“My car is half a block from here, and you’re in no condition to drive.”
She checked out the four vehicles. One was angled away from the curb. “Is the black SUV yours?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He sucked at parking. She faced him. “Look. I really appreciate the way you saved me from those dogs, but you don’t know me, and I don’t know you. I can take a cab.”
His grin filled his face then disappeared just as fast. For a moment, the smile transformed his entire being into something that sent desire rampaging through her. She stepped back, surprised at her own carnal reaction—especially since she’d almost been killed.
He held up his hands. “How about this? We’ll take a cab to the clinic. When we’re done, we take a cab back to your car and you can be on your way. My treat.”
Her hair was matted to her face from the rain, so she didn’t think that was a pick up line. She was cold, in pain, and needed help. Then, there was the fact he had a gun. Well she did, too, but she’d never have the guts to actually shoot anyone other than Harvey Couch.
“All right.”
While she couldn’t see his chest cave, she thought she heard him exhale. He probably thought she was some ditzy blonde in a now see-through blouse and a too short skirt who had no idea what had just happened to her. If she hadn’t needed Harvey Couch to hire her on the spot, she never would have dressed this way.
“I’m Trax Field, by the way.”
She liked the name. “I’m Liz Wharton.” Too late, she realized she probably should have used her fake name, but he wouldn’t have known who she was anyway.
He stepped into the street and waved down a cab. There weren’t that many in this city, so she was happy when one drove by and stopped.
Trax held open the door, and she hesitated. Was this the dumbest move or the most prudent? Time to decide.
Chapter Two
In the end, Liz crawled in the cab. She was too uncomfortable to refuse his help. Besides, the man seemed to know something about the owners of the white van. Maybe he could help her find out why those dogs had attacked her. And, there had to be a reason why her savior happened to be in that alley with a gun.
Trax didn’t try to sit close to her in the cab for which she was thankful. His posture was rather rigid, and he kept his gaze forward. Most men would have stretched out their legs, but not him. She believed he was a military man. It wasn’t just the neatly trimmed hair, his straight Roman nose, or the way his shirt plastered to his no-fat body. His eyes were intense and his jaw too tight, except for the moment when he’d smiled. Boy, when he’d flashed that grin, her every fantasy had come to life.
The blood dripping down her leg drew her back to reality. The cut on her palm and scraps hurt like a bitch. When she hissed, he pulled something white from his back pocket and handed it to her.
“Here, hold this over the cut and keep even pressure to stop the blood flow.”
Since he seemed to know something about medicine, she did as he suggested, but it stung even more when she applied the force. She wanted to ask him a hundred questions, but speaking in front of a cabbie might be a bad idea, especially if Trax had seen what she saw. Instead, she sat quietly and nursed her wound. He didn’t talk either which was fine by her.
When they’d gotten in the cab, Trax had given the driver an address. How had he know where the clinics were located? She wasn’t sure what to make of it. She’d lived in this town her whole life and couldn’t rattle off the address of even one health clinic.
They didn’t drive far out of the city center before they arrived at their destination. Okay, maybe this guy was on the up and up.
He leaned over the front seat and gave the cabbie a twenty. “Keep the change. We got your seat wet.”
His generosity impressed her. He jumped out, rushed over to her side, and pulled open the door. When she stepped out, he held her elbow.
This street had more traffic than the alley, which would make it next to impossible for more dogs to attack her.
“Let’s get you inside.”
That was the best suggestion she’d heard in a while. They entered the clinic and walked up to the desk. “Crap.”
His body tensed. “What is it?”
“My purse. I must have dropped it by the dumpster. I have to go back.” Her life was in there. Not to mention a gun and her mom’s diary. She’d taken two steps toward the door when he stopped her.
“I’ll call my brother. He can get it for you.”
She wanted to say she needed to retrieve it herself, but that would mean Trax would insist on going with her and that wouldn’t be fair to him. “He won’t mind?”