Once they’d eaten, securing Dorinda Wilkerson’s information was more difficult than they’d imagined. The hospital contacted the police, and their chief had to be placated by Houston PD and reassured that nothing the Mexican department had done was suspect, that the Texans were simply working a case involving possible deception on the part of an American citizen living there.

Charlie’s crime lab already had Seth’s DNA on file, so the results would be ready before the two of them landed in Texas after their weekend in Mexico.

“I must admit something,” she said on their way to the distressed area of Guadalajara where Rodrigo Martínez devoted his time helping inner city children. “People complain about their jobs all the time—I like mine, but I’m even more thankful that I work in Houston instead of here.”

She surveyed the crowded, graffiti-decorated streets as they passed through, conscious of the wary looks everyone between the ages of six and seventy gave them, staring, not only as if they distrusted them but as if they were contemplating pulling a weapon and taking their car. Even the kids looked capable enough to pull off such an act.

“I don’t think they see too many gringos in this neighborhood,” Seth said quietly. “You sure you want to get out? I could go in by myself.”

“Not a chance.” She tapped the gun at her side lightly. “I’m your detail, remember? You aren’t carrying a gun.”

“Maybe I know how to protect myself without bullets,” he said.

“And maybe you’re just full of it. I’m going inside with you. Our driver can lock his doors and call the zero-whatever number for emergency if he’s scared.” She snorted indelicately. “Might not be a bad idea to hand him the number to the American consulate in case we don’t come back in a timely manner.”

Their driver, whose name she hadn’t gotten, evidently spoke English. He’d been silent during their entire trip with him, but now he looked into the rearview mirror, his straightforward gaze catching her attention, and he spoke in perfect English. “We have concealed carry laws in Mexico.” Then he pulled out a massive pistol from beneath his seat, quickly and smoothly enough that Charlie instinctively grabbed her own gun. The look he shot her was humorous as he returned the gun to where he’d had it. “I have permits.”

Charlie and Seth exchanged surprised looks. The small, unobtrusive man who’d been driving them carried a firearm that looked as if it could put a basketball-sized hole in a tank.

“Where did you find him?” she asked quietly from the corner of her mouth, settling her Glock back into its holster.

Seth never took his eyes from their chauffer but shrugged. “Phonebook?”

“I thought it was impossible to get one of those,” Charlie ventured, speaking to their driver.

He grinned. “Not if you have the right lawyer. The size of the pistola is what can be questionable, but I belong to a sportsman’s club, so I have permission to carry this one and my escopetas… You say shotguns.”

“Ah.” She returned his smile, unnerved but unwilling to let him know. Yeah, the guy would be able to take care of himself and their car.

He stopped the sedan before a sickly-looking pink building that said Dispensario and announced that they were at the free clinic. Barefoot children ran, laughing, back and forth in front of the building, cocking their fingers like guns and pulling imaginary triggers. Shoving and pushing one another playfully until they spotted the adults sitting in the car.

Charlie popped Seth lightly on the leg, encouraging him to exit so she could get out. The sooner they completed their business in this part of the city the better, especially since it would soon be dark. The atmosphere was ominous enough with the impending thunderstorms. She’d heard the sky rumbling off and on for several minutes, and the swirling clouds overhead indicated a major storm, unless she missed her guess.

On their way from the car to the medical facility, fat raindrops fell on them and splattered near their feet. Charlie shook her hair once inside the door and shivered. Between the weather and that driver holding a gun that could fell a buffalo, she had gooseflesh. She rubbed her arms to take away some of the chill.

Seth chuckled. “Never underestimate the quiet ones. He’s probably got shoulder-fired rocket launchers, grenades and Belgian assault rifles in his car trunk.”

Charlie lifted an eyebrow. “You are definitely a Fed. I have yet to see you fingering fabrics or playing with a color chart, so the idea that you may be an interior decorator is moot.”

He opened the door for her. “Thank God. If it takes me several months to figure out I don’t have denim in the house, imagine how lousy I’d be at coordinating anything else.”

The inside of the building was even worse than the outside, with pockets of flooring ripped up and dirt where cement or boards should be. Charlie would be surprised if there was running water or electricity. The only thing she took comfort in was that there didn’t appear to be pestilence. Whoever cared for the building seemed to have made certain that as many precautions as possible had been taken to ensure the best health care for those who showed up, despite the impoverished conditions.

They walked in the general direction of voices that could be heard echoing down the empty corridors. The building seemed to be an abandoned school because there were small chairs and tables here and there, stacked in corners of empty rooms. Dusty bookcases stood sentry just within rooms where doors had once hung on hinges but where now only bolts jutted from broken, jagged frames.

She sniffed indelicately, her nostrils smelling and tongue tasting a weird mixture of antiseptic and old, cold dirt.

Seth touched her arm and pointed at an open door. Beyond the entrance, in a room lit only by natural light through dirty windows, was a man in a white lab coat and three people who looked to be a mother and two children, both boys.

Out of respect for the mother, Charlie held up a hand, silently requesting Seth to wait before entering. They waited, watching, as the doctor finished his examination and in hushed tones gave the woman verbal instructions and pressed something into her hands. Probably medicine for the boy.

The Mexican woman shepherded her children single file past the two Americans and averted her eyes while the doctor stared warily from inside the sparse room.

Charlie held out her hand and introduced herself. Seth did the same.

Dr. Martínez seemed frightened at first, then angry. He held up his hands. “I received a phone call from the state’s coroner yesterday, telling me you would be here.”

“And?” Charlie looked from him to Seth then back to the doctor. Were they already conspiring to hide evidence?

“There’s no need for your concern as to why you received the surgeries—you would have been disfigured, unable to go anywhere without causing a stir. Perhaps some of it was unnecessary, such as breaking your jaw when it was fine, but the skin grafts and such… We had to do this. As for who suggested your operations and who paid for them, I don’t believe there should be secrecy,” the doctor explained. “I am a good man. An honest man.” He looked at Seth. “I helped give you a better quality of life than you’d have had without the surgeries on your face.”

Charlie assured him that she and Seth never had any doubts of that. “We’re just here to find out who signed the paperwork for his surgeries, how you were brought into this, and why he was told his name was Mason Aldridge when it’s not.”

“The American woman insisted, and who were we to disagree?” Martínez asked. “She offered money, lots of it, if we would just perform the surgeries and not ask any questions.” He looked at Seth and took a deep breath. “I am sorry if this has hurt you, but you received the best medical treatment possible. We worked many hours—there were so many broken bones and the torn skin. We felt grateful to have been able to make you look as you do.”

He seemed to be examining his work as he spoke to Seth, lifting a hand to touch Seth’s face and turn it this way and that, slowly, like he was studying a fine sculpture. “You healed nicely.”

“Thanks.” Seth sounded as if he meant it, but Charlie wondered if she detected a note of hostility. Not that she’d blame him.

“You say this American woman offered you money?” Charlie asked.

“What she paid your chief surgeon, I have no idea—it is none of my business. As for me? Two hundred fifty thousand for a new clinic. We’ve started building but were shut down because of the rains last month,” explained Martínez. “The new structure is two blocks to the north.” He added, as if qualifying once again his part in the deception, “A quarter of a million dollars is a lot of money in Mexico, especially for this community.”

“We don’t want to cause you any problems, Dr. Martínez,” Charlie told him. “We’re just looking for the truth so we can clear up some things back in Houston.”

Seth surveyed the room and nodded. “You and the people you help deserve a better environment. You won’t have any trouble from us. We won’t be involving the police, here or in the States.”

Martínez breathed what was obviously a sigh of relief. He nodded, and his eyes welled with tears. He choked when trying to speak. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Seth nodded as he spoke. “I do have a favor to ask. I need copies of my medical records, anything you’ve signed describing the procedures, who signed the permission slips, that sort of thing.”

“Of course. I’ll phone my office. It’s open tomorrow until noon if you can be there to pick them up by then. We don’t have a lot of money for postage to send them to the States for you.”

Seth shook the physician’s hand once more, then ushered Charlie out the door and down the hall. “I wonder how our driver is doing,” he commented.

The meeting with Martínez had been more emotional for Charlie than anything she’d encountered in a long while. She was glad Seth had put him at ease, that he hadn’t been upset. Many men and women would have raised hell had someone altered their appearance to the extent Martínez and his California accomplice had done. She could barely drag her thoughts from the medical snafu with Seth to the man waiting for them outside the door.

“As long he’s there and hasn’t left us,” she said. “I don’t know enough Spanish, even having spoken it on the job, to bail us out if we get into trouble here.”

They rounded the corner from the hall they’d taken and opened the door leading outside. To Charlie’s relief, their driver was not only there, he was tossing a ball with some of the children who’d been running in the street when they’d pulled up to the clinic. The rain seemed to have stopped momentarily. The streets were still slick, but the sun was peeking through the clouds.

Their driver said something to the children in Spanish, opened the sedan’s doors and within minutes had them moving out of the inner city and back to the highway they’d taken on their way there.

Charlie felt weak. She’d eaten hurriedly hours earlier, but the day’s events seemed to be taking their toll. She hadn’t had but a short while to assimilate the information they’d collected nor to manage her scattered thoughts on having Seth back. Several cases had drained her physically, but none had slammed her as emotionally as this one. She’d still not asked the police in Mexico about George Martin, whether or not they knew of him.

Nothing that can’t be handled once you’re back in Houston, Charlie. She settled against the leather seat and tried stilling the thoughts that made her brain ache. Was there a connection between Seth and Martin? If so…what? Had they worked together? Were they both part of the same law enforcement agency, or had one been after the other in a sting operation of some sort? She’d have to ask Gloria, the witness, the woman who had come to her last year, saying she’d been a friend of Martin’s and believed she knew who had killed him.

Whenever Charlie had asked who, the woman had replied that all Martin had told her was that his boss was involved. But the man, Damien Rogers, had claimed Martin had only worked for him, that he knew nothing about his disappearance, much less his death. That had been over a year ago.

Seth reached for her hand and pulled it into his, lacing fingers with her. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m wondering about the cold case I mentioned to you earlier. I haven’t spoken with the Mexican police about Martin, and I need to do that before we leave.”

“Can it wait until tomorrow?”

“It’ll have to.” She was immediately sorry she sounded so short. “It’s more important that we do what we’re doing today. I can always phone them from Houston or ask my captain to intervene.”

When he didn’t respond, she glanced upward. He was staring at what looked like empty space, and he had a faraway look in his eyes, as if he wasn’t there but millions of miles away.

“Seth?” She had to call his name twice before he looked at her.

“Hmm?” he finally responded.

She squeezed his hand. “We can’t handle the hotels and doctors as easily from home as we can while we’re here. I’m just cranky. This case has me baffled.”

He stroked the inside of her wrist slowly. “Sure that’s not all that’s upsetting you?”

An obnoxious thunderclap reverberated like a slap from God, its noise keeping her from answering. The car trembled, and their driver fought to maintain control. Rain seemed to fall in buckets, flooding the streets, slamming the windshield with a force that obliterated their vision. Charlie pitched against Seth, whose arms shot around her protectively.

The sky darkened so quickly that if she had blinked, it wouldn’t have been as fast as the change in the weather. For the first time since stepping onto Mexican soil, Charlie was frightened. Not of the people, the neighborhood from which they’d just come or not understanding the language and customs, but of the forces of nature that seemed angry enough to destroy them all.

She glanced at Seth. The last time he’d been in Mexico there had been a storm. He had to be thinking of that night, because whether or not he recalled the events, he remembered the irrevocable aftermath that changed his life. Maybe that’s why he’d seemed to space out moments earlier.

“Hey!” Seth called to their driver.

The man didn’t speak but acknowledged Seth by meeting his eyes in his mirror briefly.

“What’s your name?” Seth asked.

“Guillermo. William.”

“William, how would you feel about spending the night in a motel next door to us?” Seth waved his free hand at the storm outside their car. “I’ll pay for your room, your dinner, and I’ll throw in an extra couple hundred dollars for your trouble. Five if you’ll go for supper and bring us back a nice meal.”

William nodded. “Want me to find a place?”

“Please.” Seth’s body visibly relaxed. Charlie could feel the tension ease in the hand that held hers and in the thigh that brushed hers.

William chuckled. “We have what the locals call love motels. Pay by the hour or by the night. There are a couple close by.”

“As long as they don’t have bugs or spiders, and as long as they aren’t easily compromised,” Seth said. “Sure, why not?”

“They’re very nice. Even provide toothbrushes and condoms.”

William lowered his head after speaking and feigned concentrating on the road, but Charlie saw him cut his eyes upward now and then, gauging her reaction.

Most likely because I gasped, thought Charlie. She couldn’t suppress a smile, though, because she was sure that in his mind, William had been chatting with another male passenger and had forgotten about the female in the backseat.

Oh, perfect, a storm. And a motel with toothbrushes and condoms. Whoopee. Just what I’ve wanted. With pretty lingerie she rarely got the chance to wear, a new pair of sandals to show off the ankle bracelet she hadn’t worn in over two years and her favorite perfume back at the posh hotel where their luggage sat, unpacked and waiting.

Her eyes grew wide, and she stifled another gasp as William pulled into a motel’s single exit/entrance. This was like some circus ride. Jump in, jump off after the ride was over. She was positive many a man had taken his mistress to this place.

Seth handed over a credit card when William let the electric window down, and the attendant took their information, then swiped the card and directed them to two of the units, side by side. Charlie giggled despite herself. She was sure the attendant received many visitors with a variety of kinky preferences, but she’d never imagined herself going to a love motel with two men, one of whom didn’t remember her and the other a stranger.

William pulled into an open cavern-looking place then pressed a hand-held electronic device that the attendant had given him, and a massive garage door closed behind them. Once he’d killed the engine, William stepped out and opened the door.

Charlie was amazed. The garage floor was tiled, and the ceiling was bóveda, made of bricks that had been widely arched.

Past the garage was a spacious, inviting apartment with a bed, kitchenette and large bathroom. As William had said, there was a basket full of everything a couple would want…for a few hours or a night. Charlie picked up the guest soap and sniffed, surprised and pleased. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 

Seth could have done without William’s sly comment about the condoms being available, but he hadn’t wanted to brave the storm looking for a different place to crash. He figured he should feel guilty for sending William back into the storm for food, but a local eatery could provide plenty for the three of them, and the trip would be safer and quicker for the driver, who had left only moments earlier, saying he’d be back within the hour with supplies.

Seth sat on the edge of the first bed he came to and leaned against the inviting softness. The mattress was well-worn but not uncomfortable. Yeah, he could fall asleep here.

He sat up, however, not willing to be the first to fall asleep, not when he was responsible for Charlie’s safety and comfort. Some trip he’d provided. He’d had her travel hundreds of miles without feeding her until she looked as if she could pass out. He’d had her traipse all over both a clean, modern hospital and a grungy, inner city clinic where they could have been mugged or killed. She’d been a trooper, flashing her smile and her badge, helping him get the information he needed. Sure, she said she was also working on a cold case from Houston, but he knew she was primarily there to support him and help him find answers to the questions his mind could barely conceive.

“Did you bring in the folder…the information we secured today?” he asked.

Charlie patted the stack of papers she’d set on the table next to a small television. She hadn’t moved once they’d entered the room.

He looked at her apologetically. “I’d have ordered nice weather if it’d been an option,” he said.

“I know that.” She smiled. “It is what it is, as a friend of mine says.” She kicked off her shoes and came to sit beside him on the bed. “Besides, it’s all in a day’s work.”

“I didn’t bring you here for that,” he said, lifting a strand of damp hair from her brow.

“Yeah? Why did you bring me to Mexico?” Her voice was calm, but he saw the pulse jump in her throat, and he longed to taste the smooth skin.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” he said, rising.

Charlie sought his hand and pulled him back onto the bed beside her. “That was a provocative question—sorry. I didn’t mean to flirt.”

He looked at her small hand on his larger one then into her eyes. “Don’t misunderstand me. I want you. I’m just afraid of rushing things with you. I know I must’ve done something that hurt you, but I haven’t a clue what it was.”

“You disappeared.” She shrugged. “Not like you could help it if you were knocked unconscious…and hurt.” Her brows puckered into a frown.

“You wonder—so do I, if it makes you feel any better,” he said. “You want to know what I was doing here and if I was with another woman, with Marjorie Lawson.”

“She was pretty. I’ve seen you studying her photograph.”

He nodded. “I’d like to know what she meant to me, whether we were friends, coworkers, whatever. I just can’t remember.”

“We’ll find out. We still have time to go to her hotel tomorrow.”

Seth was pretty sure he didn’t smoke, but at the moment he’d have given anything for a cigarette, something to do with his hands and occupy the thoughts that had derailed somewhere during their flight into Mexico. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to fear your own mind, to know there are secrets hidden somewhere between yesterday and tomorrow if only you could find the key?”

Charlie shook her head slowly.

“Well, I do. Haven’t a clue why my disappearance in Mexico has anything to do with you, but I know it does, and the whole tangled web needs unraveling before I can find any peace.”

She tapped his forearm then splayed her hands before him. “Go over what we know for sure. I’ll handle our relationship—you tackle your memory problems.”

“I don’t get it.” He frowned.

“You will. Pretend we’re in elementary school and have to use our fingers to represent numbers or thoughts. What’s the first thing you remember?”

Seth held up his forefinger. “That’s easy. I woke up in a Mexican hospital and didn’t recognize the people who claimed we were related.” He held up a second finger. “I had no memory of the face that stared back at me when I looked in the mirror.” A third finger rose. “All I had on me that seemed familiar was a telephone number. Yours.”

Charlie ticked off items on her own hand, one finger at a time. “All I know is that one day you were with me, saying you had to go to Mexico on business. Months later, after having not heard from you, suddenly I get a phone call and it’s you, even though you don’t remember me or anything about our relationship.” She thought a moment before continuing, “As for what happened in the meantime…” She frowned. “No. This happened before you left. I was working a cold case on Martin.” She looked up. “Come to think of it, that’s about the time you entered the picture. Seems I hadn’t been working the Martin file long before you and I met.”

It occurred to Seth that he might not want to know the answer to the question forming in his mind, but he had to ask, “Did you ever tell me that George Martin disappeared in Mexico?”

She looked around their room before speaking again. “Our flight doesn’t leave until evening. Why did you only pay for this suite?”

Did she just brush aside the possibility I might be connected to something she’d been working on? Seth considered her question, but he had no ready answer. It hadn’t occurred to him she might want a room of her own. Of course she would. He shook his head. “I could always crash with William.”

“Uh-uh. I only wondered if it was an automatic reaction or if you’d thought about it.”

“Honestly? It never crossed my mind. It was storming, and we’re in a foreign country. I guess I wanted to protect you. Strange, huh? You’re the one with the gun and the badge, but I guess I have to be a macho—”

Charlie shocked the hell out of him by what she did next. She covered his mouth, first with her hand, then as she climbed onto his lap, she replaced her fingers with her lips. The kiss was his undoing. Long-suppressed need, barely beneath the surface of his consciousness, rose as he possessed her.

His tongue slipped between her teeth and caressed the interior of her mouth, burning her, claiming her, spearing every inch he could find. The soft, warm heat of her lips against his drove him insane with a yearning he’d felt since meeting her at the restaurant. Seth’s arms slipped over and around her, and he lay back on the bed, dragging her on top of him then rolling to his side where he could cradle her while making love to her.

She was his salvation, the one true comfort he’d felt in months, her presence a blanket that surrounded and held him a willing captive. Her tiny hands touched his chest, burning through his shirt, searing his heart. So small yet so powerful. Hands that he knew could probably rip him into shreds or mold him to suit her needs.

“Do you remember this?” she said on a sigh, pulling his shirt from his pants and slipping her hands around to caress his back, sliding them slowly upward over his aching muscles. She lifted her face to kiss him again, softly, tenderly, but passionately. Then she pulled back, raking his back slightly with her nails, grinding her hips against him. “Or this?”

“Yes,” he whispered, kissing her again before she could pull away from him to tease him further. He held her firmly, his heat striving of its own accord, seeking entrance to the sweet folds he knew were mere inches away.

Charlie tossed her head, twisting and turning above him. She gasped as their lips parted, and she asked him, “Really? Is this something you know or wish?”

“Both.” He couldn’t stop kissing her. Her writhing body, her scent, everything about her called to him, and he couldn’t resist, couldn’t deny the attraction, didn’t care if his body recalled what his mind couldn’t or if his brain tricked him into believing the oasis was real.

Only a fool would break the spell, would admit he wasn’t one hundred percent positive that he knew the woman in his arms and that he adored and missed her desperately.

Seth pulled back. Yeah, and only a jerk would let her believe what she wants, what we both want but can’t prove.

“William will be back in a bit,” he said gruffly, fighting for self-control. “I don’t want to put you in a compromising position when he gets here.”

Charlie blinked. “Sure.” She rose quickly and bolted for the bathroom, straightening her clothing. She was gone before he could call her back, to attempt explaining that she hadn’t done anything wrong, that it was him and his own reluctance to involve her any deeper in his problems than he already had. When she was with him, he wanted her passion, not her pity; her love, not her consolation.

Seth lay on the bed, regulating his breathing and berating himself for being seven kinds of fool. He was screwed no matter what he did. He only hoped she knew it, too, and that she forgave him.

 

The man is an idiot. Charlie splashed cold water on her face, more to soothe the sting of his rejection than to cool her flaming face. You’re no better, she told herself. He was walking, talking, breathing, but he wasn’t fully living. For whatever his reasons, his life was similar to hers, on hold. And here you are, waiting for him to make the moves on you.

She stayed in the bathroom, rehashing old memories and present circumstances, trying to think of a way to reach him, to reconnect with the man she’d known. When she heard him talking to William and heard the driver leave to go to his own room, only then did she reemerge, entering the bedroom suite as if nothing had happened.

The meal, however, was a somber affair. The monsoon-like winds and rain raged outside while their personal storm seethed within the walls of the apartment, building with every bite they ate and every breath they took. They barely spoke. She could hardly choke down her meal.

After they’d finished and she helped clear the small table where they’d dined, Charlie took the top sheet from the bed and went to the bathroom again, this time to shower and fashion a toga out of the only material available, considering they had no fresh clothes. She stood beneath the steaming water until she realized she was chilled. Her thoughts had occupied her so that she hadn’t noticed when bathing stopped and passing time began. It wasn’t like her to stand still, quiet, reserved, without emotion.

She surveyed the small basket in the bathroom that held toiletries. Choosing one of the toothbrushes, she performed her usual evening ritual, still taking her time. If he’s waiting, let him stew.

As soon as she emerged and went toward the bed, the look in his eyes both charmed and alarmed her. She felt simultaneously like the hunter and the hunted.

That’s what bugged her the most. She felt like a big game hunter stalking a large, sleek cat, and she couldn’t make up her mind whether she wanted to trap him and train him, or have him catch her and just have his way with her. Either way equaled unparalleled fun, both avenues promised to be maddening and the outcome would be the same. They’d wind up with a stormy love affair that would keep their adrenaline pumping until they were octogenarians.

Provided the alpha cat got off his butt and made a move on her, because it wasn’t her in her nature to be the blasted hunter.

Charlie wrapped the sheet more securely about her and climbed into bed, doing her best to ignore him as he unbuttoned his still-damp shirt and draped it over the back of a chair. She reached for the television remote, feeling him staring at her, and she knew he wanted to talk but didn’t know where to begin.

And I’m damned if I’ll help him. She ran her fingers through her hair, testing its dryness, still conscious of him watching, so she tilted her head slightly, parted her lips, preening, exposing her neck and executing a vulnerable pose, much like a wanton lady tempting a vampire.

She slid him a look from the corner of her eyes. He looked like he wanted to bite her all right.

When he started pacing, slowly at first, then with more energy as the storm outside intensified in sound and fury, he really did look like a big cat, and the sight of his half-naked torso did more than arouse an animalistic sensation in her body.

Charlie stifled a groan and focused harder on whatever was on the tube. Why can’t I remember what I just watched? She peered more intently.

A sound resembling that of a growl emanated from Seth’s direction. Charlie glanced up and found him staring at her, his eyes unfathomable, dark and broody.

“What?” she finally asked.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” The words were quiet, firm, drained of any emotion she could identify.

Anger, pain and frustration bubbled up, and Charlie leapt from the bed to stand before him. “Too…late!” She balled up her fist and socked him on the shoulder.

“What?” He looked incredulous.

She hated herself for trembling, for standing before him naked except for a thin motel sheet. “You broke my heart.” Her voice cracked on the last syllable, and she shuddered uncontrollably.

The look on Seth’s face was painful to behold. She could tell that he, as well, felt wounded, and it was obvious he didn’t know what to do about it.

Charlie grabbed him by the belt and backed him toward the bed. Lifting the hem of her toga, she swooped a leg behind his, buckling his knees and landing him on the bed. Instead of climbing on top of him this time, however, she leaned over, fuming.

“Still think I can’t take care of myself?” she asked. “Think you’re going to hurt me?”

She reached into her purse on the nightstand and grabbed her handcuffs, and before she could think rationally, she snapped one link around one of his wrists and in one motion flipped him onto his stomach and grabbed his other wrist, securing it with the other steel band.

Seth bellowed in protest, and she jerked him back to face her.

“Oh, shut up,” she admonished. “I promise not to hurt you and not to make you wear these all night. I just wanted to prove something, you big dope. I may be small, but I can handle you and whatever problems you toss at me. I’m not afraid of street thugs, murderers and rapists, so what makes you think I can’t handle an amnesiac with a guilt complex?”

The outright indignation on Seth’s face was enough to make her back away, but his mercurial physical response was the biggest surprise. Before Charlie could budge, he’d twisted his torso, performed what had to be a painful dislocation of his shoulders. He rolled her onto her back with the strength of his thighs, pinning her, his eyes blazing into hers, defying her, stripping her bare, and she had no doubt that had he wanted, he could have killed her.

Tremors of shock raced down her spine, and his crushing weight stole her breath, weakening her defenses, both physically and emotionally. She knew, even with his weight crushing her, that she could wriggle out of the entrapment, but not without hurting him further, so she lay still.

“I appreciate your concern for my sensitive guilt complex,” he said evenly, “but if you don’t mind, I’ll deal with it in my own time, my way, without your interference or input. If I want to know what you think about how I’m handling my neuroses, I’ll ask you.” He bent his head and crushed her lips in a punishing kiss. She didn’t miss his wince or groan.

After making sure she was submissive enough not to lash back at him, he lifted his head. “Now. Where’s the damned key to these cuffs before I pass out and we’re both hurting?”

Charlie swallowed hard, barely able to breathe. She shifted her gaze to somewhere behind him, her voice scarcely audible. “In my purse.”

“Get them.” It wasn’t a request.

He rolled, taking her with him to an upright position.

She staggered trying to stand, so she plopped back onto the side of the bed, digging into her purse with shaking fingers until she snagged her keys. Unlocking the handcuffs, she avoided his gaze, feeling the heat from his stare blazing against her face.

He glared at her. “Next time you want to handcuff me, lady, you’d better be prepared to spend the night that way. Got it?”

Charlie nodded, flushing. Somebody didn’t like being confined. Not that she blamed him. It was a stupid thing for her to do. Illegal, had they been in the States, maybe even in Mexico. She should be ashamed, but instead…she was intrigued, and to her chagrin…a little turned on. Wow.

What was it he’d said when they first encountered William with his pistol?

Never underestimate the quiet ones.

While she corralled her own thoughts, she watched as he confirmed her suspicions. He had dislocated his shoulders in order to trap her. Seth walked to the bathroom door and slammed himself against the doorjamb. A muffled but gut-wrenching sound emanated from him, and she heard the sound of bone against bone as well as flesh against wood as he realigned the bones he’d discombobulated.

The thought that he’d been able to do such a thing was spooky. That he’d done it so quickly was unnerving, making her wonder about the job he’d had when they met. Was he some sort of Harry Houdini thief, possibly a cat burglar used to getting in and out of tight places, or a highly-trained spook for the government?

Had Seth been involved in some accident as a youth or young man, one in which he’d had his arms nearly ripped from their sockets? Was he double-jointed? Nobody she knew had the ability to do such a thing.

Other than the initial grunted moan he’d given when he first fired his body like a human missile at the door frame, he hadn’t made a sound. Charlie couldn’t tear her gaze from his. No reaction other than the same expressionless stare he’d exhibited on the bed—dark, dangerous and most definitely defiant.

She knew she’d screwed up so she offered what she could to diffuse the situation. “I have some painkillers in my purse. Want them?”