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Solemn, Trace held the envelope out to him. “But I need you to take it.”
It hit Dare anew how difficult this was for Trace, not just that his sister had been hurt, but that he hadn’t been able to go after her himself.
Dare took the envelope. “Thanks.” He leaned in close. “And for future reference, I resolved the issue of you being recognized.” There was no one left who knew Trace.
Deep satisfaction glittered in Trace’s eyes. He gave a sharp nod. “I should have doubled the amount.”
“No.” Dare’s smile wasn’t friendly. “That was all my pleasure.”
With no further discussion of money, Trace and Alani said their goodbyes and left the lot in Trace’s silver Jag. They’d stay in an upscale hotel for the night and fly home tomorrow. Until then, Trace would keep his sister under very close guard.
Dare stood there, watching them until the purr of the engine faded and their taillights could no longer be seen. Moon shadows surrounded him. Night creatures gave a gentle call.
The peaceful ambiance didn’t deceive him.
Hands on his hips, he looked again toward the van.
Now what?
The hospital, with all those questions and a lack of answers?
A hotel room? That would be his preference, but not with a woman on the brink of death.
If she was on the brink of death. Drugs could be a real complication, giving false symptoms and concealing a true state of health. It was possible that if she’d just come to, she’d be okay.
But maybe not.
Dare needed her to drink, to eat. And it wouldn’t hurt to get the bugs out of her hair.
Before he even realized it, he strode that way, anxious to look in on her again.
One hand on the top of the open door, the other on the side of the car, Dare leaned in—and found her awake. Enormous, bruised eyes dominated her face.
Before he could register that she’d come around, he got a very dirty foot to the face. Hard.
He jerked back. “Son of a—”
The attack took him by surprise, and even with her meager strength, a heel to the nose hurt like hell. But he didn’t want to compound things by overreacting. She’d recovered with a vengeance and most probably a lot of confusion. Though blood trickled from his nose, Dare wasn’t disabled in any way.
With no help for it, he leaned into the backseat and, after a very brief struggle, pinned her down with her arms over her head, her legs caught under his.
Those large, slightly unfocused eyes glared at him. They were dark brown, like rich chocolate, and at the moment filled with a wealth of fear and rage.
She didn’t scream, thank God, just breathed hard and fast and strained against him.
“You’re safe now,” Dare told her while trying to control her in a way that wouldn’t allow her to hurt herself. “You’re in San Diego, not Mexico.”
She blinked fast, giving away her nervousness.
Dare sought the right words to reassure her. “I was there to retrieve a friend, one of the girls trapped in the trailer with you. And there you were, too, so …” Lacking a sound business argument for his decision, Dare rolled one shoulder. “So I took you.”
She stilled a little, wary, uncertain. Hopeful.
“Your options now are the hospital, hotel or police. Take your pick.”
Seconds ticked by. A drop of blood from his nose landed on her chest to mingle with dark bruises, numerous scratches and dirt. She didn’t flinch, and short of releasing her, there wasn’t much Dare could do about his bleeding nose.
Lifting her head, she looked beyond him, but it was dark, too dark to see and recognize the dubious safety of an American parking lot.
Then, just as suddenly as she’d attacked, she went limp, her head falling back, her muscles weak. Either from her recent exertion or continued terror, Dare felt a fine trembling in her slim body.
Voice quaking, she whispered, “Hotel, please.”
Unexpected.
But appreciated. “Wise choice.” He waited for theatrics, for that scream that didn’t come. Cautious, Dare eyed her. “I can let you go without more violence?”
She gave one jerky nod.
Slowly, he sat up and levered himself out of the van. She didn’t move. She didn’t look capable of moving.
Stripping off his shirt, he used it to clean the blood from his busted nose.
What to do now? If he went to the front desk to register them, would she try to skip out on him? Dare could see that she wasn’t yet herself, didn’t have much left of strength or composure. If panic sent her running, she wouldn’t get far, and could end up right back in trouble again.
But he couldn’t very well traipse her into the motel with him.
For one thing … she reeked.
Not that he held that against her. Thanks to the conditions he’d found her in, personal cleanliness would have been impossible. But to add to that, the space they’d provided her hadn’t been much better than a dump. He’d seen rat holes near the moldy mattress they’d supplied her, as well as a variety of bugs crawling around.
For another, she wore only a long T-shirt that didn’t quite reach her very dirty, scuffed knees, with another oversized man’s button-up shirt over it. The clothes dwarfed her small body, looking absurd. Mud and more caked her bare feet. Her brown hair looked like it had been through a blender.
While he tried to sort out his next move, she slowly sat upright, holding tightly to the back of the seat for balance. She swallowed convulsively. “Do you have anything to drink?”
Without a word, he opened the front passenger door and fetched a bottle of water from the floor. Knowing she was weak, he opened the cap and handed it to her.
He started to caution her about guzzling, but she didn’t. She sipped, made a sound of pleasure, sipped again. “Oh, God, that’s good. My throat is so dry, I think I could drink a river.”
“No problem.”
Sitting back against the seat, she closed her eyes, but only for a moment. “What day is it?”
Fascinating. Little by little, she pulled it together, and instead of hysterics, she wanted to make sense of the situation. Dare admired that—because it’s what he would have done. “March ninth. Monday.”
As if that made her head pound, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “They’ve … they’ve had me for nine days?” Lower, more to herself, she said, “I lost track, but … it felt so much longer.”
Dare gave a low whistle in surprise. Nine days—and she was still alive? Unheard of. Captured women were not kept around that long, because hanging on to them upped the risk of being caught. “You were in that same trailer the whole time?”
“The whole time.” Struggling with emotion, she sipped again, rolled her lips in and turned toward him. “I’m sorry about your nose. I wasn’t sure …”
“Don’t worry about it.” In his line of work, he’d had worse injuries. Already it had stopped bleeding, and probably wouldn’t even bruise.
For some reason, his reassurance made her look ready to cry. But she rallied. “I’m still a little woozy. I haven’t eaten for days.” She touched her hair and flinched. “God knows I need a shower. And a real bed would be like heaven.” She took a few more sips, swallowing painfully.
Dare watched her, impressed that she showed great intelligence in not gulping the water, which would probably have made her barf.
She scrubbed at a bruised eye with a small fist, then sighed. “I can’t very well be seen like this. Humiliation left me long ago, but it would raise too many questions.” She looked at him for a solution.
“I can check us in.” With each passing second, he grew confident that she wouldn’t skip out. She was more clear-headed, more reasonable than he could have hoped for, given what Alani had told him.
Again she sipped, and Dare knew it was to buy herself some time, to think for a quiet moment.
Holding the bottle tight, she drew a breath. “I have money, Mr….?”
“Just call me Dare.” He didn’t share his name, or his identity, lightly. He still didn’t know enough about her to trust her.
After a nod, she stuck out a dirty hand with chipped fingernails. “Molly Alexander.”
Ridiculous. But Dare took her very small hand in his. “Molly.”
Even though she’d initiated the handshake, his hold must have alarmed her; she drew back after barely touching him. “I have money to reimburse you, Dare. I promise. But obviously … not on me. For reasons I’d sooner go into later, I don’t want to involve the police in any of this.”
Interesting. What secrets could this skinny bit of a woman be hiding? “Ditto on hospitals?”
“Definitely.” She shrunk away at just the thought. “No hospitals.”
If she went to the hospital, they’d need a name, and then they’d want to call the police. Why didn’t she want them involved?
“You’ve been drugged.” Dare wondered what they’d given her, and if there would be any side effects. “You know, Molly, you could be sick, hurt—”
“No, not hurt.”
Her definition of hurt differed greatly from his. With a raised brow he eyed several bruises and scrapes on her delicate skin. “Someone hit you. More than once.”
Her eyes clouded again, and her voice went gruff. “Yes, and it was the worst experience of my entire life. But I’ll be fine.”
“Are you convincing me, or yourself?”
“I will be. I promise.”
Lots of promises, Dare thought. He glanced down at his bloodied, ruined shirt, and tossed it toward an overflowing garbage container in the parking lot. Intending to find a new shirt, he reached around her for his overnight bag.
Gasping, she covered her face and scuttled back into the corner of the seat. But she almost immediately caught herself and sat up again as if in challenge.
Unwilling to press her, Dare paused. “We’re on the same side, remember?”
Pained, she closed her eyes and nodded.
Gutsy little thing, he decided. He pulled on the fresh shirt and then waited, arms crossed. If she didn’t want to pass out in the van, she’d have to hurry it up and make a decision. Already she looked on the verge of keeling over.
After swaying from what looked like a wave of dizziness, she cleared her throat. “If you could arrange for a room tonight, I’d be really, really grateful.”
“I could do that.” Her continued formality confounded him. Most women would be babbling and crying for their mommy or daddy, or maybe a husband. Did Molly have a husband, a significant other?
Avoiding his gaze, she rolled her lips in again, took a few deep breaths and then whispered, “One room please, but perhaps with two beds.” Tears welled, and she blinked them away before saying in a voice broken by fear, “God’s truth, I don’t want to be alone right now.”
NOW THAT SHE WAS safely inside a small but clean motel room, Molly tried to organize her thoughts. In order to keep from collapsing, she had to prioritize her most immediate needs, which were food, clothes, sleep, shower …
One glance down at herself, and she shuddered. Shower first, definitely. Now that she was free, she wasn’t about to spend even one more night sleeping in her own filth. And as hungry as she was, she refused to eat with such dirty hands.
Mustering her flagging courage, she turned to Dare. He was so damn big, and very gruff. Seeing him without his shirt when they were still in the parking lot should have alarmed her; even in the moonlight, she’d detected several scars over his chest, rib cage and shoulders that looked like healed knife and bullet wounds. Even now that he was dressed again, doing no more than settling into the room, he looked powerful, with noticeable strength.
But after being threatened endlessly for nine days by the most corrupt animals imaginable, Molly knew foul intent when she saw it.
Dare wasn’t foul. She had the feeling he used his incredible strength to protect, not to inflict pain. Though he hadn’t been sent for her, had no promises of payment for his efforts, he’d rescued her rather than leave her behind.
And now, whether he realized it yet or not, he was stuck with her.
She would pay him—once she got his agreement to keep her safe. “Excuse me, please, but if I could impose further …”
“Look.” The big man turned away from the twin bed where he’d set a battered leather overnight bag. “Enough with the proper bullshit. You’ve been through hell, yes?”
Blue eyes, fringed by the thickest lashes, took her measure. The pulling of his black brows drove home just how disgusting her physical state was right now.
Molly nodded. “Absolutely.” Hell times ten. Never in her wildest imagination—and as many could attest, her imagination could be pretty wild at times—had she envisioned the awful scenario she’d survived.
But she had survived it. And now she had to figure out how to proceed while still protecting herself.
“I don’t need you to be formal.” He set the bottle of water on the nightstand by her. “I don’t need you to put on a good front, either. You’re a small woman, probably not weighing more than a buck ten.”
Molly glanced down at herself. She’d always weighed one twenty-five, but now … she just didn’t know. She had lost weight. But that much?
“You’re hurt,” Dare continued, “and hungry, tired, dehydrated and pretty damn dirty.”
Absurdly close to tears again, Molly scowled. “Your point?”
“If you want to fall apart, feel free. I sure as hell won’t judge you, and it’ll stay between us.”
How kind that Dare would offer to keep her confidences for her. “No, thank you.” She hadn’t survived that hell just to crumple up now. “I’ll be fine.”
He folded muscled arms over an equally muscled chest. Beard shadow roughened his jaw. His knuckles looked as if they’d recently struck something—or someone.
She sincerely hoped it was one of the pigs who’d treated her so badly.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “But I need you to drink that bottle of water, and then another after that. Slowly.”
Right. Water would be good—if only her stomach weren’t so jumpy.
