Page 14 of Haze of Obedience

He lets go of the buckle and stands back with his arms folded. "By all means, have at it."

In Spanish, I focus on the belt buckle and mutter, "At least you and your sexy self listened this time."

His face changes, but his googles make it hard to tell for sure what his expression means. Is it cocky? Annoyed? I can't decipher it.

I swing my legs to get out of the vehicle, and he places his hand under my calf, and little zings shoot up my leg.

"You're bleeding."

"Who's fault is that hot stud?" I say in Spanish.

He licks his lips then his lips twitch. "Let's get you inside the tent and cleaned up." He removes his goggles, hard hat, and chin strap.

Adrenaline rushes through my core and blood pounds between my ears.

I thought he was hot, but I underestimated him.

He's a rugged, delicious, don't blink because you'll miss a second of looking at him and that would be a sin, epitome of what a man should be.

His hazel eyes twinkle under the light of the moon. Dimples indent his chiseled cheeks. Dark hair and lush lips accent his perfect nose. A five-o'clock shadow of stubble looks good on him, but he could pull off a clean, shaven face, too.

"Well?" He arches an eyebrow. "Do you want to walk, or should I carry you? I don't want to get slapped again."

"Surely, I'm not the first girl to slap you," I say in English.

He grunts. "Actually, I've never had anyone slap me during a rescue mission before."

“I’m sure they slap you all the time outside of your ‘missions.’”

“Actually, most women love me.”

I’m sure they do.

I huff. "Maybe you shouldn't tell women you're going to muzzle them like a dog."

"That was after you slapped me. And not once but twice."

"Who are you delivering me to?"

His face falls. "I don't know yet."

My pulse increases. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

"We haven't gotten the instructions yet."

"Do you always rescue women and not have any idea where you're taking them or who's calling the shots?"

"Interpol is calling the shots."

I get out of the Jeep and push past him. In Spanish, I say, "God compromised your brain for good looks." The ground is mushy, and my heel gets stuck. "Crap."

He snickers, and I twist. In English, I accuse, "Really? You're going to laugh at me?"

In a quick move, he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.

I slap his ass to let me go.

Holy shit, his ass is solid.