“The eyes were so bright red you didn’t dare look into them. Luther always seemed to know when there were spies about. Every time those things set down in Lotty’s clearing, the fog would be particularly heavy, making it difficult to see through the trees.None of us had binoculars in those days, and we didn’t dare get too close. After all, Luther might shoot and bury us, or worse, feed us to his hornets.”
She could hear the humor in his voice, and she found herself liking him even more. A man who could laugh at himself was worth his weight in gold. “I don’t know much about children, but in all the books I’ve read, little boys are always mischievous.”
“That wasn’t what my mother called it.”
There was that note in his voice that sent alarms skittering through her. Once again, she did her best to drag him back to good memories.
“Did you figure out the myth of the hornets?”
“Yeah, but it took a couple of times traipsin’ through the woods at night in the fog and risking that old man shooting us. Glowing eyes, wings on its head, long tail.”
It was a clear challenge. She thought it over. She knew her uncle now. He wasn’t Hornet Man. He was a soldier through and through.
She burst out laughing. “A helicopter. Uncle Luther was rendezvousing with a helicopter.”
“Yep. Much more fun for us to think he was Hornet Man and commanded an army of gigantic hornets. Naturally, when Rubin and I figured it out, we didn’t tell anyone, not even our friends.”
“That would spoil the fun and mystique.”
“Yeah, it would have. And all the young boys coming up behind us. We weren’t able to get together often. Life was hard. It took a lot of work to survive in these mountains. We were much more remote than a lot of others. Once my father died, we went to other homes less and less, even for the celebrations. But Luther would come. He’d bring us meat and other goods. Leave it on the porch or visit with my mother briefly. Sometimes he’d have a talk with Rubin and me about fishing or hunting. Even tracking. We learneda lot from him. He’d show up even in the worst weather. Be abrupt, brisk, but always gave good advice. We learned fast to believe him.”
She was losing him. Panic set in for a moment, but she took a couple of deep breaths and let him slide into sleep. She followed not long after, her hand curled over the top of his wrist like a delicate shackle.
4
The sound of rain woke him. Diego lay quietly for a moment just listening. He’d always loved the sound of rain, especially when he was out in the forest. There was music to the way the drops fell. The wind through the trees, the way each drop fell on various trees and shrubs, all of it was a soothing symphony to him. The rain cleared the air, brought life to everything: plants, wildlife, stock and humans. Tonight, the rain was light, nearly a mist, a soft, quiet song that caught at his heart the way the rain in the forest often did.
After allowing himself a brief moment to be fully relaxed, Diego breathed away the pain crashing through him and focused on the sounds of the forest. With his enhanced hearing he could identify and position wildlife in the vicinity. He would know when intruders were close. Every noise, rustle, flutter or squeak gave him information necessary to survive.
Survive.He was a grown man and a doctor. He should have recognized all the signs of a child indoctrinated with a parent’sdepression and near hatred. Luther was right. That old man had tried through the years to save Rubin. To savehim. As a child he hadn’t recognized that his mother was mentally ill. He hadn’t realized how much her opinion of him shaped him into thinking he was worthless other than as his brother’s protector. Had he accomplished what he’d set out to do, he would have missed meeting an incredible woman—a survivor against all odds. That would have been the true tragedy of his life.
Diego opened his eyes, focused on the ceiling of woven branches and vines, and then turned his head slowly to look at the woman lying so still beside him. He felt the heat of her through their touching thighs. Her palm curled around his wrist. He didn’t move his arm away from her as he studied her. He had excellent night vision, thanks to all the enhancements done to him, and it was easy for him to see her high cheekbones, that delicate curve along her jaw, the length of her lashes and her full, bow-shaped lips. She’d called him a gorgeous man. She’d gotten that wrong, but he knew beauty when he saw it.
He found himself admiring her all the more. She was lying in a makeshift shelter with a total stranger, totally vulnerable after getting shot all to hell, nearly raped, and operated on in a manner she had no knowledge of, but she lay with a gun at her fingertips and one hand on him. On his pulse. Looking after him. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she would have shot anything poking its head through the entrance to their den. This was a woman who would protect her children. He knew with absolute certainty that she would never single one out and label them a demon from hell.
He studied her face, feature by feature, while the rain played a symphony to him. There was both strength and softness in that ultrafeminine face. This woman would be a wonder—a miracle for a man to wake up to every morning and fall asleep with the image of her in his mind to carry him through the night.
With some reluctance, he forced his body to move. He was careful. Taking on life-threatening injuries was always risky. Seeing the severity of her wounds, he’d known there was a better-than-average chance he wouldn’t make it, but the compulsion to heal her was far too strong to deny.
He took his time checking every muscle, stretching to loosen his stiff body before he sat up. His body didn’t like the new position, his insides protesting, but he needed to get outside and then do a few chores, hopefully before she woke.
The cool, wet air was refreshing to him. He rarely was inside. His preference would always be the outdoors, where he could see and feel anything coming at him or anyone he loved. There was a freedom he felt deeply when he was in the forest—or swamp. He’d adapted to the swamp in Louisiana, and it felt like a second home to him. Never the city. He couldn’t breathe there. He faked it, using his enhanced abilities to get by. Charming, smiling and appearing easygoing when none of it was real.
Diego buried Leila’s bloody clothing, along with the shirt of his that had bloodstains on it from carrying her. He didn’t worry about wild animals finding them through the scent; he could control the animals. But if the soldiers sent to find the others were enhanced trackers—and he was certain these men were sent from the laboratory Luther and Leila had been enhanced in—then one of them could easily have an acute sense of smell. He did. Gino Mazza, one of his teammates, could track anyone with drops of blood lingering in the air.
He replenished their water supply after he thoroughly washed and cleaned the basin he’d provided for Leila to relieve herself. After hydrating and spending more time staring down at her face and admiring her, he knelt beside her and spread his hands over her, reaching for the well of energy inside him. At once, heat rose,moving through his body to his mind and hands, allowing him to examine her.
Her long lashes fluttered and then lifted, a distraction he didn’t need.
“That’s very warm.”
Her voice was drowsy, sexy, sending a different kind of heat down his spine. “Don’t distract me, woman. Give me a few minutes to make sure everything is going to hold before you go getting all flirty with me.”
“I don’t get flirty. Not ever.”
Even just coming out of a deep sleep, her sense of humor was at the forefront, recognizing he was teasing her. That was another point in her favor. He needed a woman with a sense of humor. The thought came before he could censor it. He shook his head and tried again to focus, shoving his strange addiction to her away so he could take care of her.
She was healing nicely. She had a long way to go, but the surgery was holding. He needed to get her legs and hips moving so there was no chance of blood clots. Now that he wasn’t as weak, he could go back in and boost her antibodies against infection and make certain each organ affected by the bullet would be strong enough to hold while she moved around. In a hospital, with normal surgery, she would be discharged in three days to a week if it was just her spleen removed. Her stomach and small intestine had also been compromised.
