alana pinned him with a hard stare. “I’m a doctor. I’m
qualified.”

“So am I.”

“Oh? What medical school did you go to?”

His face hardened and she knew she didn’t want to know where
he’d learned. It would probably scare her.

“That’s what I thought.” She finished cleaning the wound.
Mercer’s abs were rock solid, rippled, and his hip muscles were model worthy.
Once she got past the unusual color of his eyes she could see what a beautiful
man he was. Not hard and rugged like Cristian. No, Mercer was more sculpted,
like a Roman god. Yet, being this close to him didn’t make her heart speed up
or her belly tighten. Not like Cristian. Even after making love all night, she
still wanted him every time she looked at him. Her sex drive had certainly
never spiked like this before. She’d never done the things she did with
Cristian with any other man. Never wanted to. Her body ached, just remembering.

Pushing those thoughts away before anyone noticed, she
braced herself against the rock and sway of the chopper and prepared the site
for stitches.

“You guys are mercenaries?” Dave asked.

“Stubborn, foolish ones,” Alana muttered, wiping Mercer’s
smooth tanned skin with antiseptic.

“I thought you were bodyguards,” Dave said.

Sarver answered. “We are now.”

Alana glanced at Dave. Deathly pale, but not as terrified.
He had to know by now these men were allies, not enemies. They had done nothing
but protect them.

Returning to her task, she threaded a needle. “Here’s a
pinch,” she warned and pierced his skin. He didn’t flinch or even seem to
notice as she put three stitches in the best she could with the less than
perfect conditions. The helicopter rode rough, not smooth like a plane. And
much louder. She used that as her excuse for imperfect stitches, not the fact
her hands were shaking the entire time.

Disturbed by the thought she may never perform surgery again
if her hands didn’t stop trembling, Alana put a bandage over the stitches and
packed away her stuff. Mercer pulled down his shirt, watching her with those
all-seeing golden eyes. Unwilling to let him see inside her, she quickly handed
the kit back to Sarver and returned to her seat.

Cristian frowned.

“What?” she asked.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine,” she lied and turned to look out the window. For the
first time since she’d met him, Cristian’s taciturn nature suited her. She
didn’t want to talk right now. She wanted to curl up and sleep through the rest
of this bad dream. One she would wake from and find everything as it should be.

But as she watched the passing sky she knew this was real
and she couldn’t go back. Only forward into the unknown, uncertain future.

She closed her eyes to avoid conversation and let herself
dream of another time, a happier time, when she knew who she was, and what she
wanted. Because there she wouldn’t have to face her past. Her failures. And the
fact she would never be a surgeon again, even if she wanted to. Not after what
Gavin put her through.

Fighting tears, she pressed her hands between her knees and
wondered if they would ever stop shaking.

Alana suffered in silence. Proof was written in the tense
lines of her face where she slept on Slade’s shoulder. Like a fool, he wanted
to kiss it better, but what ailed her couldn’t be fixed that easily. He
couldn’t take away her pain. He could eliminate the source, not the aftermath.

To do that, he had to get away from her. An impossible task
so far. He hadn’t expected her to stop him from going after Ross. She’d wanted
his bloodshed while on his boat. She’d wanted vengeance.

Now, en route to the city, his mission was incomplete. He
wasn’t fool enough to believe Ross wouldn’t track Alana down. The man would
stop at nothing to find her. She held value if he decided to keep her, and a
threat if he didn’t. That put her life in immediate danger.

And his mission on temporary hold.

A complication he didn’t want or need. He wanted to fulfill
this contract and move on to the next. Alana and his teammates would invade his
penthouse. No one had ever been there. No one had ever been in any of his
houses. They were his and he didn’t like sharing his space. He liked being alone.
Liked the security of it.

Alana moaned in her sleep and curled into his side. That
moan went straight to his groin, reminding him how vocal she was when she…damn.
He looked up to find Mercer watching him with a thoughtful expression. Slade
sent him a warning glare and leaned his head back against the wall. He didn’t
need Mercer’s insight. No one had to tell him that sleeping with Alana was a
mistake. That it made this personal and intimate, a recipe for disaster.
Intimate got a guy like him distracted. Personal could get him killed.

He could afford neither. Not with Ross on the loose and
Alana a target.

He should have made her go without him. Should have stuck to
his guns. Never should have watched her bathe half-naked in her hut that night.
Never should have taken this assignment in the first place.

But, he had, and it brought him to Alana. A woman who
stirred things inside him he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Terrifying things
he didn’t want to feel at the same time he craved them.

Not since Mariette, had he felt this. Even then, with her,
it hadn’t been like this. This was stronger, more of an addiction he couldn’t
shake.

Hell.

Slade pushed all thoughts aside to catch a few minutes of
sleep. He would need it for the difficult task that lie ahead. He had to
dispatch Gavin Ross or this would never end. And he had to do it without Alana
at his side.

Just how the hell was he going to leave her?

* * * *

“Dave, I’m sorry for…what I almost did,” Alana said quietly
to the man she had almost killed. They stood on a landing pad in a remote area
of Wyoming. The exact location was a secret no one would tell her. Cristian
would only tell her they were on Sam Ryden’s property. And since tall pines
surrounded them on all sides, it was impossible to see anything.

The men were talking near the helicopter, giving Alana the
chance to speak privately to Dave. They were going in separate directions and
she might never see him again, so she needed to say this.

Dave sent her an uncomfortable look and she shook her head.
“No, let me say this. You deserve to know. I…I’m not that person you saw
holding that scalpel. I had no choice--”

Dave put a hand on her arm to stop her. “You don’t have to
explain,” he said. “It’s okay. I know you now. Please, can’t we just put it in
the past and forget it? I really need to forget.”

Alana smiled at him. “I understand. Consider it forgotten.”
For him, anyway. She would certainly never forget.

Cristian approached, glancing between them. Always
protecting her, she thought wistfully. She’d never been fanciful or wished for
a knight in shining armor to come rescue her. Never needed or even wanted a man
to save the day. Her mother always told her she had an abundance of tenacity
and independence. Alana supposed she did, since Cristian’s caveman techniques
annoyed her most times. Some women would fawn over his attention and
over-protectiveness. Today, it irritated her.

Or maybe being here, back in civilization made her
short-tempered. Fear of the unknown tended to do that to her. She liked being
in control of her destiny, knowing who she was and where she was going.

This terrified her.

“Time to go,” Cristian said to Dave. “Sarver is waiting in
the truck for you.”

Dave nodded, squeezed Alana’s hand, and jogged for the muddy
truck parked near the chopper. Another, older, beat up pickup stood beside it.
Mercer leaned casually against the hood. Ryden still sat in the helicopter.

She watched him go. Definitely not the same man she’d seen
on that gurney. This man was more confident. Which could still lead to death if
Gavin Ross were to find him. He’d have to get past Cristian’s team first, not
an easy feat, but not impossible. They were only men. Not superheroes.

Dave had forgiven her. It humbled her beyond words. She
didn’t deserve his forgiveness. What she’d almost done deserved no mercy. If
Cristian hadn’t cut the power, she would have killed Dave. That, she could
never forgive herself for. No matter her reasons for doing it.

She watched Dave climb in the truck next to Sarver and
disappear down the narrow road through the trees.

“He’ll be safe in Louisiana?” she asked Cristian, watching
the truck’s taillights vanish around a bend.

“Yes.”

“We’re leaving for Chicago?”

“In the morning. We’re staying the night here.”

She looked around. “Where’s here?”

“Ryden’s ranch. There’s an issue he needs to take care of
first.”

“An issue?”

“With the ranch.”

“And you think we’re safe here?”

“Yes.”

Alana let out a slow breath and wrapped her arms around her
waist. This was all so new for her. Uncomfortable. Unfamiliar.

“Ross won’t track us here,” Cristian said. “At least not
right away. We can stay one night.”

“And then we go to your penthouse.”

“Yes.”

“What makes your penthouse safer than this place? There’s
nothing but trees for miles and it’s in the middle of nowhere.”

“My penthouse can’t be traced back to me.”

“I see. And why is that?”

“Deeply buried paperwork.”

“Oh.” A shudder worked its way down her spine. This man
she’d known so intimately was a stranger to her. He lived in a covert,
secretive world in which she had no place. She had her share of secrets, but
his would probably terrify her.

Was the penthouse in one of the names he’d mumbled in his
sleep? Some in English, others in languages she didn’t recognize. Probably
better to not know.

“Well, I’ve never been on a ranch before.” She tried to make
light of a situation.

“It’s only for one night.”

Alana nodded. It would help for him to put his arms around
her and hold her so she didn’t feel so alone. Dammit. Why did she have to need
him, of all people? She’d never needed anyone like this before. She’d always
stood on her own two feet without assistance. Always plowed through when things
got tough. Why did she long for Cristian to take her in his arms and make her
forget her fears? What was it about this gruff, dark man that made her want
things she shouldn’t?

“Ryden is ready to go.”

She glanced at the helicopter to see Sam close the doors and
stride toward the beat-up pickup truck. A work truck, she guessed. No sense
standing around waiting to wake up from this nightmare. There was no end in
sight.

“We better go then.” She took a step in that direction.
Cristian caught her arm and stopped her.

“Alana.”

She didn’t turn to look at him because she didn’t want him
to see how much she needed him.

“Look at me,” he ordered softly.

“We have to go. Sam is in the truck waiting.”

With a tiny jerk he pulled her around to face him, studying
her closely. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

He thought she was worried about Gavin. If only it were that
simple. Unwilling to share her weakness, her grief and misery, she nodded.

She rode in silence to the ranch scrunched between Cristian
and Sam. The old truck had no backseat and smelled of leather and horses. It
rode like a tank and bounced her off the two men like a jumping bean. Not that
she minded, it gave her a chance to be close to Cristian without having to
admit she needed him.

His warm body pressed against hers, solid and strong. Now
that she knew what it was like to make love to him, she wanted nothing more
than to do it again.

“There she is,” Sam said, with warmth in his tone.

The picture perfect scene unfolding took her breath away.
Beautiful.
A maroon-roofed ranch house stretched in front of them with red window boxes
full of flowers beneath green shutters. Baskets overflowing with brightly
colored flowers hung from the small covered porch protecting the white front
door. Someone had taken care to trim the shrubs and plants lining the entire
house. A giant oak provided shade for the inviting home, its branches protected
it.

Rolling green pastures full of cattle and horses behind
split-rail fences met two gently sloped hills that looked like small mountains
to Alana.

“This is your home?” she asked Sam.

“For the most part,” Sam said with a hint of pride. “My
brother and I inherited it when our parents passed a few years ago. Caleb
handles most of it since I’m...gone a lot.”

Right, mercenaries weren’t home often, she supposed. Not
exactly a nine-to-five job. Did Sam’s brother know he was a mercenary? Hard to
explain the absences if Caleb wasn’t aware.

“It’s incredible,” Alana said as they rumbled up the dusty
narrow road toward the one-story house.

“That she is,” Sam agreed, stopping the old truck around in
front of a two-stall garage.

Alana followed Cristian out, staring at the handful of barns
and stables and corrals down the hill. She could hear cattle calling in the
distance, an occasional horse’s whinny, and men’s voices drifted on the warm
breeze.

“Come on in.” Sam led them up the short step onto the porch
leading to a small wooden deck. He opened the door and stood back so she could
walk in first.

Cristian trailed her.

The hardwood floor creaked beneath her feet as she walked
into the cozy, western-themed living room. Various animal horns adorned the
walls, Navajo-print blankets hung over the backs of matching handcrafted wooden
rocking chairs in front of a stone fireplace.

“There are two spare bedrooms down the hall there,” Sam
said. “I’ll see if one of the ranch hands’ wives have something that will fit
you. We’re a bit short on female...attire.”

Alana glanced down at the clothes she wore. Anything would
certainly be better than this. “I suppose a trip into town is out of the
question.”

Cristian and Sam both sent her disapproving looks. Alana
sighed. “I didn’t think so.”

“It’s pretty much survival of the fittest around here,” Sam
said. “This isn’t like the movies, there is no cook or housekeeper. Marge, our
foreman’s wife, cleans once a week and cooks a Sunday dinner for the lot of us.
Other than that, it’s every man for himself. Lucky for you, you’re only staying
one night.”

She’d grown up wealthy and spoiled, with the proverbial
silver spoon in her mouth, but life on the island had cured her of all that.
She’d found out just how hard life could be. And how simple. Which was so much
better than the alternative. Her time in Nicaragua would never be a regret, at
least not for that reason.

Not correcting Sam for his assumptions about her, she
followed him down the hall with Cristian trailing.

Sam pushed open the door on the left. “Rooms are pretty much
identical,” he said. “Bathroom separates the bedrooms. I have some business to
take care of, so I’ll let you two figure out the sleeping arrangements. Kitchen
is off the dining room. Help yourself to whatever you can find.”

He left them alone and Alana glanced at Cristian, uncertain
herself of the sleeping arrangements. Where did the two of them stand? They’d
had one night together, per her request. What came next, she didn’t know. A
second later, Cristian answered her question.

“You take this room. I’ll take the other one.”

Disappointment made her shoulders slump. Not the answer she
wanted, but probably the best one. She didn’t blame Cristian for wanting to
keep their...what? There was no
they
. Nothing to keep secret. One night
didn’t make them an item. No matter how much she wanted to sleep next to him.

“Fine,” she agreed.

He stood close. So close she could see the stubble growing
on his jaw and smell the soap on his skin from his morning shower.

He was the only constant she had in her life right now and
she hated to admit she needed him to be here. Wanted him here. This dark,
volatile sensual man with secrets and mysteries she was afraid to unlock who
made her feel safe and protected.

“I’ll give you some time,” he said. “No leaving the house.”

“Where would I go?” she murmured, watching him stride down
the hall and disappear into the room at the end of the hall. Giving her space
he assumed she needed. She should be thankful instead of regretful.

She closed the door and leaned against it, looking around
the quaint room. Deciding the quilted covered bed looked inviting, she slipped
off her boots, crossed over the hardwood floor onto the off-white rug, and
climbed on the bed. Longing for her cot in her hut on the island, she wrapped
in the blue and cream quilt and curled into herself, and fell asleep with tears
sliding down her cheeks.

* * * *

A hard knock woke Alana. She rose to a sitting position and
glanced around the strange room, flashing back to her days as an intern. Not a
hospital. Sam Ryden’s house. On his ranch.