Jennifer Taylor - Reawakened By The Surgeon's Touch

‘So, are you coming, then? Or are you going to stay there and enjoy the scenery?’

Claire gritted her teeth as she belly-crawled to the cab. She wasn’t going to fall into the unseemly habit of trading insults with him. Fortunately their attackers didn’t appear to know that they had moved because they were still firing at the rear of the truck. It meant they would have surprise on their side when they set off.

Jude gripped her arm as she went to climb into the cab. ‘I want you to get into the footwell and stay there. Understand?’

Claire did understand and she wasn’t happy about it, either. ‘So you can play the all-action hero and get us out of here?’

‘Yes.’ He grinned at her, a lazy, sexy grin that managed to slip past her defences before she realised it. ‘There’s no bigger boost to a guy’s ego than being able to save a damsel in distress, so don’t spoil this for me, sweetheart.’

‘I am not and never shall be your sweetheart,’ she shot back, hunching down so she could scramble aboard the truck without giving the gunmen an easy target.

‘“Never say never” is my motto,’ he replied, putting his hand under her backside to give her a boost up.

Claire would have slapped his face if the situation hadn’t been so dire. Not just for the cocky remark but for manhandling her as well. She shot into the cab, rolling herself into a ball so she could squeeze into the footwell. The driver was slumped in the passenger seat, mercifully unconscious. That was the one and only good point she could find about the situation, in fact; they wouldn’t have to deal with a hysterical patient when they beat a retreat. How they were going to outrun the rebels in this clapped-out old truck was anyone’s guess but they didn’t have a choice. Handing themselves over to the rebels was a definite non-starter and there was no point trying to fight when...

‘I’ll take that.’ Jude leant down and took the pistol out of her hand. He placed it on the seat then put the truck into gear, swearing colourfully when it failed to engage at the first attempt. There was a hail of shots and the windscreen exploded, showering glass all over the cab, but by that time he had managed to get the truck moving.

They shot out of the trees and careered towards the road as Claire desperately tried to wedge herself into the footwell and hold on to the driver to stop him falling off the seat. They hit a rut and she yelped when her head connected painfully with the underside of the dashboard but Jude didn’t even spare her a glance. His face was set as he steered the truck across the rutted ground and she shivered. He reminded her of how Andrew had looked that night when he had forced himself on her; he too had been determined to get his own way. It was an effort to push the memory aside as they reached the road and Jude glanced down at her.

‘How far is it from here?’

‘Five miles, give or take,’ she told him, trying to subdue the sickness that had welled up inside her. He wasn’t Andrew, she reminded herself sharply because she couldn’t afford to fall apart.

‘Let’s hope it’s more give than take,’ he muttered, jamming his foot down on the accelerator. The rear end of the truck fishtailed before the tyres got a grip and Claire bit her lip. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself by letting him see how scared she was...

‘It’s going to be OK.’ Jude took his hand off the steering wheel and touched her shoulder, and there was a wealth of understanding in his eyes when she looked at him in surprise. He grinned down at her, his handsome face lighting up in a way that made her breath catch but for an entirely different reason this time. ‘We’re going to make it, Claire. Cross my heart and hope not to die!’

He laughed as he made a cross on his chest then put his hand back on the steering wheel, but Claire didn’t say a word. She didn’t dare. If she said anything then she was afraid it would be far too revealing.

Her stomach rolled and she had to force down the wave of panic that rushed up at her. For the past two years, she had felt quite comfortable around the male members of the team. They were simply colleagues and she’d never had a problem working with any of them. However, she knew that state of affairs was about to change. There was just something about Jude Slater that made her feel more aware of him than she’d felt about any man in a very long time. He might not be anything like Andrew but he could prove to be just as dangerous.

* * *

Jude could feel the sweat trickling between his shoulder blades. He was scared witless although he had done his best not to let Claire see how he felt. Maybe it was ego which demanded that he mustn’t let her know how terrified he was, but he’d be damned if he would start whimpering like a craven coward even though it was what he felt like doing.

He glanced in the wing mirror and felt his stomach try to escape through his boots when he discovered that they were being followed. There were three vehicles behind them and they were gaining on them, too. He jammed his foot down so hard on the accelerator that the engine screeched but he ignored the sound of ancient pistons being put to the ultimate test. If those guys got hold of them then he didn’t rate their chances!

‘Are they following us?’

He glanced down when she spoke, seeing the fear in her soft grey eyes. He had a better view of her face from this angle and he realised in surprise that she was younger than he had thought, somewhere in her late twenties, perhaps. The cap had been pushed back and he could see strands of honey-gold hair peeking out from under its brim. He’d always had a thing about blondes and he would bet his last pound that she was a natural blonde, too. He would also bet that she had a great figure once she was out of those appalling clothes, although if he didn’t keep his mind on the job, he might not get the chance to prove that theory.

‘Yep,’ he replied laconically, determined not to let her know what he was thinking.

‘In that case then can’t you make this thing go any faster?’ she demanded, glaring up at him.

‘If I press down any harder on this pedal, my foot’s going to go through the floor,’ he retorted, not sure that he appreciated having her demean his efforts to save them. ‘It’s not my fault if this outfit of yours is too damned mean to buy itself any decent transport, is it?’

‘If you mean Worlds Together then it’s not my outfit,’ she snapped back, bracing herself as they hit another pothole.

Jude grimaced when he heard the crunch of metal because the last thing they needed was a broken axle. He kept his attention on the road although her comment had intrigued him. ‘So you don’t work for the agency?’

‘No. I work with them but not for them.’

He wasn’t sure he understood the subtleties of that distinction but it didn’t seem the most propitious moment to ask her to explain. The rebels were gaining on them and he grimaced when he heard shots being fired. ‘How much further is it now?’

‘About a mile, maybe less,’ she told him, peering over the edge of the dashboard.

‘Get down!’ He pushed her head down as a bullet whined through the cab. He could hear more shots pinging off the chassis and hunched over the steering wheel, hoping that none of them would hit him. He groaned. Yesterday he had been sitting in an upscale London restaurant, enjoying dinner, and today he was in a beat-up old truck about to get fried. Talk about the difference a day made!

‘Will you stop ordering me about! I’ve been here a lot longer than you and I know the drill.’

He risked another glance at her when he heard the anger in her voice and felt his heart give an almighty lurch. Her cap must have been dislodged when he had shoved her head down and now all that honey-gold hair was spilling over her shoulders. It was so thick and shiny that he physically ached to run his fingers through it. It was only the thought of them careering off the road if he gave in to the urge that kept his hands on the wheel.