Iris Johansen - Deadlock

"She told you about them? Yes, of course she would. I'm sure you've had lengthy discussions about me."

"Not lengthy. And Irana would tell you every word if you asked her. She'd regard anything else as a personal betrayal."

"I believe you. She's very honest. I like her very much."

"So do I. She's been a good friend to me."

"And you to her. That hospital must have been hugely expensive."

"It only cost me money. She saved my neck. I regarded it as pay¬back. I'd say that I came out way ahead."

"You said she treated you for bullet wounds?"

He nodded. "She found me on the beach near St. Cecelia's, the hospital where she was doing her internship at the time. She wanted to take me to the hospital, but I told her that she'd be signing my death warrant. It was the truth. Banaro was right behind me, and I'd have been a sitting duck if I had let her take me up there and sedate me."

"Banaro?"

"Luis Banaro. You might call him a competitor. I'd trespassed into his territory and acquired a statue that he regarded as his property. He wanted to set an example."

"A smuggler?"

"Among other things."

"And she didn't take you to the hospital?"

"No, she took me to a cottage owned by her friend and treated me herself. Then she went back to the hospital and spoke to the Mother Superior. She told her everything. She was ordered to bring me to the hospital and report the gunshot wounds to the police." His lips twisted. "Which was the honorable and proper thing to do. But it would have meant that I'd have been dead meat. Irana refused and left the order."

"Because of you?"

"I was the catalyst. Irana swears that she'd been searching her soul for answers for years."

"You don't believe her?"

"Sometimes." He made a face. "I guess I just don't like being a cat¬alyst."

"I don't think she'd lie to you. And she's happy here." "Yes. It would be hard not to be happy here. That's why I brought you to the island."

"Because it's beautiful?"

"And because when you're choking on ugliness, you need to strike a balance."

"Does it strike a balance with you?"

"Most of the time. I thought it was worth a shot." He gazed out at the water. "We'll get started searching for Staunton soon. I know you've probably been thinking about it."

"Yes, I have."

"One more day. I have some preparations I have to make with Dardon and Irana."

She looked at him in surprise. "That's not what I expected you to say when you came to the front door growling at me."

"I didn't expect you to look like that. Irana was full of optimism, and the picture she painted wasn't the woman who met me at the door. I didn't like it. I wanted you totally normal."

"Do you think I don't? That's not realistic. I thought I could bounce back, but it's not happening. I'm taking one step at a time." She gazed directly into his eyes. "And I'm done with your pampering, Gar¬rett. I'm not going to fall apart and get us both killed. I'll take whatever I have to take."

"One more day," he repeated. He stood up and held out his hand to help her to her feet. "I'll talk to Irana tomorrow morning. Okay?"

He didn't release her hand and his grasp was warm and strong. It made her feel safe.

No, not really safe.

Strike a balance he had said. Ugliness and beauty. The feeling of be¬ing surrounded by his strength balanced against the tingling awareness of danger she always felt when she was with him. Even now, as she gazed up at him, she was conscious of the dark glitter of his eyes, the slight tension of his body.

And the heat. The same heat that had warmed her, healed her when he'd pressed his naked body to her own that night in the helicopter.

Only it wasn't the same, it was more intense, more…

She pulled her hand away and stepped back. "Okay. Not that it would do me any good to object, would it? You do what you like."

"If I did what I liked, you wouldn't be going back into that cot¬tage alone." He smiled faintly. "There's more than one way to fight off nightmares. Want to try a few?" Then he suddenly frowned. "Dammit, I didn't mean to say that."

She stiffened. And she hadn't expected him to say it, to put into words the sexual tension that was vibrating between them. It took her off guard. "Sex?" she blurted. "Is that part of the deal?"

His frown deepened. "I don't recall a deal. I made you a promise." He turned away. "And just now I made a suggestion, not a demand. I buy whores when they're selling. I don't try to make any woman into one." He looked over his shoulder, his lips taut. "But you thought about 'the deal' the minute I mentioned going to bed. Tell me, Emily, what would you have said if I'd said yes?"

She was silent a moment. "I'd do anything to make sure I got Staunton."

"Shit."

He strode off into the darkness.

Emily stood gazing after him. He was moving with an almost elec¬tric energy, his strides long and purposeful. Totally male, full of anger, full of power. She couldn't take her eyes off him. He was angry with her, and yet she had only told the truth. You wouldn't think a man as mature and clearly sexual as Garrett would have reacted in that way.

But what did she know about how he would react to anything? They were still strangers, and the bond she felt with him was as bizarre as everything else connected with their relationship. Actually, they had no real relationship. He wasn't tied to her in any way but the tenuous threads of his sympathy, his desire to help. Perhaps that was why she had jumped to that conclusion about sex. Maybe subconsciously she had wanted to tie him closer, make his reasons for helping her stronger.

Lord, she hoped that wasn't the truth. She didn't want to believe that Staunton had twisted her to that extent.

She tore her gaze from Garrett and started toward the cottage.

GARRETT WAS SWEARING BENEATH his breath with every step.

Damn, he should never have gone down to the cottage to see Emily. There had been no real reason. He could have been patient and let her come to him.

Except he didn't seem to have any patience where Emily was con¬cerned. He had wanted to see her and had blindly obeyed the impulse. He'd been clumsy from the moment she had opened the door until he'd tried to lure her into bed. Hell, half the time he was aching with sympathy, and the other half his aching had nothing to do with pity. He hadn't even known he was going to proposition her until the words had tumbled from his lips. She was still the walking wounded. It was on par with all the wild mixture of emotions he had felt for Emily from that first moment. Pity, respect, protectiveness, and now lust.

Well, they would have to work their way through it. But, dammit, he should have kept his mouth shut.

He glanced back at the beach as he reached the house.

Emily had already gone into the cottage, and her lamp was turned off. Good. He hoped one of them would get a good night's sleep. He wasn't at all sure that he would be-

His cell phone rang and he glanced at the ID display. Private number. He punched the button. "Garrett."

"How do you do, Mr. Garrett? It's a pleasure to be able to contact you. I've had to go to a good deal of trouble to track you down."

Smooth, mellow, deep voice. Australian accent.

He stiffened. "Who the hell is this?"

"Just a friend of Emily's. I'm sure she told you about me. It was a short acquaintance but very intimate." "Staunton?"

"You see, she did tell you about me. How is the sweet bitch? I can't tell you how I've missed her."

"How did you know that she was with me?"

"Well, I knew she wasn't with the CIA, so I went looking for the man who took her away from me. As I said, it was difficult. I had to sift through all kinds of stories and false trails. But I'm a persistent man. I located Karif Barouk here in the mountains. He's such a good friend to you. It took a long time for me to get him to tell me who he told the location of my camp."