“The bone was broken. Shattered. In so many places.”
She knew. There was no hiding it from her, not after she had used her ability of psychic healing. She hadn’t yet learned to control it, but she definitely had the power.
“Yeah, it wasn’t the best of news for me. I was down, but the field dressings helped stop the bleeding and Rubin was taking out anything that moved. He kept shooting while I dragged myself across the distance to the bunker and tossed grenades in until my arm didn’t want to work anymore.”
He didn’t tell her the ground was nothing but rock covered in snow and bullets hit all around him. Or that it was the strength in his arms that allowed him to drag himself, leaving a trail of blood behind him, basically pointing to his position, even though the clothes he wore and his special enhancements would have made him impossible to see.
Amaryllis was horrified. “You attacked them, even as wounded as you were?”
“I didn’t think I had a whole hell of a lot to lose. The way I was bleeding, I was a dead man anyway. I had to give the helicopter a chance to take those boys home.” To him, the logic made sense. “In any case, Rubin was picking them off, so I just hucked a few grenades and it was almost over. I still had to make it back to the helicopter and it seemed a million miles away. Rubin came after me, rifle slung over his shoulder. He hauled my butt up the side of that mountain to the clearing, and I’m a heavy man.”
She was silent for a very long time. Staring at him. Those eyes drifting over his face and down his chest, then back up to his face. “That’s incredible, Malichai. What you did, what both of you did, was incredible.”
“One of the other soldiers had done something similar before me. He was wounded, but he’d gotten the others undercover and kept them going until help arrived. By that, I mean for days, under heavy fire.”
“And you’re going back to that?” She looked appalled at the idea.
He reached up and found her hair again, that silken mass that appealed to him, the way her eyes and mouth did. He could look at her face for the rest of his life.
“I’m a soldier, honey. Of course I’m going back.”
“You’re not.” She started to protest and then shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m arguing with you. I think you’re extraordinary, not just because of the rescue, but the way you are with Jacy, with everyone. You always show respect to everyone. You’re quiet about it and never look for someone to notice what you do. You’re just so ready to pitch in and help out. I watched you, afraid you had another motive, but you’re genuine.”
“Babe. Come on,” he said gently. He curled his palm around the nape of her neck. “You’re my other motive. Would I help Marie out without you being around? Absolutely, I would, but I want you to see that guy, the one willing to help his woman out no matter what the problem is. I’ve been all over the world and I’ve never met anyone like you. I never thought I’d meet a woman like you.”
Amaryllis didn’t want him to go any further. He was so amazing. So extraordinary. He looked at her as if she was. He did so much for everyone around him. Complete strangers. Men he knew nothing about. He sacrificed himself. His body. His life. He risked everything. In spite of the worst childhood, he still managed to be connected to people in a positive way.
What was she? An assassin. A woman who worked alone. She’d trained alone. Grown up alone, even among the other girls. They’d been separated and kept that way for the most part. Until Marie and Jacy, she had no close bonds. When she planned her escape, she’d planned it alone. She hadn’t gone back to ensure the other girls had gotten away. She hadn’t taken the gunfire to make certain the other women had the time to get out. She’d known all along she’d convince only two of them to come with her. Once out of the compound, the plan was to separate and make a run for freedom. Each would be on her own.
She hadn’t even told them about her plan to escape until she had her chance, because she didn’t fully trust anyone. When the time came, she’d laid it out for them, knowing she was risking someone telling Whitney or, worse, Owen. She’d reasoned—and still believed—that had she told them earlier, the two who wanted to curry favor with Whitney would have told him immediately. One would have been indecisive and delayed any escape while the other two would have come with her. She’d studied them all carefully before she’d made her choices.
She closed her eyes, more ashamed than ever. She knew what she was. She knew the DNA Whitney had spliced into her. She had ruthless traits. He’d created her to be utterly ruthless until she was in a family unit and then she was utterly loyal to those she considered family. She wasn’t worthy of a man like Malichai, who sacrificed everything for his fellow man.
She wanted him with every breath she took. She’d never been so attracted. She didn’t see other men the way she saw him and when he told her the way he’d gotten hurt in that matter-of-fact way, everything feminine in her responded. She knew she could be loyal to him—that she would be. She also knew she wouldn’t do that to him. He needed someone special . . .
“Stop shaking your head.” Malichai regarded Amaryllis with a small smile, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of thick silky hair behind her ear. He loved her hair. “You’re an amazing woman, although I can see you don’t think so. And we have a lot more in common than you think.”
“I don’t understand what’s so special about me.” She pulled back slightly.
He held on to her. “You talk about me helping out Marie and Jacy. You give so much every single day and you don’t have to. You could work your eight hours and leave her. Instead, you take as much off her plate as you can manage. That’s extraordinary, Amaryllis. You’re kind and compassionate and you know what kind of mother you want to be.”
Amaryllis started to protest, but he put a finger to her mouth. “Honey, listen to me. I know I live in Louisiana and you probably get hit on every time a single man comes to the B and B, but I’m not talking a two-week fling here. I don’t have flings. I don’t even have one-night stands. I’m going to be honest, and you’re not going to like it much, but if I want sex, I pick up a woman in a bar, we fuck and then we part ways. I don’t go out on dates and I don’t think about the women I pick up ever again. Most of the time, I couldn’t tell you what they look like. I’m not proud of it, but it’s the truth.”
“You’re telling me this, why?”
“Because I could close my eyes right now and describe every detail of your face and body. The way you move. The way you laugh. I could tell you what kinds of things you like, what you don’t like.”
“No you can’t.”
He smiled again, because he could see it on her face that she was so certain. “You’re a planner. You love Marie and Jacy and regard them as family. You like to cook but love to bake. You like old movies, mostly romantic ones, but prefer action if they have romance in them. Your favorite thing to do is read—again, romance. See the theme here?” His smile widened to a grin. “You get annoyed by pushy people, but you handle it. Love the beach and swimming in the ocean. You’re fast too in the water. You like to look at the stars and you know all the constellations. Every single thing I like, you like. Mostly, you like me.”