Defending Zara (Mountain Mercenaries #6)(5)

Zara looked up into Daniela’s eyes and nodded. They’d done this before. Zara would hold the hands of wounded patients, stroke their faces and hair to calm them, make sure they didn’t jerk away or otherwise try to get up.

She had a feeling it would take more than a little hair stroking for this man to stay down.

She carefully picked up his hand, noting that his knuckles were split and bleeding. She felt strangely proud that he’d obviously gotten in a few licks of his own before he was overtaken by Ruben’s gang.

As Daniela started her examination to determine exactly how badly he was hurt, Zara studied his face. His eyelashes were long for a man, and she wondered what color his eyes were. She’d failed to notice when Daniela lifted his eyelids. His nose was bent, and she guessed it was probably broken. He had the beginnings of a beard, and his hair was a tad bit too long, falling over his brow. His shoulders were wide, but his chest tapered down to a slender waist. He had large biceps, and his fingers were long and slender. Zara also saw the edge of a tattoo on his inner arm peeking out from under the sleeve of his T-shirt.

All in all, he was very good-looking. She might avoid men like the plague, but she could still appreciate a handsome guy when she saw one. And this wounded soldier lying helpless in front of her was definitely beautiful.

Zara was startled out of her inspection of him when his eyes popped open and stared up at her.

Gray. His eyes were a pale gray with streaks of blue. They were unique and fascinating. Even though they were full of pain, something in their expression instantly drew her in. Made her want to know this man. To know all the secrets he might hide from the world.

His hand tightened on hers to the point of pain, but Zara didn’t let it show. She kept her expression blank, a look she’d perfected over the years. The less others knew what she was thinking and feeling, the better.

“Where am I?” the man demanded in English.

“Talk to him,” Daniela ordered. “Keep him calm.”

Zara’s mouth opened and she tried to speak, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. Most of her life, she’d spoken only when asked a direct question. She wasn’t exactly a conversationalist. And even though he had asked her a question, she wasn’t sure what to tell him.

His eyes narrowed as he stared up at her. “Where’s Black?”

Zara knew her English skills had suffered over the years, but even though she understood his words, she didn’t understand what he meant. She stared down at him and furrowed her brow.

“My friend. Where’s my teammate?”

Ah. She shrugged. She wanted to tell him Mags and the others had rescued him too, but since Ruben and his friends had started to creep back out, they probably hadn’t gotten the chance. She hoped his other teammates had intervened, but she had no idea what had happened after she’d ridden away.

The man frowned, then inhaled sharply when Daniela manipulated his right ankle. He lifted his head and winced even as he glared down at her.

“Sprained,” Daniela told Zara. “Badly. I don’t think it’s broken, but he shouldn’t be walking on this for several days.”

“Shit,” the man swore. “What’d she say? Can you understand me? I don’t know Spanish . . .” He sighed. “This sucks,” he muttered. “I’ll have to tell Gray he was right when he said it would do me good to learn a foreign language.”

Zara sympathized with the man. There was a time when she hadn’t understood Spanish either. And it had been extremely scary and frustrating. She squeezed his hand and said quietly, “She said it’s probably sprained. Not broken.”

The man’s gaze whipped up to hers—and it seemed as if he could see into her soul at that moment. “You speak English.”

Zara nodded slightly.

“What’s your name?”

She hesitated. For the first time in fifteen years, she considered offering someone the name she’d been given at birth, but knew she couldn’t. Especially not with Daniela right there.

“Zed.”

The man frowned. “Zed? But that’s a boy’s name.”

Zara nodded again and didn’t take her eyes from his.

The frown grew. “But—”

Daniela interrupted whatever he was going to say by explaining what she’d found in her initial exam. “It’s my guess he’s got a few broken or cracked ribs. A concussion, possible broken nose, dislocated shoulder, and, of course, that ankle is messed up. He’ll have quite a few bruises and scratches, but overall he was very lucky. What happened?”

Zara explained what had happened back in the barrio. When she mentioned the American team had been trying to rescue a group of boys Roberto del Rio had targeted, Daniela’s face turned hard.

“As much as I hate the corrupt politicians and police officers who run this city, I hate that man even more.”

So did Zara. Every woman and child in the slums of the city knew of Roberto del Rio. He had not one ounce of empathy in his entire body. He took what he wanted, when and where he wanted, and if anyone dared get in his way, he simply killed them. The military and police knew what was going on in that big mansion of his, and yet they didn’t do anything about it because del Rio greased their palms with more money than they could legally make in a year.

It was sickening and depraved, and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it.