Читать книгу Killer Body - Elle James - Страница 9

Dawson gripped Savvy’s arms and steadied her. “Why are you out of bed?”

She straightened and pushed away from him. “I’m going home.” When she tried to pull free of his hands, his grip tightened.

“Not until the doc releases you, you aren’t.”

She stared up at him, her mouth thinning, tears awash in her eyes. “I have to. Don’t you see? I can’t remember anything here. I have to be around my own things.”

“You can wait until tomorrow.”

“No.” She reached up to pry his hands loose, her weakened state making her attempt ineffectual. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. Not knowing is driving me crazy. Let me go.” A single tear tipped over the edge of her eyelid and slid down her cheek. “Please.”

He could have resisted if she’d yelled and screamed at him, but the one tear and her anguished plea jerked at his heart, reawakening the dormant organ. How could he resist those eyes staring up at him as if he held her world in his hands? For a moment, he wavered. “No, it’s not safe out there.”

Savvy’s lips twisted in a half grin, her eyes shimmering. “And it’s safe here?”

She had a point. The attack that morning had almost ended his assignment before it had begun. “It’s easier to protect you inside a building than out in the open. The avenues for attack multiply exponentially once you step out the hospital doors.”

“Either I get attacked outside or I go crazy stuck in my room. I prefer to take my chances.” She brushed away the moisture from her eyes and laid a determined hand on his arm. “Are you with me? Because, if not, I’ll go without you.”

Electric impulses shot up Dawson’s arm where Savvy’s hand touched him. The low sexy voice, the eyes glittering with unshed tears threatened to bring him to his knees, if he let it. With a hard-won deep breath, he shook off her hand, unwilling to let himself care more about her than the job warranted. “It’s your funeral.” He turned, and without offering her any assistance, he marched toward the exit.

Liz leaned close and whispered in a not-so-quiet voice, “A bit uptight, if you ask me. But very sexy in that he-man kind a way.” She gave a soft wolf whistle.

Dawson shook his head. “I heard that.”

A bright pink flush rose up from Savvy’s collar and flooded her cheeks. “I wouldn’t know. He’s just a bodyguard to me, for the sake of whatever, he’s my fake fiancé.” Her gaze connected with his as if daring him to refute her statement.

“Not your real fiancé?”

“No, it just makes it easier for him to get past the nurses.”

Liz’s cheeks dimpled. “In that case, would you mind if I made a pass at your guy?”

Savvy’s fingers clenched into fists at her sides, and she bit down hard on her lip. “He’s not mine. Do whatever you like.” She pushed a long strand of strawberry-blond hair over her shoulder and closed the distance between herself and Dawson.

He’d bet behind that tough-gal exterior, her legs shook and she teetered on the verge of collapse. With her shoulders flung back, she didn’t let a single sign of weakness shine through. She probably thought that if she did, Dawson would have her back in the hospital so fast her head would be spinning more than it already was.

Damn right he would. But he couldn’t help admiring her pluck. He preferred it over the tears.

Pausing at the glass door, Dawson performed a three-hundred-sixty-degree turn, his gaze going to every corner of the lobby before he stared out at the street quickly growing dark. A gathering of fifty or sixty people stood in front of the emergency entrance. Scattered among them were news reporters and camerapersons, at the center stood the D.A.

Savvy peered through the glass. “Why is there a crowd?”

Though her voice came out weaker than a whisper, Dawson heard it.

Dawson’s jaw tightened. “Looks like the D.A. is giving a statement.”

“The news report about Tomas’s death generated quite a stir.” Liz grinned. “The people out there are actually here to thank you for shooting Tomas Rodriguez.”

Savvy’s hand rose to her throat and she tried to swallow. “But why?”

“Tomas had a nasty habit of raping young women on both sides of the border,” Liz answered.

“If people knew this, why wasn’t he caught and prosecuted?” Savvy asked.

Liz’s lips twisted into a frown. “The rape victims never brought charges against him. Word is that he threatened to kill family members if the victims turned him in. These people are here to thank you, Savvy, for saving their young girls from that monster.”

“I don’t remember shooting anyone,” Savvy said quietly.

A chill snaked its way down Dawson’s spine as he stared out at the women and children standing outside the hospital holding up signs written in Spanish and English. The one sign he could make out from behind the glass doors of the hospital said Thank God and Thank Ms. Jones. A lead weight settled in his gut and he backed away from the door, intent on taking Savvy with him. “There are too many people out there. This is a bad idea.” Dawson faced Savvy, blocking her path to the door.

“I’m going home.” Savvy touched his arm. “Don’t worry, if something happens to me, I won’t blame you.”

He stared down at the hand on his arm, the gentle touch searing his skin. “You won’t have to, I’ll blame myself.” His glance rose to her face. “Give it another day.”

“I can’t.” She shook her head without breaking eye contact. “Besides, I want to hear what the D.A. has to say.”

With a sigh and a cold sense of dread, he faced the door. “Then at least stay behind me. If someone wants you dead, they’ll be waiting for a clear shot.”

“Wow, you’ve got me convinced.” Liz’s eyes darted left and right. “You don’t think someone will try to hurt her out there, do you?”

“Someone wants her dead in a bad way,” Dawson responded without taking his gaze off the crowd. “Ready?” He looked around at Savvy’s pale face. “It’s your call.”

She nodded, straightening her spine. “I’m ready.”

He had to hand it to her. She might be stupid to step into the line of fire, but she had nerve. Dawson pushed through the glass doors. “Stay close.”

SAVVY WALKED OUT into the heat of south Texas behind Dawson, hovering so close to him that when he came to a stop, she bumped into his back. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. The closer you are to me, the less of a target you’ll make.”

She swallowed. “But what about you?”

A low chuckle rumbled inside his chest, shaking the hand she rested on his warm back. “Don’t worry, if I get hurt, I won’t blame you.”

Wouldn’t blame her? How could he not blame her? Savvy second-guessed herself. Neither she nor Dawson would be hurt if she did as he’d asked and stayed in the hospital for at least one more night.

A quick look behind her firmed her resolve. No. She couldn’t go back in there. She’d always think of the hospital as a plain white void where she’d woken to nothing. No memory, no past, no family. She gritted her teeth and clutched the fabric of Dawson’s shirt in her fist. She couldn’t go back.

Savvy touched Dawson’s arm, urging him to stop so that she could listen to what the D.A. had to say.

“Did Savvy Jones really kill Tomas Rodriguez?” A reporter held a microphone in the D.A.'s face, her cameraperson behind her.

“At this point Savvy Jones is just a person of interest. An investigation is being conducted. As we learn more, we’ll keep the media informed.”

A man with shaggy brown hair, carrying a pocket-size camera pushed his way through the crowd of reporters. “What do you know about Ms. Jones?”

The D.A. frowned. “That she lives in Laredo and works as a waitress at the Waterin’ Hole Bar and Grill.”

“Is Savvy Jones her real name?”

“Rest assured,” Young said, “we’re conducting an investigation on all persons involved in the incident, including a thorough background check on each.”

“Is it true Ms. Jones has only been in Laredo for the past four months?”

“Yes.” Young’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have a particular direction you’re going with this line of questioning?”

The man looked all innocence. “No. Just checking.”

Savvy leaned forward. “Why is that man asking so many questions about me?”

A woman in the crowd pointed at Savvy and shouted, “It’s her!”

Then as if surrounded by quicksand, Savvy was quickly engulfed in a swarm of hot bodies and grasping hands. A large woman pushed her way between Dawson and Savvy, cutting her off from her lifeline.

Savvy reached out for Dawson, but couldn’t quite get past the determined woman who had grabbed her hands, pressing kisses to the backs of her fingers. “Gracias, señorita, gracias!” She stuffed a photograph into Savvy’s hands and, curling her fingers around the tattered edges, she kissed her hands again and moved away.

Jostled from one person to another, with flashbulbs blinding her, Savvy fought to breathe in the crush.

A young woman who couldn’t be more than sixteen hugged her neck, tears running down her face. “Thank you, Ms. Jones. Thank you,” she said in heavily accented English. She released her to let someone else through.

Savvy panned the crowd, frantically searching for the tall Texas bodyguard. It didn’t take long to spot him, but not until her gaze met his chocolate-brown stare did her heart slow.

Dawson towered over the women, pushing his way back through the mob to get to her. When he reached her side, he slid a hand around her shoulders, tucking her beneath his arm, effectively blocking access to her.

“Por favor, señor, we wish to thank the señorita for taking care of Tomas Rodriguez for good.”

Dawson shook his head and said in a voice loud enough to be heard over the crowd, “Tomas Rodriguez’s killer has not yet been identified.” With one arm around Savvy and the other clearing a path, he pushed his way through the crowd toward the parking lot.

Before they’d moved more than a dozen feet from the hospital entrance, the shaggy-haired man with all the questions shoved his pocket camera in her face and a flash blinded her. “Ms. Jones—if that’s really your name—where did you live before Laredo? Does the name Jameson mean anything to you?”

Savvy held up her hands to block more of the blinding flashes. “I don’t know anyone by that name. And I don’t know the answers to any of your questions. Please, leave me alone.”

Another reporter held a microphone in her face. “How do you feel about the death threats from the drug lord, Humberto Rodriguez?”

Dawson’s brown eyes blackened and a storm cloud of a frown dug into the lines of his face. “Move.”

“I just want a minute of your time, Ms. Jones,” the man with the little camera called out over the other reporter’s question.

With her head ready to split wide open, Savvy leaned against Dawson’s broad chest. “Let’s get out of here.”

Before the crowd could pen them in again, Dawson hooked an arm around Savvy’s waist and half lifted, half dragged her through the throng.

The stitches on Savvy’s head throbbed. She stumbled and righted herself, a full-fledged panic attack pushing her toward the cars lined up in the parking lot.

A tremor shook her from head to toe. She could barely get herself out of the hospital parking lot. How had she thought she could survive in Laredo without Dawson’s help? She was still weak. “I should have stayed put in the hospital.”

“We can always go back,” Dawson said, his voice low and intense, his eyes inscrutable in the gathering darkness. He slipped an arm around her waist and held her against him, his head swiveling right and left.

“Whoever tried to kill me earlier might try to hurt you, too.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m in it until a replacement can be found.”

Savvy’s chest tightened. Dawson hadn’t even wanted the job. “Maybe none of this would be happening if I could remember,” Savvy whispered so low she didn’t think he’d hear her.

Apparently Dawson heard her, because he replied softly, “Sometimes it’s better if you can’t remember.”

Savvy’s gaze jerked to his, but he’d turned his face away from her. Did Dawson have ghosts he’d rather forget? What could be so incredibly bad that you’d want to forget your past?

Curiosity burned inside her and she opened her mouth to ask him what he wanted to forget. “Dawson—”

The brooding man stopped in front of a pickup truck and yanked open the door. “Get in and stay low.” His guttural growl effectively stemmed the flow of questions she wanted answered. With his help, she climbed up into the truck and adjusted the seat to lie back enough she couldn’t see over the dash and consequently no one could see her through the side windows.

DAWSON CLIMBED IN next to her. Without another word, he inched out of the parking lot, slipping out a side street. Not until they were two blocks away did the gravity of their departure hit him. He gripped the steering wheel, wondering if he’d made a terrible mistake taking her away from the hospital.

Adrenaline faded away, leaving him drained and in desperate need of a drink. With every ounce of resistance, he passed a corner liquor store, forcing himself to focus on his task. Until Audrey sent an agent to relieve him, he couldn’t touch even a drop of alcohol.

Savvy reclined in the seat beside him. Her arm rose to cover her eyes, emphasizing the sensuous curve of her breast and the taper of her narrow waist. Dawson’s groin tightened, as did his grip on the steering wheel. He should focus on the road ahead, not the woman lying beside him.

Several blocks and mind-clearing breaths later, he still couldn’t keep himself from stealing another glance in her direction. The steady rise and fall of her chest reassured and alarmed him at the same time. This woman depended on him to keep her alive. For the past two years, he’d barely kept himself alive. What kind of life was it when a man buried himself in a bottle to escape his failures? Looking back, he realized he’d chosen the coward’s way out. If the past could be undone, he’d go back in a heartbeat and fix all his mistakes.

Dawson stopped for a red traffic light, staring out the window at the light without really seeing it. If he could fix his past mistakes, would that have changed the outcome? Would Amanda and their baby still be alive? Would Corporal Benson have lived through the roadside bombing? Dawson shook his head. Going back wasn’t an option. As Audrey had told him over and over, moving forward was the only way to forgive your past.

A horn honked behind him. The traffic light had turned green.

Dawson pulled his head out of the past and moved forward, reminding himself to focus on today, now, this woman who depended on him.

“Why do you want to forget your past?” Savvy said, her eyes closed, her arm still resting over them.

The question broadsided him and he answered before he could think. “My mistakes cost lives.”

Her arm dropped to her side and those green eyes stared across at him.

using the traffic as an excuse not to face her, he drove on, kicking himself for even giving her that much. Savvy Jones didn’t need to know all the sordid details of his past failures. He made a turn at the next street and glanced in the rearview mirror. Another vehicle turned behind him, the headlights blinding him.

The car sped up until its bumper almost touched Dawson’s heavy-duty truck bumper.

Adrenaline jolted through his veins and he pressed his foot to the accelerator to put distance between him and the dark car behind him.

“Did it involve a woman?” Savvy asked, adjusting her seat to an upright position.

“Don’t,” Dawson barked out, his mind on the car behind him and the narrow street ahead.

“I’m sorry. Is it too painful to talk about?” Savvy stared ahead. “Since I don’t remember my past, I guess I’m curious about others.”

“Savvy, now’s not the time.” Dawson prepared to make a sharp turn at the next street corner to see if the car behind him would do the same. If so, they had a problem.

She sighed. “I get it. You don’t want to talk about it. I just feel so … empty.”

Dawson’s heart squeezed in his chest, but he couldn’t respond, not when they might have a tail. He whipped the truck to the right, taking the turn so fast, the bed of the truck slipped sideways. The car stayed with them.

She sat up straight and glanced out the side mirror, holding her hand up to block the bright lights blinding her.

“Hold on, we’re going to make another sharp turn.”

She gripped the handle above the door frame as he spun the truck left at the next corner. “Do you always drive like this?”

“Only when I’m being followed.”