Page 11 of Going Rogue (Tactical Operations & Protection (TOP))

Good thing she wasn’t claustrophobic.

“Will you even fit?” She glanced at the width of Crane’s shoulders and then back at the hole.

“Only one way to find out.” With a grim look, he handed her the flashlight.

“Wait!” she squeaked as he sat and slung his legs into the opening. When he paused, giving her a questioning brow, she asked, “How deep is it?” Visions of him dropping down and breaking his legs assaulted her.

“Not too deep. There’s a ladder.”

She hadn’t seen one, but she trusted him and nodded.

When his head disappeared below ground level, she had the strangest urge to pull him back out of there, which was silly since she had to follow him. Hiding in a hole was still a better alternative than being recaptured by the militants.

The leader drew her attention. “Hurry!”

The distant roar of a motor shattered the quiet.

With no need for further urging, she wedged herself in the hole.

Holding the flashlight in her teeth, she spotted the ladder rungs.

If you could call them that. They’d been carved into the shaft, and grasping at the layers of packed sand, she used it to lower herself slowly under the earth.

She’d barely gone two steps when she heard the Bedouin man slide the cloth back over the hole.

Taking as deep a breath as she could around the flashlight in her mouth, she tried to calm her racing heart.

You’re not alone and you have a weapon.

The familiar weight of the Glock hiding under the vest she wore settled some of the nerves threatening to make her panic. Focusing on that, she continued to climb down until she felt Crane’s hands at her waist and froze .

“I’ve got you.” Before she could stop him, he’d lifted her, setting her on her feet with an ease that spoke of his strength.

It did something to her insides. Made them all warm and tingly.

He didn’t drop his hands, and his musky scent permeated the earthy smell of the tunnel.

When she felt tempted to bend toward it, she practically spit the flashlight from her mouth, desperate to see their surroundings and put space—if there was any—between them.

The sand had given way to a layer of gravel. Below it, stacked hard clay and sedimentary rock. These surrounded them in the man-made tunnel where they stood.

“Oh.” It was around six feet in height and wide enough for someone larger than Crane, even, to pass through.

He smiled. “Yeah. Not so bad.”

She attempted to return it. “Right. Could’ve been worse.” Honestly, she’d expected something cramped and barely big enough for both of them.

Expected or hoped?

She shook her head at the ridiculous thought. Like she wished they’d been forced to huddle together with barely enough space to breathe between them.

Had to be the stress. That or she was losing her damn mind. She shined the light down either direction of the tunnel, and each seemed to stretch endlessly. It wasn’t a comforting realization. Not when it made her worry someone else might be using the tunnel.

“What did he say about it?” Though she spoke to Crane she leaned her back against the wall next to the ladder so that she could see if anyone approached from either side.

“It’s an old forgotten tunnel from the ‘90s. Part of the network Saddam built to hide weapons from the U.N.”

That answer heightened her anxiety instead of settling it. Her gut twisted into a complicated series of knots. “It’s not forgotten if the Bedouins know about it.” She pulled the gun from her vest and felt calmer with it in her hand. “What if the militants do, too?”

Crane settled against the wall next to her and reached for her hand. She didn’t try to move away when he entwined their fingers. “ I’m betting they don’t.”

His soft words were an attempt to soothe, but . . . “What if—”

“Then we fight.” He faced her, and her gaze locked on the reassurance in his. When his hand reached up and cupped her cheek, she found herself leaning into it. “I won’t let them take you again, Rogue. I promise.”

She was caught in the honey of his eyes and couldn’t look away. Excitement flooded her system; their surroundings faded, leaving her earlier question nagging at her. What would sex with Crane be like?

She wanted to find out. That much she knew for certain. She’d been fooling herself into believing she felt content with being alone. But a part of her had always recognized the lie for what it was. Maybe she could have sex without getting attached, and it would fill the hollowness in her chest.

If she was going to try it with anyone . . . it would be Crane.

“Rogan . . .” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “It’s really hard not to kiss you when you look at me like that.”

Her gaze fell to his mouth. His lips parted slightly, and his breath caught. Remembering what his kiss had felt like, she wanted to experience that again.

But now wasn’t the time.

She blinked and leaned away from him. Gesturing with the gun in her hand, she said, “You watch that side. I’ll take this one.” Then, she turned away and stared into the darkness while her thoughts whirled.

She wanted to have sex with Crane. Not now, obviously, but if they made it through this and were able to use that bed in the guest tent . . . her stomach jumped, and she settled a hand over it.

When would she get another opportunity like this?

She’d moved past the point of caring they worked together.

By the time they caught up to the rest of the team, who knew whether that would still be the case.

At this rate, she’d likely lost her job with TOP.

And even if they didn’t dismiss her after the bungled operation, did she want to keep working on a team who’d left her to die?

The question unsettled her stomach. If she did leave TOP, this may well be the last time she saw Crane. Could she lay with him once and let it only be about achieving a release from the stigma attached to remaining innocent?

The last twenty-four hours had been too many close calls. She didn’t want to die a virgin. Never having experienced sex. How pathetic would that be?

Sharing the bed could be her chance to, if not conquer her fear, at least face it because she was definitely attracted to him—very attracted.

Her brain conjured the image of the muscles in his forearm flexing as he’d wrung out the cloth he’d used to wash her face.

She’d nearly drooled over the prominent veins covered in dark hair, another testament to his strength.

She wanted to see what the rest of his body looked like.

One night.

Then, they’d part ways when they made it out of this country. She wouldn’t need to worry about sex becoming a relationship or the risks involved in forming an attachment.

He wouldn’t get the chance to leave her.

There was just one problem . . . she didn’t know how to do that—a one-night stand. She’d never tried to seduce a man before and hadn’t ever cared to learn how.

“Let’s sit.” His voice startled her out of her thoughts. He didn’t sound upset that she’d changed the subject as he reached for her hand. He gave it a squeeze, almost as if he understood what she hadn’t been able to say. “Who knows how long we’ll be here.”

He tugged her to the ground with him, and they positioned their backs to one another, each facing an end of the tunnel.

His felt so sturdy against hers that she relaxed.

Knowing she could rely on him and that they protected each other settled her pulse.

Adrenaline still kept her alert, but the edge of fear riding it had been knocked off.

Even while the earth started to tremble around them. With her weapon aimed into the darkness and Crane holding her free hand, Rogue prepared herself to fight. Because that rumble meant the militants were getting closer.