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“You didn’t even know those terms back then, Isobel,” he chided gently. “And you were so nervous, you were lucky you even managed to wing me.”
“Your arm?” She could see a long, thin scar above his elbow, but it didn’t look right.
“Shoulder.” He came up to her, and this time she didn’t retreat. “Look closer.”
She couldn’t see anything. Just smooth, golden flesh crisscrossed by a faint network of lines. He took her hand and placed her fingertips against his shoulder, pushing, and she could feel the scar tissue, a small knot beneath the warm skin.
She pulled her hand away. “You had a good doctor,” she said, uneasy.
“One of the best.”
“Who?”
“If you don’t want to hear the answer, then you shouldn’t ask the question.”
He still hadn’t put the shirt on, but she was past caring. “My husband,” she said in a dead voice. “That’s Stephan’s work.”
“Indeed it is. But he wasn’t your husband at the time. Granted, he was a lot more interested in stabilizing you than digging the bullet out of my shoulder, but then, I was in no particular danger of dying. You, however, had lost a hell of a lot of blood, and Stephan much preferred a challenge. Besides, even all cut up you were still pretty, and he knew I wasn’t particularly interested.”
“In me?”
“In him. Your husband was gay, remember? He gave me a shot of morphine to tide me over, and let me watch as he put you back together again. It was very impressive.”
“Why didn’t you kill me?”
“Why should I kill you? I was the one who brought you there.”
She turned away, because she couldn’t look at him a moment longer. “No,” she whispered. Knowing it was true.
“Don’t take it so hard, Isobel,” he said. “You can still hate me. I killed five men that night, three with my bare hands. Hardly the kind of heroic behavior you would have expected.”
“What five men?”
“General Matanga. I was paid to take him out and I did. His aide got in the way as I was escaping. And then there were my three confederates, the ones with the knives. After all this time I’m afraid I’ve forgotten their names.”
“Why did you kill them?”
There was no humor in his smile, no warmth in his blue-gray eyes. “They’d dragged you back to the warehouse and they were having fun with you. You weren’t conscious anymore, but you could still feel pain—each time they cut you your body twitched. This annoyed me, so I killed them.” His words were casual, his eyes watching her.
“And then you took me to Stephan?”
“Well, since I was heading there myself it seemed the gentlemanly thing to do. I have to say it was a bitch and a half carrying you with a bullet in my shoulder. On top of that I had to sit and let him save your life while I almost passed out. And then the son of a bitch decided I could spare a pint of blood, despite all the stuff that had poured out of me thanks to your bloodthirsty actions.”
“A pint of blood?”
“You needed a transfusion, and he was fresh out. We both happen to be AB negative, princess. Just one more sign we’re destined to be together.”
She wanted to throw up. His blood was running in her veins. She’d shot him, and he’d saved her life. And he was standing there, looking at her out of enigmatic eyes, and she wanted to scream.
She cleared her throat. “Interesting,” she said. “You really are full of surprises.”
“And you don’t fool me for a minute, princess. You’re ready to fall apart, but you aren’t going to let yourself do it. Part of you is wishing to God you’d killed me when you had the chance, another part knows you’d be dead as well. I’m a nightmare, a monster who saved your life when I should have left you to bleed to death. Now, how are you going to make peace with that unpleasant truth?”
“Quite easily. You’ve been trying your absolute best to manipulate me, but I’m not the puddle of emotions you seem to think I am. I know what you’re doing, and I know what’s behind it. What’s wrong with you.”
“Please share,” he said amiably. “I’ve always been interested in other people’s opinions about my sociopathic behavior.”
“You’re afraid of me.”
