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He rolled his eyes and then grabbed his head. “Well, it’s not as if I got shot on purpose just so I could have my wicked way with you.”
“I was taking care of you, you ungrateful—” She couldn’t even finish the sentence she was so angry. “I was asleep,” she finally said.
“So was I. And it’s not as if you were fighting me off. What’s this really about, Rachel?”
“Let me make this as plain as possible. I will not be a substitute for your wife. I’m not her. I never will be, and I wouldn’t be if I could. I don’t fall into bed with men I’ve just met. And I won’t fill the needs of a man who’s been calling me the name of another woman for the last few days. You don’t know me, Shane Quincy. You don’t know my needs or my desires or the dreams I have. I’m not your wife.”
Shane’s face grew dark in anger at her words. He rubbed his hands through his hair in frustration and stood up to face her, unmindful of his nakedness.
“I’ve been in a fever-induced haze for God knows how long, and I don’t remember any of it, so if I called you another name I’m sorry. Blame it on the fever. But let me assure you that I know exactly who you are when my lips are on yours. I’ve kissed you twice and both times you seemed more than happy with the arrangement. I’m not a mind reader. What exactly is it that you want?”
“I want to get out of this mess alive,” she said, more calmly than she felt. “And if you’d prefer not to see things through to the end due to our current situation, we can certainly terminate our business arrangement. But if we do go on together, I want you to keep your hands to yourself. I need a man who can only see me. Who can love me. Make a family with me. I’ve lived in the shadow of my family’s name my entire life. I will not live in a shadow in a relationship.”
“Understood, sugar,” Shane said. “But maybe you should sleep in your own bed from now on just to make sure.”
Shane turned around and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. She heard the shower turn on and went into the other bedroom to put on clothes and get herself together. It didn’t seem to matter what she did or how she tried to protect herself. It looked like Shane Quincy was going to break her heart anyway.
* * *
Shane leaned his head against the cold tile of the shower and wished he knew what the hell had just happened. He tried to think back over the last few days, but the hours seemed to run together. He vaguely remembered Rachel always being there when his eyes opened, shoving pills and food down his throat and going back and forth between pleading and arguing with him to get better and wake up.
Well, he was awake now, and all he wanted was to kiss her again. He wanted to make love to her. He wanted to get to know her needs and desires and dreams. But all those things meant forever. And that scared him because he wasn’t sure if he believed in forever anymore. He knew better than anyone how temporary, and how fragile, life was.
He had no idea why Rachel would think he was comparing her to Maggie. Maggie was gone. She would always be a part of him, but she was his past. Rachel was his future.
His eyes widened as the realization slammed into him like a Mack truck. He’d known Maggie five minutes before he knew they were supposed to be together. And it had taken even less time to know the same about Rachel. He wanted her to be his future. Convincing her of that might be a little harder.
No wonder she was angry with him. It was obvious she’d already thought through the consequences of how things would be between them if they took their attraction too far. He’d already told her he would never give all of himself to a woman again. And she’d taken the words inspired by his nightmares to heart. He only had himself to blame for saying something so stupid. So hurtful.
The hot water pounded on his sore muscles, and he didn’t care about the bandage at his shoulder getting wet or that the water stung the raw knot at his temple. At least he was alive. The amount of pain rioting through his body told him that much. He wanted to feel whole again, and right now he just felt tired and defeated. Some bodyguard he was. He’d spent God knows how long in unconsciousness while his charge had gone unprotected. Anything could have happened to Rachel while he’d been down. And he refused to be responsible for the death of anyone else he loved.
Shane soaped up and rinsed off quickly, the layers of sweat and sickness swirling down the drain along with the despair he felt. He could fix things with Rachel, but they had to get out of their current situation. There was enough to deal with without adding personal feelings to the mix.
He turned off the water and got out on shaky legs. He needed food and something to help the headache he couldn’t remember not having. It was time to take back control of the situation. He wrapped a towel loosely around his hips and walked back into the bedroom.
He heard Rachel moving around in the kitchen and decided from the way she was banging pots and pans around that her mood hadn’t improved. It was probably best to give them both a little space for the time being. She needed to cool off and he needed to come up with a plan.
The sheets had been stripped off the bed and a washing machine rumbled from somewhere in the house. He found his jeans folded on the dresser. They’d been washed, but holes had been torn in both knees from his fall. A stack of new shirts in several different sizes sat folded in the drawer along with white athletic socks and a package of underwear. He dressed and did nothing more than towel-dry his wet hair, and he gave a cursory thought to shaving when he rubbed his hand across the stubble on his face. The idea was quickly dismissed as the smell of something hot reached his nose.
His system was off and he had no idea what time it was. The clock on the microwave said six, but he wasn’t sure if it was a.m. or p.m. Rachel had sandwiches and soup sitting on the table when he came into the room. Her dark hair was pulled back into a knot at the base of her neck and thin wisps of hair had slipped free. Her face was flushed and there were dark circles under her eyes. Obviously he’d given her more than one sleepless night.
“I didn’t thank you for taking care of me,” he said as he sat at the table. Things were awkward between them, but he tried his best to put her at ease. They had a difficult road ahead of them and they needed to be able to communicate. “I know I’m not usually the easiest patient.”
She kept her head down and wouldn’t look him in the eye. “You would have done the same for me. I just hope you’re not overdoing it too soon.”
“I know my limits. I’m feeling better. Just a little stiffness in my shoulder, and I’ll have to watch accidentally opening the wound since I wasn’t able to get stitches. It might still come to that.”
“As long as I don’t have to give them to you.” She sat down across from him and picked at her food. He’d already inhaled his and was on a second helping. Her brow was furrowed and she shifted in her chair. He could tell she had something important on her mind.
“We need to decide how long we’re staying here,” she finally said. “I’m beginning to go stir crazy, and I’m anxious to get to Chicago, get the list, and hand it over. I know the way Angelo works, and Galen Marsh’s death will be just the beginning if we don’t see this through as quickly as possible. I don’t like being in limbo like this, out here in the middle of nowhere while innocent people are being slaughtered.”
“What did Wildcat say when you talked to him?”
“Your pal Wildcat never bothered to show up.” The frustration was palpable in her voice. “There’s no phone in this place, and I left the disposable cells in the car. Wildcat gave me explicit instructions not to leave the house, and I’ve spent two days staring at beige walls. For all I know, Wildcat could be sitting outside with either a group of FBI agents or some of Angelo’s men. I’m not too anxious to find out which one.”
“If Wildcat didn’t show up, it’s for a good reason. He wouldn’t take the chance of leading anyone to us accidentally.”
“If you say so, but you mentioned the last time you talked to him that you were sorry you hadn’t kept in contact with him over the last couple of years. Two years is a long time, and people can change.”
