A tiny whisper worried at the farthest recesses of her clever mind. Did he know about that injury before tonight, and if he did, how could he have known? Did he simply exploit a known weakness in his enemy or was it just a lucky coincidence? What’s going on here? And who was that arrogant man behind this insane protection order in the first place? It couldn’t be her parents. Certainly wasn’t Clint. It had to be a man though, some macho tough guy who thought he knew better than a woman like her, but who?
It was cute how Agent Hart had apologized to her earlier, though. Cute in a little boy way. Like he knew he’d scared her, which he had. As if she cared what he thought. The bottom line was that these two men had to go down, and she had to get that treasure back.
“Let me get this straight. You kidnapped me, nearly broke my arm, and handcuffed me because you want to help?” She tilted her chin upward, imperious and sarcastic to the end.
“You could say that.” Alex cocked a brow. He was good-looking, in an arrogant sort of way. Hooded, steely blue eyes under a close military cut. Salt and pepper mingled with dark at his sideburns. Clean shaven, not scruffy like Agent Hart. Just the fact that he’d chosen a business suit instead of more casual clothing told her he was the boss before he’d ever opened his mouth. That and he seemed to think he held all the cards, that he had something she wanted. As if.
Agent Hart was another kind of man all together. Not subservient, but respectful, obviously an employee, maybe a trusted employee. Or a friend? He was a construct of lines and angles, flat planes and corners. Edges. Heat. Even now, his eyes slanted a trustworthy green fire at her that wasn’t afraid to reach out and brand her. It flustered Tess to look at him. He might not be in charge, but he definitely radiated a raw masculine power that made her sit up and take notice.
She hated that, too. She’d been under the macho boot of the all-male Taliban for too long. Her father had never been strong. Her brother gave all men everywhere a bad name. But this guy? A shiver raced down her arms. Lee Hart was something else all together.
He was big in the way of weight lifters, but handsome. The unruly mahogany hair shadowing his face enhanced the glow of his eyes. He could be deadly, but he’d chosen gentleness in handling her. And he was strong. She’d noticed the steel in his body when he’d tackled her. The measured grip of something more than just the rough handling of a dim-witted soldier following orders. Agent Hart seemed to have read her mind and anticipated her best moves like he already knew her. She hated that in a man. They thought they were so much smarter than women. Ha.
She dropped her lashes and let her gaze drift covertly back to the crown. The only thing Alex had going for him was that he possessed the Dragon Warrior. For now.
“And you would call what you did to me something else?” she demanded, sure she could set his plans off balance.
“I’d call it apprehending a thief in the middle of a crime.” Alex placed both palms to his knees, as cool as a cucumber. Icy blue stared her down. “I’m sure that’s what the Ministry of Antiquities would call it, too.”
She drew in a deep breath and mimicked his position, her palms to her knees. “They’d have to catch me first, wouldn’t they?”
He cut her short. “Let’s stop dancing around each other, shall we? I’m here to offer two things—protection while you’re in country and safe passage home. My client’s in a position to preserve all the artifacts you’ve—”
“I don’t need your help. I’ve already got a partner.”
“Who is at this moment sound asleep in bed and oblivious of your predicament. Look around, Miss Culver. Your brother could care less about this little adventure of yours tonight. The only reason he offers the use of his truck for these excursions of yours is the pittance you pay him, and you give him so little because you know he’ll blow it on drugs. What’s he using? Hash? Coke? Horse? All of them?”
Tess glared but didn’t answer. Alex sure knew her brother. Clint might be a pitiful partner, but he was all she had.
“And why the hell did you take your cap off tonight?” Alex kept going, like he had any right to judge her behavior. “That was a very stupid move on your part. You know better.”
She bit her lip—hard. Somehow, he’d been watching. He’d seen, and he knew too much, but he was right. It was a stupid move. Her ego had gotten the best of her, that was why she’d removed her cap. She’d wanted to show those imbecilic guards how much smarter than them a simple woman was. It was a knee-jerk reaction to their male arrogance. Not one of her best decisions.
“You had the perfect ruse, but you blew it. No one knew you were a woman except us. You’re getting cocky, Tess. You won’t last another day with that bullshit attitude.”
“I’ve done fine without your help, thank you.” She kept her tone aloof.
“No, you haven’t. You’ve been damned lucky. That’s all. Who’s going to give a shit when you drop off the next rooftop with a bullet in your head? Clint?” Alex’s hostility rose as he fired one shot after another. “I hardly think so.”
She bumped the back of her boots against the chair legs. This interrogation was a waste of time. She had a French ambassador to meet and a drop to make. Commitments to keep. There had to be a way out of there, preferably with the crown.
Agent Hart had taken the chair next to her. Straddling it with his arms folded over the back gave him a casual air, but the chair spindles put a barrier between them. She couldn’t kick him where she wanted to. Tess huffed, her patience running thin. These guys would never understand why she did what she did. Nobody loved Afghanistan like her, not even the fierce tribal people who lived there.
“I have to use the bathroom,” she stated emphatically, daring them to argue.
“Of course you do.” Alex glanced to Agent Hart, his eyes hooded and his lips tight. “Show her where it is.”
“No way,” she protested. “I can—”
“You’re not going anywhere without him,” Alex cut her off, his brow spiked. “Do you need to use the restroom or not?”
All she could offer was another glare. This annoying guy had bested her at every turn. So far. Well, she’d show him. “Yes,” she hissed, “or I wouldn’t have said I did, would I?”
Agent Hart tugged her to her feet and steered her out of the bright little office and into the dark warehouse. “Come on, princess. Let’s go. The head’s a little primitive. Hope there’s TP this time. There wasn’t any before.”
“Don’t call me princess,” she hissed, twisting away from his touch.
Now it was his turn to blow out a patient sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And stop calling me ma’am. I’m not your mother.” She shuffled along, letting him think he had the upper hand while her eyes adjusted to the dark. Truth was, he didn’t. He’d have to remove the cuffs to let her do her business. There might be a window. The moment she got behind that bathroom door, she’d be gone.
“There it is.” Agent Hart aimed a pencil-thin flashlight toward the absolute minimal requirement for a device to be called a toilet. “Hope someone cleaned it. It was pretty gross last time I was here.”
She smelled it before she saw it. Ewww! A urine-encrusted, stainless steel commode hung off the wall in the farthest, darkest corner of the warehouse. No door. No curtain. No freaking window, and no chance at privacy. The beam of light from Agent Hart’s hand cast silvery shadows that made it look more stained and incredibly disgusting. A shiver crept up her back and over her shoulders, stopping to tap dance at the base of her skull before it coursed up over her scalp.
“There you are. Have at it.” He might have the upper hand after all.
“I can’t use that!” she snarled, looking past him for two civilized doors marked Men and Women, anything but this—this—monument to venereal disease, crawling germs, and filth.
“I figured this was just another trick,” he muttered, satisfaction in his tone.
“Was not,” she bit out before common sense engaged. Now she was stuck. She’d ha
ve to use it, or at least pretend to use it, or... ewww.
He pulled a key ring from his front pocket. Man, those jeans fit tight. It took him a minute to get the keys up and out. She hadn’t noticed until then, but he was wearing cowboy boots, the kind with the pointed toes and stacked heels, all tooled and decorated like expensive cowboy footgear. Only these were worn, creased, scuffed, and dusty. His long legs bowed just a bit. She’d missed the dark glasses tucked inside his shirt pocket, too, but secretly hoped they were broken. And why hadn’t she seen the western shirt stretched tightly over his massive chest until then, complete with silver snaps instead of buttons?
Oh, wait. He was assaulting me. That’s why I missed those details. Of course I didn’t notice what he was wearing. I was busy trying to get away.
“Here you go.” He slipped the key into the bracelet on her left wrist and undid one cuff. She stood against him, her arm shackled in his big, manly hand, forced to look up to meet his eyes. Her breath hitched high in her throat. Damn. He seemed so much taller and bigger in the dark. Wider. Sexier. Was it the b-b-boots?
A gentle glimmer in his darkened eyes connected with her nerves, lessening her fear. For a second. “Now we can do this easy or hard, Miss Culver. Are you going to be civil and take care of business by yourself, or am I going to have to cuff you to the pipes behind the toilet, pull your pants down, and help wipe?”
He’d said that just to intimidate her into behaving, the jerk.
“Leave. Me. Alone,” she hissed, but when he cocked his head, she caught the intended warning. This guy didn’t give up easily. Oddly, all those very intimate suggestions he’d just made fired an ember in her belly she hadn’t expected. She doused it with cold disdain. He could want to embarrass her all night long. It wasn’t happening. She lived with Clint. What Agent Hart was getting was nada. Not one little peek of compliance. Zip. Zilch.
“You didn’t answer my question, and you know it.” He peered through those gorgeous green eyes glittering in the dark, one brow arched, his lashes fluttering and waiting for a better answer. “Do you want easy or hard? There’s no sense running in here. There are only two doors, but I’m faster than you any day of the week. I’ll catch you before you get to either of them.”
Her heart stalled in her throat. Hard sounded damned inviting. She was suddenly looking up into masculine danger. The only way he could’ve enticed her more would’ve been if he’d used a down-home country drawl with that threat. She’d always been a sucker for southern boys.
Gah! Snap out of it, Tess. Why couldn’t she catch her balance around this guy? He wasn’t even smart enough to be the boss. He was nobody, an employee. The goosebumps lifting the hair off the back of her neck begged to differ.
“Fine. I’ll be civil. Do you mind?” She stepped to the stainless-steel nightmare and unzipped her jeans to end the interrogation. “Turn around. At least try to act like a gentleman.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, as he set the flashlight on the floor beside her, the beam pointed to the ceiling instead of at the toilet seat. Turning away, he didn’t go far, just far enough to stay within that small circle of light—with her.
She dropped her jeans and lowered her backside toward the seat of that so-o-o disgusting and insanely unsanitary bathroom appliance. Didn’t the guys who owned this warehouse believe in disinfectants? Ewww! When the cold metal hit the back of her legs, she jerked her butt away. What the hell? I don’t need to pee. What have I done?
This was all Lee Hart’s fault. He’d distracted her, and she’d stupidly complied when she’d never meant to. Damn him! But there she was with her rear exposed and her backside hanging over a truly disgusting commode from hell. She shifted her weight at the ridiculous predicament she’d gotten herself into. Ewww! Damn it, just ewww!
“How are you doing back there, ma’am?” he tossed over his shoulder.
“Fine,” she snapped. He didn’t care. Not really. Conversation kept them linked so he knew she was still there. So she couldn’t sneak up behind him and knock the smirk off that rugged face.
Crouched over the toilet like she was gave her time to think. She glared at the back of his head, wanting to smack it hard enough to knock him out. Agent Hart did have wide shoulders and muscular arms beneath that black striped shirt, though. It tucked nicely into the leather belt at his trim waist. This view of his rear wasn’t so bad, either. He looked more like a cowboy than what she thought a covert agent should look like. Denim fit him. He had nice—pockets.
A leather holster crossed his back to reveal two guns tucked under his arms, but it also enhanced that inverted triangle thing he had going for him. The holster was a surprise. He could’ve pulled one of those guns on her and gotten instant compliance from the moment she’d slid in through the truck window. He hadn’t. Why not?
Her hostility for this guy and his boss slipped a notch in their favor. Maybe they were exactly what they said they were—trusted agents sent by someone who honestly cared about her. Maybe this wasn’t kidnapping. Maybe someone really was looking out for her. It could happen.
Too late she realized Lee had stepped sideways to a nearby work sink. He cranked the screechy faucet. The sound of running water—no! She cringed even as her body betrayed her. There was no way he couldn’t hear the tinkling sound echoing out of the toilet in this cavernous building. He did that on purpose. “Enjoying belittling me?”
“No, ma’am,” he answered promptly, but rocked onto the balls of his feet like he was holding back a chuckle. “Well, maybe. A little. Come to think of it, hell yeah.”
“Pervert.” She glanced around the dark little corner for toilet paper. Again—ewww! A roll lay on its side next to the disgusting toilet, right on the dirty floor where it looked like every male from this part of the world had dribbled, peed, or splashed forensic evidence and germs galore over, under and around it. I can’t use that!
Disgusted beyond belief, she snagged the roll with just her fingertips and ripped off a long string of the filthy tissue, hoping some germless area existed deep within the roll. Throwing that banner of her stupidity away from her, she squinted in the dim light to see if any clean sheets still existed. Another long banner hit the floor before she was satisfied.
Finally, Tess finished the job she’d never intended to do in the first place. Nothing had gone right since she’d taken that dive off the palace roof. She’d had the crown, she’d lost the crown, and now she sat humiliated with her bare ass completely exposed. Could things get any worse?
“Is it okay if I turn around now, ma’am?” Agent Hart was still trying not to laugh, despite sounding polite.
“I’m not finished,” she sniped, her fist clenched as she stepped away from hell on earth and zipped up her jeans. This guy was asking for it. He kept calling her ma’am. Maybe it was time to remind him she was full of surprises. “Okay, I’m done now,” she said semi-sweetly, the wrist with the cuff still dangling on it stretched out in front of her, the other clenched into a fist behind her back. One surprise shot to that straight, masculine nose, and he could keep the Dragon Warrior. She’d be gone.
He turned with a smirk, and that did it. The second he reached for her cuffed wrist, she let him have it with the other. She would’ve connected if he hadn’t leaned backward to avoid her. Her fist barely skimmed the tip of his chin. He easily grabbed her wrist and spun her around.
Before she knew it, her back was to that broad chest, the steel belts of his arms wrapped around her, her feet lifted off the floor, and his chin was tucked into her neck. Worse, her backside was firmly against the bulge in his denims. Tess flung her head back and kicked, but could gain no leverage. He was too close and that bulge enticed rather than put her off. An odd compulsion to rub against it rose up in her frazzled head. She couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t enough room to move much less hit him hard enough to hurt him.
The worst part was his warm breath wafting through her hair. It smelled like a delicious combination of cinnamon, amber and orange, mingl
ed with clean male sweat. The fragrance tantalized. It filled her nostrils while the very masculine sensation of stubble scraped the tender skin in the crook of her neck. Instead of clenching her muscles tighter to squeeze him out, she’d instinctively turned her head, giving him greater access to more skin. More unexpected pleasure in the dark. He was inside her tangled hair, inhaling her essence as if she were—edible.
Oh. My. God.
Tess wanted to be edible. For him. She closed her eyes, her heart a pounding bass drum as the feel of that strong male wall of sheer muscle infiltrated her every wish. A maelstrom of conflicting emotions raged at the intimate contact. He’d lifted her off her feet like she weighed nothing, like he could’ve had his way with her if he’d been so inclined. Like she might enjoy it if he did. She couldn’t fight him. Didn’t want to.
His breath came in short, sharp spurts, but he hadn’t said a threatening word. Not one. Neither did she. She couldn’t, not with her heart pounding in her throat. Their previous struggles hadn’t felt like this. Back in the truck she was scared, but now she went limp with anticipation, wondering what would happen next.
No man had ever evoked such a strong feminine response in her before. He held her very still, his heart thundering against her back. She couldn’t move, and she didn’t want to. A wave of sensual warmth invaded the insides of her legs, washing up her thighs and up over her belly, tightening her breasts with need until it ebbed up her neck and inflamed her cheeks. Her scalp tingled under the onslaught of all that fire in her veins. She was caught in an incredible tide of steamy desire, burning with the oddest sensation of consummate submission at the hands of the gentlest alpha she’d ever met. Her. Tess Culver. The woman who scorned men. All of them.
How extraordinary.
An out-of-control quiver pushed her head back to his shoulder, as if she sought him out. As if she needed him. She should’ve been fighting him with all her might, but she wasn’t and she didn’t know why.
Lee (In the Company of Snipers Book 12) Page 5
