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“That feels better,” Alice said as she looked at her hand. “Thank you.” She looked at each of the team. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
“No problem,” Joe said. “Let’s get you back to Patricia and Julia.”
“Just one thing before we go,” Alice said. “If I make a documentary about my ordeal, would any of you boys be willing to take part?”
Elle covered the grin that broke out as the men stared at the abused woman in silence.
“I’m an artist,” Alice explained. “We suffer for our art.” She looked at her hand. “And I bloody well suffered for this, so I’m damn well going to make some art out of it.”
“Get in the car,” Joe said with a shake of his head.
He could see how Alice and Patricia had managed to stay best friends for over sixty years—they were both completely mad.
“Are you sure you weren’t hit on the head?” Ryan asked Alice with a gentle voice.
She gave him an incredulous look. “Were you expecting me to lie down and whimper? Was this traumatic? Yes. Will it ruin my life? No. Was it painful? Yes. But it still wasn’t anywhere near childbirth. Don’t even get me started on that agony. I’m a woman, son. We’re strong. And now I’m bloody furious.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m going to make a tell-all exposé about Carlos Esteban and that pretentious American moron, Marcus Delaney. They think they’re untouchable? Well, wait until the best documentary producer on the planet gets through with them.”
Joe put the car in gear and headed for the chopper.
“Wait!” Alice shouted as she craned her neck to see the team from Lima. “Go back. We need more of the medication he gave me. That stuff is great.”
Chapter 28
Julia ordered food for everyone’s return and organised clothes for Alice. When her gran’s best friend a
rrived at the hotel, she knew the clothes wouldn’t fit. Alice had lost a lot of weight since Julia had last seen her. She looked gaunt and shaken. Her skin was a strange shade of grey, and her eyes were wider than any possum’s. But her attitude was firmly in place.
“Julia.” Alice held her tight. Physically she was a fragile shadow of her former self, but character-wise, she was still indestructible. “You came to get me and you brought an army.”
“We’re family,” Julia said. “We’re crazy, but we’re always there for each other. How are you holding up?”
“As well as can be expected after being kidnapped and having a finger chopped off.”
Julia didn’t know what to say to that, but she made a mental note to get some sedatives from the hotel doctor, in case Alice needed them. She settled Alice gently on the sofa beside Patricia, who insisted on fussing over her best friend. Julia felt a presence at her back that made her whole body tingle with awareness—Joe.
He placed a hand on the small of her back and leaned in to speak against her ear.
“Babe, I need a minute.”
With everyone watching them, Julia couldn’t exactly say no, but there was no way she wanted to be alone with him. She didn’t trust her resolve. No matter how sensible her reasoning when it came to just how incompatible they were, her arguments crumpled under the weight of his sensuality when he touched her.
“By the window,” she said as firmly as she could manage.
He didn’t argue, leading her over to the corner by the window. Julia pretended that everyone wasn’t watching them while they strained to listen in on their conversation.
“I’m glad you didn’t get hurt.” She stepped away from him, fighting the urge to touch him as a way to reassure herself he was fine.
“We need to work on your confidence when it comes to my abilities. But first we have some unfinished business we need to talk about.”
“No, we don’t.” She backed up against the glass.
He put a palm flat on the window above her head and leaned into her. “Remember when you asked about my faults and I told you I was possessive?”
He seemed to expect an answer, so she nodded. Her mouth was suddenly dry, but she resisted the urge to wet her lips. He didn’t need any encouragement, no matter how small.
“Well”—he toyed with a lock of her hair—“knowing that, do you really think I’d walk away from the woman I love, just because she’s got cold feet?”
“Cold feet?” Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. He did not just say that. “This isn’t cold feet. It’s reality. You seem to think I’m some sort of Disney Princess and I keep telling you that I’m more like Jack Nicholson’s character in As Good As It Gets.” She placed her palm flat on his chest in supplication, realising too late that the heat of his body burned through her defences. Before she could snatch her hand away, he covered it with his and pressed it hard against him. Trapping her. Surrounding her. Making it hard to breathe.
