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“I was right, then. You were nervous when Rawlins opened the box.”
“Very. The drug is packed inside the foam lining, as you guessed.”
He thought on that. “What’s the deadline before the stuff goes bad?”
“The vial was capped at nine last night. It will take an hour to infuse. Therefore the drip needs to be started no later than eight o’clock tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night? Then what’s the rush? You’ve got plenty of time.”
“Eight o’clock tomorrow is the absolute deadline. I, we, want to make sure it makes it there with time to spare. We want everyone to be relaxed, not stressed. Anxiety wouldn’t be good for the patient.”
“Or for you either, I think.”
She didn’t speak to that.
He looked at her for a moment longer, then said, “I never sleep for very long at a stretch. I’ll set an alarm for five hours.” He began setting his watch.
“Three hours,” she said.
“Four.”
He fiddled with his watch, then held his wrist out to where she could read the time he’d set. “See? I didn’t cheat you a single minute.” He lay down, turned onto his side facing out, and cradled the box.
“You’re a bastard,” she said.
“I think I like freight dog better.”
After that, she heard nothing but deep breathing. She leaned forward and across the bed so she could see his face. He’d already fallen asleep.
10:07 a.m.
Rye was playing possum. He wasn’t about to fall asleep until Brynn did.
But she was restless and frustrated. She paced the length of the bed several times. She went over to the window and parted the curtains just wide enough to peek through the crack, then impatiently overlapped them again after cursing the persistent fog.
She returned to the bed and sat down on the other side of it. Sighing with resignation, she removed her boots, then lay down and pulled the bedspread up over her. She didn’t move again.
He knew the instant she fell asleep because the cadence of her breathing changed, and he found himself charting its lulling tempo. He was tempted to turn and check out the rise and fall of her chest but didn’t. He recalled
how good her breasts had felt against his chest and knew they’d feel even better in his hands.
And he had to keep his hands off her.
His hands he had control of. His head was another matter. He clearly remembered how well their bodies had conformed to each other at the notch of her thighs. And that wet, seductive kiss. Her mouth.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the images that flickered through his mind like a silent movie. A silent X-rated movie. His cock swelled. But he willed it down. Because, for all her appeal, getting tangled up with Brynn O’Neal would be a bad idea.
More likely than not, she was a thief. He knew for certain that she was a liar.
While she’d been showering, he’d called the FAA office in Atlanta. He’d reported a no-casualty crash and promised to send a full report as soon as the fog cleared and he could get photos. The agent he spoke to was fine with that. No one wanted to work over the holiday weekend. All together the conversation had lasted three minutes.
The cell phone service had been perfect.
Chapter 13
1:28 p.m.
Brynn, wake up.”
