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“If you say you’re fine again, I swear to God, Bryn, I will drive you back to Pharmadene and dump you on the doorstep as a lost cause. ” He didn’t mean it. At least, she didn’t think he meant it. “Stay still. Do not open this door for anyone. Understand?”
“Sure,” she said, and finally realized, as he grabbed the doorknob, that he was leaving her. “Where are you going?”
McCallister flashed her one of those rare, unguarded smiles. “I’m going to get your gun back,” he said. “After all, I’m responsible for it. ”
She settled back, staring, as the lock clicked shut, then looked at Mr. French. He settled down across her legs, as if he intended to single-handedly hold her down. “How about you, dogface? You okay?”
He licked his chops and put his head down.
She rubbed his fur with trembling fingers, and knew just how he felt.
Chapter 8
Bryn didn’t intend to drift off, but she woke to the sharp jab of a needle in her arm. Panic set in. For a second she thought she was back in that place again, that awful moment of screaming back to life. She jerked, but he was fast, and the needle was out of her skin in the next second, and McCallister’s hand was on her chest, holding her still. “You’re safe,” he said. “Booster shot. How are you feeling?”
She felt … well, weirdly enough, she felt good. Rested. Revived, if that wasn’t too sick a word to select. “Okay,” she said. “Better. ”
“No pain?”
“No. ” He took his hand away. Bryn sat up fully, expecting to feel a twinge from her abused abdomen, but the muscles contracted normally, as if she’d never been hurt. She put her hands to her face and felt carefully, but it was just smooth skin, and no bumps or complaining sore spots. Even her nose was straight. “Wow. That’s—”
“Amazing,” he agreed. “You have blood in your hair. You’ll probably want to shower. ”
McCallister, she realized, also looked like he could use a rinse, and maybe a long, hot soak…. There was a livid red mark on his left cheek that was going to turn into a dirty bruise before too long, and his hands were bloody at the knuckles. His tie was crooked, his jacket torn at the shoulder and streaked with mud. His pants were filthy, too.
“What happened to you?”
For answer, he reached over and picked up a gun from the bedside table, showed it to her, and put it down again. “I got it back for you. ”
Ouch. “It doesn’t look like he gave it up without a fight. ”
He shrugged. “No significant damage. ” His lips stretched into a grim smile. “To me, anyway. I’m not as concerned about his welfare. ” The smile faded. “I’m sorry I wasn’t backing you up. ”
“You’re not my bodyguard, McCallister. I’m supposed to be your asset, remember? Not the other way around. ”
“I don’t like my assets being damaged without any real benefit. ”
“Charming. ” She didn’t believe it for a moment, though; she was starting to figure out McCallister, and she thought the man who’d carried her inside and tended to her was more real than the corporate persona. “So, your alibi for Irene Harte is that we’ve sneaked away to a seedy motel for some private busy time?”
“Yes. ”
“Do you know how stupid that is?”
He smiled again, this time a little more warmly. “You underestimate yourself. Or possibly me. No one at corporate will doubt it. ”
“Let me guess. You have a reputation. ”
“I’ve taken pains to build it. It gives me the ability to duck out of surveillance without too much notice being taken. You do enough legitimate philandering and no one questions you when you drop off the radar for a few hours with a girl. ”
“Wow,” Bryn said. “You really are a man whore. ”
“I prefer the term player. ”
She had no response for that. For some reason, she could well imagine McCallister being familiar with these kinds of seedy roadside establishments, although she thought he probably preferred nicer accommodations. Which made her wonder … “Why here?”
“It has no wireless Internet or any other modern conveniences that make it easy to conduct off-site surveillance,” he said. “It takes time for them to get organized and send real bodies out. Even the security camera in the office is state-of-the-art circa 1980, and I think it’s just for show. If we’d checked in at a more upscale establishment, they’d have a much easier time keeping track of us. ”
Of course he had a reason. McCallister didn’t do anything without a reason, and maybe two or three of them. “I really ought to be at work,” she said. “Not that this hasn’t been fun. ”
