When he was certain his voice would be steady, he said, “Sorry. Tranquilizers and concussions are a bad mix.”
Her fingers were on his throat again. This time he let her take his pulse. “You should lie down again.”
“Nah. I’d rather sit.” He raised his head.
This time he got a better look at her. He’d been attracted to her when he’d first seen her, even before he’d known she was his mate. But back then he’d had to focus on immediate survival. This time he had a chance to drink her in.
She was short but not slim, with a body made up of soft curves and strong muscle. Her breasts swelled against her T-shirt and her upper arms stretched out the sleeves. He knew exactly how good she felt, pillowy in some places and resilient in others, because he’d had his arm around her shoulders and his body pressed against hers. He longed to reach out and put his arm around her again...
Stop that, he told himself. Touch her in here, and you might as well put a gun to her head.
Still, there was no harm in looking. Her hair was black as night and sleek as satin, cut to chin-length. It had slid across his skin like water when she’d lifted him. Her skin was smooth and brown, her eyes a deeper brown with golden highlights. He couldn’t help smiling as he looked at her, from her rosy lips to her luscious body to her very decided chin.
Her gaze followed his, and he knew she’d spotted him checking her out. With the hint of laughter trembling in her voice, she said, “You must be feeling better. Take off your shirt.”
He wanted to keep that amused look on her face a little longer, so he joked, “That’s sudden. Normally women at least want to know my name first.”
“Normally I don’t go to strange places with strange men I met in dark alleys,” she replied, playing along. Then the joking fell away. He already knew how brave she was, so it made a different kind of pain go through his chest at the quick flash of fear he saw in her eyes as she spoke. “Can you tell me what’s going on? Who are these people? Why are they after you? Why did they kidnap me? What’s 2.0?”
Shane took another deep breath. He had to tell her something, but he couldn’t tell her everything. The entire story wasn’t necessary, and would only frighten her more.
Liar, his panther hissed. You don’t want to tell her because you don’t want her to know.
Shane ignored the beast inside of him. “First, I want you to promise me something. I’ve been here before. I know how these people work. I can get you out of here, but you have to promise to do exactly what I say. If I wake you up in the middle of the night and tell you to run, you don’t ask me what’s going on or look for your shoes. You just run.”
“So you’re telling me I should sleep with my shoes on.” She spoke lightly, but he could see that she was giving his request serious consideration.
“That might not be a bad idea. Do you promise?”
In the heartbeat it took her to respond, he wished he could rewind the last few minutes and do everything differently. He’d done nothing to inspire confidence, and everything to seem frightening and dangerous. How could she trust him when she didn’t even know who he was?
How could she trust him if he told her what he was?
“I promise,” she said.
He could hear in her voice that she didn’t make promises she didn’t intend to keep. His heart lifted with relief. “Okay. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now I’m going to give you an order.” She jerked her thumb at him. “Your shirt. Off.”
Shane grasped the hem of his T-shirt, then stopped. “How are you feeling? You were tranquilized too.”
She gave a flip of her hand, brushing off the question. “Fine. Seriously. I only got one dose. You had two. Also, I didn’t get hit over the head. Now tell me what’s going on.”
“All right. I’ll tell you while you examine me.” Shane pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. “What’s your name?”
“Catalina Mendez.”
That sounded familiar. He rummaged through his mind, trying to place it, and then thought, Catalina the paramedic. Catalina whose phone didn’t work in America.
“Ellie McNeil’s friend?” Shane asked.
“Yes!” Catalina exclaimed. “How do you know her?”
“I’m Shane Garrity. I work with her—” Her mate. “Her boyfriend, Hal Brennan.”
“Shane the hot bodyguard?” Catalina blurted out, then clapped her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I just said that. I’m— Uh— I blame the tranquilizers. People think sedatives just sedate you, but sometimes they make you babble. Obviously.”
Shane didn’t bother pointing out that the tranquilizer had long since worn off. “Ellie called me ‘the hot bodyguard?’”