to
survive a knife fight was to never get in
one in the first place, to run like hell? And now Eb was going to be killed and it was going to be all her
fault for not taking his advice and getting that tire fixed...!
Eb moved unexpectedly, with the speed of a
striking cobra. The man with the knife was suddenly writhing on the ground, holding his forearm and sobbing. The
other man rushed forward, to be
flipped right out into the high way. He got up and rushed again. This
time he was met with a violent, sharp
movement that sent him to the ground,
and he didn't get up.
Eb walked right over
the unconscious man, ignoring the groaning man, and picked Sally up right off
the ground in his arms. He carried her to his truck, balancing her on one
powerful denim-covered thigh while he opened the pas senger door and put her inside.
"My...purse,"
she whispered, giving in to the shock and fear that she'd tried so hard to hide. She was shaking so hard
her speech was slurred.
He closed the door,
retrieved her purse and wallet from the ground, and handed it in through his
open door. "What did they take, baby?" he asked in a soft,
comforting tone.
"The tall
one...took a ten-dollar bill," she faltered, hat ing her own cowardice
as she sobbed helplessly. "In his pocket..."
Eb retrieved it,
tossed it to her and got in beside her.
"But those
men," she protested.
62
MERCENARY'S WOMAN
DIANA PALMER
"Be still for a
minute. It's all right. They look worse than they are." He took a cell
phone from his pocket, opened it, and dialed. "Bill? Eb Scott. I left you
a couple of assailants on the Simmons Mill Road just past Bell's rental house. That's
right, the very one." He glanced at Sally. "Not tonight. I'll tell her to
come see you in the morning." There was a pause. "Nothing too bad; a
couple of
broken bones, that's all, but you might send the am bulance anyway. Sure. Thanks, Bill."
He powered down the phone and stuck
it back into his jacket. "Fasten your seat belt. I'll take you home and send one of my men out to
fix the truck and drive it back for you."
Her hands were shaking
so badly that he had to do it for her. He turned on the light in the cab and
looked at her
intently. He saw the shock, the fear, the humiliation, the anger, all lying
naked in her wide, shimmering gray eyes. Last, his eyes fell to her blouse,
where the fabric was torn, and her simple cotton brassiere was showing. She
was so
upset that she didn't even realize how much bare skin was on display.
He took off the
long-sleeved chambray shirt he was wearing over his black T-shirt and put her
into it, fastening the buttons with deft, quick hands over the ripped blouse. His face grew hard as he saw the evidence
of her ordeal.
"I had
a...a...whistle." she choked. "I even remem bered what you taught
me about how to fight back...!"
He studied her
solemnly. "I trained a company of recruits a few years ago," he said
evenly. "They'd had hand-to-hand combat training and they knew all the right
moves to counter any sort of physical attack. There wasn't one of them that I
couldn't drop in less than ten seconds." His pale green eyes searched hers,
"Even a martial artist can lose a match. It depends on the skill of his opponent
and his ability to keep his head when the
attack comes. I've seen karate instructors send advanced students running with nothing more
dangerous than the yell, a sudden quick sound that paralyzes."
"Those two
men...they couldn't...touch you," she pointed out, amazed.
His pale eyes had an
alien coldness that made her shiver. "I told you to get that damned tire
fixed, Sally."
She swallowed. Her
pride was bruised almost beyond bearing. "I don't take orders," she
said, trying to salvage a
little self-respect
"I don't give
them anymore," he returned. "But I do give advice, and you've just seen the
results of not listening. At least you had the sense to leave a message on my answering machine.
But what if I hadn't checked my mes sages, Sally? Would you like to think
survive a knife fight was to never get in
one in the first place, to run like hell? And now Eb was going to be killed and it was going to be all her
fault for not taking his advice and getting that tire fixed...!
Eb moved unexpectedly, with the speed of a
striking cobra. The man with the knife was suddenly writhing on the ground, holding his forearm and sobbing. The
other man rushed forward, to be
flipped right out into the high way. He got up and rushed again. This
time he was met with a violent, sharp
movement that sent him to the ground,
and he didn't get up.
Eb walked right over
the unconscious man, ignoring the groaning man, and picked Sally up right off
the ground in his arms. He carried her to his truck, balancing her on one
powerful denim-covered thigh while he opened the pas senger door and put her inside.
"My...purse,"
she whispered, giving in to the shock and fear that she'd tried so hard to hide. She was shaking so hard
her speech was slurred.
He closed the door,
retrieved her purse and wallet from the ground, and handed it in through his
open door. "What did they take, baby?" he asked in a soft,
comforting tone.
"The tall
one...took a ten-dollar bill," she faltered, hat ing her own cowardice
as she sobbed helplessly. "In his pocket..."
Eb retrieved it,
tossed it to her and got in beside her.
"But those
men," she protested.
62
MERCENARY'S WOMAN
DIANA PALMER
"Be still for a
minute. It's all right. They look worse than they are." He took a cell
phone from his pocket, opened it, and dialed. "Bill? Eb Scott. I left you
a couple of assailants on the Simmons Mill Road just past Bell's rental house. That's
right, the very one." He glanced at Sally. "Not tonight. I'll tell her to
come see you in the morning." There was a pause. "Nothing too bad; a
couple of
broken bones, that's all, but you might send the am bulance anyway. Sure. Thanks, Bill."
He powered down the phone and stuck
it back into his jacket. "Fasten your seat belt. I'll take you home and send one of my men out to
fix the truck and drive it back for you."
Her hands were shaking
so badly that he had to do it for her. He turned on the light in the cab and
looked at her
intently. He saw the shock, the fear, the humiliation, the anger, all lying
naked in her wide, shimmering gray eyes. Last, his eyes fell to her blouse,
where the fabric was torn, and her simple cotton brassiere was showing. She
was so
upset that she didn't even realize how much bare skin was on display.
He took off the
long-sleeved chambray shirt he was wearing over his black T-shirt and put her
into it, fastening the buttons with deft, quick hands over the ripped blouse. His face grew hard as he saw the evidence
of her ordeal.
"I had
a...a...whistle." she choked. "I even remem bered what you taught
me about how to fight back...!"
He studied her
solemnly. "I trained a company of recruits a few years ago," he said
evenly. "They'd had hand-to-hand combat training and they knew all the right
moves to counter any sort of physical attack. There wasn't one of them that I
couldn't drop in less than ten seconds." His pale green eyes searched hers,
"Even a martial artist can lose a match. It depends on the skill of his opponent
and his ability to keep his head when the
attack comes. I've seen karate instructors send advanced students running with nothing more
dangerous than the yell, a sudden quick sound that paralyzes."
"Those two
men...they couldn't...touch you," she pointed out, amazed.
His pale eyes had an
alien coldness that made her shiver. "I told you to get that damned tire
fixed, Sally."
She swallowed. Her
pride was bruised almost beyond bearing. "I don't take orders," she
said, trying to salvage a
little self-respect
"I don't give
them anymore," he returned. "But I do give advice, and you've just seen the
results of not listening. At least you had the sense to leave a message on my answering machine.
But what if I hadn't checked my mes sages, Sally? Would you like to think
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