Free Cold in the Shadows 5 by Toni Anderson

used to being so utterly dependent on anyone, especially not a stranger. “Are you a doctor?”
    “Medic.”
    She shifted in bed and realized that under an unfamiliar white T-shirt she was naked. Embarrassment crept into her cheeks. Someone had stripped her and changed her clothes. A feeling of vulnerability and helplessness swept over her.
    “I didn’t see anything. Promise.” His gray eyes twinkled. “Your guard dog protected your modesty. I’m Noah, by the way. My mum always said that she should never have called me that because all I ever said when I was little was ‘no.’”
    “I can think of a few things she should have called you,” came a familiar voice from the open doorway. Her eyes darted to her rescuer who leaned a shoulder against the frame. “But I probably shouldn’t use them in polite company.”
    She was polite company? A confused half-naked, half-dead frog biologist?
    The blue eyes were bright and piercing, but there were shadows in their depths. His blond hair could do with more than a trim and there was a light scruff on his jaw. He wore a dark T-shirt with black canvas pants, but his feet were bare. Whereas the Brit, Noah, was tall, dark and charming, this guy was lean, blond, and exuded confidence like a pheromone.
    When he’d been at the visitor center yesterday she’d assumed he was part of a family and hadn’t paid too much attention, as she didn’t make a habit of ogling other women’s husbands or boyfriends. But at some point he’d told her he didn’t have a girlfriend so she must have been mistaken in her assumption.
    Intelligence gleamed in the blue eyes that scanned her face. Enough intelligence to make her nervous.
    She forced some moisture onto her tongue. “And what did your mother call you ?” she asked pointedly.
    His eyes narrowed for a moment before the smile returned. “On a good day she called me Patrick.”
    Noah’s expression was flat, but even that was telling her something. These men were being careful with the information they shared with her. Were they some kind of criminals? But they hadn’t hurt her and would criminals really go to this much effort to help a woman they didn’t know? If Patrick was correct about the man who’d stabbed her being part of the Mano de Dios cartel, he’d saved her life at great risk to his own.
    She owed him.
    Another wave of pain hit and she lay back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. She wished she could wind the clock back twenty-four hours and start the day over. “Where are we?” she asked. “Have you contacted the embassy for me? I need to talk to my parents. My mom is going to freak.”
    Noah pushed to his feet. “I’ll make you both a cuppa.”
    Patrick moved farther into the room as Noah left. Her injury was neatly bandaged, but she was well aware her midriff was on display. She inched the T-shirt down and his gaze rose guiltily to meet hers. Was that interest in his eyes?
    “Feeling any better?” he asked.
    “Compared to yesterday when someone tried to kill me? I feel better. Compared to the day before that? Not so much.”
    He nodded. Those eyes of his watched her with some kind of an agenda but she had no idea what that might be.
    “I don’t understand,” she said, finally.
    One brow rose. “Which part?”
    “Any of it. Why I was attacked?” Her voice rose in agitation. “Why you brought me here?” A man like him didn’t need to kidnap a woman to have sex. Even some sort of perverted serial killer would have easier ways of finding his victims than stealing planes from drug lords and flying across the South American continent. His actions didn’t make sense. “I don’t understand why you haven’t taken me to the hospital. It’s almost like you’re holding me captive but there’s no reason for you to do that.”
    Patrick continued to search her face, as if looking for an answer to some unspoken question. He shook his head. “I can’t take you to the hospital.”
    “But why not?