All Parker could see was her baby brother, and he couldn’t really fault her for that. She was seeing him with the eyes of an older sister, not impartially. She still clung to the pathetic belief that her brother hadn’t known what he was doing.
Billy Gauthier had to have known exactly what kind of harm his actions had caused, and he didn’t care. He’d continue, simply because he’d gotten away with it, and with the Gauthier connections the trafficking could soon become just as widespread as it had been with the Corsinis. Ryder wasn’t going to let that happen, no matter what the cost.
And that cost was Parker, lying huddled and bruised in a bed in a cheap motel in a third-world country. She was terrified of him, and he had no idea how to get her past that, or if it was even possible. He only knew he had to try.
The room was dark and silent when he came back in an hour later, a bottle of cheap whiskey in one hand, compliments of the nearest cantina. He didn’t dare get drunk—in fact he doubted he even could—but he needed something to take the edge off his self-loathing. What he should do was send Parker back home, have Remy keep watch over her while he did the dirty work.
But he didn’t want the womanizing Remy anywhere near her. He didn’t want her out of his sight. For all he knew she’d stumble into even more trouble in her desperation to save her brother from the consequences of his actions.
He set the bottle down on the table between the beds and kicked off his shoes. Yanking his T-shirt over his head, he stripped off his jeans, watching her body in the bed. He might almost believe she was asleep but for the faint tremor that shook the smooth surface of the covers.
He took another slug of whiskey, reached for the covers, and climbed into bed with her.
She erupted in panic, hitting at him, but he subdued her easily enough, wrapping his arms around to her to keep her from flailing, one of his legs keeping hers from kicking and kneeing him. He’d been prepared to put his hand over her mouth, but she was smart enough not to scream. She just keep fighting, and he let her wear herself out as he held her, her desperate struggles weakening, then fading away into a quiet, panting watchfulness. At least she’d stopped shaking so badly.
“That’s better,” he said quietly.
That provoked another flurry of struggles, and by the time she fell back she was totally out of breath and absolutely furious. Excellent. She could either be mad at him or afraid of him, and he wanted mad.
“Are you done now?” he demanded.
“Get the fuck out of my bed,” she said in a low, dangerous voice. “Get away from me, don’t touch me, don’t speak to me.”
“Or what?”
In response she tried to knee him in the groin, but he was too fast for her, slamming her legs back down with his. “You know, that would really piss me off if you connected,” he said mildly.
“Get away from me,” she said.
“Not likely. We’re not going to carry this off if you don’t get used to me, and I figure the only way that’s going to happen is a little aversion therapy. You may hate me, but you need to act like we’re in love. You look like a terrified rabbit every time I come near you, and even in this backwards country where men rule the roost, your panic seems extreme. You can’t be looking at me like I’m Jack the Ripper whenever you think no one will notice, and you can’t shake like a leaf whenever I touch you.”
A stray tremor ran over her body, but he simply held her tighter, careful not to hurt her bruised arm. She closed her eyes, looking exhausted and miserable. “Please,” she said, “just leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that. It’s just the two of us down here, and I need to know I can count on you. That you’ll obey orders, that you’ll use your impressive brain and stop acting with your heart. Yes, you want to save Soledad. Yes, you want to protect your brother. Yes, you’re afraid of me . . .”
Her eyes flew open. “No, I’m not!” she protested, another shiver giving the lie to her words.
He allowed himself a wry smile. “Could have fooled me. I’m not going to hurt you again. I told you that.”
“And you think I trust you?” She was relaxing more and more as they talked, his body warm against hers in the dark room. “You must be crazy.”
“You trust me, at least a little bit, or you wouldn’t have come with me.”
“I trust you not to kill me, and that’s about it. You weren’t even in the equation when I insisted on coming to Calliveria. It’s Soledad I care about.”
“And your brother’s cell phone,” he reminded her.
She bit her lower lip, and he could feel himself getting hard. He hoped she didn’t notice—she might think his attraction to her gave her some kind of power. It didn’t.
“The cell phone is the least of my worries. I don’t want Billy mixed up in trafficking any more than you do. I want it destroyed so it won’t be of use to anyone.”
“And I need it in one piece. One major bust won’t get rid of human trafficking, but it’s a start.” He could feel her heart beat against him. It had begun to slow, not to a steady pace, but at least closer to normal.
“I promise I won’t act skittish a
round you,” she said in a low voice. “Just . . . please, get out of the bed.”
“Sorry, Parker, but I’m sleeping here.”