Hard Core (Onyx Group)

by Jennifer Lowery

  His gaze dropped to her neck and turned glacial. “Should shoot the bastard that did that.” Then his eyes rolled back and his head fell to the side.

  “Yeah, I just might,” she muttered and rose to her feet with a grimace as new aches and pains made themselves known. Thank God there were no needles here. She didn’t think she had the energy for another attack.

  Too tired to think, Alana pulled a chair beside the bed and settled on it. She let her head fall back and her eyes drift shut. A few minutes of rest, that’s all she needed. A good thing, since that’s all she got before her patient woke her with an anguished curse that brought her out of her chair with a start.

  “Cold,” Cristian muttered, reaching for the covers.

  His fever had spiked, causing shivers. The jungle cooled at night, but she slept with no more than a couple blankets, which he’d already soaked. Despite her misgivings, she climbed in bed beside him and pulled him into her arms. Right now he needed body heat more than she needed to listen to the voice in her head that told her he was a dangerous man. He immediately sought her warmth, his body hot against hers.

  Eyes closed, he repositioned her so they were spooned together on the small bed that had always been more than adequate. Now it felt narrow as a toothpick. Her patient took up more than his fair share of the space. His arm came around her waist. The other cradled her head while his body pressed intimately against hers. Within seconds, she warmed from the heat of his body.

  It had been a long time since she’d been this close to a man. Cristian reminded her how much she missed a man’s touch, even if the man touching her didn’t know what he was doing.

  To her dismay, she realized she didn’t want to move. Guilt flooded her, made her chest tight as she strived for an explanation. He was her patient and she would do whatever it took to save him. That was her job and she was dedicated to all her patients. She would do this for any of them. But, none of them made her blood rush through her veins or her heart pound an irregular beat. Doctor-patient boundaries had never been an issue before. She was a professional.

  Then why was she still lying here?

  Cristian nuzzled her neck, snuggled closer, seeking her warmth. The bristle of his unshaven jaw rasped against her skin and set her belly on fire. His hand opened on her waist, his fingertips brushed the underside of her breast. She drew in a sharp breath, her eyes squeezed shut. She should get out of bed. Find more sheets to warm him.

  Yet, as his breath shuddered over her neck and stirred her hair, she remained in place. Lightly, his thumb circled her nipple. It hardened instantly. Her breathing quickened, her back arched, silently telling him how much she liked this. With a low growl he nipped her neck where the pulse beat wildly and she gasped, her body aflame.

  Her breath came in quick gasps through parted lips. Alana didn’t stop him when his hand slipped lower to trace the waistband of her sleep pants. Her blood coursed through her veins, her body was primed. This had never happened before, not with any other man she’d ever been with. She shouldn’t, but she wanted to know more of the pleasure, wanted to beg.

  His hand slipped inside, caressed past the barrier of her panties. The feel of him made her moan, long to feel him inside her, move wantonly against him and urge him closer to what she wanted so badly.

  He found her center and stroked gently, skillfully took her to heights she’d never known existed. She refused to think about what she was doing and who did it to her. All she wanted was this pleasure she hadn’t known in a long time.

  Her hips moved against his hand and she buried her face in his crooked arm to smother a moan. He touched her like he had done this a thousand times before. Like he knew her, knew how to touch her, tease her, control her. Her body no longer belonged to her, but to him

  She teetered on the edge, waited for him to take her over as his lips grazed her ear.

  As she whimpered a plea, he whispered in her ear, “Come for me, Mariette.”

  Mariette?

  Alana stumbled out of bed and stared in revulsion at the man lying there.

  Who the hell was Mariette? She raked a shaky hand through her hair and glared at the man who slept soundly in her bed. He was out cold and she was ready to detonate. She’d allowed a stranger in her bed, under her clothes, and she’d been ready to take what he offered. In delirium. To top it off, he’d called her by another woman’s name. If that didn’t make her the world’s biggest fool, she didn’t know what did.

  God, what was wrong with her?

  She smoothed down her shirt and walked across the room so she could splash warm water on her face, using the moment to collect herself.

  After drying with a towel, she straightened and drew in a slow, deep breath. How had she let things get so out of control so fast? Impulses had never been something she gave in to. She’d never been so consumed with lust that she’d given herself to a stranger.

  A stranger who didn’t know what he was doing.

  Mentally berating herself, Alana pushed away from the table and after a glance at her patient, slipped out the door and sat on the step. The night air cooled her skin, cleansed her troubled soul.

  The communal bonfire had burned down as it did every night. It crackled and popped in the distance, serving as heat, light, and a deterrent to predators. Only the animals of the night were up, and they no longer scared her. At least they killed for a reason. There were worse things in the jungle than wild animals.

  She dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her temples. She’d almost made a big mistake tonight. One she couldn’t make again. For some reason she was vulnerable with Cristian. And for that reason she could never tell him what they’d almost done and the power he had over her.

  Another secret she would take to her grave.

  Chapter 4

  “You need some rest, let me sit with him.”

  Alana shook her head at her father. She placed a fresh, cool washcloth on her patient’s forehead. Guilt had prevented more than a couple hours of sleep. What she’d done, allowed Cristian to do, was unacceptable. Morally. Ethically. Personally. If they’d been in the States, she’d have her license revoked and be brought up on charges. What had she been thinking, allowing a patient to touch her like that?

  A patient associated with Gavin Ross.

  “I’m okay, Dad. You’re busy. I can handle this.”

  “You haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours. You need to recover from your injuries the same as he does.” His gaze dropped to her neck.

  Alana rubbed a hand over her sore throat. Actually, it had been almost thirty hours, but she wouldn’t tell him that. He worried too much already.

  “I caught a couple hours last night.”

  Her father’s hand landed lightly on her shoulder. A surgeon’s hand, only now it lacked the strength it once had. “I know you, Alana. You’ll forget your own health for another’s. Please, let me take over for an hour while you go clean up. I won’t use any needles on him.”

  The offer appealed. She could use a trip to the waterfall and a pair of clean clothes, but she didn’t trust her patient to behave. Her father wasn’t the man he used to be, his body frail and weakened. Cristian could really harm her father, and she wouldn’t take that chance.

  He had been restless all night, mumbling about contracts and names of people she couldn’t pronounce in languages she had never heard. Mariette’s name came up a time or two, along with tender words whispered in French. She hadn’t expected anything gentle or tender to come from him. The fact that a small streak of jealousy shot through her at the mention of his lover only made the situation worse.

  She must be tired, to be jealous over a woman she’d never met and a man who’d tried to strangle her. It was irrational and ridiculous and driving her slowly crazy. Add raging hormones from last night’s interlude, and she was a mess.

  “I think I will take you up on the offer. I could use a few minutes alone.”

  Her father patted her shoulder. “Go. I’ll take care
of him.”

  Alana rose to her feet with a wince as muscles protested. “He can get restless,” she cautioned. Cristian better not harm her father. She just might have to shoot him like he’d suggested.

  Her father gave a wry smile. “I can handle him. Go on, take your time.”

  She collected a change of clothes, towel and brush, and slipped into the sweltering heat. Before anyone could stop and question her, she ducked out of the village. She knew people were curious, if not fearful, about the stranger in her hut, but she wasn’t up to explanations or reassurances. Right now she couldn’t offer them any assurance. The man in her bed wasn’t ordinary, and the names he spouted off were from all over the world.

  She didn’t want to think about what that meant.

  The crystal clear water of the pond worked wonders on sore body parts and helped clear her head. She took her time, floating lazily, letting her thoughts drift. But they always seemed to come back to the man in her bed, not allowing her a moment’s peace.

  Frustrated, Alana climbed out of the pool and dressed. She sat down on the grassy bank to brush the tangles out of her hair. What was it about this man that kept her from thinking of anything else? He’d almost killed her, for God’s sake. She should have let the men of the village have him, maybe then she’d get some rest.

  No, she wouldn’t, she groused and tugged hard on a snarl. Something about the tormented way he moaned Mariette’s name haunted her. Who was she? And why did he call out to her in his sleep as if she were lost?

  No, not going there. They had a patient-doctor relationship. Period. She wouldn’t care. None of her business. Crossing the patient-doctor barrier was not only frowned upon. It was forbidden. Here, on this island, she wasn’t in danger of losing her license or being brought up on charges, but that didn’t mean she could break her moral code. What would her father think if he found out she had climbed in bed with a patient?

  To lose his respect would destroy her. It was the reason she would never tell him her secrets.

  Alana gave up on the tangles, pulled her hair back into a ponytail secured with a piece of leather. So much for R and R. She was more keyed-up now than before.

  She picked up her things and made her way back to camp. Maybe a nap would improve her mood. That and finishing what she’d started last night. Her body was hyper-aware, sensitive. An unsettling reminder of the line she’d crossed last night. A line her body still wanted to leap over.

  What was she supposed to do with that?

  To avoid being seen, she followed the jungle to her hut and slipped inside, closing the door softly behind her. Her father sat beside the bed, one of her murder mysteries in his hand. To her dismay, her patient slept soundly.

  “How did you do that?” She scowled down at Cristian.

  Her father looked up, eyes twinkling. “We had a talk. Man to man. I think we understand each other.”

  Alana deposited her things on the small, wooden table. “Oh, really? And how did my delirious patient respond?”

  “A grunt or two, but I’ll take him at his word. How can you read these books?”

  She smiled. The supply plane brought her books every time it came. They were the one thing on this island paradise that connected her with the outside world.

  “Mom always liked them. I guess she got me started.”

  Her father’s expression turned soft. “She did, didn’t she? Loved to stay up at night reading them, even when they terrified her.”

  Alana nodded with a smile. “I used to sleep with her on nights you were at the hospital. I think I started reading them in bed with her. It seems so long ago.”

  “Not that long.”

  Alana let the moment pass. “How is he?”

  “Fever’s still high. I changed his dressing. Nice job stitching the wound, by the way. Are you able to get the antibiotics down?”

  “Barely, but yes. Pain relievers, too.”

  “He’s a difficult one. He fights every step of the way,” her father said thoughtfully, his gaze on the man in her bed.

  He had no idea.

  “You didn’t get any rest. I can sit here a while longer.”

  In her current state, she wouldn’t get any sleep. Her mind raced in too many directions. “No, that’s all right. Can you pay a visit to Keika and the baby for me?”

  “I will. Have you eaten?”

  “A couple hours ago. I’m fine for now. How about you, did you eat?”

  He nodded. “Some. Enough.”

  Trying not to show her concern, she picked a papaya out of the basket on the table. “Here, I don’t really like these. I’ll trade you for your mango.”

  “I don’t have any mangoes.” Her father took the fruit from her hand. “You’re just like your mother and it never worked with her either.”

  She grinned. “Got you to take the papaya, didn’t I?”

  His grin matched hers. “I’ll eat it after I visit Keika. Sure you don’t want to take a nap?”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “All right. Ask for help if you need it,” he said pointedly.

  She rolled her eyes. He always said that to her. She didn’t like to ask for help. Better to do it herself. “I will. Thanks, Dad.”

  He left the hut quietly, papaya in hand, and Alana turned to her patient. She was geared and ready for battle. This time she wouldn’t climb in bed with him, no matter how therapeutic. He’d have to settle with blankets. She would pack him in mud before she made that mistake again.

  She refilled the basin that sat beside the bed, soaked a washcloth, wrung it out, and placed it across his forehead. The warmth of his skin heated the cloth instantly so she soaked it again and started over, dabbed tiny beads of sweat over his upper lip and paused when his lips parted on a groan. She didn’t want to cause him more pain.

  Her father had redressed the wound, but his pain meds were wearing off.

  She’d managed to get a couple down him before he clenched his jaw and refused any more. A man this stubborn in sleep could only be impossible awake. She felt sorry for Mariette, having to live with a man like this.

  “Are you real?” His husky voice drew her attention from his lips to his eyes, which were open. They pierced straight through her.

  Alana smiled and pressed the cloth to his cheek. “I’m the real thing, soldier.”

  His dark brows furrowed. “Not a soldier anymore.”

  “Then what are you?”

  She couldn’t be sure if he knew what he said or not. He still burned with fever, his skin flushed, and pale.

  His frown deepened. “A mercenary.”

  Her hand froze on his forehead as a chill skittered down her spine. An assassin?

  “A mercenary, huh?” She soothed his frown with a gentle swipe of the washcloth. “And what would a mercenary be doing on an island in the middle of the Caribbean Sea?”

  His eyes closed. “Fulfilling a contract.”

  He sounded sincere and Alana was hard pressed not to believe him. A mercenary? What were the chances? It didn’t make any sense. Why would Gavin Ross need an assassin when he had all those guards? Who was the contract, since he was the one beaten and wounded and wearing a guard’s uniform?

  Or maybe he was delirious and spinning tales.

  “I see,” she said to humor him. “And after you fulfill this contract, where will you go?”

  “The mountains.”

  “Which ones?”

  “Rockies.”

  She had never been to the Rocky Mountains. They had taken family vacations all over the world when she was a child, but never to the mountains. Boston was a long way from the Rockies.

  “I hear they’re beautiful.” She dipped the cloth in the basin and touched it to his neck.

  “No place like them in the world.” His eyes were still closed, his chest rising and falling steadily. “Peaceful.”

  She had a place like that here on the island, could relate to what drew him to his special place. Did Mariette wait for him in the
mountains? Did she keep his bed warm while he was away?

  Alana pushed the thoughts away before the green-eyed monster attacked. She moved the cloth to his jaw. “You’ll have to tell me about it sometime.” Her hand brushed over the dark stubble. He needed a shave. Maybe while Cristian slept, she would borrow her father’s shaving kit. He was much too sexy like this.

  He didn’t answer and she knew she’d lost him again. Tired, throat sore, she put the cloth away and leaned back in her chair. Maybe she’d close her eyes for a couple minutes...

  “Alana? Do you have a minute?”

  Alana opened her eyes to see her father standing next to her. How long had she been out?

  “Sure, what is it?” she asked, straightening.

  “The tribal elders are meeting tonight. About your patient.”

  She nodded. The elders had to decide whether Cristian was safe or not. This was where she and the elders would come to a disagreement. They both had obligations and it was doubtful they would see eye to eye.

  Alana nodded and rubbed her forehead. “They’re worried Gavin Ross will bring his wrath down on us for helping this man. They’ll decide tonight if we should turn him loose or not.”

  Her father nodded. “He was beaten and shot. Ross wanted him dead. He isn’t going to be happy you saved him.”

  “I know, but we don’t know the circumstances, not completely. He wore a guard’s uniform, but how can we be sure he’s one of them?” His clothes had been two sizes too small. She remembered thinking it odd when she removed them, but his injuries had caused her to forget until now.

  Alana glanced over her shoulder at the man who slept in her bed. He looked dangerous with his dark stubble and stark features. Her father had everyone’s best interests in mind, but she couldn’t give Cristian up to the murdering bastard. She didn’t care who he was or why he’d been shot, he didn’t deserve the fate of Gavin Ross. No one did. She’d make sure no one would fall at the hand of Ross again. A steep price to pay, but she would do it. For the people who had taken her and her father in and treated them like family when they needed it most.

  “He’s already put bruises on you, Alana,” her father pushed on. “What do you think he’ll do when he wakes up?”