Holy shit. “Do you really think so?”
“Honestly? No. See this?”
Riggs lifted his leg and set his booted foot on the vanity before lifting the hem of his scrubs and removing a knife he had strapped to his muscular, hairy calf. Just the sight of his naked leg made my pulse accelerate, and suddenly I was horny again, despite the danger… or maybe partly because of it, just like I’d been last night.
This inappropriate fear-lust stress response was a real problem.
“They didn’t search me for weapons when we got here, and I’m almost positive they didn’t put a guard on the door either.” He shook his head in disgust as he hoisted himself up to sit on the counter. “These guys are either poorly trained or really don’t give a shit about protecting the guy in the bed.”
I snickered, then clapped a hand over my mouth. Add inappropriate humor to my list of stress behaviors right under inappropriate lusting. “Sorry, it’s not funny! I know it’s not funny. You just sound so put out about it. Like you’re offended that these were the best henchmen the cartel could come up with. You want to give them a course in remedial badassery, don’t you?”
“No,” he said shortly. “In fact—” He hesitated for a moment while the water drummed against the tile floor of the shower.
“Tell me,” I demanded when it seemed like he wouldn’t speak. “Remember, you’re supposed to be honest with me?”
Riggs blew out a breath. “Something’s going on here that I’m not understanding. A guy as connected as Santiago…” He broke off. “He’s just not what I expected, that’s all. And his operation isn’t as efficient.”
“But that’s a good thing, right? Maybe he’s distracted because he thinks he’s gonna die. Maybe he had a bunch of guys quit. Maybe good evil henchmen are hard to find. Maybe that means they’re not as dangerous and we can get away.”
Riggs shook his head. “Poorly trained men can sometimes be more dangerous than trained ones, Carter. They didn’t blindfold you on the way up the mountain, and they’re not worried about us seeing their faces. I don’t think it’s a simple K&R. You need to stay on your guard, okay?”
“Oh.” They’re gonna kill us. “Right. Of course.” My heart rate quickened again, for a much less pleasant reason this time, and my knees wobbled embarrassingly before I caught myself on the counter. “S-so we need to think up a plan to get ourselves out of here before we end up like the last doctor, huh?” I blew out a breath. “Jesus, my grandfather would have a fit if he knew what was happening. He begged me to stay in Tennessee.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Unlike at the gala, Riggs didn’t sound judgmental so much as curious. Like I was a puzzle he was trying to figure out.
But it really wasn’t that complicated.
I shrugged. “My parents were big believers in providing medical care to the most vulnerable populations. I want to carry on their legacy. That’s why our family is so big on raising money for programs in underserved communities, volunteering in rural areas—”
“That’s why you moved to Great Nuthatch,” he surmised.
“Partly,” I agreed. “That and Tucker living nearby. But wanting to help people is the reason I’ve gone on a bunch of medical aid trips in the past.” I forced a smile. “None of which involved getting kidnapped, so that’s a new wrinkle, huh?”
Riggs ignored all of this and picked up on something I’d hoped he’d miss. “They were big believers?” he repeated.
“Yeah. Yup. They died when I was young. Car accident while they were setting up a hospital in what used to be Zaire.”
“Ah.” He gave me a look that said he saw more than I wanted him to.
“Anyway. Enough about that.” I cleared my throat. “You were about to share the plan for not dying?”
“There’s no need to be scared.” Riggs’s voice turned soothing. “Just vigilant.”
I scowled. “I didn’t say I was scared.”
Riggs ignored this, probably because I was still clinging to the vanity for support. “I’ve already thought through the situation. For right now, there’s only one possible plan that keeps you safe, and that’s waiting for reinforcements. If we’re not back by nightfall, the Doctors Across Continents people will report us missing. Someone will come for us.” Riggs laid one huge paw on the back of my neck in a comforting sort of way. “As long as you don’t try to be a hero, it’ll be fine.”
But when I glanced up at him, I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t giving me the whole truth. I knew because I wore that exact expression when trying to soften bad news for a patient.
“What are you not telling me?”
“Carter,” he said in a placating tone. “I promise—”
“No. Don’t do that.” I shook my head and straightened up. “Don’t make empty promises. You’ve got to be up-front with me. We already talked about this. I know you don’t necessarily like me. I know you think I’m silly, and you think the work I’m doing is the equivalent of peeing on a forest fire—”