opportunity to ask. She needed to reach an American consulate or embassy, where she hoped to obtain a new passport and book passage to the United States.
Maybe Tiny could help her with that. Then again, maybe not. She didn’t know him from Adam, didn’t think she could trust him, and she’d rather not push her luck.
The sound of approaching footsteps made her heart rate spike all over again. The steps drew closer, closer, and then came to a stop, and she backed away from the door when the knob jiggled again. Her fingers tightened around the scalpel handle, just in case whoever was on the other side of the door meant to do her harm.
“Open the goddamn door,” a voice said, and she recognized it as belonging to Tiny.
After a brief hesitation, she opened the door, and there he stood, looking tall, dark, dangerous, and more than a little pissed off.
He was a mountain of a man, well over six feet, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his black jeans pulled across his heavy thighs. Slowly, her gaze drifted up, past the hard muscles beneath his shirt, his broad shoulders and thick neck. Dark whiskers framed his strong, square jaw. His short black hair was unkempt. He wasn’t handsome in a classical sense, but he had strong features and a rugged quality that she might have found attractive under different circumstances.
But it was the scar on the left side of his face that captured her attention. She’d noticed it at the bar but hadn’t given it much thought with everything else going on. Shaped like a cross, the scar puckered in several places, making one corner of his mouth curve up slightly. She wondered what had happened to cause such a terrible injury, but she knew better than to ask.
Menace hung in the air around him. He closed the door, locked it, and a sliver of fear snaked down her spine.
“Why are the police after you?” The question sounded more like a command, a low, rough rumble that seemed to originate from deep inside his chest.
Hope slipped the scalpel into her back pocket, no longer in sight but easy to access if she needed it. “I don’t know.”
“Strike one.” Irritation pinched the corners of his moss-green eyes. “Try again.”
She tried—and failed—to think of a way to condense her situation into a few brief sentences. It didn’t help that she didn’t know whether she could trust him. For all she knew, the cops weren’t the only ones on Beto’s payroll. “Like I said before, it’s complicated.”
“Strike two.” He reached behind him and gripped the doorknob. “Lady, I don’t have time for this shit. Either tell me what the hell’s going on, or get the fuck out of my life.”
Hope swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. She’d never been the trusting type, not even when she was a kid, and all of her instincts railed against the notion of trusting this man. But considering her only other alternative was to take her chances with the local police, the decision was relatively simple.
“I’m an American.”
“No shit.”
Temper narrowed her eyes. Of course he was going to be an asshole about this. Being nice would have been too easy. “Are you going to let me tell you what’s going on, or do you intend to interrupt me every five seconds?”
Her anger seemed to amuse him, which made her even angrier. He leaned against the door and crossed his feet at the ankles, effectively blocking her sole means of escape. His mouth curved up in the mockery of a smile, the action making the lower portion of his facial scar twist. “Be my guest.”
She paused a moment to collect her thoughts, unsure how much she should tell him. In the end, she decided to go with the basic facts. If he wanted more details, he could ask.
“I was kidnapped by a group of armed men while working with a medical aid organization in Guatemala. They took me…” She paused, and then threw her hands up in the air. “Christ, I don’t even know where I am. Where am I?”
“Mexico.”
“Oh. Thanks.” A vague answer, given the size of the country, but it was more than she knew a minute ago. “Anyway, their leader wanted me to provide medical care to a sick woman, which I did. At least, I did until she died. Unfortunately, there was only so much I could do. She was in bad shape when I got there. It took