NATALIE TOOK A sip of coffee, studying Zach over the top of her porcelain cup as he devoured what was left of his breakfast. Most of the time when she interviewed someone, she had a good sense of whether that person was telling her the truth. Today, however, her intuition seemed to be taking a vacation.
Maybe the stakes were too high this time. Maybe she was too caught up in her own emotions and too close to the situation to focus clearly. Or maybe Zach was just harder to read than most people.
If only he would put on a shirt!
It wasn’t right for any man to be so dangerous and so sexy at the same time. Her adrenal gland and her ovaries were locked in a shouting match now, the former insisting she needed to run away fast, the latter wishing he’d kiss her again.
And that’s why you need to think with your brain.
She set her cup down. “How did you get shot? I’ve seen the scar.”
“A man aimed an AK-47 at my back and fired.” He shoveled the last bite of hash browns into his mouth and chewed.
Okay, so he wasn’t going to answer that one.
“What’s your last name?”
He set down his fork and napkin. “Smith. No, Jones. No, wait—it’s Black. I like that better. Zach Black. It rhymes.”
He wasn’t going to answer that one either.
“If you didn’t steal the cocaine, ZachBlack, why didn’t you just tell me that right away? Why let me believe you’re some kind of criminal if you’re not?”
“I was afraid you’d start asking a lot of questions, like you always do, and we both had more important things to deal with.” His plate clean, he reached for his coffee, then leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his pants riding low enough on his hips to expose a trail of dark hair that disappeared behind his zipper. “Besides, it’s not like you were going to say, ‘Please leave me with the Zetas.’ ”
He took a sip.
“Why did the Zetas think you’d stolen the drugs if you didn’t?”
He seemed to think about this, as if deciding whether or not to answer. “The person I believe stole the shipment drugged me, then handed me over to them and told them I’d stolen it, making me the scapegoat for her actions.”
A woman? “Shedruggedyou?”
He nodded. “She called, asked me to meet her at a bar in Juárez, and the next thing I knew, I was a guest in Hotel Zeta.”
Hotel Zeta?
More like hell on earth.
Natalie couldn’t fathom how he could make light about his captivity after what he’d been through. “Didn’t she care what they would do to you?”
“I guess she cared more about money.” He took another sip.
“That’s terrible.”
Proof of how much he’d suffered was still visible on his body—from the dark purple bruise on his rib cage to the faint pink electrical burns on his chest and belly to the gauze bandages on his raw, blistered wrists. If what he’d said was true, this person had turned him over to the Zetas, knowing full well he would be tortured and killed.
How could any woman be so heartless?
The next question that popped out of Natalie’s mouth was not the one she’d been about to ask. “Was she your lover?”
How incredibly rude! That’s none of your business!
Zach didn’t answer right away, his lips curving in a smile. “Now, why, oh why would you ask me that, Ms. Benoit?”
“No reason.” She felt herself blush. “Just curious.”
“Ah, I see.” He set his coffee cup down on the tray, the amused expression on his face telling her that hedidsee—right through her. “No, she wasn’t my lover—though not for lack of trying on her part.”