Page 3 of Going Rogue (Tactical Operations & Protection (TOP))

He blinked, pulling himself back to the present to focus on what she’d asked. She was alive and safe . . . for now.

The team had moved to a secure location to regroup.

He knew what she thought—the two of them should head to wherever TOP had holed up.

That had been his plan, but without any messages from the contact who was supposed to be their ticket out of here, Crane didn’t know if the team would even be in the same place by the time he and Rogue made it to them.

On a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, where a headache brewed, and answered, “A safehouse near Al Asad Airbase.” He faced her and wished he could soften the blow of his next words. “I don’t know how long they’ll stay there and with our flight out of here questionable . . . ”

Rogue had been an intelligence officer. He knew she had brains to spare, and he could tell by her expression she understood what he hadn’t said.

We’re likely on our own.

Her cold stare didn’t falter, but he glimpsed the anger burning in the pits of her eyes. His gut twisted as he reached for her face. She didn’t flinch when he brushed a thumb across her split lip. “What did they do to you, Rogan?”

She turned her face away, but not before he caught the shine of unshed tears. Fresh anger surged through him, and a growl nearly left his throat. He’d kill any of them who’d touched her.

When she spoke, her voice was a whisper. “I hurt them more than they hurt me.”

The breath had backed up in his lungs, but he blew it out now, even trying for a smile. If he didn’t calm the fuck down, he wouldn’t be of much use. “That’s my squirrel.”

At the nickname, she met his gaze. Something he couldn’t decipher hid in those dark depths. But as quick as he’d glimpsed it, it dissipated into exasperation as she said, “Don’t call me that.”

On a deep breath, he let go of the tension riding his muscles. A sly grin quirked the corners of his mouth as he tried to lighten the mood. “Why? It suits you.” She could be as cute and wily as the furry little animal.

She let out a scoff. “Wow, how flattering.”

A low chuckle shook Crane’s chest. His code name came from a bird and had to do with his long legs. Not exactly flattering, either. He hadn’t picked the name himself. If he’d had the opportunity, he’d have gone with something cool like Ghost or Cobra.

Unbothered by her reaction, Crane continued to tease her. “But squirrels are cute.”

Her eyes sparked with indignation and her hands inched toward a weapon she didn’t carry. When she remembered, she scowled. The fierce look only made her more attractive.

Just like that, the teasing shifted.

Damned if he didn’t want to kiss the expression off her face. His blood sang, being so close to her, and he desperately needed a taste of her smart mouth.

He leaned in and trailed a knuckle down her cheek.

“You want flattery, Rogue?” Bending his head, he stopped a breath away.

“I’ve been thinking about this for two years.

No matter what I do, there’s only you.” Carefully, he closed the distance and placed his mouth over hers in a gentle kiss, mindful of putting pressure on her injured lip.

Her lingering sweet and spice-tinged scent filled his nose.

He had a moment to hope he didn’t hurt her, another to want to dive inside and really taste her.

But the kiss lasted for maybe two point five seconds before he felt her leg move and shifted aside so that her kick hit his thigh, not the jewels she’d been going for.

Breathing harder than the slight caress warranted, he waited for her to respond.

“If we can’t fly out of here, we need a new plan.”

Crane cocked a brow at her change in subject. Was she not going to acknowledge their kiss and ignore what he’d just said?

For once, her face gave nothing away, leaving him with no clue what she felt or thought.

Appears so.

At her brushoff, a frown creased his forehead. He didn’t get how she could be so unaffected when his whole body came alive whenever she drew near. Enough that, he began to wonder if what he felt for her was more than merely attraction.

Acknowledging the effect she had on him upped its potency, and an ache rocked his chest like a sliver of ice bored into it. The cold straightened his spine, and he backed up to lean against the adjacent wall. If she could be all business, so could he. “Yeah.”

Without the plane his contact promised, they needed another mode of transportation because trekking across the desert on foot was suicide. If the environment didn’t kill them, there were bound to be trigger-happy militants who would.

“Any ideas?” She crossed her arms and barked.

Right. Because it was his fault they were in this mess. At least, that’s the message she broadcasted. But she’d asked the question with enough frost to make him wonder if she hadn’t been so unaffected by the kiss after all.

Saving it to ponder later, he answered, “We could steal one of their dirt bikes or a truck.”

Her mouth pursed in thought, but she asked, “And what’s to keep them from coming after us?”

A risky plan popped in Crane’s head. Then a feral grin twisted his lips in response as he pointedly glanced at the door to the container. “We put the fertilizer to good use.”