Night Watch

6

AFTER A QUICK DETOUR TO Kendra’s condo, so she could pick up her car, they met at her office, situated on the ground floor of a medical building. Most of her space was dedicated to a large, carpeted studio where she conducted her music-therapy sessions. The room was filled with an assortment of musical instruments, an adjacent observation area, and a seventy-inch television monitor.

Lynch looked at the monitor. “Do you use your teleconferencing equipment often?”

“Occasionally. Music therapy is a new discipline, and we’re still feeling our way with new techniques. It’s a good way for me and my colleagues to share our sessions and compare results.”

“Well, I think it would be an excellent way for you and my friend to meet each other.”

“Really? Why? And just who is this guy?”

“His name is Ryan Malone, but he’ll take serious offense if you call him anything but Rye. He’s a good man, extraordinarily competent at what he does.”

“What, exactly, does he do?”

“A little difficult to explain. He’s kind of like me.”

“I already don’t like him.”

“Rude. Very rude. And not truthful. You will like him. He’s Oxford-educated and spent his first several years out of college writing reports and doing research for the various intelligence agencies. Then he got restless and started taking assignments out in the field. Turned out he was good at it. He saved my bacon a couple of times.”

“Do you think he’ll help us?”

“I would think so.” Lynch gave her a sideways glance. “I’ve also saved his bacon. And he’s usually available. He really doesn’t like to work. He relaxes in his house in the English countryside, drinking wine and reading French literature. When he runs out of money, he just takes another assignment.”

Kendra smiled. “Sounds like he has it figured out.”

“He does. He’s probably the happiest person I know.” Lynch held up his phone. “I’ve already traded texts with him. He’s expecting our call. His address is right here.”

Kendra glanced at the address on Lynch’s phone and picked up her teleconferencing remote. She keyed in the address and looked at the screen, which glowed blue with the manufacturer’s logo. The screen flickered and, finally, an image appeared. It was a large brown leather chair in what looked like a study. A moment later, a fiftyish man dropped into the chair. As he smiled, his thick moustache jumped high on his round face. “What in the bloody hell have you gotten yourself into now, Lynch.” His tone was playful, with a thick British accent.

“Nothing you can’t get me out of, Rye.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Who’s your pretty friend?”

“This is Kendra Michaels. I’ve told you about her.”

His eyes widened. “Ah, yes. The blind girl who now isn’t.”

Kendra smiled. “I hope there’s more to me than that.”

“Of course there is, my dear. I’ve heard of your remarkable achievements. But surely you understand why I would be so fascinated by the wonderful gift you’ve been given.”

“I do understand. And it is wonderful.”

“But there’s something I’ve wondered ever since I heard your story, if you’ll indulge me… When you finally got your sight, was there anything that… disappointed you?”

She thought for a moment. “Something I saw that didn’t live up to my expectations?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, disappointment is a strong word. Almost everything I saw was beautiful to me. Still is. But there was something that was… disturbing.”

“Yes?”

“Noses.”

He looked at her in disbelief, then roared with laughter. “Really?”

She nodded. “Obviously, I’ve always been able to feel them, so I knew they stuck out and had nostrils on the underside. But there was something about actually seeing them… They looked strange to me. I was really kind of freaked-out for a while.”

He laughed again. “That’s fantastic. I love it.”

“You just reminded me of another one.”

“What’s that?”

“The facial expressions people make when they laugh.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. The wide-open mouth, closed eyes, the red face… It was strange at first. But now it may be my favorite thing in the world.”

“Mine, too, my dear.” He wiped his eyes. “Thank you for tolerating my rude curiosity. I hope I can make it up to you.”

“You can,” Lynch said.

Rye chuckled. “Somehow I thought I might. What’s going on?”

Lynch stepped toward the monitor, getting down to business. “We’ve been working on a missing-persons investigation. He’s a resident of the UK, but it happened while he was here visiting Southern California. His name is Charles Waldridge, he’s a surgeon and medical researcher.”

“Who changed my life,” Kendra added quietly. “Dr. Waldridge gave me my sight.”

“Ah, then I understand.” Rye jotted notes on a small pad resting on his chair arm. “How long has he been missing?”

“Less than forty-eight hours,” Lynch said. “We found the body of an associate of his last night. He’d been murdered. We haven’t ID’d him yet.”

“Hmm. You don’t think Waldridge killed him and went on the lam?”

Kendra shook her head. She’d had an instant of fierce protective defensiveness before she’d smothered it. Rye was the first to say it, but she was sure others had begun to mull that possibility. “No,” she said flatly. “No way.”

“Where did Waldridge work?”

“He was vague when we spoke about it the other night,” Kendra said. “But he worked with the Night Watch Project for years. It’s based there in London. You can find a lot about it online.”

Rye jotted down some more notes. “And about you, I’m sure. I’ll take a look.”

“I’ll send you an e-mail with all the details of the case so far,” Lynch said. “The FBI and the local police are helping us locally, but we could use some help on the London angle. I thought that with your research and investigative background…”

“And a willingness to get my hands dirty,” Rye interrupted.

“That shouldn’t be necessary.”

“One man’s missing and another is dead.” Rye put down the pen and leaned forward in his chair. “Not a promising situation. There could be something very dark at the bottom of this. You should both be careful.”

Kendra smiled. “You’re the second person to say that to me today. The other was my mother.”

Rye groaned. “That’s a new low. I meet a beautiful woman, and she says I remind her of her mother.”

“I’ve heard women say much worse to you,” Lynch said.

“You’re right.” Rye sighed. “Often accompanied by a hard slap across the face. I guess I should consider myself lucky.”

“Will you help us?” Kendra asked.

“Why not?” Rye gestured around the room. “It’s about time I got out for a while. I’ve made this place far too comfortable for myself. Send me the info, and I’ll see what I can find out.”

Lynch bowed his head and gave a mock salute. “Thanks, Rye. You’re the best.”

Rye cut the connection.

Lynch turned to Kendra. “Well, that’s another front we’ve covered. Rye is extremely thorough. If there’s anything to be found out there, he’ll uncover it.”

“I hope so.” The moment of distraction and optimism that Rye had brought was fading fast. “Thank you, Lynch.”

He caught the change immediately, and his eyes narrowed. “Sure. Anything wrong?”

At that moment, the studio door opened, and Selena Motter entered with her eight-year-old twin sons. One of the boys suffered from depression, and Kendra had been successfully using duo sessions to draw him out.

Kendra nodded. “I think work is just what I need right now.”

“Good. I’ll go home and send Rye the photograph and everything else I have.” He reached out and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “We’ll touch base tonight.”

He leaned close to her, but pulled away as the two boys bounded closer.

Lynch smiled at them. “Go easy on her, guys.”

He turned and walked out of the room.

KENDRA’S BACK-TO-BACK afternoon sessions were just the jolt she needed. Her anxiety didn’t completely dissipate, but it felt good to focus on something other than Waldridge. It didn’t hurt that both clients appeared to be success stories.

Finally, a few rays of light to scatter the oppressive darkness.

She checked her phone for the e-mail that had come in early that morning. A psychologist in Mission Valley wanted her to meet with a young autistic girl who might benefit from her techniques. After an hour-long evaluation at her psychologist’s office, Kendra would decide if she’d take her on or not. Not everyone responded to music therapy, and it would serve no one’s best interest to waste time on techniques that would have little chance of succeeding with this particular patient.

Kendra drove the twenty minutes to Mission Valley and found her way to the smallish, two-story medical building that bordered the Riverwalk Golf Course. The medical building was new. So new, in fact, that there were still pallets of ceiling tiles sitting in the lobby, and the lone elevator had yet to be activated.

No problem, she thought as she started up the freshly tiled stairs. She needed the exercise anyway. She climbed to the second floor, then the third.

She left the staircase and stepped into the hallway. It was dimly lit, as if all the offices had closed for the day, and everybody had gone home.

She checked her watch-5:15 P.M., right on schedule.

So where the hell was everybody?

She glanced down at the floor, where long boxes of molding lined the corridor. The air was thick with the odor of paint and new carpeting.

She approached Suite 316, where she was supposed to meet her prospective new client.

She stopped.

No name on the door. The frosted-glass panels next to it were dark, indicating no life or activity beyond.

She tried the handle. Locked.

What the hell?

She checked her phone to make sure they hadn’t canceled.

Nope.

She scrolled through her old messages to make sure she was at the right place.

Yep.

But the entire floor appeared to be empty. Just like the entire building, for that matter.

Someone was yanking her chain.

But why? Why in the hell would anyone-?

Footsteps echoed behind her.

She turned. They were coming up the stairs. Good. Maybe she could get some answers.

The footsteps suddenly stopped.

Then a moment later, they resumed. But slower. And quieter. It was like…

Like someone who was trying not to be heard as they approached this floor.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

They were getting closer.

Tap. Tap.

Kendra spun around.

These were coming from the other side of the hall.

Tap. Tap.

Another person trying not to be heard.

Whispers behind her.

Then in front of her.

They were talking to each other.

She wasn’t just being paranoid. She was sure they were on their phones or some other devices engaged in a hushed conversation.

And they were both still moving toward her.

She could feel her heart start to pound.

Tap. Tap.

Shit!

The lights had shut off. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.

That was okay. More than okay.

Did they even know who they were dealing with here? She was at home in the dark.

She crouched low against one of the closed office doors.

Stay calm. Focus.

Neither of these people, whoever they were, knew that exactly twenty-six steps separated her from the stairs. They weren’t aware of the two cartons of molding, box of nails, and the large fire extinguisher in their path. She could make the darkness work for her.

She looked up. Two green eyes glowed at the end of the hallway.

Her heart sank. Oh, no.

Night-vision goggles.

She turned back. Another pair of goggles glowing in the darkness. They could see everything clear as day.

And they were moving toward her.

Her eyes flicked between the two. Judging from the height of the goggles, she was dealing with two large men between six feet and six-foot-two. If she waited, it would be two against one.

Can’t let that happen.

She leaped to her feet and ran back toward the stairs, zeroing in on the glowing eyes.

Gotta do this just right…

The assailant appeared to be frozen in place, stunned by her frontal assault.

Or had he just stopped to aim a weapon at her?

Can’t think about that. Play it smart…

She ducked and weaved at the last moment, never breaking stride as she reached out with her outstretched hand.

She clawed upward and ripped the goggles from his face.

She felt his skin fly beneath her fingernails. She whirled around and landed a direct kick to what she thought were his kidneys. The man grunted and fell to the floor.

She spun around and ran for the stairs. Just another few-

Pain. Horrible, excruciating pain between her shoulder blades.

Can’t breathe. Can’t move.

Her legs weakened, and she felt the floor rushing toward her. Two strong arms grabbed her before she landed. She looked up.

Two glowing green eyes. The other man now had her in his grip. He dragged her to one of the offices and threw open the door. The early-evening twilight flooded in through the bare windows.

At last she could see, but the only sight that greeted her was a nightmare. There, in the middle of the bare office, was a roll of duct tape, a large fifty-five gallon drum, a handcart, and a hypodermic needle.

Great. A psychopath’s standard-issue abduction kit.

She could feel her legs again, but they were weak. Rubbery. She was in no condition to fight this man, but if she didn’t do something fast, she knew she was going into that damn barrel. She dug her nails into his hand, but that was the only resistance she could summon.

The other man moaned in the hallway as she found herself dragged toward the hypodermic needle.

In an instant, the man’s low moan gave way to a shriek.

Then silence.

The man holding her called out to his partner. “She’s not easy. Stop whining and get in here. Now!”

Silence.

The man grunted a curse word and threw her to the ground. He placed a knee on her back and picked up the needle.

Kendra’s eyes darted around the room. She couldn’t move, but there had to be some way, somehow that…

Zzzzot!

She heard an electrified crackling, and in the next instant, her attacker was facedown next to her.

What the hell?

She rolled over. The man was twitching and gurgling, and the sudden acrid odor let her know that he was wetting his pants. Then a familiar pair of boots strode into view.

SIDI Fusion Lei motorcycle riding boots. Size seven or eight.

She looked up. A woman stood over her, wearing a motorcycle helmet with tinted visor so as to entirely obscure her face. She wore tight jeans and a brown leather jacket, and she held a still-sparking Taser before her.

“You’re hurt. Can you stand?” The woman’s voice echoed from behind the visor.

Kendra shook her head to clear it. “I think so… yes.”

“Then get the hell out of here. You have about three minutes before this wears off.” The woman placed the Taser on the back of the man’s neck and hit him with another blast of electricity. He screamed and twitched again.

The woman turned to Kendra and shrugged. “Maybe a little longer than three minutes.”

“Who-Who are you?”

She ignored the question. “Let me see you stand.”

Slowly and gingerly, Kendra pulled herself up. She struggled to maintain her balance.

“Walk.” She nodded as Kendra took a faltering step. “Now go. Don’t waste time.”

“Who are you,” she repeated.

“For God’s sake.” She was plainly disgusted. “You sound like someone from a Marvel comic book. I’ve heard a lot about you, but nobody told me you were stupid. Well, I may be awesome, but I’m no superhero. I just want to get you the hell out of here before I have to stick around to give this guy another zot. Get moving.”

“I want to know-”

But the woman was already out the door. She paused only long enough to hit the man in the hallway with another jolt from her Taser.

Kendra tried to run to catch up with her, but her wobbly legs and back weren’t allowing it. “Wait!”

The woman was gone.

Kendra looked back at the still-twitching thug in the hall. Probably not a good idea to stick around. She could still remember the sense of panic she had felt when she had been helpless, unable to move.

She moved toward the stairs, gripped the railing, and moved down one step at a time. By the time she reached the second floor, she felt herself getting stronger.

She heard a motorcycle rev outside and roar down the street. Thank you, whoever you are. You may be rude as hell, but I owe you big-time.

She looked up.

There was a sound above her. Her attackers were obviously recovering…

Get out!

She hurried down the rest of the stairs and moved quickly out the front door. She glanced around the parking lot. No one else there as far as she could tell.

She slid into her car and started it.

She could still hear the woman’s voice ringing in her ears. Get the hell out of here…

She got the hell out of there.

She drove a few blocks, and when she was sure that she wasn’t being followed, she voice-dialed Lynch. He answered immediately.

“What’s up?”

She drew a deep breath. “More than I’d like. Two guys just tried to grab me.”

“What?”

“My afternoon consult was a total setup. It was an empty building. They came prepared, complete with hypodermic and barrel for removal.”

Lynch muttered a curse. “Dammit, you could have been killed.”

“They didn’t want to kill me. That would have been easy for them. They wanted to drug me and carry me out of there. I’m telling you, they had it all set up.”

“How did you get away?”

“You’re not going to believe this. I had help from our motorcycle-riding friend from Big Bear.”

He was silent for a long moment. “You’re right. I don’t believe it.”

“I’m still having a tough time believing it myself. Though it was a dose of cold reality when she accused me of being stupid when I started asking her questions instead of doing what she told me to do. She came out of nowhere and laid them out with a stun gun.”

“How long has it been?”

“Just a few minutes.”

“Okay, I’m calling Griffin and the cops and have them go there. Give me the address.”

Kendra gave him the building’s street address. “It was the third floor. I’ll meet them there when they-”

“No. Get someplace safe. Maybe your mother’s house.”

That sounded exactly like what she wanted to do, she thought. And then maybe curl up in bed and put her head under the covers. She couldn’t do it. “I’m going back there.”

“The hell you are.”

“I was there. It happened to me. I can help.” Kendra turned down a side street and pulled up to the curb. “I just pulled over. I’ll wait fifteen minutes before I go back. I’ll hang back from a safe distance, and I won’t go in until I see the squad cars.”

“Just this once, I wish you would-”

“I’ll see you there, Lynch.”

She cut the connection.

“I’M NOT SURE ALL THIS WAS really necessary,” Kendra said as she eyed the four cruisers and two unmarked police cars in the office-building parking lot. She stepped toward Special Agent Roland Metcalf who was waiting for her in the parking lot.

Metcalf smiled. “When Kendra Michaels snaps her fingers…”

“Not funny. Cut the sarcasm. Anybody inside?”

“No. Two uniformed officers were first on the scene. They did a sweep, but the men who attacked you had already left.” He shrugged. “Dancing with the Stars is on tonight. How could you compete? Can’t really blame ’em.”

She managed a smile. She could always count on Metcalf to try to defuse any tense situation. He was a tall, good-looking man in his midtwenties, and Lynch was sure he had a major crush on her.

Metcalf didn’t return her smile. “Hey, you look pretty rough. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Fine. One of the guys got a solid punch between my shoulders and literally struck a nerve, but I’m feeling better now.”

He nodded. “Good. Adam Lynch filled us in, but I’m going to need a full statement from you. San Diego PD will want one, too.”

“No problem. As soon as I get a look up there.”

Two strong arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind. Kendra jumped and let out a startled yelp.

She turned to see that it was Lynch and drew a relieved breath. She backed away from him with her hand to her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Guess I’m still jumpy.”

“Shit.” Lynch shook his head. “I’m an ass. I’m the one who should apologize. I don’t know what I was thinking after what you’ve just gone through. I saw you standing there and I just wanted to-” He repeated, “I’m an ass. I’m sorry, Kendra.”

“That’s okay.” She was as much surprised by Lynch’s action as her own case of nerves. Lynch was always cool and contained and seldom displayed any emotion but mockery. “It might not have been your fault. My back took a hit.”

“Did it?” His lips tightened. “I’ll have to remember…”

“Do you still want to go up?” Metcalf was frowning. He was obviously surprised and uneasy with Lynch’s show of protectiveness. “Maybe you should-”

“I want to go,” she interrupted. “Let’s do it.”

Kendra led them into the building and up the stairs, giving them a step-by-step description of her visit there only minutes before. As she drew closer to the scene of her confrontation, she found her slight nervousness giving away to anger.

Anger at those bastards for making her feel helpless and unsafe.

Anger at herself for showing fear in front of Metcalf, Lynch, and those cops in the parking lot.

She was practically steaming by the time she stepped onto the third floor.

Lynch squeezed her arm. “I’m sensing a bit of tension or more likely gale-force winds. Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She clenched her jaw. “I’m sure as hell not letting them get into my head.”

“Good.”

She pointed ahead. “I put one of them down right there, but the other struck me in the middle of the back and dragged me into that office.” She led them through the open door, where three uniformed officers were standing around the green fifty-five-gallon drum.

Kendra glanced around. “This is all you found?”

“Yes, ma’am,” one of the officers replied. “Not sure what this barrel is for.”

“It was for me.” She gestured to the floor. “There was duct tape, a hypodermic needle, and a gray handcart, but they obviously picked those up on the way out. They also took the night-vision goggles that I knocked off the man in the hallway. I guess they were in too much of a hurry to take this thing.”

Metcalf crouched next to the drum. “They knew it would have been a giant marker identifying them as the people we’re looking for. We might be able to get some prints off it.”

“Well, we do have DNA for both of them.”

Lynch slanted a glance toward her. “How do you figure that?”

Kendra stepped toward the uniformed cops. “Officers, I need two plastic, evidence-collection bags. Can you help me out?”

The police officers pulled clear plastic bags from their pockets and gave them to Kendra. She placed her hands inside each one and pulled the adhesive seal taut around her wrists.

She held up her plastic-wrapped hands. “I scratched the hell out of both of those guys. I have their skin under my fingernails. Attacker A with the right hand, attacker B with the left.”

Metcalf nodded approvingly. “If either of them has been in jail in the last decade or so, their DNA should be in the CODIS database.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

“Well done,” Lynch said quietly.

She grimaced. “Not pleasant. But my options were limited. I was feeling pretty helpless. It’s all I had.”

Metcalf pulled out his phone. “Tell you what. Suppose I get some forensics people out here so that you won’t have to walk around with those bags on your hands for the rest of the evening.”

“Great idea,” Kendra said grimly. “I don’t need any reminders. I have more than enough.”

AS PROMISED, A CRIME-SCENE tech arrived within thirty minutes and scraped the skin from Kendra’s fingernails. After giving a statement to Metcalf and the police officers on the scene, Kendra left with Lynch.

Metcalf appeared clearly disappointed when she refused his offer of a lift to her home. But he smiled back at Kendra and waved as they walked away from him.

“See?” Lynch said as they walked across the parking lot. “The guy has a major crush on you. Even you can’t be so socially impaired that you don’t see it.”

She smiled. “Okay, you may be right about him.”

“Of course I’m right. The only question is, what are you going to do with that information?”

“Nothing. Metcalf is intelligent and handsome, and I’m sure he has his choice of women.”

“Not the one he wants.” Lynch leaned closer to her as they reached their cars. “So what are you waiting for? Who are you waiting for?”

The heat of his body was radiating, touching her own. She had to hold her ground against his sudden intrusion into her personal space. She wouldn’t let him know it disturbed her. “What business is it of yours?”

“Consider me a concerned bystander.”

“That doesn’t answer the question. It’s your business because-?”

“I care. Isn’t that enough?”

That could be a barbed or enigmatic question coming from Lynch. But she wasn’t going to be anything but honest. “Sure it’s a good reason. Fine. Those years after I got my sight, the wild days, I was with a lot of guys just because I cared enough about them to do it.”

“Even with our funny-looking noses?”

“Yes.”

“Just out of curiosity, what would constitute ‘a lot’?”

She gazed at him in disbelief. “If you really think I’m giving you numbers…”

“Sorry. Go on.”

“I was so determined to experience everything and everyone I could that I don’t think I ever stopped to truly appreciate any of it. Then, somewhere along the way, I realized it’s important to have a good reason to experience the things in my life. Not just because they’re there.”

“It was good enough for Sir Edmund Hillary.”

“It’s not good enough for me. Not anymore.”

“Makes sense. Come home with me.”

“What?”

He leaned even closer. “It’s the one place you can be safe. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to lure you out here and try to grab you. They’re not going to just give up. Especially when it’s painfully easy to find out where you live and work.”

“You’re inviting me to your house for my personal safety?”

“Yes.”

“Kind of an abrupt segue.”

“Was it?”

“By design, I suspect. In any case, I’m not going to your house.”

“It worked for you before.”

“I can’t run to your suburban fortress every time things get a little dicey.”

He chuckled. “You would classify attempted kidnapping as a little dicey?”

“No, it was flat-out terrifying. Which makes me even more determined not to run away.”

“Sometimes running is the smartest thing to do. Running, regrouping, plotting your next move…”

“I’m going home. My home.”

“Fine. Then I’m going with you.”

“Like hell.”

“I’m not joking. After what happened tonight, I’m sticking close. At least until we can figure out what the hell is going on. I think we’d be a lot more comfortable at my house, and you might even find it less intimate. Plus we both know it can withstand a military bombardment. But if you insist on going back to your condo, I’ll be there with you.”

“My spare room is filled with boxes and junk. There’s no place for you to sleep.”

He tilted his head. “Oh, we can work something out.”

“Really?” she said sarcastically.

“I was referring to your living-room sofa. It’s a stronger line of defense than anyplace else in your condo.”

“I really don’t think-”

“I’m an excellent house guest. Magnificent, I’ve been told.” He started back toward his car. “I’ll follow you.”

“We need to discuss this.”

“We already have. You’re just too tired and beat-up to realize it. I’ll order Chinese on the way.”

She was clearly going to lose this one. “Don’t you even want to pack a bag?”

He pointed at his car. “I keep a suitcase packed in the trunk. I can never tell when I’ll be called to Lisbon or Shanghai on a moment’s notice.”

“You think you’re impressing me again.”

“Not really. Traveling sounds glamorous, but it almost never is. I do have an unbelievable number of frequent flyer miles, though. Want to go to Dubai tonight?”

“No.”

“Chinese food it is. See you at your place.”

He climbed into his Ferrari and started the engine.

“YOU DIDN’T STOP FOR CHINESE,” Kendra said as she watched Lynch set his leather suitcase down in the corner of her living room.

“They’re going to deliver.” He checked his watch. “In about fifty minutes. Which should give us just enough time.”

“Enough time for what?” she asked warily.

“For me to get you taken care of.” He slipped off his jacket. “Take off your shirt.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.” He was heading for the kitchen. “That son of a bitch hurt you. You jumped when I touched your back at the parking lot. Then, when you got in your car, you flinched again. I’m going to take a look at it and see what I can do.”

“It’s a bruise. It will go away.”

“I’ll take a look at it,” he repeated as he opened the freezer. “I’ve had my share of wounds and bruises. I know how to get by with as little pain and discomfort as possible. Take off your shirt.”

She hesitated, then unbuttoned her shirt and took it off. The painful motion caused her to flinch again.

“See?” He was coming toward her with a large bag of frozen green beans in his hand. “He hurt you. Sit down on the couch and let me take a look at it.” He sat down beside her and gently turned her so that he was facing her back. “Shit,” he muttered. “You’ve got a bruise back here that’s almost a foot long. Nasty.” He undid her bra fastening and pushed it off so that it fell on her lap. “It’s going to hurt.”

He gently pressed the frozen bag to her back and held it there.

She inhaled sharply.

Ice-cold plastic on top of that bruised flesh.

“It will get better in a minute. Hang in there.”

It did get better. The ice was causing a numbness to spread over the inflamed bruise.

“Why ice and not heat?” she asked.

“Ice is better for the first twenty-four hours. Heat tomorrow.” He was carefully moving the ice bag around the bruised area. “Do you have any Arnica?”

“Don’t think so. Should I?”

“It might help. I’ll call a drugstore and have them send a bottle.”

“You do know about bruises.”

He chuckled. “Did you doubt me? Hell, yes. I remember one time I was beaten so badly by a tribal leader in Nairobi that I could barely walk. But the next day I knew I had to escape, or it wasn’t going happen. So I learned very fast how to lessen the pain and make it bearable.”

“How long do you have to do this ice therapy?”

“Another five minutes or so. Then I’ll massage it for another fifteen.”

“Massage it?” The idea of rubbing that painful area made her shudder. “I don’t think so.”

“Trust me. I’ll make it work for you.”

She was silent, letting the numbness grip and take the pain away. “Why was that tribal leader beating you?”

“His daughter decided she couldn’t do without me, and he didn’t like the idea of me as a son-in-law.”

“Lynch.”

“I thought that sounded pretty good. Much better than his wanting to know where I’d hidden a cache of diamonds he’d stolen that we were planning to use to ransom hostages being held by pirates from his village. Boring.”

“It depends on how you look at it.”

“True.” The ice was gone, and she heard him move away from her. “Lie down flat on your stomach now, and I’ll get to the massage.”

She stiffened.

“Do it, Kendra. I won’t say I’ll never hurt you. But I won’t do it if it’s not necessary. And it’s not what you’re thinking it’s going to be.”

She hesitated, then slowly stretched out on her stomach. “It just seems weird and definitely not medically approved.”

“I won’t touch the bruise itself. I’ll just go around the edges in gentle circular motions.” He was doing it even as he spoke. “Breathe deep and relax. Massage helps your body’s normal lymphatic process to clear it away.”

“This better not be bullshit, Lynch.”

He chuckled. “Suspicious woman. You do have a fantastic back, but this isn’t my idea of foreplay.”

And it wasn’t hers either, but his fingers were skilled and gentle and infinitely soothing. She felt… treasured.

But she was beginning to feel something else, too, that was not at all soothing. She was acutely aware of her naked breasts pressed against the soft pillows of the couch, his warmth above her, the sound of his breathing.

“How… long?”

He went still. “A few more minutes.” Then he continued to massage. “I’m not stopping while I know it’s helping. You wouldn’t want that.”

“No.” Her voice was muffled in the pillow.

But that few minutes was a long time.

Then his hands were gone. “That should do it. Now go get cleaned up while I set the table. It’s almost time for the food to get here.”

“Right.” She grabbed her bra and shirt, jumped up from the couch, and hurried across the room. “Thanks. You must have done a good job. I hardly felt a thing.”

“Didn’t you? I did.” His quiet voice followed her. “And if I can make a suggestion? When you change for dinner, why don’t you put on that sloppy sweatshirt you wore at breakfast. I believe we both might be more comfortable.”