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Together their combined weight forced the nut to give, and she fell against him a little but quickly pulled away.

He moved on to the next nut and again, it took the both of them to break the rusted seal.

Her hair was soft against his shoulder, her scent tropical and floral, like hibiscus and sunshine.

Only a foot separated them now, and he noticed the color of her eyes in the lamp light. They were an unusual shade of green, like moss on the shadowy side of a tree.

“What’s your name?”

“Row.”

“Row like the boat?”

She laughed. “No, Row as in Rowena. Rowena Smith.” She wiped her dirty hands on the back of her jeans and held one out to shake.

Smith ? Probably the most common surname in the UK and pretty common in this part of the world for whites too.

He ignored the lick of lust that traveled along his nerves as he took her hand, the frisson of connection he did not want to acknowledge.

She was way too young for him. Way too young. And even the idea he found her attractive made him feel like a slime ball. He quickly let go.

“What’s a Brit doing here all alone?”

“Who says I’m alone?”

Kurt turned to look pointedly around the parking lot.

She didn’t respond.

He bent down and loosened the remaining nuts thankfully without her help. “Fetch me the jack, will you?”

She dragged it out and slid it under the jacking point beside the wheel arch. At least she knew how to change a tire if she had to. She ratcheted the thing until it began to lift the car.

“Thanks for your help. I can take it from here.”

He ignored her and went to the rear, pulled out the spare, and wheeled it around to the side of the car. “You are British though, right?”

“The accent is a bit of a giveaway.” She inclined her head.

“What are you doing in Africa, Rowena Smith? Sightseeing?” Or just following FBI agents around.

“Row.”

He frowned.

“I prefer Row.” She pressed her lips together as if annoyed with giving him information. “I have family roots here that I wanted to explore.”

Kurt’s brows hiked. “Your family used to live here?”

Her brow furrowed with uncertainty. “Yes.”

“Were they evicted from one of the farms?”

She shook her head, but didn’t elaborate.

He jiggled her damaged tire off the bolts and leaned it against the fender.

“If you’re here exploring your roots, why are you following me around the country?

Looking for a sugar daddy?” He taunted her with something deliberately offensive, hoping for a reaction.

“I hate to break it to you, darlin’, but I can’t afford a girl like you. ”

“You think I’m a prostitute?” Her voice was pitched so high he thought the windows might shatter.

He suppressed a smile and kept his expression stern. “Pretty thing like you. Turning up in all the places I’m at? Catching my eye at the bar?”

“Are you out of your mind?” She rolled her eyes and planted her fists on her waist. “I wasn’t following you anywhere.”

“I saw you in The Lookout Lodge.”

Her gaze narrowed. “So what? It’s a free country.”

He took a step closer and frowned down at her. They were almost nose-to-nose. Up close she smelled even better. The skin under the soap. He dropped his voice. “What’s going on, Rowena? Who are you working for?”

Her eyes widened in alarm, and she took a quick step away. “I was at the Falls, but I don’t remember seeing you there. ”

Liar .

Or maybe that was his ego talking.

He silently considered her. Was a man like him all that memorable to a woman like her? Both restaurants were on the tourist map. But he couldn’t afford to believe it was coincidence. Not when he was hunting one of the most dangerous men on the planet.

“I’m definitely not looking for a sugar daddy but thanks for the suggestion should my current career not pan out.” Amusement infused her tone, but he refused to be distracted or charmed by the fact she had a sense of humor.

He tilted his head. “If not me, then Bjorn Anders. Why’re you interested in him?”

She blinked rapidly. “My activities are none of your beeswax and I don’t know anyone called Bjorn Anders.

” She pushed past him to lift the spare onto the axle.

Her arms shook from the effort, but she managed.

“Anyway, thanks for your help, Joe , but having suggested I’m both a sex worker and a stalker you can definitely go now. ”

She took the tire iron from his grip and began replacing the nuts.

“Don’t over-tighten those, or you’ll run into the same issue next time.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Her sarcasm turned into something else, and they both looked away from one another uncomfortably.

He didn’t even remember the last time he’d felt this intrigued before.

Intrigued . That’s what the cool kids were calling it nowadays.

He rolled his eyes at himself.

He backed away. If she was a lure for a honeytrap, then the Russians or Chinese or certain corrupt officials within the country had tapped into a weakness he hadn’t even known he possessed—although he suspected she’d appeal to most guys.

“You take care of yourself, Miss Smith . And get that spare replaced ASAP. You don’t want to get caught out in the middle of nowhere without one. Too many predators lurking in the shadows.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, instead he headed to his vehicle as a small but vocal group of diners left the restaurant and climbed into their car, before quickly driving away.

He pulled his head out of his ass and took a photo of Rowena Smith and her SUV and sent it to the task force at SIOC with a request for a background check, then sat and watched her replace the jack, kick the new tire a few times, and maneuver the damaged one back into the cargo space.

She sent him a fulminating look before climbing into the driver’s seat, well aware he was watching her.

He raised a hand in acknowledgement and grinned when she raised her middle finger back.

The single men in Gold Team would have been lining up to ask her out.

He pulled a face at his thoughts. Right now, the men on his team were likely reeling with no time for romance. And poor Grace… Scotty had been a good man. A very good man. His heart broke anew for the widow who was expecting her third child in a few months.

It had been bad enough to have his wife leave him. Kurt couldn’t imagine how he’d have coped if she’d died and made him a single parent.

He followed Rowena’s car to the entrance of the restaurant. She indicated right, and he considered following her home to make sure she had somewhere safe to stay. But that risked freaking her out or walking right into the trap he’d so far avoided.

Instead, with an odd sense of wrongness, he let her go and headed left, taking the long way back to his hotel to spend another night alone in his bed—with just the memory of a pretty brunette for company.