Midnight Promises (6 page)

“Is her cell phone still off?”

That he could answer. “Yes.”

“What are you doing now, besides sitting around with your thumb up your ass?”

To speak like this, Borodin was beyond furious. Anatoli had no idea why this woman was so important but apparently she was. And if he was to keep his job—and he was beginning to suspect more than his job might be at stake—he was going to have to find this woman soon.

Damn Borodin for putting him in this position! He tried to inject some authority into his voice.

“In the meantime, I need more information. I was sent in blind.” Not to mention the fact that no one told him the woman had lightning reflexes. “The more information I have the easier I can track her down. You’re the one with the resources, so contact me when you have something I can use.”

He closed the connection with a sweaty finger and pulled in his first deep breath in minutes.

The pilot clapped slowly a couple of times. “Found your balls, eh? That’s always dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. So either you find this woman and get a promotion or if you don’t—” His face was a cruel mask, one corner of his mouth turned up in a cynical smile. “If you don’t, well Borodin, as you know, is ex-KGB. They showed their displeasure with a bullet to the back of the neck. And they’d dock the bullet from your last paycheck. Those old guys didn’t fuck around.”

Chapter Four

Early the next morning Metal watched as Felicity came up slowly, like scaling a high mountain.

Her hand fluttered in his. Once, twice.

He’d been sitting all night by her bedside, holding her hand. If he lived to be a hundred he would never forget the look on her face as she stumbled into Lauren’s house. Lost, in pain, desperate. He didn’t want her waking up alone, in a strange house.

The instant that beautiful women fell into his arms, he felt a ferocious protectiveness rise up in him. She was Lauren’s friend, which automatically made her okay in his book. But she was also fragile, delicate, scared witless.

Hurt.

Someone had tried to kill her and it burned in him. Someone had taken a knife and had sliced her open.

Metal knew knifework up close. He’d killed with a knife and he knew exactly how to do it. He’d seen teammates cut up and had closed more knife wounds than he could count.

But that was war. Men equipped to fight, trained to fight, meeting on the battlefield. Something as old as time.

But slashing open a beautiful and defenseless woman—that made his blood boil. It violated everything he knew about life. Smart women like Felicity were supposed to be protected. That was why humankind had protectors, like him and his father and his brothers. His dad and four O’Briens were gone, lost in the ashes and dust of the Twin Towers, but by God another O’Brien was left, and he was going to stand guard over this woman.

He’d find out who had hurt her and then he’d take the fight to the enemy.

Whoever was after her wasn’t giving up. Felicity had regained consciousness a few times in the night and she’d managed to gasp out some info. Metal could fill in the rest.

Her attacker was waiting for her at the airport. He’d put a knife to her back and wanted to walk her out. That could mean someone from Portland but it could also mean another passenger. There were ways to get knives through security, and a ceramic knife wouldn’t even show up. Some ceramic knives were sharper than steel. He and Jacko would look at airport security footage and check passenger lists. Felicity had said she’d gotten a good look at him so if they had footage they’d have him.

The attacker had fucked with the wrong girl. Metal smiled grimly as he held her hand and watched her face. Lauren had said how smart Felicity was and he had to admit, getting away from a knife-wielding attacker must have taken real smarts.

She’d used her brains because God knows she couldn’t outfight the man. He’d seen her. She didn’t have fighting muscles. She was soft and slender.

That was okay, he had fighting muscles and he’d stand for her.

Her hand stirred in his again.

Metal leaned closer to the bed. He calculated it would take her another five to ten minutes to wake up fully. Gomez had administered enough ccs of tranquilizer to ensure that she rested without being knocked out. Everything medical that could be done had been done. Now, her body needed rest and nourishment and warmth to do its part. She was warm, he saw to that. He’d put two eiderdown comforters on the bed. As soon as she woke up, he’d feed her. And she’d rest. He’d see to that too.

Her eyes opened and closed.

God. She had the most amazing color eyes he’d ever seen. A deep magnetic blue. He’d once heard Midnight’s wife, an interior decorator, refer to that color as robin’s egg. All he knew was that he’d never seen eyes that color before.

Actually, he’d never seen a woman that beautiful before.

His company, Alpha Security International, was awash in beautiful women. His two bosses were married to beautiful women. Their friend Bud Morrison of the Portland PD was married to a beautiful woman. Jacko had fallen for a beautiful woman, though he hadn’t screwed up the courage to ask Lauren to marry him. Yet.

None of these women were anything like Felicity, who looked like a cross between an angel and a top model, only shorter. The ASI women used elegant clothes and makeup to enhance their beauty. Felicity didn’t need that. With no makeup and in a T-shirt of his that hung down to her knees, she was stunning.

Her eyes popped open again, stayed open. Focused on his face.

“Hey.” Metal scooted his chair closer to his bed, clasped her hand more tightly.

She frowned, looked around his room, though there wasn’t much to see. Big bed because he was tall, a dresser, bedside table, a chair. Luckily, he was sailor-neat. Her eyes traveled back to him.

Metal smiled at her. “Hey,” he said again. “You’re awake.”

She licked her lips. Her mouth would be dry with the drugs. He had a Thermos of hot tea with honey waiting. But first she had to relax. She probably didn’t remember much about last night.

“Where…what…” She could barely form the words.

Well, Metal was good at this. He was good at giving reports, marshaling facts, giving a clear picture. He knew how to put on a warrior’s face as he did so.

But he was also good with his nieces and nephews who didn’t know him as a Navy SEAL but as the uncle who always brought gifts and played with them. So he made his face bland and nonthreatening.

“You were wounded, Felicity. Do you remember?” She gasped in a breath, nodded, eyes huge. “Someone attacked you at the airport, but you were smart enough to get away. Do you remember that? And then you made it to Lauren’s house. Do you remember that too?”

Her mouth opened and she blew out a breath. Nodded.

“Before we go any further, I’ll bet you’re thirsty, right?”

She nodded, surprised. As if she hadn’t realized she was thirsty until the exact moment he mentioned it.

He let go of her hand and reached for the Thermos. He poured almost a full cup into the top, lifted her head with one hand and with the other held the cup to her mouth. He’d made sure it wasn’t boiling hot when he put it in the Thermos. It was just hot enough to make her feel better without burning her mouth.

“Drink,” he said quietly. “You’re going to be hungry soon and I have food for you. But first you need to drink.”

It was his command voice in gentle mode. His nieces and nephews responded to it like magic.

Felicity too. He lifted her up and held her rock steady while she sipped. She cupped her hand under his, as if he would spill the tea if she didn’t. He let her because her soft touch was amazingly pleasureable but it wasn’t necessary. He wasn’t going to spill the tea. He was a very good shot and he had steady hands. But beyond that, he wasn’t about to allow hot liquid to spill on her. Nothing bad was going to happen to her while she was in his care.

“Sorry about the plastic cup. I think my mugs might be heavy for you to hold. Lauren has these fancy porcelain cups that are light as air that I’m sure you’d like better, but for now this will have to do.”

“Lauren,” she whispered, licking her lips again. “Where—”

Metal watched, fascinated as she licked her lips. She had the prettiest mouth he’d ever seen. Then he shook himself.
Stop being an asshole
.

Usually it wasn’t hard for him to focus. He focused really well. And as a trained medic he’d learned to disassociate the care he was giving from the person. Medics didn’t take the Hippocratic oath but they took their skills seriously. He sure did.

So, yeah, mooning about a patient’s pretty mouth and beautiful eyes wasn’t something he was proud of. But
damn
she was gorgeous.

Focus!

She shifted in the bed. He was holding her up with one hand against her narrow back. He could feel her heart beat fast and light against the palm of his hand. She was scared.

Metal had a deep voice and he’d shouted a lot in the teams. His voice was rough. He didn’t know how to modulate it, soften it. He could only speak as quietly as he could.

“Would you like to stay sitting up? Or are your stitches pulling?” God, he hated to think of her in pain, but she probably was. The painkillers would have worn off hours ago. He had meds with him.

“Sit up,” she said. “Against pillows.”

Okay. He understood that. Lying down or sitting up leaning against his hand would make her feel vulnerable.

She was watching him out of those huge sky-blue eyes, wary. Not frightened. He knew how to make people scared but he was making an effort to be reassuring. So she wasn’t scared of him, but she was with a stranger in a strange place and she’d been attacked and wounded. She’d be stupid not to be wary and this was not a stupid woman.

Moving slowly, Metal put pillows against his headboard and very carefully and very gently lifted her until she was sitting up against the pillows.

It was hard to let her go. As he’d lifted her, she’d clutched at his arms with elegant hands. He felt every inch of her that was touching him and even where he wasn’t touching her, he felt her body heat. She was light, delicate. Every single inch of her was beautiful. He had to consciously open his hands and step back because he was powerfully drawn to her. Wanted to lay her down and follow her, lie on top of her, feel all of her against him. Hold her head still and kiss that luscious mouth.

He stopped his thoughts right there, appalled at himself, deeply ashamed.

He was a medic. He knew what stitched wounds felt like. They fucking hurt. Knew she’d be feeling weak, turned inward on herself, the very opposite of sex. What the fuck was the matter with him?

He cleared his throat. “Do you want something to eat?”

She shook her head, eyes glued to his face.

“You should try to eat something,” he said gently. “You need to get your strength back. You lost almost a liter and a half of blood. We reinfused you, but still. Your body’s been through trauma.” Metal smiled. “I’m not a bad cook. I could make you some nice scrambled eggs.”

Her long pale throat bobbed up and down in a convulsive swallow. Okay. Not scrambled eggs.

“Or toast. I have some excellent whole wheat bread I made myself. I could toast a slice. Do you think you could keep that down?”

Eyes enormous, she nodded.

“Okay, good.” He shook two pills out in his hand and picked up the glass of water he’d put on the bedside table. “Take these.”

She was still, no expression on her face.

He didn’t sigh. Kept his face bland. “They’re painkillers. You have twenty stitches and you have bruises on your back and arms. You must be in pain. These are ibuprofen. You won’t be groggy and you won’t be out of it—it will just ease the pain. Trust me, please.”

“You’re a friend of Lauren’s,” she said, and he understood what she was saying.

He dipped his head. “I am. And a friend and colleague of her friend Jacko. And we are all on your side. Absolutely.”

She looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings then back at him. “Where am I?”

“224 Jackson. My place. You are completely safe. If someone somehow knows there’s a connection between you and Lauren, they sure won’t know about me. And my place is secure. Jacko and I work in security and we have military backgrounds so we know what we’re doing.”

She was watching him carefully. “Lauren said that Jacko is a former SEAL. Are you?”

He nodded. She seemed to relax just a little. Damn straight. You’re in trouble? Then you want a SEAL at your back. No better friend, no worse enemy.

“But you seem to know a lot about medicine.”

He dipped his head again. “I was a medic.”

She frowned, blond eyebrows pulling together. “Medic. Okay.”

God knows what she was thinking. He wasn’t a doctor. But a battlefield medic deals with more emergency trauma than any hospital ER doctor. He’d pit his trauma skills against any doctor. He couldn’t treat diabetes or high blood pressure but you got shot? He was your guy.

“Medic. The Navy trained me to deal with emergency wounds and that’s what you had. I didn’t stitch you up, though. I didn’t want to leave an ugly scar.”

Not on that pale, perfect skin.

“Who—who stitched me up?” She touched her side under the clean T-shirt he’d put on her. It fit like a huge nightgown. “I remember we went to this…place. With a nice doctor. You called him…Manuel?”

Sharp lady. He didn’t think she’d absorbed much. She’d been wounded and in pain. But she had.

The clinic was a secret that wasn’t his to share. “Someone else who knew what he was doing. But we made sure no one else could know that you were there. Look, I’m going to go get you something to eat and drink because that’s part of the healing process. And afterward I’ll answer all your questions, okay?”

She nodded.

He took one last look at her, sitting up in his bed, dressed in his T-shirt. Looking lost and vulnerable and so incredibly beautiful he had to turn on his heel and go to the kitchen fast before he did or said something he’d regret.

Metal was fast in most things. He was so big people naturally assumed he was slow but he wasn’t. In just a few minutes, he had a freshly brewed cup of tea and two toasted slices of his five-grain bread on a tray together with some butter and honey.

She hadn’t moved. She watched him carefully as he put the tray on her lap. As he bent over her he could smell Betadine and faintly, under that, lavender. Looking down, he saw high cheekbones and long light brown eyelashes tipped with gold and a straight, perfect nose. He saw the most delicate skin he’d ever seen, ivory and smooth as satin. Two delicate collarbones rose above the collar of his T-shirt, which gaped open enough to see the swell of two small, rounded breasts.

A pulse of blood shot through his groin and he stood up, fast, ashamed.

Metal had had problems with women all his life. He knew what he looked like. For some reason, Mother Nature had given him the looks of a thug. Any normal woman in an urban environment crossed the street to avoid him.

It was a source of sorrow to him because he liked women, a lot. He liked the sound of their voices and the way they smelled and the way they thought. But not too many women were willing to break through the barrier of his rough looks to find out what he was really like.

Suzanne and Allegra, his boss’s wives, they’d made the effort. And Claire Morrison, Bud’s wife. They treated him normally, smiling and teasing him. He loved it. A lot of women were instinctively scared of him and he hated that.