The Impossible Alliance Page 7

  She winced as a high-pitched electronic whine sliced through her ear—and then there was nothing but silence. She reached up as discreetly as she could and cupped her right ear, tucking the tip of her index finger inside to tap the center of her concha. Again, nothing. The hearing aid was dead.

  She was completely deaf on her right side.

  The vertigo returned and not because of the coma.

  Or him.

  “—ur yo— —kay?”

  Hell, no. She nodded, anyway, taking advantage of Jared’s distraction as he stopped to adjust the ruck, and slipped around to his right side, affording him her left ear. The only hearing ear she had left. “I can take a turn with the ruck.”

  His gaze snapped to hers. With the clouds nearly gone, moon and starlight bled across the sky, glinting off the disbelief in his gaze. “You’re still shaking.”

  So she was. She’d gotten so used to the chills she hadn’t noticed. “I’ll live. You, however, may not. I should look at that leg for you, too.”

  “My leg is fine—the tourniquet should hold. We’ll just need to stop every ten minutes so I can release the pressure.” He reached under his arm and pulled the water-logged GPS unit from the side pocket of his ruck. Unlike her hearing aid, the unit appeared to have survived their dunking unscathed. He switched off the GPS and tucked it home before reaching down to draw her hands into his. The chills struck again as he plucked the Mag tubing from her hands. “This, by the way, was brilliant.”

  Yeah, right. That was why she was half-deaf and almost frozen solid. He tucked the tubing into his pocket and rubbed his hands up and down the arms of her soggy sweater. They both knew his efforts were futile. The brisk Rebelian spring breeze of just twenty minutes ago now resembled an arctic chill, at least to her.

  She swayed as the next wave hit.

  He grabbed her before she hit the forest floor and hauled her close, pressing her good ear into his shoulder. Despite the companionable truce that settled in while they were trapped at the bottom of the lake, she stiffened.

  “Dammit, Jared, I’m n-nowhere near fainting a-g-gain.”

  He pulled away, but only by inches. “The hell you aren’t.” He pressed his hand into the curve of her neck, then slid his palm beneath the collar of her sweater. “Your body temperature is practically nonexistent.”

  He was right.

  Not to mention that the goose bumps and chills appeared to have set in for the count. But that was one more reason why they should get moving, regardless of who carried the ruck. Before her chattering teeth chattered right out of her mouth. “I n-n-need t-t-to m-move.” To her relief, he didn’t argue.

  But he did slide his arm around her shoulders as he turned and pointed them in the right direction. “Take it easy. Slow and steady.”

  His warm breath washed her ear as they cleared a fallen tree stump together. She must be worse than she thought, because even that didn’t heat her. Neither did the steady gaze he shot her. Five minutes later she knew she was in trouble. They both were. Not only was she beginning to doubt she could make it on her own, but given the blood staining the entire leg of Jared’s jeans as they pressed on, she knew he wouldn’t get far if he had to carry her, either.

  Dammit, keep moving. Don’t give up. Never give up. But the chills were getting worse. So was the annoying chattering. Another minute and neither mattered. Neither did her determination. Regardless of what she’d said back at that lake, she was going to pass out again and it was going to happen—

  Now.

  She was naked.

  Alex remained absolutely motionless as the realization splintered through the fog still clogging her brain. She had no idea why she was naked, much less how she’d gotten that way. But she was definitely nude. Except…it didn’t make sense.

  She never slept in the raw.

  Reduced to depending on her normal ear—the ear she was currently lying on—she concentrated on other senses to pick up the slack. Soft. Whatever she was lying on, was soft.

  No, it was hard. At least part of it was.

  Warm.

  And her breath, that was warm, too. But for some reason, her slow exhalation seemed to be wafting back to her own cheeks, mingled with the musky scent of…someone else?

  She stiffened.

  An excruciating second later, she realized that something else had stiffened, too. And that thing was now pressing directly, blisteringly, into her equally bare thigh.

  Jared.

  Good Lord, she was naked. And so was he.

  What the devil had happened?

  The floodgates in her brain slammed open as the memories came roiling back, jumbled together as they ripped though the fog. The castle, the chopper, the rescue, her hearing aid. His wound! She jerked her eyes open and forced her gaze to focus as she shot up right on the bed. She tore the thermal blanket and sheet from their bodies and grabbed the muscular arm that’d fallen from her waist to her hips, hauling the man’s forearm to her chest as she leaned over his injured thigh, terrified she’d find the mattress beneath soaked with blood.

  But…there wasn’t any.

  In fact, except for a spattering of dried, brown flecks, the bleached sheet beneath was completely devoid of blood. So was he. She stared at the six-inch diagonal cut slicing across his hamstring, well down into his inner thigh, thoroughly bemused. Not because the wound had already been sealed, but at how it had been sealed. She couldn’t spot a single stitch. It was as if someone had pulled the raw, puckered edges together and sealed the gash with a massive squirt of superglue. Better yet, it looked a lot like—

  “Dermabond.”

  She froze. Blinked. A split second later she realized exactly where his hand was, exactly where she’d shoved it in her panic, and flushed. He was awake. Idiot! Of course the man was awake. She’d just ripped the covers off his body, exposing his entire length to what appeared to be mid-morning rays of sunlight burning in through the cabin’s partially shuttered windows.

  Just as she’d exposed hers.

  The fire scorching her cheeks and neck spread down to her breasts, increasing her humiliation and, unfortunately, the intensity of her blush. She tugged her gaze up just in time to watch that amber glow follow her flush lower—until it settled on his hand. Her blush deepened as the amber simmered and darkened, as the ridge pushing against her thigh grew harder.

  He released her breast.

  But then he just waited. For what she had no idea. Nor did she have a clue about how to extricate herself tactfully.

  As it was, her head was still swimming, her thoughts still churning and her hold on her equilibrium once again tenuous from sitting up too fast. She swallowed firmly as she worked to regain balance, determined to ignore the scorchingly intimate ridge between them, as well as the strands of inky silk that hung past the man’s shoulders, slipping down to shadow the thick muscles of his chest and arms. She ignored the masculine nipples beneath, as well as the answering pucker the sight caused in her own. Most of all, she ignored that toe-curling, smoky scent.

  She focused on the gold chain around his neck, instead. On the matching medallion nestled in the dusky crevice between his pecs. Until she felt his gaze on her face.

  This time she waited.

  The irony of waking in this man’s arms twice in a row, much less the reversal of her leaning over his body, wasn’t lost on her. At least this time, she’d realized almost immediately that he had to have been motivated by medicine. She finally dragged her gaze to his.

  His brow lifted.

  “I was, ah, checking out your…leg.”

  He nodded. So solemnly she couldn’t be sure if he’d caught the gaffe. “I apologize if my…leg…has embarrassed you.”

  He had. The rat.

  She straightened her spine and stared directly into his eyes. “No embarrassment. I’m sure the lingering stiffness is normal, given the circumstances.” She frowned slightly, feigning concern as she dared to let her gaze drift low, but not too low. “Though it does
appear painful.”

  The hint of a smile ghosted across his lips as she returned to his face. “Touché.”

  She awarded the next point to him as the man calmly pushed the edges of the thermal blanket and sheet into her hands and sat up, oblivious to his birthday suit as he swung his legs to the floor. He hooked his right hand to the bunk bed above them and stood. She tugged the covers over her breasts and bit down on her bottom lip as that sinewy rear end sauntered across the wooden slats that formed the one-room cabin’s floor. She studied the gash beneath as Jared reached the pine crates stacked in the corner, three feet from a cold, potbellied stove. She held her breath as he hunkered down, exhaling only when she was convinced the Dermabond would hold.

  She was impressed in more ways than one when it did. So much so, she didn’t bother averting her eyes as he pulled a fresh pair of jeans from the uppermost crate and donned them. She actually missed not being able to hear the telling zip—until he turned. She swallowed a groan.

  That blasted stethoscope.

  Hadn’t she already suffered through this?

  “You know what, Jared? I feel great this morning.”

  He nodded as he padded barefoot across the slats, back to the bed. “That’s good. But I need to check your vitals, anyway.”

  It wasn’t the vitals she had a problem with. It was the check that would follow. Her stitches. Her ear.

  Stunned that she’d been so captivated by the man’s body she hadn’t even thought to double-check her own while his back was turned, she threaded her fingers into her hair. She ran her fingers down the line of stitches before discreetly probing the anatomy around them. She sucked in her breath as Jared took advantage of her distraction to slip the scope’s disk beneath the thermal blanket and sheet.

  She stiffened as his fingers brushed her breast. Gooseflesh rippled down her neck and lower. Humiliation followed.

  “Cold?”

  Not by a long shot. And after their suggestive tit-for-tat, he darn well knew it. She lied, anyway. “Yes.”

  He pulled the disk from her flesh and palmed it briskly. He returned the scope to her breast…along with his dusky fingers. “Better?”

  Worse. “Uh…yeah.”

  He removed the scope again. Seconds later his entire arm scorched into her side and back as he slipped his hand around her naked torso to settle the disk over her ribs. She stared blindly past his shoulder as he leaned closer to close his eyes and listen intently to her lungs. His eyes reopened and, mercifully, he straightened.

  He snagged her wrist.

  She resisted the urge to close her own eyes, cursing her racing heart, instead, as he timed the pulse beneath his fingers.

  “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “A bit fast.”

  You don’t say. “That’s me. Fast.”

  She winced. She knew what he was thinking. What they both were thinking. Sam. Just as she could tell from the way Jared’s gaze shuttered that, like her, he’d been too groggy this morning to remember she was supposed to be his mentor’s girlfriend. He remembered now.

  Guilt bit into her.

  Relief supplanted it as he released her wrist and stood—until his entire body swayed. Jared reached out, but missed the edge of the upper bunk as he fell. She shot up a split second later, her own head connecting with the bunk as she grabbed his arms. But at least she caught him as his knees hit the floor.

  “Careful!”

  She held on tight, supporting him as he closed his eyes and waited for the dizziness to pass. By the time he reopened them, his gaze had focused. But his cheeks and forehead were still tinged with gray. “I’m fine now.”

  “You sure?”

  He nodded. His color was improving. His cheeks were dusky once again.

  She released his arms.

  “Thank you.” The color returned to his lips as they quirked. “I seem to have lost more blood than I thought.”

  “Obviously.” She returned the quirk as she flicked her gaze to the stethoscope. “Maybe I should be listening to your chest.”

  His gaze dropped. Flared.

  His color deepened.

  She was still so rattled it took a moment for her to realize why. The blanket and sheet. She’d dropped them to grab him. They were pooled at her waist and, once again, that gaze was fused to her chest. A chest that had, unfortunately, already responded to the chilly temperature permeating the room.

  Again, she knew exactly what he was thinking. Sam.

  This time humiliation stained Jared’s cheeks, and this time shame escorted the guilt to her own. She’d spun quite a few stories over the years. Woven them into covers so tight no one had ever thought to call her on them. But this one wasn’t right. She stared at the Dermabond-sealed gash marring Jared’s right biceps. The man had taken not one, but two bullets for her. And then he’d brought her out alive. Her uncle would just have to understand.

  She retrieved the sheet and sighed. “I’ve never slept with him. Sam and I are just friends. Very good friends.”

  It was still a lie.

  But at least this one would damn only her.

  From the relief that swept though Jared’s gaze as he met hers, she knew it was the right thing to do, the right thing to say. No matter how many questions the correction might lead to.

  To her surprise, it didn’t lead to any.

  He stood, instead. Slowly this time, cautiously, then headed back to the crates. He tucked the stethoscope into the first-aid pouch, still stained with his dried blood, and set the dark-green bag at the foot of the crates before reaching into the uppermost box. He pulled out another pair of jeans and a sweater similar to the one they’d shared the night before, this one gray. He added a pair of socks and carried the pile to the bed.

  “Put these on.”

  My, my. They did make quite the team, didn’t they? She arched her brow, pointedly waiting for his misplaced manners to show up and slap him in the face.

  “Please.”

  She lowered her brow and held out her hand, inhaling softly as their fingers brushed. Sparks flickered up her arm as she settled the clothes on the bed. She swore he’d felt the rippling charge, too. But from the way he masked his reaction just before he turned and stepped away, he seemed determined not to acknowledge their attraction—to her or himself.

  Why?

  He wasn’t married. In fact, after that phone call in her uncle’s guest room, she knew better than most that he probably wasn’t even involved. Not only that, Jared now knew Sam wasn’t standing between them.

  So what was?

  She pondered the question as she pulled on the sweater, grateful for the thick cotton weave, since it appeared she’d be going braless for the next few days at least. She swung her legs off the bed to slide into the jeans.

  “Done.”

  It wasn’t her imagination. The denial was still there when Jared turned around. It was there when he leaned down at the foot of the bed to scoop up the clothes she’d worn hours before. He carried the damp pile to the table beneath the window and dumped them on one of the matching wooden chairs. The denial continued to linger as he headed back to the crates, shifted the uppermost box and began unloading food supplies into the squat cupboard beside the cabin door.

  Why, dammit?

  She had no intention of acting on their attraction, either, but at least she was willing to acknowledge it. If only to herself. Or was that it? Was she it? Surely the distance he’d carefully placed between them didn’t stem from that brainless comment she’d made in the forest. Except, now that she thought about it, he had seemed preoccupied with her doctoral degrees.

  But she definitely remembered how quickly he’d cut off her subsequent apology. She’d hit a sore spot.

  Was that it? Did he honestly think his GED mattered to her?

  Well, it didn’t. Jared Sullivan might not have a diploma tacked up on his office wall, but he was not a stupid man. She might not have much personal knowledge of that, but she had plenty throug
h her uncle. Sam was sharp. He’d set out years ago to surround himself with operatives who were even sharper. And according to Sam, Jared was as sharp as they came. The thought gave her pause. Enough to reconsider her own position concerning the discussion that had led up to his confession in the first place.

  “Jared?”

  He slid the final can of food onto the cupboard shelf and closed the double doors. “Yes?”

  “Last night when I told you about my meeting with Karl and what he said about this…Gem of Power legend, I got the distinct impression you thought there might be something to it.”

  He stood beside the cupboard, silent for a good ten seconds as he held her gaze, searching it. And then, “Perhaps.”

  Coming from Karl, the assessment had made her laugh. Coming from this man, especially after what they’d been through? It made her shiver.

  He shrugged. “The same American exposé reporter that discovered your location at Veisweimar also uncovered DeBruzkya’s obsession with the same legend. Like I told you last night, Lily is engaged to an ARIES operative by the name of Robert Davidson. According to the debrief I skimmed, Lily and Robert both feel there may be something to it.”

  “I asked what you thought.”

  “I’m withholding judgment—for the moment. I do know that while you were missing, two other ARIES operatives tied a series of jewel heists together. All threads led back to DeBruzkya.”

  Now that was interesting.

  “What’s his preference? Diamonds, emeralds, rubies?”

  “Judging from the thefts, all the above. Plus sapphires and a few others.” He turned to the crates, shifting the empty one to the floor so he could use the crowbar she’d noticed on the table to pry open the next. This crate held their electronic gear. He pulled out a laptop, a radio transmitter and several battery packs, stopping to tip his head as if he’d made a connection. “DeBruzkya didn’t seem interested in pearls, however.”

  “That doesn’t narrow the list by much.”

  Jared shrugged as he set the laptop on the table. “You’re the geologist. That’s where you come in.”

  Great. Her, with her memory currently resembling a porous chunk of volcanic basalt. “Did the thefts reveal any pattern at all? Other than the fact that he’s got a preference for crystals?”