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saying. How far had she dragged him? How had she gotten him up the steps to the porch? He had carried wounded men out of battle, so he knew how difficult it was, even with his strength and training. He outweighed her by at least eighty pounds; there was no way she could have lifted him. She could be lying about not having anyone else help her, but there wasn’t any reason for her to do so; all he could do was read between the lines. Almost anyone would have called the police immediately on finding a man unconscious on their beach, but she hadn’t. Few people would ever have considered the options and circumstances that had occurred to her. People just didn’t think about such things. It wasn’t a part of their normal lives; it only happened in movies and books and therefore wasn’t real. What life had she led that would make her so cautious, so aware of something that should have been beyond her experience?
They both heard the approaching car at the same time. Instantly she was out of her chair, her hand on his shoulder. “Go to the bedroom and close the door,” she said evenly, not noticing the way his eyebrows lifted at her order. She went to the window and looked out; then the tension visibly left her body.
“It’s Honey. Everything’s okay. I guess she stayed away as long as her curiosity would let her.”
CHAPTER SIX
“HOW’S THE HEADACHE?” the veterinarian asked, peering into his eyes. She was a big, strong-boned woman with a friendly, freckled face and a light touch. Sabin decided that he liked her; she had a good bedside manner.
“Hanging in there,” he grunted.
“Help me get his shirt off,” she said to Rachel, and the two women gently and efficiently stripped him. He was glad that he’d chosen to wear the cutoffs, or they would have had his pants off, too. He didn’t have any modesty to worry about, but it still disconcerted him to be handled like a Barbie doll. He dispassionately observed the purpled, puckered skin around the stitches in his leg, wondering about the extent of the muscle damage. It was essential that he be able to do more than hobble, and soon. The damage to his shoulder, with its complex system of muscle and tendons, was likely to be more permanent, but mobility was his greatest concern at the moment. Once he had decided what course of action to take he would need to move fast.
Fresh bandages were applied, and he was put back inside his shirt. “I’ll be back in a couple of days to take out the stitches,” Honey said, repacking her bag. It struck Sabin that not once had she asked his name or any other question that didn’t deal with his physical well-being. Either she was remarkably incurious or she had decided that the less she knew, the better. It was a view that he wished Rachel shared. Sabin had always made it a rule not to involve innocent citizens; his work was too dangerous, and though he knew the risks of his job and accepted them, there was really no way Rachel could comprehend the extent of the risk she was taking in helping him.
Rachel went out with Honey, and Sabin hobbled to the door to watch as they stood by Honey’s car, talking in low voices. The dog, Joe, took up a position at the foot of the steps, a low growl working in his throat as he turned first to watch Sabin at the door, then back to Rachel, as if he couldn’t decide where to place his attention. His foremost instinct was to guard Rachel, but those same instincts couldn’t allow him to ignore Sabin’s alien presence at the door.
Honey got in the car and drove off, and after a final wave Rachel walked back to the porch. “Calm down,” she admonished the dog softly, daring to give him a swift touch on the neck. His growl intensified, and she looked up to see Sabin coming out on the porch.
“Don’t come too close to him,” she warned. “He doesn’t like men.”
Sabin regarded the dog with remote curiosity. “Where did you get him? He’s a trained attack dog.”
Astonished, Rachel looked down at Joe, standing so close by her leg. “He just wandered up one day, all skinny and beat-up. We reached an understanding. I feed him, and he stays around. He’s not an attack dog.”
“Joe,” Sabin said sharply. “Heel.”
She felt the animal quiver as if he’d been struck, and blood-chilling snarls worked up from his throat as he stared at the man, every muscle in his big body quivering as if he longed to launch himself at his enemy but was chained to Rachel’s side. Before she thought of the danger she went down on one knee and put her arm around his neck, talking softly to him in reassurance. “It’s all right,” she crooned. “He won’t hurt you, I promise. Everything’s all right.”
When Joe was calmer Rachel went up on the porch and deliberately stroked Sabin’s arm, letting the dog see her. Sabin watched Joe, unafraid of the dog, but not pushing him, either. He needed to have Joe accept him, at least enough to let him leave the house without attacking.
“He was probably abused by his owner,” he said. “You’re lucky he didn’t have you for breakfast the first time you walked out of the house.”
“I think you’re wrong. It’s a possibility that he was a guard dog, but I don’t think he was trained to attack. You owe him a lot. If it hadn’t been for him, I couldn’t have gotten you up from the beach.” Suddenly she realized that her hand was still on his arm, slowly moving up and down, and she let her arm fall to her side. “Are you ready to go back inside? You must be tired by now.”
“In a minute.” He slowly surveyed the pine thicket to the right and the road that curved away to the left, committing distances and details to memory for future use. “How far are we from a main road?”
“About five or six miles, I guess. This is a private road. It joins the road from Rafferty’s ranch before it runs into U.S. 19.”
“Which way is the beach?”
She pointed to the pine thicket. “Down through the pines.”
“Do you have a boat?”
Rachel looked at him, her gray eyes very clear. “No. The only means of escape are on foot or driving.”
The faintest smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “I wasn’t going to steal your car.”
“Weren’t you? I still don’t know what’s going on, why you were shot, or even if you’re a good guy.”
“With those doubts, why haven’t you called the police?” he returned, his voice cool. “I obviously wasn’t wearing a white hat when you found me.”
He was going to stonewall it to the end, the ultimate professional, alone and unemotional. Rachel accepted that she wasn’t entitled to full knowledge of his situation, even though she had saved his life, but she would very much like to know that she had done the right thing. Though she had acted on her instincts, the uncertainty was gnawing at her. Had she saved a rogue agent? An enemy of her country? What would she do if it turned out to be that way? The worst part of it was the undeniable and growing attraction she felt for him, even against her own better judgment.
He didn’t say anything else, and she didn’t respond to his provoking mention of his lack of clothing when she’d found him. She glanced at Joe and turned to open the screen door. “I’m getting out of this heat. You can take your chances with Joe if you want to stay out here.”
Sabin followed her inside, measuring the unyielding straightness of her back. She was angry, but she was also disturbed. He would have liked to reassure her, but the hard truth was that the less she knew, the safer she was. He had no way of protecting her in his present condition and circumstances. The fact that she was protecting him, willingly endangering herself even though her guesses ranged uncomfortably close to the truth, did something unwanted to his insides. Hell, he thought in disgust at himself, everything about her did something to his insides. He was already familiar with the scent of her flesh and the tender, startlingly intimate touch of her hands. His body still felt the press of hers against him, making him want to reach out and pull her back. He had never needed another human being’s closeness, except for the physical closeness required for sex. He eyed her bare, slender legs and softly rounded buttocks; the sexual urge was there, all right, and damned strong, considering his general ph
