Page 151 of Her Reluctant Hero
Adrian rubbed his knuckles over his forehead as he reached past his grief for logic. “See if you can find the sat phone.”
She didn’t move, her focus on the professor. Adrian curved his hand over her shoulder and she turned her gaze to him. The despair he saw in her eyes was another punch in the gut. This man had been a father to her after her parents were killed. He squeezed her shoulder, trying to bring her closer, but she set her feet, unwilling to take comfort from him.
“I’ll stay with him,” she said.
Christ. He didn’t want to leave her here with the smell and the blood. God, there would be so much blood. “Mal.”
“I’ll stay.”
He recognized the stubborn tone but wouldn’t leave her with the man sprawled like that. There was nothing peaceful in his death. The sight, the stench, had Adrian fighting a wave of sickness, but he couldn’t back off. Taking a gulp of air, he stepped over to the cot and gripped the man’s bony shoulders to straighten him on the cot, give him that peace at least. Now he could now see the expression on Robert’s face—shock.
“Well, yeah, old man, hurts to die.” To leave everything behind, especially when you have something to live for. “Christ.” The word was both prayer and question as his vision blurred, as tears ran down his nose to drip on Robert’s chest. He scrubbed his face on the shoulder of his own T-shirt and turned his head to look at Mallory. “See if you can find something to cover him with.”
She nodded, her face blotchy. She stepped over books scattered over the carpet. “What happened here?”
Adrian glanced over at the overturned chest, the research books tossed about. “Maybe he hit it when he fell.” But that didn’t make much sense. The professor didn’t weigh enough to knock over the cot. How could he have turned over a chest of books? “Mal, the blanket.”
“Right.” She rummaged through his other chest until she came up with a blanket. “Where’s the one you brought him from Scotland?” she asked, handing the solid blue blanket to Adrian.
“His plaid? On the boat, I suppose.”
“We should get that.”
The look she gave him meant that he should go. Right. He still didn’t want to leave her with the body, but she didn’t look as disturbed as he felt.
He jogged toward the beach, hating the relief he felt at being out of the tent, away from the body but not from the cloying smell. It was in his nose, on his clothes. He wondered if running into the ocean would wash it off.
He stopped short at the top of the dune. There was no boat. Perhaps the others had gone for help. But why had they left the professor like that? Unless the old man had waited to pull the trigger after they left.
Adrian pushed back the image that popped into his mind, instead focusing on his crew. Surely they weren’t diving in this weather. He couldn’t see the platform from here, and even if he could, he had no way of getting to them, no way of communicating.
Jesus. He dragged a hand over his hair as tension squeezed his gut, uncertainty rattled his nerves. He hated not knowing what to do next, the feeling only compounded by the grief he felt over losing his friend, worry about finding Toney and the others.
When he returned to the tent, Mallory knelt by Robert’s body, her hand on his. She looked up, tears streaking her face, reddening her eyes.
“The boat’s gone,” he said.
“What?” Eyes wide, she got to her feet. “Where?”
“How do I know?” He regretted the snarl when she recoiled. He couldn’t let his own fears feed hers. She’d need reassurance so he’d bury his own concern to give it to her. “Maybe they went for help.”
“Why would they leave him without covering him up? They wouldn’t do that.”
He shook his head, then pivoted and headed for the vehicles.
Mallory watched him go but could no longer bear being alone with Dr. Vigil’s body. She couldn’t bring herself to look at his body, and the scent permeated everything. She ran after Adrian.
He stood at the passenger door of the other Land Cruiser, a cigarette hanging from his lips, checking the magazine of a handgun. She skidded to a halt, grains of sand digging into her feet. He cut a look in her direction, his expression hard, dangerous.
Unfamiliar.
“Adrian, what are you doing?”
“Something’s not right,” he said around the unlit cigarette, tucking the gun in the back of his pants. “I’m not walking around unarmed. And if we’re going to look for Toney and the others, you need this.” He picked up another gun from the front seat, handed it to her, grip first. “Do you remember how to shoot?”
“Yes, but—” She took the gun, heavier than she recalled, and her skin iced. “It’s been awhile.”
He pulled the lighter out of the dash of the truck, lit his cigarette, took a deep drag. An expression of relief washed over his face, the first she’d seen since they’d left town. He blew out a breath, the action so familiar and, God help her, sexy, a punch of longing shivered through her. Good, normal. She could feel something other than this heavy sadness.
“We’re going into the jungle. Stay close.”
