Seduced by His Target (11 page)

But she didn’t have time to help Leila. She had her own problems to deal with now. If she didn’t escape this island immediately, she would wind up dead.

But how could she forsake Leila? How could she abandon her sister-in-law to an unknown surgeon’s hands? It went against her nature to turn her back on a woman in need. At the very least she needed to check out the hospital and make sure the equipment was clean.

The hospital.
Her mind raced. Leila had just provided her with the perfect excuse to leave her room. And on the way, she could scout the island and formulate a plan to escape.

Leaping into action, she returned to the dinner tray. She removed the metal cover, ignoring the tempting rice and seafood, along with a mouthwatering side dish of fried plantains. Instead, she zeroed in on the utensils—a butter knife and fork.
Too dull.

She checked the minibar and came up empty, then scanned the rest of the room. Her gaze landed on a vase filled with tropical flowers, and she rushed over and picked it up. Taking it into the bathroom, she eyed the stone bathtub with gilded feet, the troughlike vessel sink, the marble shower with its dizzying array of controls.

The tub.
It would contain the damage best. Leaning over, she dropped the vase, and the glass shattered into jagged shards. She picked up a sliver and held her breath, then made a quick, shallow gash on her left arm. Hissing at the pain, she wrapped it in a hand towel and headed for the cottage door.

“I cut myself,” she told the guard outside. “The flower vase slipped and broke. I need to go to the hospital right away.” She held up her arm. Blood seeped through the towel, providing proof.

The guard frowned. “Close the door and stay inside. I’ll radio for an escort.”

“Hurry. I’m losing a lot of blood.”

Satisfied, she closed the door. Then she took a seat at the table. Still plotting her plan of action, she dug into her dinner and prepared to wait.

* * *

The knock came fifteen minutes later.

Swallowing the last bite of her dinner, she hurried over and opened the door. She caught sight of the tall man filling the door frame, and her breath came out in a rush.
Rasheed.
She gripped the door, a wild surge of emotions careening inside her, threatening to turn her knees to mush.

His hair was damp from a recent shower. He’d combed it back, and the dark strands grazed the collar of his clean black T-shirt, drawing her gaze to his corded throat. He’d shaved the beard stubble from his face, and she curled her hands, yearning to reach up and stroke the enticing smoothness of his tanned jaw. The faint woodsy aroma of his aftershave mingled with the fresh, soapy scent of his skin.

Her gaze drifted lower, over the jeans slung low on his hips to his battered hiking boots. He wore a shoulder holster over his T-shirt, emphasizing his flat belly and muscled chest. The gun added to his ruthless look.

Her eyes rose to his, the sensual heat in them a jolt to her nerves. And despite knowing that he couldn’t help her, that he had to stay in his abductor role, she suddenly felt less alone.

But then he frowned. “What happened?” His voice was rough, abrupt, a clear warning to watch her step. She shifted her gaze to the guard standing behind him, taking in his flat eyes and stony face, the snake tattoo climbing up his thick neck. A cartel member. That tattoo had to be their sign.

She tempered her response, not wanting to tip him off. But as Rasheed’s hot black eyes devoured her, it was all she could do to keep from launching herself into his arms.

She cleared her throat. “My hands were wet, and I dropped a vase in the bathroom. I was cleaning it up when I got cut. I need to bandage the wound, maybe even suture it if I can.”

Rasheed’s gaze dropped to her arm. A crease furrowed his brow, concern shadowing his dark eyes. Then he turned to the other guard. “I’ll take her to the clinic and bring her back. It shouldn’t take long.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“That’s not necessary. I know the way.”

“My instructions are to stay with her.”

Rasheed shrugged. “Fine, but I’m telling you there’s no need.”

With one hand gripping the bloody towel, Nadine stepped outside into the night. Rasheed’s warm scent instantly swamped her, mingling with the aroma of the island’s flowers. She walked beside him down the flagstone path, attuned to his every movement, and wanting desperately to speak. But she couldn’t do that until they were alone.

Palm fronds rustled in the breeze. The heat had fallen with the setting sun, and the air sang with the calls of insects and the rhythmic pull of the sea. They followed a path leading away from the main residence, a pink coral mansion with beautiful arched porticoes and terraces brimming with flowers. But despite the lanterns marking the way, she couldn’t see much beyond the path, certainly not enough to plot her escape. The vegetation was too dense.

Instead, she sneaked a furtive glance at Rasheed. He moved with quiet strides, his obvious strength both reassuring and unbalancing her somehow. And once again, questions tumbled through her mind, that nagging curiosity about him she couldn’t quite manage to quell. Why had he started investigating her father? Why had he spent years living with terrorists, witnessing who-knew-what kind of crimes? Had it just been his job? Was he doing it out of a sense of patriotic duty? Or did he have another reason he hadn’t named? And what had caused that terrible anguish she kept seeing in his eyes, that agony he couldn’t hide?

Did it matter? She tugged her gaze away. Because frankly, despite the way he’d kissed her, despite his attempts to shield her from harm, she couldn’t weave fantasies around this man. He was here on a mission. He had a job to do. He’d made that abundantly clear. She couldn’t afford to lose focus, couldn’t afford to do anything that would endanger her safety—or his. One inadvertent slipup, one incautious glance and they both could wind up dead.

Suddenly another guard appeared on the path. In one hand he gripped a rifle, in the other a leash attached to a growling German shepherd dog. The man’s neck bore the snake tattoo.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

The guard behind them spoke up. “The clinic. The woman cut herself and needs a bandage.”

The man shifted his gaze to her. His eyes narrowed on her face, then inched over her body, his blatant sexual appraisal causing a shudder to work up her spine. But thankfully, he stepped aside. “Go ahead.”

Grateful for Rasheed’s presence, she hurried past. Maybe he couldn’t take on the entire drug cartel, but it helped having him at her side. Still, she didn’t breathe easier until they reached the clinic, a white, one-story stucco building with cement steps.

“I’ll stay here,” the guard who’d escorted them announced. He pulled out a cigarette and lit up, then leaned against the side of the building, launching puffs of smoke into the night.

Nadine went up the steps and entered the clinic. She took in the empty receptionist’s desk, the vacant chairs lined against the wall, the absolute silence pervading the room. The lights were on, but no one seemed to be around. Just past the desk was a door labeled
Privado.

She motioned to Rasheed. “Back here.” Taking the lead, she entered a short, deserted hallway. She walked to the end, glancing into the empty examination rooms on either side, then passed through another door. It was a small pre-op or recovery area, complete with a chair and bed. Beyond that was the operating theater itself. Once inside, she stopped and glanced around.

She had to admit she was impressed. The room was surprisingly modern with an operating bed and lamps, an autoclave to sterilize equipment and a computer on a small, wheeled desk. A sterile supply cabinet took up one wall. On another was a built-in mass spectrometer and a status indicator for a generator.

She raised a brow. “Whoever built this knew what he was doing. They even have a backup generator.”

“They probably need it. Power goes out a lot on an island like this.”

Still skimming the room, she gave him a nod. The room was state-of-the-art—testimony to the drug cartel’s enormous wealth. If the doctor was any good, Leila would be fine.

Rasheed motioned toward her arm. “So what’s really going on?”

She met his eyes. His black hair gleamed in the harsh, artificial light, the white walls and floor tiles making the dark tone of his skin more pronounced. Trying to keep her mind off the way he made her pulse jump, she sighed. “I wanted to see the clinic. My sister-in-law, Leila, is here. Sultan’s wife. She’s having surgery tomorrow.”

“Here? What kind of surgery?” He sounded as skeptical as she felt.

“Facial reconstruction work.” She filled him in on what she’d learned. “It’s hard to say what my brother’s up to. There might not even be any surgeon.” It would be typical of him to make Leila suffer by building up her hopes and then dashing them again.

Rasheed rubbed his jaw, his eyes turning thoughtful now. “Some men just arrived from the mainland on the weekly supply boat. The doctor could be one of them.”

“If so, I’d like to find out who he is and where he studied and did his training. Not that it makes much difference. She intends to go through with the surgery no matter what. But I’d like to reassure myself. And I figured this was an excuse to see the island, to try to find a way out.”

“Yeah, about that.” He speared his hand through his damp hair. “Listen, Nadine. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in this kind of danger. I didn’t know your brother was here.”

“I know. It’s not your fault.”

“Sure it is. I asked you to stick around. I promised I’d keep you safe. And instead, I delivered you right into your family’s hands. You’d be halfway home by now if it weren’t for me.”

“I knew there was a risk. And there’s no way you could have predicted that he’d be here. So this really isn’t your fault.”

He shook his head. “Regardless, I’ve got a plan. The supply boat leaves—”

The rapid thud of approaching footsteps cut him off. Tensing, Nadine spun toward the door as it flew open and banged against the wall. Her brother strode in, carrying a box.

He came to a halt. His eyes narrowed, his gaze skipping to Rasheed, then back. “What are you doing here?”

“I cut my arm.” She lifted it up as proof. “I was looking for some bandages and ended up in here.”

His eyes still suspicious, he walked over to the sterile storage cabinet and unlocked the door. Then he placed the box inside. “Look in the cupboard over there.”

Nodding, she opened another cupboard, and pulled out some sterile gauze. Striving for an offhand tone, she turned around. “I talked to Leila, by the way. I heard she’s having surgery tomorrow.”

Sultan shrugged. “She needs it. She’s getting ugly. Her cheeks are all caved in, so she’s having implants to fill them out.”

Nadine’s face burned. She opened her mouth, then snapped it closed, biting back a nasty reply. She couldn’t afford to antagonize him if she wanted to intercede on Leila’s behalf.

“Who’s doing it?” she asked instead.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters. The surgeon is important. Leila said he’s a specialist?”

He snorted. “Now where would she have gotten that idea?” He locked the supply cabinet door with a shrug. “He’s a doctor from one of the villages, that’s all. He came over on the supply boat tonight. They call him
El Carnicero
. The butcher.”

Her jaw dropped. She stared at her despicable brother, outrage robbing her of words. Of course he’d lied to his wife. Later he’d deny that he ever mentioned a specialist, insisting she’d imagined it. He’d even deny that the surgery was his idea. And if the operation went badly, and Leila ended up even more deformed, he’d find a way to blame it on her.

It took all Nadine’s effort to moderate her voice. “I’ll do it. I’ll do the surgery tomorrow.”

One black brow lazily rose.
“You?”

“Why not? I’m a plastic surgeon. I can do a better job than some jungle quack. I take it you have the implants?”

He nodded toward the storage locker. “They’re in that container.”

“I’ll check them out. The other doctor can assist me if he wants and help with the anesthesia, but I’m taking the lead.” If nothing else she could minimize the scarring and make sure an infection didn’t set in. She shot him a pointed glance. “I assume you want your wife to survive.”

“Of course.” His lips slid into a smirk. A gleam of barely veiled triumph lit his eyes. “Be here by eight o’clock.”

He turned his attention to Rasheed. “Take her back to her room now. The evening patrols have started. The guards have their instructions—shoot first, ask questions later. I’d hate to lose you before your job is done.” He spun on his heel and left.

Nadine’s stomach seethed. She realized her hands were trembling from the effort it took to keep her anger in check. She despised that man. He deserved to be behind bars. And that’s exactly where she intended to put him, before this ordeal was done.

“You know he manipulated you into that,” Rasheed said slowly.

She pushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes. “I know.”

“Any idea why?”

She made a face. “Who knows? He likes to play mind games with people. It’s his way of controlling what they do. Maybe the idea amused him. Or maybe he intended for me to do the surgery all along. I don’t know. And honestly, I don’t care. I’m more worried about Leila and making sure she gets through this all right.”

“There’s just one problem.”

“What?”

“I met with the other agent, the one I was telling you about who’s embedded with the drug cartel. He can sneak you on board the supply boat, but it leaves at dawn. That’s the only way we can get you off the island before it’s too late.”

“But what about the investigation, the attack? I thought you needed information from me.”

“I did. I do. But having your brother here changed things. It’s too dangerous for you to stay. The supply boat leaves first thing in the morning. We need to get you aboard before then. I’m still ironing out the details, but that’s the plan.”

Undecided, she chewed her lip. She couldn’t deny that she was tempted. Rasheed was offering her the perfect way out, a chance to escape Sultan.