"Shit." He glared at the dead thingon the floor. "How the fuck am I going to carry you out of here with my leg like this?"
But he couldn't leave her behind. She wasn't human, and he couldn't be indicted for murder.
Aidan pushed to standing again, leaning heavily against the television while the room spun. He was heaving in oxygen as if he'd run a damn marathon and now that the adrenal rush was abating slightly, he was becoming aware of the multitude of scratches and minor scrapes that wounded him. His leg hurt like hell, too.
Reaching down, he grabbed the duffle again. Then he slung the dead weight of his unwanted burden over his shoulder and exited the room.
He was several doors down when a group of dressed-to-impress young men rounded the corner in front of him and asked, "What's going on, man?"
"I told her to quit after the fifth shot," he explained, slowing his pace. "She wouldn't listen. It all went to shit after that. I'm just hoping I make it to our room before she pukes down my back."
"Sucks to be you, dude," commiserated one of the guys. "The clubs are just starting to rock and your night is done. No pussy for you either, unless you ditch her."
"I wish I could," he said, meaning every word.
The rest of the group laughed and suggested he "leave the bitch at home next time."
"Good idea," he muttered, continuing on.
It was a long hike from the room back to the rented dark green Honda Civic, a damn sight longer than the trip from the car to the room.
Lyssa hopped out upon seeing his approach, engaging the safety on the Glock before quickly tucking it into the waistband at the back of her jean shorts. Her shoulder-blade-length blonde hair was restrained in a ponytail and her taut abdomen was displayed by the cropped white T-shirt she wore. Her face was scrubbed clean and free of cosmetics, and Aidan was positive he'd never seen anything or anyone as beautiful in his life. He didn't regret anything he had to do to keep her safe.
"Oh my god." She blinked rapidly. "You're kidnappingher?"
"Something like that." He grunted as he stumbled over the uneven dirt road.
"What's wrong? Oh shit! Your leg's bleeding."
"Open the back door, Hot Stuff."
"Don't 'hot stuff me," she muttered, even as she hurried to obey him. "You're not supposed to get hurt!"
"Yeah, well, it's better than being dead like our friend here."
He could feel the wave of horror and confusion that moved through Lyssa.
"Jesus… she's dead? And you're putting her in the car?" She stood frozen, watching him arrange their passenger lengthwise across the seat. "What the hell am I saying?" she said finally, the high pitch of her voice the only sign of how deeply disturbed she was. "We have to take her with us. We can't leave her here, can we?"
"No, we can't." Aidan backed out of the cramped backseat and straightened to face her. She was pale, her eyes too big, her lips colorless. For the first time, she was confronted with irrefutable proof of what he was-a warrior who killed as necessary. "Are you okay?"
Lyssa inhaled sharply, her gaze darting to the body in the car. Then she nodded. "Yeah."
"Are weokay?" he asked grimly.
She frowned, staring at him. Then her face cleared. "Yes. We're okay. I know you did this for me. For us. It was either you or her, right?"
"Right." He wanted to touch her, to stroke her cheek, and to pull her close enough to breathe in the scent of her skin. But he felt dirty, and he didn't want to put his hands on her until he was clean.
"Well, she's not the one I'm in love with, so you made the right choice."
He heaved out a relieved little laugh, the tension draining from his body. "She had the taza, too, which is really fucking convenient since we're not going to make it down to Ensenada."
As she regained her composure, her chin lifted and her shoulders went back. "Should I get out the supplies?"
They'd been cautious and brought along a medical bag of emergency items. Their life together was a dangerous one and neither of them ever forgot that.
"Not here," he said. His injury recovery time was rapid compared to humans, but he'd discovered that a stitch here and there could cut several hours of healing down to one or two. "Let's head back toward the border. We'll stop somewhere private."
There was an Army-issue shovel in the trunk, part of a kit he'd picked up at the local military surplus store. He knew Lyssa was thinking of it, too.
"What about the statue for McDougal?"
"I'll tell him I was mugged and got injured, which cut our trip short."
Lyssa raised a brow. "You, big guy?"
Aidan shrugged. "He can't prove me wrong."
"Alright." She stepped back and opened the front passenger door for him. "Let's hurry."
Losing the battle to keep his distance, he pressed a kiss to her cheek before he gingerly attempted to get in the car.
"I love you," she said.
"Thank you." His gaze met hers. "I needed to hear that."
She blew him a kiss. "I know."
Within minutes, they were on the road heading north.
Stacey watched Connor spoon more Kung Pao chicken onto his plate. There were several mostly empty boxes of Chinese food scattered all across the coffee table. She set her chopsticks down and picked up a cream cheese wonton. "I have never seen anyone eat so much food in one sitting in my life," she said wryly.
He grinned that broad boyish smile that made her stomach flutter. "You're a pretty good eater, too," he said. "I dig it."
"My hips don't."
"Your hips don't know what's good for them."
"Ha."
Connor sent her a mock glare and expertly wielded chopsticks to convey a piece of chicken to his mouth. Her gaze dropped to his bared stomach and she admired the sheer masculine beauty of his six-pack abdomen. Even after eating enough food to feed her and Justin for a week, he still looked taut, lean, and hard.
Gorgeous.
She was still having trouble processing the fact that they'd had sex, although her body still tingled from the aftereffects. They were sitting cross-legged on the living room floor watching The Mummy, one of her favorite movies. She was a sucker for a blow 'em up action flick with a hot hero and a touch of romance. Connor said he liked it, too, but he spent more time watching her than he did the television. She'd have thought his interest would wane after the sex, at least a little. Instead he seemed more interested than before. She had to admit, she was intrigued by him, too.
"So why are you here?" she asked, setting her elbow on the table and her chin in her palm.
"I have some information for Aidan."
"You couldn't call?"
He shook his head with a smile. "I tried that. He doesn't remember a damn thing I tell him."
"How like a man," she teased.
"Watch it, sweetheart."
Stacey liked it when he called her that. There was something in the rich brogue that lent sincerity to the common endearment. "Are you ex-Special Forces like Aidan?"
"Yeah." There was a melancholy tinge to his response.
"You sound as if you miss it."
"I do." He reached over and snatched the half-eaten wonton from her plate and popped it into his mouth.
"Hey!" she protested, frowning. "There are fresh ones in the box."