the far right lane and took the next exit. For a few minutes she thought she was getting her way, but he pulled off on a side road and stopped the car.
She watched him reach into the backseat and retrieve a gray plastic box. “First-aid kit. Brought it in case we needed it when I found you.”
He pushed his seat back all the way and then unhooked his seat belt and hers. “Turn sideways and put your feet in my lap.”
“No!”
“I’m a qualified medic. Worst foot, please.”
Marie’s muscles were almost too tense to move, but she managed to turn. He helped her lift her legs and took her left foot in both his hands. She barely managed not to jerk it out of his grasp.
His glance raked her thighs before she could cover them with the blanket. Was it prurient, or was he checking for damage? Hard to tell. He didn’t look all that salacious, but the old paranoia had kicked in.
“There’s no telling what you stepped on in that alley,” said, his tone gentle, almost a drawl.
She noticed his accent for the first time. It was faint but still there. Probably hadn’t registered before because it was so close to her own. “You’re from the South. Where?”
“Alabama. Anniston, originally. Army brat, though, so I lived all over the place.” His hands were gentle as he continued examining her feet. “We’d better get these cuts cleaned up a little and wrapped before we go any farther. Uh-huh, that one might need a few stitches. Don’t want a nasty infection.”
He opened his door and slid out from under her feet. A moment later he returned with two bottles of water, one of which he handed her to drink. Setting the other on the ground, he then ripped the plastic off a roll of paper towels.
“Hand me the kit and get as comfortable as you can. I expect this will hurt a little bit,” he warned.
Marie remembered she should sip the water slowly. She shuddered in spite of herself when he uncapped the other bottle of water to pour over her feet.
She sipped again, feeling the coolness slide all the way down to her empty stomach. “Consider it payback…since I hurt you.” She slid down farther in the seat so that her feet were sticking outside the car on his side. “Go ahead.”
His touch was light considering the size of his hands, but she didn’t like to be touched, not by him or anyone else.
He was large all over, she noted, not just his hands. She’d have to stay aware. “Ow…ow…ow!” she yelped.
“There. I doused them with peroxide, too. That ought to do until you get them debrided. Like I said, you might need stitches in the left one.” He proceeded to wrap both her feet in gauze. “Go ahead, sit up and finish the water. I’ll find you something to put on.”
He disappeared and she heard him open the trunk again. In a few minutes he returned and tossed her a pair of socks and black sweats. “These will swallow you whole, but at least you’ll be rid of that scratchy blanket. Don’t take anything off but that. Roll it up and I’ll bag it.”
He shrugged and stuck his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “I’ll just…wait back there while you dress. Unless you need help?”
“I’ll manage,” she gasped. Marie grabbed the clothes and wrestled them on as quickly as she could.
He was surprisingly thoughtful. Maybe he was softening to the idea of letting her work with him. Or not. He probably thought she was a big baby. She swiped the tears from her face when she realized she’d been crying. Dammit. She never cried.
“All done?” he asked before looking inside.
“Ready,” she said, hating the thickness of tears in her voice.
He got back in and handed her an energy bar to eat. Then he put the old blanket in a paper bag he’d brought. “Evidence,” he explained as if she didn’t know. Then he promptly started the car and drove back onto the autobahn. “Feeling better?”
“I told you I’m fine. Thanks for the clothes.” She fell quiet then, bit into the energy bar and just watched him, really assessing him closely for the first time.
He radiated confidence and was probably very good at his job, judging by his actions thus far. He had taken that painful squeeze and twist she’d given his essentials with the good grace not many men would.
He was unusual in other ways, too. Not lecherous or superior for one thing. Most men saw her as fair game and, at the very least, offered suggestive looks or a condescending attitude. Usually both.
Marie knew how she looked and used it, even enhanced it to the max. That helped in her job as an undercover operative. It was actually difficult to present a different impression than little blond airhead because she stayed in that character so much of the time.
She was short and slightly built. Dainty, some called her. Dimples, baby-doll features and pale blond hair had always caused her more trouble than not, but they also gave her that necessary edge. She had mastered the wide-eyed, vacant-headed smile, complete with a self-deprecating little laugh of incomprehension. She must look pretty rough right now, but that should have piqued his sympathy if nothing else. So far, he’d treated her like a fellow agent who had just been through a rough time. Unusual and, she admitted, very welcome.
People, especially men, never gave her credit for a brain; yet not once had Tyndal talked down to her. So maybe he didn’t make automatic assumptions based on appearance.
Neither did she, but she couldn’t help noticing how he looked. Impossible not to. Maybe she’d seen better-looking guys in her time, but he certainly was no slouch in that department. In fact, he had a commanding presence, sort of rugged and suave at the same time. His voice was a bit gravelly and had that slight Southern drawl. In your face, but with a smile, that was him.
His hair was salt and pepper, obviously graying early, since the rest of him looked early to midthirties. The eyes were light, either gray or blue, and really intense. Good strong nose and his mouth…Well, that mouth…didn’t matter, she told herself firmly and jerked her gaze away from his profile.
Her overall impression was that Agent Tyndal was hot as hell, self-assured with good reason. And as stubborn as mule, she’d bet. A real challenge.
Now then, what would be the best way to appeal to him? How could she persuade him to let her go after these kidnappers without giving him the impression that her reason was personal? It was personal. Nobody yanked her around like a helpless rag doll anymore and got away with it. Nobody! If she let that happen again, it negated all her years of hard work, all that she had become.
She had to devise something before he put her on a plane back to the States. No way would she let that happen. She’d disappear first, and she damn well knew how.
Chapter 2
He wasn’t going to budge. Marie decided that if she disappeared in Landstuhl, she’d be found almost immediately, so she had to go to plan B. She had to play it weak if her plan was to work. She brushed a hand over her face, sighed and shook her head. “Could I ask you a huge favor?”
“What?” He sounded a tad suspicious.
She
