The Protector of Ambra (Mercenaries of Fortune, #5) Read Online Free PDF Page B

into the bucket seat a bit. Feeling the bundle of the antique knocking against his spine with each bump in the road warmed his thieving heart. He’d done it. Hell, yeah, he’d done it.
    Melody snapped her fingers above the wheel. “Why do I see teeth? You’d better not be smiling.”
    Perhaps his initial assessment was off. “Sorry?”
    She blew out a long gush of air. “I don’t want to be a nag...”
    “You’re not. Not at all, Mels. Can I call you that? I feel like we’ve been through—”
    “No.”
    “No, what?”
    “You may not call me Mels,” she said with all the love of venom dripping from an asp’s forked tongue. “You have gravely misjudged something.”
    “I do believe you’re right. So...I should explain.”
    “Do that.”
    “Okay.” He owed her the truth for getting shot at. Or at least, a truth for helping him not get shot. “So, look...”
    “It’s not a monastery is it?” she asked, slowing the car.
    He cleared his throat and drummed his knuckles against her too-nice thigh. “You’re going to want to keep going. I doubt we’re done being shot at for the night.”
    Melody jammed the gas and swore under her breath. “Guess that answers my question. Look, I get that you can’t tell me everything, but when my life is in danger, I have the right to know what’s up.”
    “Your life wouldn’t have been in danger—”
    “Don’t you dare say it.”
    “Right, so, uh, still a monastery and still monks inside.” She snorted and shifted gear, but kept her mouth shut. He snatched the opportunity to clear the gunpowder-scented air between them. “I mean, Melody, it is a legit monastery and there are monks inside it, though it’s safe to assume it wasn’t the monks shooting at us.”
    “Shooting at you. Point of clarification.”
    “Noted. Listen, Melody—”
    “What you’re really saying is that you hadn’t expected to find bodyguards at a church and they housed your ass.”
    “Not exactly. I don’t think they were hired by the church. Probably one of the buyers wanted to make sure that his goods were safe.”
    “Buyers of what, Pierce? Are you a crackhead?”
    “No.”
    “Crack dealer?”
    “No, no one is doing anything with crack. Jesus, woman.”
    “Were you, or were you not shot at?”
    “Well, I—”
    “And did I, or did I not narrowly miss getting a windshield inside my face?” she screeched, hands up and clawing by her lava-red face.
    “And whose fault is that?”
    Bad idea.
    The woman’s eyes went from the color of spring on a Sunday to gunmetal blue. “Uh, your fault. What was the big deal anyway? Why were you even there? You said buyers. If this is a drug deal of any kind, I swear to God...”
    He flickered on his flashlight again. “Windshield in your face? You said you were okay.”
    “Don’t dodge the question.”
    He hadn’t been trying to. He was simply recovering from a stomach that twisted in on itself at the sight of tiny nicks in a thin line across her jaw. “When I ask if you’re okay, I expect to be told the truth.”
    “You are fucking kidding me.”
    But he’d gone into full doctor mode, putting down his gun and shrugging off his backpack. He kept his medical kit in a special compartment at the top. Easy access and all that. She clicked her tongue and pulled away when he started cleaning her wounds, but only for a moment. “Pull over. I need to bandage this up.”
    “It’s nothing.”
    “True. I think we should keep it that way. We don’t need any germs getting in there and causing an infection. We’ve got a rough road ahead.”
    “No.”
    “Might scar.”
    “Do you actually think I’m vain enough to risk getting shot in hopes of avoiding a little scarring?”
    He shrugged and dabbed a little more antiseptic on her chin. “I am. I love my pretty face. That’s a joke. Smile.”
    The jeep rolled to a stop, but when he tried to dress her wound, she shoved his hand away and snatched the bandage from him. “I know this is just