Eye of the Beholder Page 7

  His arms looked as strong as they had felt. His wrists and forearms were thick with masculine ridges of muscle and sinew, dusted by a thin covering of pale brown hair. At the neck of his T-shirt, Glenna saw the glint of a metal chain. In the center of his chest, the damp fabric clung to the outline of his dog tags. Had she really touched him yesterday? Crawled over him and begged him to touch her? Sometimes the memory seemed unreal, like a snatch of a fevered dream.

  Still, no one could deny that he had a physically attractive body. He was tall, broad shouldered, slim hipped, and tautly muscular. He could move with startling speed or loose-limbed ease. The strength he had displayed over the past day would have made any female’s pulse flutter, whether she was half crazy with fear or not.

  “Don’t you need to rest, Rafe?” she asked.

  “I’m resting now,” he replied. “We’ll wait an hour until it starts to cool down, then we’ll move.”

  He really was an incredible man, she thought. Was there no limit to his endurance? After his efforts to get them both away from Juarez, he had to have been near exhaustion when they’d finally stopped this morning, yet he hadn’t rested. He’d used the winch on the front of the jeep to pull the vehicle off the track and conceal it in the undergrowth. He’d found this hidden glade, but he’d no sooner brought her here than he’d been off again, scouting the area. He’d used an empty rum bottle that had been in the jeep to bring her a drink of water, then had gone in search of food.

  Throughout it all, he’d returned to check on her every few minutes. Protecting her. Keeping her safe. Just the way a hero should.

  He took another bite of the mango, his jaw flexing as he chewed. His eyes were closed, his lashes lying motionless in spiky curves. His skin appeared paler than usual, but that might have been because this was the first time she’d studied his face in full daylight. The white scar tissue on his cheek was extensive.

  “Rafe?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How did you…?” She hesitated.

  He licked a drop of juice from his lower lip and opened his eyes. “How did I what?”

  She was curious about how he had got his scars. More than that, she was curious about his attitude toward them. He knew they weren’t pleasant to look at—he’d even referred to them to explain why he wasn’t married or engaged—so why hadn’t he endeavored to have them repaired?

  Ordinarily, she wouldn’t ask such a personal question of someone she’d only just met. But there was nothing ordinary about this situation. And after what they’d shared in the past twenty-four hours, she couldn’t regard him as a stranger. She put her fingertips on his jaw, tracing the edge of the deepest scar. “How did these happen? Was it on a mission?”

  His kept his gaze on a tree across the clearing. “What difference does it make?”

  “None. I just want to know about you.”

  “I’m the soldier who’s going to get you to safety. That’s all you need to know.”

  She dropped her hand. “Next are you going to give me your name, rank and serial number?”

  He finished the mango and flung the pit hard toward the undergrowth. “The track we followed ends in a field about two hundred meters southwest of here. It’s over-grown, looks like it hasn’t been worked in several years, but the going shouldn’t be too bad if we stick to the perimeter. I’ll rig up a crutch for you. Even if we take it slow, we should still be able to cover some distance before nightfall.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “It’s my job.”

  “No, I mean why are you treating me like a stranger?”

  “We are strangers, Glenna. I think it would be best if we both remember that.”

  “You’re wrong, Rafe. After what we’ve gone through together, I know you. I can’t remember ever feeling this sense of…connection with any other man.”

  He turned his head, finally meeting her gaze. “That’s because you’ve never been shot at and held prisoner before. You’re just grateful to me for rescuing you. You’ll feel differently once we’re out of here.”

  She didn’t believe that. “Have you ever kissed a woman you rescue?”

  “No. And I shouldn’t have this time.”

  “Didn’t you like it?”

  Sudden heat flared in his eyes. “You know damn well I did. I liked kissing you and I liked every damn thing we did. Any sane red-blooded man would. But the subject’s closed. End of discussion. Eat your mango.”

  Because she was hungry, she took a bite. She continued to study him, not bothered in the least by his outburst. If anything, the outburst had reassured her that what she’d felt had been real. “You don’t like people getting close to you, do you, Rafe?”

  “Glenna…”

  “I know what that’s like because I do that, too. Or at least, I used to. Would you like to know the last time I kissed anyone?”

  “No, I would not.”

  “I had to think about it a while, but it was New Year’s Eve last year. I was overseeing the gala in the Winston grand ballroom and Abernathy Black, the executive director of the chain, had too much champagne. We had gone to the theater a few times before that, so I suppose he thought I wouldn’t mind, but he’d also had too much garlic shrimp.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and let his head thud back against the tree trunk.

  “Before that, it was a stockbroker I met at one of my mother’s dinner parties. I think his name was Clifford something. I’d gone out to the garden to get some air and he seemed to think it was expected of him. I couldn’t blame him, since that’s why my mother had invited him. She considers it her duty to set her only child up with eligible bachelors from her circle. I don’t know why.”

  “I do not want to hear about your love life.”

  “I already told you, I don’t have one. There’s no room in my day planner for that.” She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her cheek on her knee. “I wonder if she’s worried about me.”

  “Who?”

  “My mother. Her health has always been delicate.”

  “Your immediate family would have been notified before the news media broadcast the story.”

  “The news…” She inhaled sharply. “I hadn’t even thought about that. There would be reporters on the grounds, and strange people calling the house. My God, she’ll be so upset by the scandal. She hates scandal.”

  “It sounds as if your family is well-off.”

  “My mother prefers to call it ‘comfortable,’ but yes, the Vanderhayden family is wealthy.”

  “You said your name is Hastings.”

  “My full name is Glenna Hastings Vanderhayden.” She pulled her knees more tightly to her chest. “I don’t use the family name.”

  “Why not?”

  She hesitated. This was a topic she never discussed. If someone asked, her standard explanation was that she used Hastings as her professional name so that her career could be independent from her family. It was a reasonable explanation—even her mother seemed to believe it. In nine years, Glenna had never told a soul the truth.

  But here in the clearing, with borrowed army boots on her feet and her designer silk suit ripped into a rag to hold her pants up, it seemed ludicrous to lie in order to keep up appearances. Yesterday she had prayed for a chance to put the past behind her. She could start now. “I didn’t want to use my father’s name,” she said. “I didn’t want anything from him.”

  Rafe lifted one eyebrow in a silent question.

  “We had…a difference of opinion.”

  “Is that what rich people call it? Where I come from, we’d call it a fight.”

  “I’m not rich, Rafe. I didn’t take any Vanderhayden money when I left home. I used the organizational skills I learned while growing up to work my way into the career I have now. I’ve earned every penny I have. I’m good at what I do.”

  “What was the ‘difference of opinion’ about?”

  Again she hesitated. It was far easier to ask Rafe personal que
stions than to have the tables turned. She pushed one hand into her hair, absently working to unsnarl a tangle. “I didn’t like the way he treated my mother.”

  “Did he abuse her?”

  She heard a note of restrained anger in his voice. She’d come this far, she might as well tell him everything. “Not physically. He abused her trust and her emotions by having affairs with other women. I was thirteen when I forgot to knock on his office door and witnessed firsthand what he did.”

  Rafe paused. “That must have been a shock.”

  Unbidden, an image sprang to her mind. Two people writhing on a couch, their bare limbs entwined. The pretty, perfectly made-up face of the nice Miss Thompson who taught tennis at the club was regarding her smugly while Glenna’s father scrambled to pull up his pants.

  “He swore he couldn’t help himself,” she said, shoving the image away. “He claimed he was born with a passionate nature and fell in love too easily. He didn’t see the destruction he caused when he indulged his feelings. He didn’t care that I had to hide the liquor bottles from my mother and put her to bed and answer her mail and lie to their friends. He hid behind the family name and money until…” She took a deep breath as the old pain stirred.

  “What happened?” Rafe asked.

  “He died of a heart attack nine years ago when I was away at college. He’d been in bed with the daughter of his best friend, a woman younger than me.” She took her hand from her hair and covered her eyes. “She’d been engaged. The wedding was canceled, of course, but the real reason was hushed up by both families. Then while I was dealing with the lawyers and making the funeral arrangements my mother polished off a magnum of champagne and overdosed on sleeping pills. The only way I got her into therapy was by threatening to tell everyone the truth.”

  “That must have been rough,” he said quietly

  “She’s doing much better now, even though she still has health problems because of the years of drinking. I don’t see her as often as I should, but she keeps busy with her friends and her charities.”

  “I meant it must have been rough on you.”

  “It taught me what happens when passion gets mistaken for love. People get hurt. But the worst of it was that when I was a child, I’d idolized my father. He’d been so much fun. I’d wanted to be just like him. He’d been…” She bit her lip. She’d been about to say that her father had been her hero. He had. Her disillusionment in him had made her lose her faith in heroes.

  Until Rafe had swept her into his arms and proved that not all men were the same.

  She dropped her hand and looked up at him. “I’m twenty-nine years old, Rafe. I’ve spent the past sixteen years making sure that I’m not like my father. That’s why I don’t use his name and I don’t have a love life. But when I felt that hijacker push his gun barrel against my throat yesterday, I realized I was wrong. Life is too short to waste.”

  “You can’t keep thinking like that, Glenna. Life does go on.”

  “And that’s the hard part? Is that what you were going to say? You told me that before.”

  He jabbed his arm outward to gesture to the clearing around them. “All of this is temporary. You won’t feel the same when you get home. Once you have a decent meal and a good night’s sleep, everything’s going to look different.”

  She looked into his eyes, feeling the warmth of his vivid blue gaze steady her. “No, Rafe. I think I’m seeing more clearly now than I ever have before.”

  He swore under his breath and braced his hand on the tree trunk. “We have to get moving.”

  “You said we were going to rest. Is the hour up?”

  “Not yet. I don’t want to wait.”

  She caught his wrist before he could get to his feet. “Why? Because you don’t want to talk to me?”

  “No. Because when Juarez finds out that your family is rich, he’s going to pull out all the stops to find you.”

  “What?”

  “He’s got the local cops in his pocket and probably some powerful friends in the Rocaman government. With a drug operation as big as what he has going here, he might have the local population on his payroll, too. If he calls in all his markers, he could have an army on our trail.” He stood, then caught her elbow and helped her up. “You might not think a special events planner for the Winston Hotel chain is a prize, but I’d bet that Glenna Hastings Vanderhayden is.”

  “Oh, God. I hadn’t even thought of that.”

  “It’s not your job to think of that. It’s mine.” He slung the strap of the rifle over his shoulder and checked the clearing for any signs of their presence. He picked up the rum bottle they were using for water. “Are you okay with this

  Surprised that he’d ask her opinion, she nodded. “If you think we should go now, I won’t argue.”

  “No, I mean using the liquor bottle. Because of your mother.”

  His consideration brought another lump to her throat. It shouldn’t have surprised her. No matter how gruff he acted, he was the most sensitive man she’d ever met. She shook her head. “I have to deal with liquor as part of my job. It’s not going to send me into hysterics.”

  He shoved the bottle into a side pocket on his good leg and stepped into the trees. A few minutes later there was a sharp cracking sound and he reemerged with a stout branch about a yard and a half long. He stripped off the twigs and leaves as he returned to her side, then picked up what was left of her skirt and wrapped it around the forked end. “You can used this for extra support.”

  She took the improvised crutch and tucked it under her arm. “Thank you.”

  He fitted himself to her side and put his arm around her waist. Moving carefully over the uneven ground, he guided them forward.

  Chapter 6

  Rafe found the stream just before sunset. At the time he’d thought it was the first stroke of good luck they’d had. Even though the vegetation along the bank was more difficult to push through and the damp ground made the footing trickier, it was shallow enough in places to walk right down the center. Following the streambed for a while would throw off anyone tracking them. The cold water had to be spring fed, so he wouldn’t have to find someplace else to refill their water bottle. And once they stopped for the night, he could use the cool water to bring down his fever.

  It was getting worse faster than he’d anticipated. He’d done his best to keep himself hydrated throughout the heat of the day, but his mouth felt like cotton wool. His sense of balance was deteriorating. Every muscle in his body was screaming for rest, but he had forced himself to stick to the pace he’d set, ten minutes on, ten minutes off. Each yard they advanced was one yard closer to getting Glenna to safety.

  No, not simply Glenna. Glenna Hastings Vanderhayden, he reminded himself. Only daughter of wealthy parents. Raised with money and privilege. No wonder he’d thought she had the look of royalty the first time he’d seen her.

  Considering her upbringing, it was amazing that she was continuing to function without any complaints. He’d been taking as much of her weight as possible while they walked, but he could tell by the pinched lines at the corners of her mouth that her ankle must be giving her hell by now. Yet the trust in her eyes when she looked at him hadn’t faded.

  And so he continued to lie. He couldn’t let her know how bad off he was. From what he’d already seen of Glenna’s character, it was a safe bet that she’d refuse to go any further if she was aware that every step for him was a struggle.

  Being responsible had come early to Glenna. She’d only been a kid when she’d taken on the duty of caring for her alcoholic. She hadn’t complained about that, either. When they got out of here, she’d probably regret confiding the family secrets to him. He already wished she hadn’t done it. How was he supposed to regard her as part of his job when the more he learned about her, the more he…liked her.

  Another half mile, and then they would call it a day, he promised himself. Then he wouldn’t have to feel the pain that knifed into his thigh from his wound. He wouldn�
�t have to feel the gentle bump of Glenna’s hip rubbing against his. The curve of her breast wouldn’t brush his fingertips when he curled his hand around her midriff to help her over an obstacle. Her hair wouldn’t tickle his chin, her scent wouldn’t tease his senses, her murmured snatches of conversation wouldn’t set up vibrations in his chest…

  Glenna shrieked. That was all the warning Rafe had before he felt her full weight slam into his side. He was having enough trouble keeping himself upright. He made a valiant effort to recover his footing, but the ground was no longer level. He clasped Glenna to his chest to cushion her fall as they went over backwards.

  He splashed hard on his butt in the center of the stream. Rafe waited for the trees around him to steady, but they didn’t. At first he thought the sensation of motion was just another dizzy spell. Then he realized they were sliding downhill.

  Before he could react, the streambed became a mossy slope. Leaves from overhanging branches slapped his forearms and head as they picked up speed. Glenna shrieked again and twisted in his arms. She reached out to grab for the branches that whipped past, but they ripped from her grasp.

  Rafe dug in his heels, trying to slow their descent, but it was no use. The slope turned vertical. Their momentum carried them through a thicket of ferns and over the lip of an embankment.

  With disbelief, Rafe realized they were airborne. He curled around Glenna, trying to shelter her from the inevitable landing. She pressed her face to his shoulder and hooked her arms around his neck, clinging to him as they hurtled downward.

  The impact wasn’t as hard as he’d feared. They landed in water.

  Silence closed around them as they sank. He hadn’t realized how accustomed he’d become to the background noises of the forest until they were gone. The light was gone, too. In its place, he saw an image from a nightmare. It took him unawares. Twisted metal, broken glass. And blood in the water, so much blood—