Chapter Nine

Noon had passed a while ago, and after many hours on the road, the van needed fuel.

Rory glanced at his passenger through the rearview mirror. She hadn’t stirred the entire time, and he was getting worried. His major concern was the heavy medication they’d been pumping into her. Along with the electroshock therapy the crazy doctor had used, there could be irreparable damage keeping her from waking up.

He pulled into a quiet gas station. Engine off, he climbed into the back and squatted at Nina’s side.

Pushing back the blanket, he probed for the vein protruding on her slender throat. The beat was slow but steady, and settled a fraction of his unease. He touched her face lightly, taking in cold, flawless skin covered by a thin sheen of perspiration. Next, he checked her pupils for a response. Everything seemed okay.

With the slightest of frowns, he sat back on his heels to watch her sleep. Studying her, he allowed his gaze to travel down from her face to her shoulders and the indentation of her waist, then to the outward swerve of her hips.

And spotted the unattached cuff.

He blinked. “What the—”

Eerily fathomless eyes locked with his the moment he looked up. He remembered them well from the hospital. They looked straight at him, unblinking and intense.

Shit!

Before he could utter another word, or even move an inch, she pounced.

There was no time to think. Her fists, pressed close together, came at him full force. Aiming for his throat.

He was just in time to deflect the blow. Twisting his upper body, he took the hit with his shoulder, protecting his throat.

“Nina, stop,” he hissed, and dodged her jabbing elbow going for his right temple.

Blocking the next few jabs successfully, he grabbed for her slender wrists. With impressive skill, she evaded his hands, managing to slip fluidly through his defenses. Her fist collided painfully with his collarbone.

“Fuck!”

With a grimace, he ducked to the side in the nick of time when she would have slammed her knee against his head. Missing him by an inch, her knee banged noisily against the metal side of the van.

She was disturbingly silent, emphasizing his own grunts to a point that it started to freak him out.

He was quickly catching on to a pattern. Nina and confined spaces were a dangerous combination, no matter the circumstances.

“Nina, listen to me,” he tried again, scrambling backward to get some distance between them.

Ignoring his words, she pushed off the metal wall to begin her attack all over again. She was single-mindedly relentless in her pursuit, pushing the limits of his considerable knowledge of martial arts. It was un-fucking-believable.

Using yet another move he was unfamiliar with, she succeeded in scoring two solid punches in rapid succession against his ribs. He knew that as soon as the adrenaline of the fight was gone, he was going to be in a world of hurt.

Since he was restricted by the small confines of the van, and unwilling to hurt her, his disadvantage was painfully obvious. Still, seeing the need for some serious defense, he did the only thing he could think of.

He shoved her back, drew his gun, and pointed it straight at her. “Don’t!” he cautioned, watching her warily.

From all appearances, it looked as if she didn’t recognize the weapon as a threat and was fully prepared to continue her assault.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Nina,” he said for good measure.

Her hesitation was almost reluctant.

A good sign, he hoped. Slowly, he shifted until he sat with his back against the van’s front seat, never taking his eyes off her.

She tilted her head to the side, her arresting gray eyes focused on the black muzzle of his weapon. Her heavy breathing eased just a bit, the slight drop in tension making the shapeless tunic she was wearing gape. Dismissing the distraction, he firmly focused on the problem at hand.

“I didn’t get you out of that place to harm you, Nina,” he quickly explained.

Eyes squinted, she examined his weapon as though it were alien to her. Either that, or she was thinking about taking it from him. Considering her training, the latter was more likely.

“You have to listen to me, Nina. I’ll lower the gun, and then I’ll explain everything to you. All right?”

No response. But her gaze shifted from the weapon to his face. Her body relaxed slightly. Wary eyes settled on his, measuring him with a strange mix of detachment and suspicion.

“You’ll have to trust me, Nina,” he told her. He lowered his weapon inch by inch as proof of his sincerity. “I only want to talk.”

The tip of her tongue appeared to moisten her full, dry lips. The action was innocent in nature, yet inexplicably captivating. Briefly, he struggled with the unexpected effect she had on him, then stubbornly tamped it down.

“I understand that you are frightened and confused right now, Nina. But I came a long way to find you…to help you.”

To his surprise, she responded.

“Help?” she echoed, her tone strangely void of any inflection. Again, she held her head in that inquisitive fashion he found more suited to a curious animal than a human being. The slight croak in her voice was proof of long disuse. Her calculating eyes slipped back to his weapon, only to dismiss it in favor of examining her surroundings.

“Yes.” He sat up a little straighter.

The sudden movement had her instantly snap back into a posture of alarmed hostility.

“I came to help you, Nina,” he repeated soothingly. He felt the uncomfortable sting of his fresh bruises but remained motionless. “That is, if you are the Nina Hernandez I’ve been looking for,” he said, knowing in his gut that she was.

Still, he was determined to get an answer…if he could.

“Why?”

The solitary query and bland tone confused him for a moment. Then a subtle tensing of her body alerted him she was up to something. His suspicion was confirmed when, surreptitiously, her eyes strayed to the door.

“Don’t even try it, Nina. I’d just have to catch you again,” he warned.

A spark of rebellion flashed in her eyes.

“You wouldn’t get very far, anyway. They’ll have found out about your escape by now, and have most likely contacted law enforcement to get you back.” At least, that would be the case if they were legit.

“What do you want?” she asked.

He could sense her ambivalence. Flee or stay—both battled within her for dominance. Somehow he had to find a way to gain her trust.

The question was how?