Again, she rejected the temptation to lie. “A few miles.”
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” There was a menacing undertone to that last question that sent another wary quiver snaking down her spine. Her already thudding heart thudded faster. This time she absolutely got the feeling that giving him the wrong answer might prove hazardous to her health.
Who is this guy? What have I gotten myself into?
Beating back the panicky feelings that were fluttering like butterflies in her stomach wasn’t easy, but she tried, and when she spoke, her tone was measured and calm. “My name is Gina Sullivan. Dr. Gina Sullivan. I’m an environmental studies professor at Stanford, and I’m here with a group of scientists to study the effect of pollution on birds.” Narrowing her eyes against the rushing wind as she marshaled her courage, she added tartly, “And I just saved your life.”
“Yeah,” he said, with no inflection at all. Something about that struck her as being more alarming than the menace she’d thought she’d detected in his tone before. Like her saving his life didn’t matter. Like he was the kind of ruthless opportunist who would let himself be saved, and then dispose of his savior in any way he found convenient. She was reminded suddenly, irresistibly, of that old scorpion-and-frog story where the frog gave the scorpion a ride across a pond and was stung to death by the scorpion on the way. When the dying frog asked why, the scorpion replied, “Because that’s my nature.”
Picturing herself as the frog, Gina shivered.
Then her chin came up. She’d be damned if she was going to sit there quivering in fear of him.
“And your name is . . . ?” she prompted.
When he didn’t answer, Gina’s lips compressed. She flicked a wary glance back at him. Focused ahead of the boat, his eyes were obsidian slits in a face that was ashen now except for the blue tinge of his mouth, which was grim. His jaw was hard. The wind had dried his hair, which was seal black and cut so short that she wondered if he could be military. She didn’t find the thought reassuring. His shirt was still so wet it clung to him. Through it, she could see exactly how heavily muscled his shoulders and chest were. Despite his clothes, which appeared to be the tattered remains of an expensive suit, the man was definitely not a desk jockey. The lower half of the left side of his shirt was now dark with blood. If he was bleeding like that despite how chilled his body had to be, then it was a serious injury. She marveled that he was still able to function. He had to be operating on pure adrenaline.
To have survived the crash, to say nothing of his immersion in the icy sea, and still be moving and functional, he had to be a fricking machine.
HIS GAZE shifted. Abruptly she found herself looking into his eyes. Even with him on his knees behind her they were higher than hers, which unhappily reminded her of just how big he really was. There was not a trace of softness or compassion in them, or really anywhere in his harshly carved face.
Pulling her gaze away, Gina worked on maintaining an outward facade of calm as she looked unseeingly toward the beach.
“The storm’s getting close,” he said. The tickle of his breath against her cheek made her tense up. Despite his good looks, she hated having him so near. “We’ll be lucky to make it in.”
On that they were in full agreement. Whatever else was going on with them, they were of necessity allied against the storm. For now, it was the common enemy, chasing them across the water like a ravenous gray beast, obliterating sea and sky as it devoured everything in its path. Gina’s heart pounded as she realized that it was gaining on them with alarming speed. Ahead of it, all around where the Zodiac was shooting toward the bay and beyond, the day was darkening as if dusk were falling, although it wasn’t yet four p.m. and there should have been at least an hour and a half of daylight left. The waves were starting to rival skyscrapers in size, and the wind was approaching gale force. As long as they were able to stay a reasonable distance out in front of it, they were actually benefiting from the strength of the blow because it was taking them in faster. Pushed toward land, the boat skimmed the water at what felt like warp speed, touching down with a jolt and then bouncing up again, over and over and over, Gina’s butt smacking the seat with each bump. If she’d been trying to do anything except go straight in, the little craft would have been impossible to control.
He asked, “Anybody going to be waiting for you up there on the beach?”
She hated admitting it. “No.”
“So you’re out here all alone.”
Something in his tone gave her pause. She didn’t answer.
“Are you alone?”