Reawakened By The Surgeon's Touch. Jennifer Taylor
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it failed to engage at the first attempt. There was a hail of shots and the windscreen exploded, showering glass all over the cab, but by that time he had managed to get the truck moving.
They shot out of the trees and careered towards the road as Claire desperately tried to wedge herself into the footwell and hold on to the driver to stop him falling off the seat. They hit a rut and she yelped when her head connected painfully with the underside of the dashboard but Jude didn’t even spare her a glance. His face was set as he steered the truck across the rutted ground and she shivered. He reminded her of how Andrew had looked that night when he had forced himself on her; he too had been determined to get his own way. It was an effort to push the memory aside as they reached the road and Jude glanced down at her.
‘How far is it from here?’
‘Five miles, give or take,’ she told him, trying to subdue the sickness that had welled up inside her. He wasn’t Andrew, she reminded herself sharply because she couldn’t afford to fall apart.
‘Let’s hope it’s more give than take,’ he muttered, jamming his foot down on the accelerator. The rear end of the truck fishtailed before the tyres got a grip and Claire bit her lip. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself by letting him see how scared she was...
‘It’s going to be OK.’ Jude took his hand off the steering wheel and touched her shoulder, and there was a wealth of understanding in his eyes when she looked at him in surprise. He grinned down at her, his handsome face lighting up in a way that made her breath catch but for an entirely different reason this time. ‘We’re going to make it, Claire. Cross my heart and hope not to die!’
He laughed as he made a cross on his chest then put his hand back on the steering wheel, but Claire didn’t say a word. She didn’t dare. If she said anything then she was afraid it would be far too revealing.
Her stomach rolled and she had to force down the wave of panic that rushed up at her. For the past two years, she had felt quite comfortable around the male members of the team. They were simply colleagues and she’d never had a problem working with any of them. However, she knew that state of affairs was about to change. There was just something about Jude Slater that made her feel more aware of him than she’d felt about any man in a very long time. He might not be anything like Andrew but he could prove to be just as dangerous.
* * *
Jude could feel the sweat trickling between his shoulder blades. He was scared witless although he had done his best not to let Claire see how he felt. Maybe it was ego which demanded that he mustn’t let her know how terrified he was, but he’d be damned if he would start whimpering like a craven coward even though it was what he felt like doing.
He glanced in the wing mirror and felt his stomach try to escape through his boots when he discovered that they were being followed. There were three vehicles behind them and they were gaining on them, too. He jammed his foot down so hard on the accelerator that the engine screeched but he ignored the sound of ancient pistons being put to the ultimate test. If those guys got hold of them then he didn’t rate their chances!
‘Are they following us?’
He glanced down when she spoke, seeing the fear in her soft grey eyes. He had a better view of her face from this angle and he realised in surprise that she was younger than he had thought, somewhere in her late twenties, perhaps. The cap had been pushed back and he could see strands of honey-gold hair peeking out from under its brim. He’d always had a thing about blondes and he would bet his last pound that she was a natural blonde, too. He would also bet that she had a great figure once she was out of those appalling clothes, although if he didn’t keep his mind on the job, he might not get the chance to prove that theory.
‘Yep,’ he replied laconically, determined not to let her know what he was thinking.
‘In that case then can’t you make this thing go any faster?’ she demanded, glaring up at him.
‘If I press down any harder on this pedal, my foot’s going to go through the floor,’ he retorted, not sure that he appreciated having her demean his efforts to save them. ‘It’s not my fault if this outfit of yours is too damned mean to buy itself any decent transport, is it?’
‘If you mean Worlds Together then it’s not my outfit,’ she snapped back, bracing herself as they hit another pothole.
Jude grimaced when he heard the crunch of metal because the last thing they needed was a broken axle. He kept his attention on the road although her comment had intrigued him. ‘So you don’t work for the agency?’
‘No. I work with them but not for them.’
He wasn’t sure he understood the subtleties of that distinction but it didn’t seem the most propitious moment to ask her to explain. The rebels were gaining on them and he grimaced when he heard shots being fired. ‘How much further is it now?’
‘About a mile, maybe less,’ she told him, peering over the edge of the dashboard.
‘Get down!’ He pushed her head down as a bullet whined through the cab. He could hear more shots pinging off the chassis and hunched over the steering wheel, hoping that none of them would hit him. He groaned. Yesterday he had been sitting in an upscale London restaurant, enjoying dinner, and today he was in a beat-up old truck about to get fried. Talk about the difference a day made!
‘Will you stop ordering me about! I’ve been here a lot longer than you and I know the drill.’
He risked another glance at her when he heard the anger in her voice and felt his heart give an almighty lurch. Her cap must have been dislodged when he had shoved her head down and now all that honey-gold hair was spilling over her shoulders. It was so thick and shiny that he physically ached to run his fingers through it. It was only the thought of them careering off the road if he gave in to the urge that kept his hands on the wheel.
‘In that case, what do you suggest?’ He raised a mocking black brow, not sure if he appreciated feeling so ridiculously aware of her when the sentiment obviously wasn’t reciprocated. ‘I could stop the truck and ask them nicely not to shoot at us any more, but somehow I don’t think they would be keen to cooperate, do you?’
‘Oh, ha-ha, very funny. It must be wonderful to have such a highly developed sense of humour, Dr Slater.’
‘I’ve found it very useful at times,’ he replied blandly, then ducked when another volley of shots rained over the cab. The rebels were just yards behind them now and they were gaining fast. He had to do something although his options were seriously limited.
‘Here, grab hold of the steering wheel and hold it steady,’ he instructed. ‘The road’s relatively straight from here on, so all you need to do is hang on to it.’ He grabbed her hand and clamped it around the base of the steering wheel then picked up the gun.
‘But I can’t see where we’re going!’
‘Just hold it steady—that’s all you need to do,’ Jude said shortly, leaning over so he could see out of the window. He had a clear view of the vehicles that were pursuing them and smiled grimly. Raising the pistol, he took aim and squeezed the trigger—
Nothing happened.
‘There aren’t any bullets in it.’
It took a whole second for the words to sink in. Jude pulled his head back into the cab and stared, open-mouthed, at the woman in the footwell. ‘What did you say?’
‘The gun’s empty.’ She glared up at him, her previously soft grey eyes like shards of flint. ‘We’re in the business of saving lives, Dr Slater, not taking them. That’s why there are no bullets in the gun.’
A dozen different retorts flew into his head and flew back out again. There was no point asking how or why or even giving vent to his frustration. Jude took the wheel from her and rammed his foot flat on the accelerator, forcing the truck to formerly undiscovered speeds. They rounded a bend and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw the town up ahead. There was an army patrol stationed just