a hill, and naturally, she was hillside and at least forty feet up.
She looked at Reilly again. His stance implied strength and an innate confidence she could only dream of. There was no doubt, this man was in complete control of himself, even injured and half-naked.
Apparently unconcerned with that nakedness, he moved toward her. She flinched back against the door, but he kept coming, and took the hand she’d unconsciously held to her still-raw and aching throat.
Slowly but inexorably he pulled her hand up and stared at what he’d exposed.
Impossibly, his eyes hardened even more. “They hurt you, too.” He ran a finger over her skin then lifted his gaze to hers. “You were to watch the house for Eddie?”
“Yes.”
He made a rough sound. “That figures.”
“Figures how?”
“He favors the young and innocent.”
The words “young and innocent” came out as if those were the most irritating traits a person could have. How many times had she been told she looked ten years younger than her twenty-six? Plenty. So she looked young, big deal. Did people always have to use the word innocent when describing her?
She really resented the hell out of that.
“You interrupted them,” he guessed, and grimaced with what actually might have been concern. Then he took her other hand as well, the one she’d been cradling to her belly because her wrist still hurt, and turned it over to expose the mottled bruising already appearing there. He lifted his gaze and held hers for a long moment. “Where else did they get you?”
“Nowhere.”
Still holding her wrist, he looked her over thoroughly, and she let him because she didn’t feel up to doing anything else.
Besides, he had the air of a man well used to being in charge, the kind of man others would look to in a crisis. The kind of man that would be annoying in everyday life because of it.
Alpha male at its finest. And she preferred beta men. This guy didn’t appear to have a sensitive, compassionate bone in his body. He certainly didn’t feel the need to charm and cajole, or make everyone smile around him as his father did. He simply didn’t have the same easy warmth and charisma.
And in truth, he actually seemed far more dangerous than the thug who’d thrown her in here. She wondered how anyone had ever managed to hurt him, because all that carefully restrained strength was intimidating as hell. He must have been ambushed, and she doubted he’d gone down easily.
And yet the way he was looking her over for unseen injuries softened something inside her, just a little, at least until he touched the back of his head again and cursed, which made her jump. “You’re bleeding,” she said inanely.
“Yeah, that’s what happens when you take a heavy, ridiculously overpriced vase to the head.”
He had been ambushed. “Sit down. Please—”
“I’m fine.”
Well, he was indeed pretty darn fine, but wasn’t it just like a man not to admit when he was hurt. She turned back to the door and wriggled the handle again. It still didn’t give. At least her legs had stopped shaking. “Maybe we can somehow stop him, before he cleans Eddie out—”
“Are you kidding? No one can clean Eddie out, he’s got more money than God.”
“Well, we can’t just stand here.” She leaned against the door in frustration. This place was her responsibility this weekend and she took that responsibility seriously. “That guy said his job was to mess this place up. Maybe we can bang on the door, make nuisances of ourselves, until he comes back down here. Then one of us can distract him while the other—”
“You’re as crazy as Eddie.” He rubbed the back of his neck and let out a mirthless laugh. “And here’s a news flash. There’s four of them, all apparently intent on getting good old Dad’s toys, of which he has many.”
“Four?”
“I took two of them out and was working on the third when the last one knocked me on the head from behind.” He gritted his teeth, his jaw tight. “I’d have gotten him, too, but they caught me distracted.”
Tessa’s mouth had fallen open. There’d been four of them. And he’d taken out three.
By himself.
She eyed his bare chest only inches from her nose and tried not to ogle. “So you’re the martial arts expert the guy was grumbling about.”
He nodded.
“What happened to your clothes?”
He looked away. “When I hit the floor, they found my gun.”
“Your…gun.”
“And then they strip-searched me for more weapons.”
She could only stare at him. She’d imagined him dangerous. Edgy. But…armed? “Wow.”
He ground his teeth but didn’t say anything else.
“Four,” she repeated softly.
“And now two of them are armed,” he said. “Courtesy of moi. So even if we could distract them and bring them back this way, it’s not the wisest move. Unless you’re wearing a bulletproof vest…? No?” he asked when she shook her head. “See, bad move.” Gingerly, as if he had a headache, which he no doubt did, he sank back to the cot.
“Who would do this?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Your guess is as good as mine. Eddie certainly has plenty of enemies.”
How was that possible? The Eddie she knew wouldn’t harm a fly. “So we’re just going to stand here and wait for them to decide we’re not exactly an asset?”
“I’m not going to stand.” He lay back, put his feet up, and closed his eyes.
She stared at him. “You’re not serious.”
He drew in a deep breath, and, as if they were attached to his body by strings, her eyes followed the motion of his broad chest rising and falling, followed the way his six-pack belly caved in, and how his knit boxers lovingly cupped his…package.
And, oh my, what a package.
A little shocked at herself, she turned her back on him. “I can’t believe this.” She took a good look around the small, spartan room. There was nothing in it but the cot, and yet the rest of the house was so absolutely beautifully done. It was strange. “Where are we anyway?”
“The servants’ quarters.”
She turned around to look at him, but he hadn’t budged nor opened his eyes. “Did you grow up here?”
“No.”
“Did you—”
“How many more questions do you figure you have, because I’d like to sleep off this headache.”
She’d been manhandled, terrified and trapped, and she could deal with that. But it would have been nice if it’d happened with a warmer, more compassionate man, a man who put others’ needs and fears ahead of his own need for a nap.
Certainly someone more in touch with his own emotions.
In other words, this man’s polar opposite. “You shouldn’t go to sleep,” she said, unable to just ignore him. She had a feeling he could be fully dressed and she still wouldn’t be able to ignore him. “You could be concussed.”
He didn’t answer. His body took up the entire cot and more, a good portion of his long legs were hanging off the cot. His wide shoulders barely fit onto the thin mattress.
But what if she’d wanted to lie down? What then? She’d have to be snuggled right up against