Darcy yanked herself from nightmares full of blood and sea snakes. She refused to allow herself to scream.
She gasped in drags of antiseptic air, grappling for the chain on the hospital light. Her hand finally swacked it, grabbed, jerked. Light illuminated the room. And the man sitting in the corner chair.
It was him.
One leg hooked over the arm of the chair, Max watched her through narrowed eyes. His revelations from earlier rolled over her. The damned irony of it that she'd been a part of the war effort all along.
Not that it made her feel any better at the moment. Just hollow. Tired.
Darcy forked a hand through her tangled mess of hair. She didn't even bother asking how he'd wrangled past the guards. Apparently, this man made his own rules, which didn't include respecting her wishes.
The two-faced rat bastard had used her confidences about her father against her. She wanted Max out of her room, before she did something ridiculous like ask him to hold her until the nightmares faded. "Visiting hours are over."
He didn't budge, just continued to pin her with those sea-green eyes shifting with more depths than even she'd imagined. She'd only just begun to figure the guy out, and now he'd changed the picture all over again.
Max folded his hands over his stomach, looking so much like the man who'd waited in her room after the snake attack a few short weeks ago. But that man had been an illusion.
"Well, Max?"
"I thought you might need me after what happened, in case it stirred up bad memories from the past."
Of the tree snake?
Then she realized he meant the kidnapping twelve years ago. The past. Of course he knew everything about her from his CIA briefings. Betrayal blazed over her with a fresh vengeance. She'd never stood a chance against him, not when he knew all her secrets, every button to push to wrap her mind so totally around wanting him.
She accepted a certain loss of privacy that came with signing away her life to the military and all the necessary security clearances that entailed. But right now she wasn't feeling reasonable. She felt damned n**ed and exposed to a man who'd kept everything about himself hidden.
Darcy lashed out with the first line of defense that came to mind. "I needed you on the beach yesterday, but you didn't seem to care much about that then, secret-agent man."
He swung his leg from the side of the chair, both elbows on his knees. "You have good reason to be pissed at me."
Damn him and his sympathetic eyes.
"Doesn't take a Scooby Doo sleuth to figure that one out, Doc."
Irritation chased across his face. "I had a job to do. I couldn't tell you top-secret, classified business that falls under a need-to-know-only status. I thought you understood that."
She frowned. "I do."
"Then what's the problem here?"
"Problem? If anyone knows about duty and service to country first, you're looking at her. Problem? You're the problem."
"O-kay. Then you're still upset over the beach?"
Hell yes, she was, but she didn't intend to let him know. Especially not now. "Actually, I'm over that. After all..." She pinned him with her best Alicia the Icicle imitation. "You're the one who didn't get to finish."
Max's brows shot toward his spiky hairline. Good. He deserved a few surprises, the dirtbag.
His brows lowered slowly, assessingly. He studied her through narrowed eyes as if deciphering one of Lucy's or Ethel's clicks. "Then why are you pissed at me?"
Uh-oh. She should have admitted to the secret-agent-man excuse, an easy out to get him off her back. Instead, she would have to fess up to the truth. "You called my father."
Max's jaw thrust. "Excuse me for thinking your life seemed more important than your pride."
"Pride?" Indignation and more than a little pain chased away all traces of exhaustion. "You think this is about pride? It's about being treated with respect. If Crusty were the one lying in this bed, would you have called his mommy to come look out for him?"
He shoved to his feet. "That's a crock."