She wasn’t one of those girls who squealed and grabbed the handle over the window. She didn’t bat an eye. Actually, he didn’t exactly know since she never took off her sunglasses.
“We’ll need camping gear. Water bottles and a filtration system.”
“In other words, far enough out of our way that we’ll be pumping water from a puddle.”
She turned to him. “Have you ever actually been to New Mexico? It isn’t all desert.”
He ignored her question and fired out one of his own. “This other dude who wants the artifact…he wants you dead?”
For the first time, she seemed shaken. She glanced down at her hands, which were knitted in her lap. “He’ll do anything to get his hands on it.”
“Anything?” he repeated through a clenched jaw. One thing he hated was a bully, and this guy sounded like the worst kind.
“Yes, anything.” Madeline’s voice never changed pitch. She might as well be discussing the weather or a travel site for booking hotels while he was all riled up inside and ready to sink his fists into this asshole’s face the minute he set eyes on him.
Madeline was clearly…
Well, the total opposite of Mathias. Part of the reason he chose to work behind the scenes in WEST Protection was his inclination to shoot first and ask questions later. Which was bad for the company’s reputation. More than once one of his teammates had to talk him down when they worked together.
A hot coal ignited in his chest at the idea that this man was so driven by greed that he’d kill to get his hands on the artifact, but Madeline sat next to him like it was no big deal.
“How long have you been in this business?” he asked her.
She stared out the windshield. “Long enough.”
“We’ll be in the remote areas of New Mexico. Mesa, canyons, gorges. Are we talkin’ asses or horses?”
Though he couldn’t see an eye roll, he detected one. “Horses—right up your alley.”
Horses he could definitely do. “Can you ride?”
“I can do anything.”
Processing that, they sped along in silence. After long minutes, he spoke. “Where are you from? You look foreign.”
“I’m Swedish. My family immigrated when I was a child.”
“You don’t sound Swedish.”
“I worked hard to lose the accent.”
“You live on the East Coast. You don’t have any of those dialects either.”
“I can sound like anything I want,” she said in a deadpan Jersey girl accent.
He gaped at her.
“Or is this better?” She affected a Southern drawl so perfect that if he didn’t know better, he’d think he picked up a Georgia peach.
“How about this?” Her thick accent reflected that of a native Spanish speaker. “Or is this more to your liking?” She spat in not only an impeccable Russian accent but the language as well.
“I did wonder if you had some language skills as well as your ability to assimilate accents,” he returned in his own perfect Russian.
Madeline swung her head to look at him. Though he still couldn’t see her eyes, he suspected they were round with surprise.
* * * * *
Her first impression was she’d been saddled with a big guy who didn’t have a lot upstairs. Then he responded in Russian.
“What’s the name of your horse?” She switched to German to test his skills.
He flicked a lazy look her way. “Which one?” He also switched to German.
“Your favorite one.” There. Surely he didn’t know Japanese.
The crooked grin that stretched over his face suggested she was about to be bested, but then he laughed. “Got me on that one. Japanese?”
“Yes.”
“I haven’t gotten very far in that course.” He said this in a mashup of Japanese and English, and then gave up and said in English, “What did you ask me?”
“I said your favorite one.”
“They’re all my favorite.” He sent her another crooked smile that made her think that his women were all his favorites too.
She’d seen his type more than once. A smile that melted panties off women. Well, he wasn’t getting anywhere with her—as far as men, she was finished. And for good reason too.
Not that Mathias Trace was her type. She worked with muscled former SEALS and men who would make The Rock look like a pissant. Mathias was tall and broad, but he didn’t appear to have all the muscle a lot of men in this business did. As soon as they took on the moniker of “bodyguard,” they hit the gym and steroids hard.
He looked fit, but leaner. Not that size mattered when it came to skill on the shooting range.
“You think all I care about is horses.” He stretched back in his seat, denim-clad legs extended and his cowboy boot locked on the gas pedal. She’d ridden with speed demons before. One of her coworkers loved racecars and drove through DC like he was on a NASCAR track. So hitting ninety on the interstate didn’t bother her one bit.
She relaxed against the seat and stretched her legs too. He watched her with a little quirk to his lips.
“You work on the Wynton Ranch. I’m sure your horses mean something to you.”
He gave such a Neanderthal grunt that she forgot how impressed she was that he knew more than caveman speak and had fluently switched between languages.
“Tell me true—when you first saw me in the airport, you thought I was just a dumb cowboy who couldn’t follow your order to remain in the parking lot.” He sported a sideways grin but also a gleam in his eyes that made her wonder if she’d sparked some nerve in him. He didn’t want to appear stupid. Or for people to believe he was.
“I work with a lot of different people. Bodyguards are just some of them, and you all come with different talents.”
He focused on the road again and passed a semi-truck at a speed that made the steering wheel rattle under his hands. “Why didn’t you get one of your own guys from The Guard?”
“They’re tied up at the moment.”
“And these different people you mentioned—they’re what? Spies? FBI? CIA?”
All of the above, but she wasn’t about to give away trade secrets.
“It’s a wonder you called us.”
“Ross owed me—”
“A favor,” he said in unison with her. “He told me. But you got saddled with me.”
“Look, Trace, I don’t have a problem with you. We don’t have time for hurt feelings or feelings of incompetency. Take those to your therapist’s couch.”
“A Horse with No Name.”
She blinked in confusion. “What?”
“My horse.”
“What about it?”
“That’s his name—A Horse with No Name. Too bad I didn’t bring him with me since we’ll be going through the desert.”
She groaned at his joke about the song.
“Very funny, but we don’t have time for kidding around.”
“We’re just passing time as we drive, Madeline.”
“No—we really don’t have time. We have to reach the artifact before Dahl does.”
“Dahl.” He sobered at the name.