'So Marrok is probably just fine.' Walt turned on the radio. 'How about some music? It's supposed to soothe the savage breast. I always used to think that quote was supposed to be beast. It made more sense to me.' He raised a brow. 'Am I talking too much?'
'No.' She was barely hearing him. Her nerves were keyed to the breaking point as she waited for Marrok to call. 'You're taking this very calmly. I can't do that. All this violence… is Marrok always like this?'
Walt didn't answer for a moment. 'He's a violent man. He's had a hard life, and he has problems with restraint. He's much better than when we first met years ago. I think he has focus now, and that helps.'
'Right now he's focusing on a man who's probably trying to kill him.'
'True. But it'll be a piece of cake for him,' Walt said. 'Trust me.'
HE WAS BLEEDING like a stuck pig.
The bastard had nearly gotten his jugular, Marrok thought. He had only managed to deflect the knife at the last minute, and it had gone into his shoulder. He'd been good. Danner had upgraded the talent. He was better than Kingston had been on Santa Marina.
He tightened the garrote around the son of a bitch's neck and dragged him farther into the bushes beside the road. Don't strangle him. Don't kill him. Not yet.
All this would be for nothing if he let him die.
But he had to be quick. Someone might notice the Volvo on the side of the ramp.
Or this blood flowing from the wound might make him pass out.
He straddled him, his hand still twisting the garrote. 'I'm going to loosen this for a minute, and you're going to talk to me.' He was searching in his pockets as he spoke. He flipped open the wallet and glanced at the driver's license. 'Sherwood.'
'It's… a… mistake. I wasn't going to hurt you.' Sherwood's voice was a pleading croak. 'Just the others. They told me to make sure you weren't hurt.'
'Then you won't mind our having a little conversation, will you?'
'I don't know anything.' Sherwood said, panicked. 'Do you think Danner would tell me anything?'
'No, but you have names, telephone numbers, addresses. No man is an island. I can put them together. I like puzzles.'
'I'll make a deal.'
Marrok shook his head. 'I've found that loose ends always come back to bite me. But I'll make it quick if you give me what I want.'
Sherwood's lips curled. 'The hell you will.'
'Oh yes, I'm very good at this kind of thing. Did Danner tell you I was Apache? I grew up on stories of how my great-great-grandfather taught the white men pain. I was pretty bitter. I enjoyed it then.' He tightened the garrote again. 'The years haven't made me any more civilized.'
He waited until Sherwood was gasping, then released the pressure again. 'First, phone numbers you've been given to contact anyone in Danner's organization.'
'Screw you,' he hissed. 'You're bleeding all over me. All I have to do is wait until you pass out, then I'll gut you.'
'I don't think you'll want to wait.' Shit, he wished he had time to rig a ban dage to stop the bleeding. He had to be quick, or Sherwood would be right. 'Do you want to bet in three minutes you'll be begging me to let you tell me all you know? There are so many ways…'
WALT'S PHONE RANG. 'MARROK.' He pressed the connect. 'You took longer than I thought. Devon was beginning to-' He listened. 'I'll be right there.' He hung up.
'It's done.' He started the car and backed out of the parking space. 'But evidently not as smoothly as I hoped. He was a bit curt.'
'Is Marrok still where we dropped him?'
Walt shook his head. 'He said he'd probably be a half mile down the access road. He didn't want to be seen if someone spotted the wrecked car.' Walt entered the down ramp. 'You may have to do a little first aid. Marrok said the bastard was a knife man and managed to prick him.'
'He's been stabbed?'
'Marrok had to get in close, so he couldn't use a gun after be blew out the tires. He said Sherwood was a street fighter and pulled a knife out of a shin holster.'
'How bad is Marrok's wound?'
'We'll see. Couldn't be too bad if he can hike a half mile.'
'We'll still have to get him to a doctor.'
'That would be awkward. You'll have to talk to him.' They had reached the exit ramp, and he started down it. 'There's the Volvo. Keep an eye on the side of the road.' He suddenly pulled over to the side. 'Never mind. I see Marrok. He's coming out of that stand of brush.'
She saw him, too. Even in the darkness she could see the stiffness in the way he was carry ing himself. His dark hair was tousled, and he was moving toward them slowly. She hadn't realized until this moment what a springy, lithe gait he usually had.
Walt muttered a curse, put on the brake, and jumped out of the van. 'You look like death warmed over.' He put his shoulder beneath Marrok's arm. 'Some prick.'
'It's not serious. I just didn't have time to stop the bleeding until I finished.' He was leaning hard against Walt. 'It could have been worse. He was aiming for my jugular.' He looked at Devon, who had gotten out of the car. 'I don't suppose you have any sutures on you?'
'It's not something I generally carry around with me except on a disaster mission.' Her lips tightened. 'Perhaps I should start. My life's been one straight disaster since you dropped into it.' Damn, he looked pale. 'For heaven's sake, get in the back of the van and let me take a look at it.'
'There's a first-aid kit on the plane.' Walt helped Marrok into the back. 'We should be there in ten minutes.' He turned and trotted back to the driver's seat.
'Good.' Marrok closed his eyes. 'Then I think I'll take a little nap…'
'No, you won't.' Devon crawled in after him. 'Not until I'm sure you're not going into shock. You're not going to die on me, dammit.'
'I wouldn't dare.' He opened his eyes and gazed up at her. 'I didn't cut an artery. It's going to be okay.'
'Nothing is okay.' She pushed Ned away from him to loosen the makeshift ban dage. It was an ugly wound, but it was no longer bleeding, she realized with relief. She started to redo it. 'But it would be worse if you died and left me in this mess by myself. I'm staggering around in the dark, and I need you to tell me how I can get myself out of it.'
'I might have had an answer before tonight,' he said wearily. 'But everything is blowing up in my face.' He suddenly shook his head. 'God, I sound like a wimp. What the hell. I'll still get us out of this.' Between clenched teeth he said, 'Just get me sewn up, and I'll take care of the rest.'
'I'll do what I can. You do know you should be seeing a doctor?'
'I like the way you stitch. Ned's wound was clean as a whistle when you finished. And look at him now, he's almost normal.'
'You said he healed fast.'
'So do I. We just need a little help from our friends.'
'I'm not your friend.'
'You could be.' His eyes were burning, glittering with intensity. 'And more…'
She couldn't look away. She felt breathless. 'I think you have a fever.'
'Probably. Maybe we both do.'
Fever and a strange yet familiar languidness. Why the hell would she feel like this now? It was totally bizarre. 'You're the one who's wounded.' She steadied her hands to button his shirt. 'And that means that Ned isn't as clever as Walt thinks he is. He swore that if you were in any danger Ned would put up a ruckus.'
'But I wasn't in any danger. Not after I took away Sherwood's knife.'
'You might have bled to death.'
He shook his head. 'It would have clotted eventually.'
'So Ned's instincts still rule supreme,' she said dryly.
He was silent a moment. 'You haven't asked what I did to Sherwood.'
