Her Baby's Bodyguard. Ingrid Weaver

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      Eva exhaled on a hiss. “What?”

      “You’re trying to hide things under your coat again.”

      “Sergeant, I’m not—”

      “Save your breath, ma’am,” he said. His fingertips were featherlight as he touched her side. “It wasn’t any splinter that caused this wound. It was a bullet.”

      The storm blew in faster than any of Duncan’s meteorological program models had predicted, and as luck would have it, they were driving straight into the thick of it. The packed dirt that served as the road had already disappeared beneath a layer of snow. It was falling so fast that Jack could barely see the tracks they’d left behind them. Kurt had reduced his speed to maintain control as the wind buffeted the truck, but they were no longer concerned about making the rendezvous. Until the storm let up, the chopper wouldn’t be coming. The objective now was to find somewhere to wait it out.

      Jack let the tarp fall back into place and glanced over his shoulder. Eva had her eyes closed and was leaning against the side of the truck, but he knew she wasn’t sleeping because her hands were curled in a white-knuckled grip over the baby. At his insistence, she’d laid the kid on her lap instead of returning her to the bed-sheet carrier and strapping her back on. It was her only concession to the compress that Jack had taped over her ribs.

      That woman was giving him one surprise after another. Jack couldn’t think of a single female of his acquaintance who would have even dreamt of concealing a bullet wound—or would have been capable of trying. Most men wouldn’t have endured it as stoically as Eva had. And to top it off, her main concern, once she’d learned she’d been shot, was to ensure that the bullet had missed her baby.

      Damn, she was something.

      Beside him, Tyler adjusted the canvas to minimize the amount of snow that curled in and resumed his watch through the gap that remained. In spite of the weather, he hadn’t relaxed his vigilance. “How bad is it?” he asked.

      Jack knew Tyler wasn’t referring to the storm. Though the other men had concentrated on their own responsibilities while they’d left Jack to tend to Eva, they would be as concerned about her condition as he was. “The bullet only grazed her,” he replied, keeping his voice low so she wouldn’t overhear. “It lost most of its velocity when it passed through the side panel of the truck.”

      “So it’s not serious?”

      “No, it’s minor. She was lucky. There was no penetration. Just a shallow gouge where it skimmed along her rib cage.” Just? Sure, if he’d been talking about one of the guys, he’d laugh this one off. They referred to anything that didn’t involve broken bones or major organs as a flesh wound, and Eva’s was just a flesh wound. “It’s ugly, but the bleeding was already slowing down. She’ll need some plastic work once we get back if she doesn’t want a scar.”

      “It must have stung like hell when she got hit.”

      “Yeah.”

      “She never said a word. Why do you figure that?”

      It was a question Jack had already asked himself. He’d noticed that Eva had been in rough shape as soon as she’d sat up. Her sweater was black so he hadn’t been able to see the blood on it right away, but she probably wouldn’t have allowed him to touch her at all if he hadn’t used the ruse about examining her kid first. Her defensiveness had begun long before she’d been injured. She’d been prickly from the moment he’d confirmed her identity. “She doesn’t fully trust us,” he replied. “My guess is she’s worried that we’ll take the disk and leave her behind.”

      “Smart woman,” Tyler said. “She must have realized what the brass are really after. There’s some heavy-duty stuff on that disk.”

      “Yeah, well, then it’s a good thing we take our orders from Major Redinger. He doesn’t have much use for politics.”

      “Wonder what he’ll say when he finds out about the kid.”

      “Knowing the major, he’ll probably add babies to the list of possible scenarios we have to cover when we train for the next mission.”

      Tyler grunted a laugh. “You could use the practice. You looked like you were getting ready to rush the kid through the Giants’ front four.”

      “The football grip was Eva’s idea. It worked, too. Want me to show it to you?”

      “No, thanks. Give me a nice, safe bomb any day.” He tipped his rifle to blow the snow off the scope. “So, what’s your take on our lady? Is she going to slow us down?”

      “Not if she can help it. From what I’ve seen, she’s got enough willpower to walk from here to the Black Sea.”

      “She didn’t seem to like you much, Jack. Guess that legendary bedside manner of yours must be slipping.”

      “You’re still too young to understand women, son. If you were old enough to shave, you’d realize she was scared.”

      Tyler lifted his night-vision goggles so he could slide Jack a look. “She’s got reason to be scared of you, doc. I’ve seen your handiwork, and I wouldn’t want you anywhere near me with a med kit.”

      Jack let the comment pass, mostly because he agreed. He glanced back at Eva and saw that she was still sitting quietly. He’d cleaned and dressed the wound as well as he’d been able to in a moving vehicle. There wasn’t anything more he could do to make her comfortable, and he doubted whether she’d let him anyway.

      During his years in the service he’d seen far worse injuries than hers. He hadn’t balked at doing whatever was needed to save his patient. The other men knew that nothing fazed him, yet the sight of Eva’s wound had turned his stomach. It had seemed so…wrong.

      The kind of violence he was accustomed to didn’t belong in her world. She was too delicate, too feminine to be treated like the hardened soldiers he usually dealt with. She should be on a bed, not on a battlefield. Her skin had gleamed like satin in the glare from the flashlight. It had felt like satin, too. He’d smelled the blood immediately, but he’d also gotten a whiff of some kind of flowery perfume and the sweet musk of a female. Even while he’d done his best to focus on the gash the bullet had left, he couldn’t help being aware of how close his hand had been to the curve of her breast.

      Oh, yeah. A very ripe, full breast that strained the confines of her bra. And noticing it was, considering the circumstances, totally unprofessional and bordering on sick. He shouldn’t even be thinking of her as a woman.

      To the international diplomats, Eva Petrova would be considered the latest pawn in their ongoing game of one-upmanship. To his government, she would be viewed as a valuable asset and to the Russians she probably would be viewed as a traitor. Her fate, once the team got her out of here, would be anyone’s guess. But until then, she was in Jack’s charge. He should have found a way to keep her safe. He probably should have followed his instincts and pulled her into his arms before the shooting had started. To protect her, that is. Apart from administering first aid, that was the only reason he could justify touching her.

      As much as he admired Eva’s courage, he couldn’t afford to let his personal feelings distract him from his duty. They were still a long way from safety. For everyone’s sake, the mission had to remain his first priority. He would need to be prepared to do whatever was СКАЧАТЬ