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When she stopped drinking, Max took the canteen, then raised Dutch’s head and poured a small amount into his mouth.
“How is he doing?”
“He seems stable. Heart rate in the normal zone.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You know about stuff like that? Hardly standard procedure for engineers.”
“I go into some pretty desolate areas, so I have to know basic bush medicine.”
She appeared to think this over and then nodded. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I’d say it’s his lungs. His chest looks like it took some trauma, and he may have compression in the right side.”
“How soon can we catch a plane back?” Her voice tightened. “You must have some way to communicate with your headquarters, right? They can send a plane for you.”
“Not yet, they can’t.”
“Why not?” She shot to her feet, banging her head on the earth ceiling. The woman was tall, Max thought, and she looked more than a little klutzy. Probably that was part of the act, too. “I want to leave now.”
“Open your eyes. Did you happen to see any planes in the area?”
“So call someone. Use a radio. You must have something.”
“There’s a storm heading into this area. I doubt that any planes are flying right now.”
“So when?” She winced, rubbing her head. “Dutch looks bad. I don’t think we should wait.”
“I’ll try calling again soon. The weather situation could clear by then.” Like hell he would, Max thought grimly. He held up a cardboard-covered tray with a pre-packaged meal. “Are you hungry?”
“I guess I should be, but I’m not. I had breakfast back in Tahiti and some coffee and a protein bar at the beach where we were shooting—”
“Shooting what?”
“Swimsuit stills and tropical backgrounds for a calendar.”
“You’re a photographer?”
“For ten years. I can’t think of any work I’d like to do more—and I’ve done most of it, believe me.” Something haunted filled her eyes. “I guess that’s all off, now that Vance is…gone.”
“Vance was the other passenger? Big guy, balding?”
“That’s him. He wasn’t breathing when I woke up. There was a lot of blood on the seat. You found his…body?”
Max nodded. The sight hadn’t been pretty, the body swollen and pale.
She cleared her throat and looked at him uncertainly. “Could I have more water, or is that something we need to ration?”
“We should have enough, but don’t overdo it.”
She took the canteen and splashed a little on her hand, then rubbed her face. “I’m sticky from seawater. What I wouldn’t give to clean up.”
“Afraid I don’t have bath facilities.”
She squirmed uneasily. “But you must have—I mean, what about the necessities?”
Max pointed over his shoulder. “When you need to go, you find a quiet spot and do what you have to do. But be sure to bury everything. This is a fragile ecosystem,” he added, pretty sure that this would register.
“Of course.” She turned and stared pointedly up the steps. “At least I can go back to the waterfall and wash my face. Unless you’re going to lock in me again.”
“One, I didn’t lock you in. The door was always un-secured. Two, I left the dog so you wouldn’t wander out in the dark and hurt yourself. When I called him off, you went straight out and did just that.”
For the second time, her eyes said yeah, right. “Well, it’s not dark now, so how about opening that door? I want to get some fresh air and clean up.”
There was an answer to her question. Max just couldn’t think of it right that second. He could strong-arm her into staying. He could probably frighten her badly. On the other hand, what if she really was an innocent bystander having one nightmare day? Hell, she didn’t look or act like a trained professional. Her blond hair was matted from seawater, she had mascara clotted under her eyes and her legs were scratched up. Max had dumped her sweater outside, some kind of short, clingy thing that barely covered her arms, much less her chest. Now he noticed that stray white hairs covered her Hawaiian shirt.
He plucked off one of the strands and held it up. “You’re shedding.”
“It’s from my shrug.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Shrug. A short sweater…the new, new thing.” Her voice was ironic. “Actually, it was my own design. I knitted it between shoots back in Tahiti. Or was it the Marianas? After a while, all beaches start to look alike. Did you find it?”
“Back on the beach.”
She seemed relieved, smiling suddenly. The curve of her mouth fascinated him so much he almost didn’t hear her next question.
“Why the leather gloves?”
“Chemical sensitivities.”
Miki frowned, then broke into a hacking cough. “Great. Seawater in the lungs. I think I swallowed some really nasty algae, too.”
He thumped her hard on the back. “Dulse and sea plants are an excellent source of nutrients. The iodine and mineral salts are invaluable.”
She stared at him. “Don’t tell me you’re a nutritionist along with knowing field medicine. That’s pretty impressive.”
Max noticed that she didn’t bat her eyes when she said it. No simpering, either. He needed to decide if she was very innocent—or very clever, carefully trained by Cruz. He had a feeling that either way this woman was going to be big trouble.
Since he couldn’t give her a good reason to stay underground and out of sight, he decided stalling was the best tactic. Fingering the white piece of thread, he sat down on the steps leading outside. “What do you call this stuff?”
“Angora. As in rabbits and goats.”
“And you used it for that…sweater thing you were wearing. How?”
She stared at him, looking impatient. “I knitted it. Two sticks, one string. You may have heard of it,” she said dryly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone actually do it.” Max rubbed the back of his neck. “How long does something like that take?”
“Three or four days, more or less. It depends on how complicated the stitch is and what needle size you’re using.” She put her hands on her hips. “You don’t have the slightest interest in knitting. You’re just trying to keep me in here. Why?” she demanded flatly.
Max didn’t move. “Actually, I am interested. How does it work?”
She stalked across the small space, angry and determined like a storm that couldn’t be contained. “Enough of the inquisition, buster. Let me out of here now or I’ll do something you don’t like. And trust me, whatever it is, it will be really loud.”
CHAPTER SIX
“HOW ABOUT YOU RELAX?”
“I can’t relax. I’ve been in a plane wreck, nearly drowned, and now I’m incarcerated with a crazy person. Also, I’ve got to tell you that glove thing of yours is too weird. I don’t buy that sensitivity story, either. You know what I think?”
Max watched her, fascinated by the color pulsing through her cheeks and the anger in her eyes. Was she always so intense? “No, I can’t even imagine.”
“I think you’re a criminal who came here to hide out. Probably you’re the kind who uses his brains more than brawn. Maybe you’re a high-tech thief, someone who masterminds money laundering. Not the chump change kind either, but a business that’s huge and far-flung and multinational. Out here you think no one can catch you.”
“You’ve got quite an imagination.” Max watched, fascinated by her energy as she ran into a crate, stubbed her toe and hopped around awkwardly. “You may want to cool down before you hurt yourself.”
“That’s very funny. You couldn’t care less about me. First you lock me up here in this…this awful cavelike place while you—”
She stopped as Max stood up and calmly pushed open the small metal door, revealing a perfect turquoise sky.
“Go on.”
She stayed where she was, her face uncertain. “Right now?”
“Right now.”
Wind ruffled her hair. “Up there? You won’t stop me, or send that big dog of yours after me?”
Max reined in his impatience. It was a calculated risk to let her out, but risky moves could yield the best results. He figured she would need to find temporary bathroom facilities soon anyway. “You’ve got four minutes. There’s a place inland with some hibiscus plants to give you privacy. When you’re done, you can scrub your face with sand and a little water from the stream there. Don’t dawdle.”
She looked at the canteen he was holding out. “You want me to wash with sand?” She caught a shaky breath. “I guess I shouldn’t be complaining. I could be dead right now, half-eaten by fish. What’s a little sand in comparison to that?” She took his canteen of water. “So I have four minutes?”
Max nodded. Following her moods was like trying to catch minnows in turbid water. One minute she complained, the next she was logical and full of apologies. He moved aside, slanting her a warning look. “Remember the time. It’s important.”
“So you keep saying.” She raised the canteen against her chest, climbing past him up the stairs, but her bare foot hit an uneven plank and she fell sideways.
Max caught her quickly, his gloved hand circling her waist. Her hair brushed his face and her body slammed against him, surprising them both by the contact. Beneath the damp clothes her skin radiated a subtle but distinct heat, which he felt through the leather of his gloves. He put her down as soon as he could, dropping his arm and trying not to remember how warm she had felt.
A sudden wind filled the small space, ruffling her hair. She cleared her throat and pulled away. “That was clumsy of me.”
“No problem.” Max put more space between them. “No more perfume because it bothers my dog. And no noise.” When Max followed her outside, little flecks of white yarn drifted back from her shoulders. She swung her arms wide, trying to balance in the narrow doorway, and in the process nearly knocked him in the face.
He ducked by reflex, wondering if she was always this clumsy. If it was an act, it was very well rehearsed. Something tickled his nose, squeezing his throat and he sneezed hard, which sent more angora fluff up into his face and nose. Max brushed it away, frowning. The noise discipline rules applied to him as much as her. Cruz could be on the other island waiting and watching right now.
One mistake could get them all killed.
Cruz didn’t believe in giving second chances.
MIKI STILL COULDN’T FIGURE out if he was a recluse or some kind of white-collar criminal. He might even have been a mercenary, she thought. He had the cold eyes to be all of those things. His story about oil field exploration made sense, but she still didn’t buy it. She had been a photographer too long not to have a sharp eye for details and faces, and Max Massey was no pencil-pushing engineer. She was equally certain that his big, intelligent dog wasn’t along as a passive companion. The lab had the same intense focus she’d seen in her friend Kit’s animals. Frankly, both of them gave her the creeps, and the sooner she got away from them, the better.
She looked around, committing the terrain to memory. Since she might be stuck here, she needed to stockpile as much information as possible. Meanwhile the clock was ticking and she had no doubt that Mr. Hard-as-nails would enforce his four-minute warning.
The hibiscus bushes were right where he had said, providing a nice wall of privacy. When she’d finished the more pressing necessities, she grabbed his canteen and a handful of sand and went to work on her face and hands. The sand stung her arms, but she managed to remove most of the stickiness left over from the seawater. Closing her eyes and scrubbing her neck and chest, she fantasized about a bar of French milled soap and a loofah sponge. As she tilted her head, a cool wind brushed her face and she almost forgot that she was stranded and she had blisters on her feet. There was no point trying to do anything about her hair. There was no way for a decent shampoo with only a little water and a handful of sand.
Her time was up, so she tugged her shirt back in place, picking up the canteen from the ground. But a flash of color caught her eye and she leaned down to study a small pink flower. Miki felt a wave of excitement as she recognized a rare orchid, its bright petals soft and fragile. The scene would have made an award-winning photo, if only she had her camera. Maybe if she groveled, the Jerk would return her camera bag and equipment for a few minutes.
A hand gripped her arm and closed, pulling her to her feet. How did the man manage to be so quiet? “What’s wrong?” she hissed.
He didn’t speak, pointing at his watch.
“That’s a very rare orchid,” she whispered excitedly. “I could win a prize with this. You have to let me—”
He cut her off with a gloved hand to her mouth. Miki felt the soft leather against her mouth as he turned her slowly, looking down the beach. He seemed to be scanning the water, and she realized there was a larger island glinting in the sunlight, its central mountain ridge wreathed in clouds. Though Max’s breathing was low and steady, she felt his tension clearly.
When she tried to talk, his gloved fingers cut off the sound. His body was absolutely still.
Why was he looking at the beautiful coves? Did he expect trouble from there? She didn’t struggle when he tugged her back toward the hidden door and the big dog waiting beside it. She took a last deep breath of clean air and then went back down the steps she was already beginning to hate. As soon as the door was in place, she rounded on him.
“That was a very rare flower back there. I could have gotten a thousand dollars for one shot. You want to tell me again why I can’t have my camera bag and why I can’t make any noise?”
“I already explained. You should have listened then.” He pushed her back toward the one spare cot. “Sit down.”
“You think I’ll do whatever you ask? Forget that. I’m tired of taking your orders.”
“I said to sit down.”
“Go eat sand.” Miki crossed her arms, furious.
When she didn’t move, he caught her shoulders, and she tried to push him away, but the man wouldn’t budge. For someone lean, he was incredibly strong.
Furious, she watched his fingers open, then brush her hair. If he thought this would be some kind of kinky prelude to sex, he had a major surprise coming.
His thumb combed through her hair, and Miki was amazed at how gentle the movement was. Her confusion grew as he leaned closer, sliding his arm around her shoulder.
She felt his muscles tighten and his breath play over her cheek.
“Don’t move.”
Like hell, she wouldn’t move. He’d saved her life, but that didn’t entitle him to grope her. Enough was enough. When she tried to move, his hand twisted in a blur of motion.
“Stand still,” he whispered. “Completely still.”
Her breath caught as something appeared in his hand. Miki saw that it was long and small and frantically alive, wriggling against his glove.
“Centipede.” He frowned, holding up the restless mass of legs. “Poisonous variety.”
She gulped air, feeling faint. She hated bugs. Really, really hated bugs. “On me? In my hair?” She swallowed. “How poisonous?”
