Page 27

“Yes.” No harm in answering the question. Not when she’d been thrown clear from an overturning vehicle and skidded along the hard gravel road. The bloodied hip had been the least of her worries that day.
“On your back.” Distracted or not, an order was an order.
She raised her brows, and he grinned. Unrepentant charm warmed his smile.
“Please.”
Better. Rolling onto her back, she lay still as he continued to explore. A graze wound from a mission they were never on that never existed. Melted skin in two places from burns. Most faded into her skin tone, hard to see unless someone spent a lot of time looking. She’d been fortunate.
The worst of her injuries had always been on the inside.
When he went down her leg, she flattened her right foot to the sheets. His level of interest meant he might want to go for her feet. If he did, she’d distract him. The tattoo on the bottom of her foot represented her recommitment to the team. The process of having it inked there hurt like a bitch, but she chose pain over simplicity.
They were her team, and while she couldn’t get away with plastering a wall-size tattoo on her back and still blend in, she could show them they were always with her. Where she walked, the team went—so why am I staying here?
At her thigh, he stopped and his gaze burned her with the intensity of his stare. “What?”
He rubbed his thumb over the two-inch long hilt mark buried into her skin. It fell just inside her thigh, the closest the rebel soldier in Tanzania had come to trying to rape her. Pride at the depth of the wound she’d taken filled her. He’d missed her femoral artery—barely. Stupid fucker thought the knife in her leg would keep her down.
“Five years ago in Tanzania, a mission I was on went sideways.”
“Gabriel, we’re not talking professionally…”
“Be quiet.” The order accompanied by the light squeeze of his hand irked her, but she firmed her lips. “It’s why I left field work. A group of insurgents from Rwanda and Burundi came over the border in a prolonged battle. They swept through a group of missionaries.”
Ice formed at the base of her spine, and she withdrew. He really didn’t have to give her any other details. She’d been on the team sent to clean up the mess. Chrome, Merc, Tungsten, her—they’d airdropped in with three days of gear and hiked to the position. Half the missionaries were being held by Rwandan forces and the other half in Burundi. The fighters thought it was fun to use the men and women as human shields—when they weren’t raping the women. Ugly situation, and no way to cleanly extract the prisoners.
They’d gone in quiet, eliminating the opposition one at a time, clearing the way. Once they had a window in their perimeter, they were going to pull the civilians out. The problem with civilians was the panic they experienced when mortar and gunfire exploded around them. Copper had been leading them out when one of the women began screaming, alerting a half dozen guards to their position.
She’d taken the first three with clean shots, but ended up in a scuffle with the last three. Broken legs are hard to fight on, and the battle had been intense. Thankfully, some of the men in the group of captives she’d been leading proved more than capable to the task…
“I wanted to kill that son of a bitch,” he said, the quiet ferocity in his voice layered with violence. “I saw the blade go into the Marine and watched her go down. I hadn’t even realized you were a woman until that precise moment. Then you—” He’d been the CIA’s man on the ground, the man who’d gotten word out about the missionaries and aid workers being taken. His intel had been key to the success of their mission. She’d never known his name, but they’d all agreed in the debrief. Without his information, they’d have lost a lot more people on the off-book mission. The one that never happened.
She’d never been there. “Wrapped my legs around his neck and snapped it like a twig.” The blade hurt more, and she’d had to leave it in. Brad had swept her up, one arm around her to keep her on her feet as they hobbled out.
“I’ll be damned.” He pressed a kiss to the scar, the brush of his lips so tender they seemed to go deeper to press gently on her soul. Surging up, he rested in the cradle of her legs, breast to chest and blanketed her in a comfort she rarely ever experienced. “I wanted to say thank you, but you were all gone. No record of the mission. Black ops.” Understanding kindled in his eyes. “You’re a Marine.”
Was. Would always be, even if the government stripped it all away, shuffling them aside like debris to be swept beneath a rug. Rubbing her hand along his chest to his shoulder, she met his gaze. “I won’t answer that.”
“I’m not asking. I get it.” His expression softened. “Can you tell me this much—are you in trouble?”
Always. “No.” Though the threat he presented was far different from any she’d engaged before. Falling in love with the enemy was not in her plans—Falling in love?Gabriel worked his way into her heart, stealing away a piece of it, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to get it back.
“You’re lying,” he said with a sigh, then rested his forehead against hers. “I know, you said wouldn’t answer it.” If he planned to finish all conversations with the answers he already knew, they might survive this.
“I don’t want to talk anymore,” she told him, gliding her hands up his back. Despite their conversation, his erection hadn’t diminished one iota. The heavy weight of his cock rested against her sex as though seeking entrance, and she was more than willing to play. “We only have a few hours left.”
His nostrils flared, and his eyes darkened. “You’re going to be gone in the morning, aren’t you?”
“I agreed to tonight.” The spoken reminder served as much a reminder for her as it was for him. Their shared experiences aside, he had the position, the knowledge, and the intelligence to pull off the double cross for Red Wolf. “I can’t promise you anything more.” Couldn’t even promise to save him from the team.
He might not deserve to be saved. Her teamhad notdeserved to die. They went into firefights all the time. She knew the score. They’d known the score, but they’d trusted their orders. Trusted their intelligence.
They’d been burned.
When he fisted her hair and tugged lightly, she lifted her chin and bared her throat. The vulnerability of the position wasn’t lost on her. He could slit her throat. Smother her. Pin her down and snap her neck.
“If you plan on leaving me,” he said, the fierce note in his voice sparking a fresh wave of languorous heat. It burned in her belly, and she tightened her thighs against his hips. “I want you to remember every moment, because I willfindyou. I refuse to let you go without a fight.”