by Cindy Dees
“What do you like?” he muttered.
He was surprised when she actually answered, “In hobbies, I like to surf, hang glide and read. In food, I like a good steak and ice cream in any flavor. In life, I like to be outdoors and feel the sun on my skin. In men, I like honesty.”
He winced. Okay, he probably deserved that. “I haven’t lied to you,” he avowed. “Everything I’ve told you is true.”
“I believe you. However, you’ve also refused to answer even the most basic questions, including the ones that might save your life.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Be straight with me,” she snapped.
Maybe the last day of hell had stripped away some of his self-control. Or maybe he was just too exhausted to fight her any more. But he looked at her intently and appalled himself by admitting, “You’re partially right. I am dependent on medication. But it’s not a recreational drug. It’s therapeutic. And I may very well die if I don’t get more of it. Soon, probably.”
He lifted a hand when she would have interrupted him. She subsided and his hand fell back to the mattress. He winced as a thousand needles pierced the length of his arm.
“I can’t tell you what it is. It’s experimental and it’s a secret. I just need you to trust me.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing, as long as I have my meds.”
Despair gleamed in Jennifer’s gaze. Or maybe that was tears. He couldn’t tell for sure. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s all I can give you.”
She studied him for a long time. It was clear in her eyes that she was absorbing the knowledge that he was, in fact, dying. She finally whispered, “I’d touch you if it wouldn’t make you scream.”
His heart leaped at the idea of her hands on him. He’d love nothing more than for her to touch him when he wasn’t so hypersensitive that air wafting across his skin was nearly unbearable. “I think I can stand it if you’re gentle.”
She reached out with her right hand and laid her palm as lightly as a feather on his cheek. “Tell me if it hurts too much.”
He nodded fractionally under her palm, which was warm and baby soft against his face. Funny to think that the exact same hand had pointed a shotgun at him not too long ago. Her fingertips trailed lightly across the edge of his beard. Traced his brows. Tracked down his temple to curl ever-so-lightly around the shell of his ear. He exhaled carefully. His entire body clenched, but with need, not pain.
The pain actually receded in the face of his driving desire. Had she discovered a remedy for his suffering? If only. Continuous sex with this woman sounded like a great alternative to screaming torture.
“That feels nice,” he breathed.
“Yes, it does,” she agreed with a hint of a smile. She ran her fingers lightly through his shoulder-length hair. “Do you usually wear it this long?”
“Hardly.”
“I’ve seen pictures of you with it short. And without your beard. You’re a handsome man.”
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so pleased that a woman found him attractive. Her simple words pierced his usual defenses against suck-ups and gold diggers as easily as a knife through air. Resolve to cut his hair and shave as soon as possible filled him.
“Please don’t die,” she whispered. “Fight to live.”
Her entreaty sounded real. From the heart. And it broke him. He’d suffered the fiery tortures of Hell in stoic silence, but the idea of hurting this woman was too much for him. He opened his mouth with the intent to tell her everything. But then Jennifer glanced up, frowning, and he tensed. “What?” he bit out.
His usual adrenaline surge in response to a combat threat didn’t come. He must’ve burned out all his available adrenaline fighting the pain. Now he only felt damnably weak. If something bad happened to her because he was too wiped out to protect her, he’d never forgive himself.
“Jet,” she replied cryptically.
“Good guys or bad guys incoming?” he bit out.
“I highly doubt any bad guys know this place exists. Even most of the good guys don’t know we’re here.”
“Do you need to go get your shotgun?” he prompted cautiously.
She pursed her lips. “Anyone who’s been allowed to approach this island so closely has the approval of my superiors or they’d never have made it within visual range of this place.”
Good to know.
“I’m going to go see who it is. You stay put, eh?” she told him.
He smiled, or at least tried to. Hopefully, it didn’t look too much like the grimace it turned into as soon as she left the room. And hopefully, it meant help was on the way for him. He was hanging on by a very thin thread. And when it broke, he had a sinking feeling he was done for good.
* * *
Jennifer guided the golf cart down the path through the trees to the island’s runway. She suspected she knew who was here. If she was right, it wouldn’t do to keep her guest waiting.
Or two guests, as it turned out. She was right about one of them. Leland Winston stepped down onto the tarmac. But Jennifer hadn’t been expecting the drop-dead-gorgeous blonde woman who followed him. Please let that be Leland’s personal assistant and not Jeff’s significant other.
Jennifer stumbled to a halt. Since when did she care if Jeff had a girlfriend who’d rushed to be at his side?
“Ms. Blackfoot?” Leland growled.
“Welcome, Mr. Winston.”
“This is my son’s colleague, Dr. Gemma Jones. She will be taking over my grandson’s medical care henceforth.”
Gemma Jones. G. His drug supplier. Although if Jeff was telling the truth, those drugs were keeping him alive. Did she dare believe him?
In the meantime, she wasn’t about to let Leland Winston bulldoze over her like this. “I haven’t released him into your custody, Mr. Winston. No one does anything to my prisoner until I say so.”
“The President of the United States told me I could see my grandson.”
“And so you may,” she replied evenly. “But my statement still stands.”
Leland shot her an assessing look. She stared back at him, refusing to be the one to break eye contact. She knew the type all too well. Show one millisecond of weakness, and a man like this would leap all over it and eat her alive.
Finally, Leland grinned. “I think I might just like you, girl.”
She grinned back at him. “Shall we? Jeff is waiting for you.” She gestured toward the golf cart, taking the lead. Winston’s flunkies could carry his bags for him. She was not about to be his errand girl.
They arrived at the house and the gorgeous doctor spoke for the first time. “I’ll need to be alone with my patient to examine him.”
The physician’s voice was sultry and smooth and as perfect as the rest of her. It positively set Jennifer’s teeth on edge. She checked herself sharply. She was not in competition with this woman over Jeff. “In the first place, Dr. Jones, he’s not your patient, yet. In the second place, I want a few answers before I allow you to pump more drugs into his system. The ones you’ve given him so far have made a complete wreck out of him.”
“It’s the absence of those medications that have caused the withdrawals,” Gemma replied coolly.
That’s what Jeff said, too. “What are these medications of yours?” Jennifer asked. She was intrigued when Gemma shot a quick glance at Leland, who gave back an infinitesimal negative shake of the head. What was that all about? Her field agent’s finely honed antennae wiggled wildly. There were things these two weren’t telling her and clearly didn’t plan to.
Gemma answered lightly, “They’re prototype medications. The scientific names are long and unpronounceable, I assure you.”
“What, exactly, do they do? What’s wrong with Jeff?” It was hard for Jennifer to keep her voice even and calm, but she was proud of the results of her efforts.
“At the moment, his skeleton is being physically dis
torted by the pull of his overdeveloped muscles. They’re literally pulling his joints apart. That’s what causing him the intense pain.”
Horror flowed through Jennifer. That was…gross. And it sounded excruciating. “And these drugs? They stop his muscles from doing that?”
“Not directly. But it’s close enough for your purposes.”
The good doctor no doubt didn’t intend any insult, but it was hard not to take offense at the faint condescension implicit in the woman’s answer. Her lips pressed tightly shut, Jennifer led both Leland and Gemma through the house to Jeff’s bedroom.
She stepped forward and spoke quietly. “Jeff? You have visitors.”
His eyes fluttered open groggily, no doubt from the powerful narcotics he’d been sucking down like candy. He caught sight of her and smiled sleepily. “Hi, beauti—”
He broke off, staring over her shoulder. “Pops?”
Leland stepped forward. “Hey there, Boy. You look like crap. How’re you feeling?”
“Worse,” Jeff retorted dryly.
“Gemma’s here. She’ll fix you right up.”
“Whoa, there,” Jennifer interjected. “I haven’t okayed these drugs of hers, yet.”
“But you will,” Gemma replied stonily. “Unless you want to watch this man die by agonizing degrees over the next few weeks. This isn’t anywhere near as bad as it’s going to get. When his muscles start breaking his bones, one by one, distorting his fingers into misshapen claws, his ribs slowly being crushed into his lungs and suffocating him by inches, just remember, it will be your fault.”
Jennifer looked down at Jeff for confirmation. She saw it in the fear that flashed in his eyes before he carefully blanked it out. The bitch wasn’t lying.
Jennifer nodded, her neck stiff. “Do it.”
Gemma took charge with all the confident grace Jennifer expected of her. If only the woman were overtly nasty or obnoxious. Then Jennifer could genuinely hate her.
The doctor wasted no time digging into her medical bag. She pulled out a Styrofoam cube about eight inches square. It opened to reveal a vial of vaguely gold-tinted serum. The woman pulled out a hypodermic syringe and loaded it from the vial.
“Hold this.” She thrust the syringe at Leland. Gemma pulled out a length of surgical tubing next. “Normally, Jeff’s veins are of sufficient size that I don’t have to use a tourniquet to bring one up. But he’s so dehydrated at the moment that I don’t see a good one.”
The woman looked up at Jennifer. “Help me hold his arm down. In his current state, this is going to hurt him, and he might jerk.”
“Touching him hurts him,” Jennifer mumbled a little resentfully. “He might scream.”
“Jeff,” Gemma said sternly, “I need you to do your best to hold still. I’m going to give you your meds. Do you understand?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Gemma. I’m not an idiot.”
“I didn’t know if you were lucid.”
Jennifer laid her hands on Jeff’s massive biceps as gently as she could. Wow. Her hands didn’t even come close to spanning the bulge of it. She threw him an apologetic look and she thought a smile passed through his cobalt gaze. Jennifer had to give the doctor credit. Gemma was fast when it came time to put the tourniquet on Jeff’s arm above the elbow. He sucked in a hard breath through his teeth and beads of sweat popped on his brow.
“Lean on me, Jenn,” he gritted out.
She put more pressure on his arm.
“Harder, or I’ll jerk. And I really need this shot.”
Distressed, she made eye contact with him as she put her entire body weight on her hands. She saw the moment the needle pierced his skin because agony exploded in his gaze. “You’re doing great,” she encouraged him. “Almost done.”
Gemma straightened away from the bed and pressed a gauze pad over the site of the injection. “Hold this in place,” she ordered Jennifer.
Jeff’s entire body trembled visibly. And then, abruptly, he went still.
Leland blurted, “What’s wrong?”
Gemma frowned as she reached for Jeff’s neck and the carotid artery there. “I don’t know….”
Jennifer answered the older man, “He’s fainted. Again. The pain was too much for him.”
Gemma’s frown deepened. “Jeff has enormous pain tolerance. You have no idea how high.”
Jennifer snorted. “Yeah, well, he reached the end of that tolerance yesterday. He screamed his head off for hours until I could get some painkillers sent over here.”
“What’s he on?” Gemma demanded.
Jennifer named the narcotic and the dosage it had taken to ease Jeff’s suffering enough to beat back the delirium.
“I told him he shouldn’t go to Africa,” Gemma burst out. It sounded like the comment was directed at Leland. “Until his transformation is permanent, he has no business exposing himself to the possibility of being deprived of his meds. I told him this would happen!”
“You know how stubborn he is, Gem. It was his choice. His consequences. He won’t blame you for this. And neither do I.”
Jennifer’s mind raced. Transformation? That was a fascinating word choice. Abnormal muscle strength? Experimental drugs? What was Jeff? Some kind of freak trying to turn himself into a superhero? Hoping to catch Dr. Jones off guard, Jennifer asked without warning, “What do those drugs do to Jeff’s muscles?”
“Nothing,” Gemma answered, her brows arched in surprise.
Hmm. The woman answered quickly, without hesitation, and more importantly, without exhibiting any of the usual body language tells of a lie. In fact, all the tells pointed at honesty.
“How soon will he feel better?” Jennifer asked.
Gemma considered. “It could be several weeks before he’s back to the normal status quo. He should feel significant relief of pain within a week, I should think, particularly if he stays very still and relaxed.”
“A week?” Jennifer exclaimed. “He’ll be dead from the strain of the pain long before then!”
The doctor looked sharply between her and Jeff. “Just how much pain was he in before the painkillers? Did he actually scream?”
Jennifer answered honestly, “I thought he might die. I was worried his heart would give out under the strain. And yes. He screamed himself hoarse.”
Gemma looked genuinely appalled. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t an entirely bad person, after all. “We’ll continue the narcotic regimen, of course. I’m going to prescribe muscle relaxants, too. And I’ve got an experimental pain receptor blocker that might be helpful with his generalized hypersensitivity. Assuming, of course, that you will approve it, Agent Block-foot.”
Jennifer didn’t correct the blatant mispronunciation of her name. Teeth gritted, she responded tightly, “Anything so I don’t have to listen to him scream for the next week.”
“The medications are in my other bag.” The doctor retreated, leaving Jennifer and Leland alone with Jeff, who was still out cold.
“Mr. Winston, do you have any idea how your grandson ended up in an Ethiopian jail?”
“I imagine it had something to do with the Ethiopian police arresting him.”
“Don’t play games with me,” she snapped. “Your grandson murdered a man during the prisoner exchange and is in a lot of trouble.”
“The way I hear it, Jeff did the world a service by taking out that butcher. Plenty of people in the Ethiopian government—and our government, for that matter—are delighted that El Mari is dead.”
“Nonetheless, the law stands against Jeff on this one.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Leland said dismissively.
“I will? It’s not my problem.”
“But you like him, don’t you? You’ll do your best to help my boy because you can’t help yourself.”
Jennifer reeled back. Excuse me? She liked Jeff Winston? She felt sorry for his suffering. Admired him for his stoic tolerance in the face of overwhelming pain. Perhaps even had a crush on him. But liked him? Uhh, no.
&
nbsp; Leland’s blue eyes, so much like his grandson’s, sparkled with humor. “I see Jeff’s landed himself a wildcat this time. Should be fun to watch the show.” But then his voice dropped in timbre. Changed tone. “A word of warning, young lady. Don’t fall too hard for him. He always moves on. He’ll never settle down in any kind of permanent relationship.”
Chapter 6
When Jeff woke again, the sun slanted into his room from the east. Morning, then. He reached gingerly for his pain and was immeasurably relieved to discover that it had retreated to a dull roar. He still hurt like hell from head to foot, but it was as if the swords piercing him had been dulled just a bit. Enough that he could think past the pain if he concentrated.
His most immediate and pressing problem was a bursting bladder. Moving by slow degrees, he eased himself upright and swung his feet over the side of the bed. Man. He felt like he’d been worked over with baseball bats.
He went to the restroom and then eased on the pair khaki shorts and a soft, cotton polo shirt he found folded on his bathroom counter. He sighed at the simple pleasure of clean clothing that fit him. Now for the kitchen. He could eat a horse right about now.
Were Leland and Gemma still here? He couldn’t tell from the closed bedroom doors ranging down the long hallway.
Thankfully, he wasn’t completely incompetent in a kitchen. He managed to get coffee brewing and bacon sizzling on the stove. He scrambled a half-dozen eggs and was just sliding them onto his plate when Jennifer spoke from behind him.
“Did you make enough of those to share any?”
He looked up to smile a good morning at her, but his breath caught at the sight of her standing in a ray of sunshine streaming in through the kitchen window. She wore a sleeveless gauze dress that fell in a narrow column to her bare feet. Her long, unbound hair glistened iridescently around her like a raven’s feathers, and her answering smile transformed her into an otherworldly beauty.