Диана Палмер – Her Kind of Hero: The Last Mercenary (страница 9)

She smiled back, hesitantly. It was new to relax with Micah, not to be on her guard against antagonistic and sarcastic comments.

He touched her face with a curious intensity in his eyes. “You must have been terrified when you were kidnapped. You’ve never known violence.”

She didn’t tell him, but she had, even if not as traumatically as she had at Lopez’s. She lowered her gaze to his hard, disciplined mouth. “I never expected to be rescued at all, least of all by you. I wasn’t even sure you’d agree to pay a ransom if they’d asked for one.”

He scowled. “Why not?”

“You don’t like me,” she returned simply. “You never did.”

He seemed disturbed. “It’s a little more complicated than that, Callie.”

“All the same, thank you for saving me,” she continued. “You risked your own life to get me out.”

“I’ve been risking it for years,” he said absently while he studied her upturned face. She was too pale, and the fatigue she felt was visible. “Why don’t you try to sleep? It’s going to be a long flight.”

Obviously he didn’t want to talk. But she didn’t mind. She was worn-out. “Okay,” she agreed with a smile.

He moved back and she leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and the tension of the past two days caught up with her all at once. She fell asleep almost at once and didn’t wake up until they were landing.

She opened her eyes to find a hard, warm pillow under her head. To her amazement, she was lying across Micah’s lap, with her cheek on his chest.

“Wakey, wakey,” he teased gently. “We’re on the ground.”

“Where?” she asked, rubbing her eyes like a sleepy child.

“Miami.”

“Oh. At the airport.”

He chuckled. “An airport,” he corrected. “But this one isn’t on any map.”

He lifted her gently back into her own seat and got to his feet, stretching hugely. He grinned down at her. “Come on, pilgrim. We’ve got a lot to do, and not much time.”

She let him lead her off the plane. The other men had all preceded them, leaving behind automatic weapons, pistols and other paraphernalia.

“Aren’t you forgetting your equipment?” she asked Micah.

He smiled and put a long finger against her mouth. His eyes were full of mischief. He’d never joked with her, not in all the years they’d known each other.

“It isn’t ours,” he said in a stage whisper. “And see that building, and those guys coming out of it?”

“Yes.”

“No,” he corrected. “There’s no building, and those guys don’t exist. All of this is a figment of your imagination, especially the airplane.” “My gosh!” she exclaimed with wide eyes. “We’re working for the CIA?”

He burst out laughing. “Don’t even ask me who they are. I swore I’d never tell. And I never will. Now let’s go, before they get here.”

He and the others moved rapidly toward a big sport utility vehicle sitting just off the apron where they’d left the plane.

“Are you sure you cleared this with, uh—” Peter gave a quick glance at Callie “—the man who runs this place?”

“Eb did,” Micah told him. “But just in case, let’s get the hell out of Dodge, boys!”

He ran for the SUV, pushing Callie along. The others broke into a run, as well, laughing as they went.

There was a shout behind them, but it was still hanging on the air when the driver, one of the guys in the cockpit, burned rubber taking off.

“He’ll see the license plate!” Callie squeaked as she saw a suited man with a notepad looking after them.

“That’s the idea,” the young man named Peter told her with a grin. “It’s a really neat plate, too. So is this vehicle. It belongs to the local director of the—” he hesitated “—of an agency we know. We, uh, had a friend borrow it from his house last night.”

“We’ll go to prison for years!” Callie exclaimed, horrified.

“Not really,” the driver said, pulling quickly into a parking spot at a local supermarket. “Everybody out.”

Callie’s head was spinning. They got out of the SUV and into a beige sedan sitting next to it, with keys in the ignition. She was crowded into the back with Micah and young Peter, while the two pilots, one a Hispanic and the other almost as blond as Micah, crowded Bojo on either side in the front. The driver took off at a sedate pace and pulled out into Miami traffic.

That was when she noticed that all the men were wearing gloves. She wasn’t. “Oh, that’s lovely,” she muttered. “That’s just lovely! Everybody’s wearing gloves but me. My fingerprints will be the only ones they find, and I’ll go to prison for years. I guess you’ll all come and visit me Sundays, right?” she added accusingly.

Micah chuckled with pure delight. “The guy who owns the SUV is a friend of Eb’s, and even though he doesn’t show it, he has a sense of humor. He’ll double up laughing when he runs your prints and realizes who had his four-wheel drive. I’ll explain it to you later. Take us straight to Dr. Candler’s office, Don,” he told the blond guy at the wheel. “You know where it is.”

“You bet, boss,” came the reply.

“I’m not going to prison?” Callie asked again, just to be sure.

Micah pursed his lips. “Well, that depends on whether or not the guy at customs recognizes us. I was kidding!” he added immediately when she looked ready to cry.

She moved her shoulder and grimaced. “I’ll laugh enthusiastically when I get checked out,” she promised.

“He’ll take good care of you,” Micah assured her. “He and I were at medical school together.”

“Is he, I mean, does he do what you do?”

“Not Jerry,” he told her. “He specializes in trauma medicine. He’s chief of staff at a small hospital here.”

“I see,” she said, nodding. “He’s a normal person.”

Micah gave her a speaking glance while the others chuckled.

The hospital where Micah’s friend worked was only a few minutes from the airport. Micah took Callie inside while the others waited in the car. Micah had a private word with the receptionist, who nodded and left her desk for a minute. She came back with a tall, dark-headed man about Micah’s age. He motioned to Micah.

Callie was led back into an examination room. Micah sank into a chair by the desk.

“Are you going to sit there the whole time?” Callie asked Micah, aghast, when the doctor asked her to remove the shirt she was wearing so he could examine her.

“You haven’t got anything that I haven’t seen, and I need to explain to Jerry what I did to treat your wound.” He proceeded to do that while Callie, uncomfortable and shy, turned her shoulder to him and removed the shirt.

After checking her vital signs, Dr. Candler took the bandage off and examined the small red cut with a scowling face. “How did this happen?” he asked curtly.

“One of Lopez’s goons had a knife and liked to play games with helpless women,” Micah said coldly.

“I hope he won’t be doing it again,” the physician murmured as he cleaned and redressed the superficial wound.

“That’s classified,” Micah said simply.

Callie glanced at him, surprised. His black eyes met hers, but he didn’t say anything else.

“I’m going to give you a tetanus shot as a precaution,” Dr. Candler said with a professional smile. “But I can almost guarantee that the cut won’t leave a scar when it heals. I imagine it stings.”

“A little,” Callie agreed.

“I need to give her a full examination,” Dr. Candler told him after giving Callie the shot. “Why don’t you go outside and smoke one of those contraband Cuban cigars I’m not supposed to know you have?”

“They aren’t contraband,” Micah told him. “It isn’t illegal if you get given one that someone has purchased in Cuba. Cobb was down there last month and he brought me back several.”

“Leave it to you to find a legal way to do something illegal,” Candler chuckled.

“Speaking of which, I’d better give a mutual acquaintance a quick call and thank him for the loan of his equipment.” He glanced at Callie and smiled softly. “Then maybe Callie can relax while you finish here.”

She didn’t reply. He went out and closed the door behind him. She let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Now,” Dr. Candler said as he continued to examine her. “Tell me what happened.”

She did, still shaken and frightened by what she’d experienced in the last two days. He listened while he worked, his face giving nothing away.

“What happened to the man who did it?” he persisted.

She gave him an innocent smile. “I really don’t know,” she lied.