Page 12 of Depths of Destruction

"Have a headache, nausea, or any ringing in your ears?"

"No."

"Did you throw up?"

"No."

"Any blurry vision, fatigue, or drowsiness?"

You can fatigue me all you want...

"No more than usual," I tease.

"Which one?"

"I was kidding."

His eyes travel down my body, and a surge of excitement rushes through me, but then I realize he's checking me out to see if I'm hurt. He lightly brushes my arm and angrily says, "You're bruised. What did they do to you?"

"Nothing. I got lucky."

He continues assessing me, and something fills his eyes I can't interpret. But it makes my loins ache.

Snap out of it, Naomi.

I try to sound authoritative when I ask, "Why is Interpol involved?"

"You seem to know a lot of secrets," he says.

I put my hand on my hip as I aggressively respond, "About the Belizean government officials. Since when does Interpol have time to worry about corrupt politicians, unless they're trying to take down another country?"

His jaw twitches. "Your information doesn't have to do with that?"

"No. Politicians bought by Belizean and Colombian cartel drug money. Not exactly something I would imagine Interpol would get involved in. Don't they have bigger issues to deal with besides a drug war?"

He stays silent.

"How did Interpol know about me? And how did you find me so quickly?"

"I'm not sure. The intel you’re asking for isn't relevant to my job."

"Are you taking me to Interpol's headquarters in France?"

"No. The United States is in charge of this operation."

My stomach twists. "The United States?"

"Yes."

The United States? Why would they get involved in this?

The U.S. President has been mentioned too frequently with the Belizean politicians. I don't know why it makes me unsettled, but every red flag I have is being raised.

"Naomi, why are you pacing?"

My breath becomes shallow as chills run down my spine. "You're delivering me to the U.S.?"

"That's the order I've been given."