He had to take the shot...

And kill his lover.

Branded a traitor, Rikki Taylor is in the sights of sniper Quinn McBride’s rifle. Yet the navy SEAL knows this woman intimately, and there’s no way she’d betray her country...or him. Saving her is his number one priority. Discovering her real secrets, including the baby she’s keeping from him, can wait—first, they have to make it out alive.

Red, White and Built

CAROL ERICSON is a bestselling, award-winning author of more than forty books. She has an eerie fascination for true-crime stories, a love of film noir and a weakness for reality TV, all of which fuel her imagination to create her own tales of murder, mayhem and mystery. To find out more about Carol and her current projects, please visit her website at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

Also by Carol Ericson

Locked, Loaded and SEALedAlpha Bravo SEALBullseye: SEALPoint Blank SEALSecured by the SEAL BulletproofSEALSingle Father SheriffSudden Second ChanceArmy Ranger RedemptionIn the Arms of the Enemy

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Bulletproof SEAL

Carol Ericson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07866-5

BULLETPROOF SEAL

© 2018 Carol Ericson

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Extract

Prologue

The sweat stung Quinn’s eyes and he squeezed them shut for a second—just a second before he refocused on his target. Rikki’s beautiful face swam before him in his scope, her red hair standing out like a burst of flame against the emerald green landscape. Quinn’s hand trembled.

He shifted his sniper rifle to the two North Korean soldiers walking behind Rikki, prodding her forward. They had rifles pointed at her back. Quinn spit the sour taste out of his mouth, along with the mud from the hillside in the DMZ between North and South Korea.

Someone had misinformed the CIA. Rikki Taylor was no rogue operative working with the North Koreans. She was their captive...unless she’d set up this whole scene for cover.

Quinn knew better than anyone about Rikki’s duplicitous nature. But this? Working with the enemy to damage her own government and put her fellow CIA agents at risk?

He had a hard time believing Rikki would endanger agents in the field. Quinn lowered his sniper rifle and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

The trio below him stopped, and one of the soldiers pulled out a bottle of water.

Squinting, Quinn scanned the lush land where the borders of North and South Korea met—a no-man’s-land where hostility and mistrust haunted the verdant beauty—not to mention the scattered land mines. This mistrust permeated his pores, had him doubting his mission, a mission he should’ve refused once he’d discovered the target.

He would’ve had to have come up with a good reason to refuse an assignment from the navy—even after that untraceable text he’d received. He could’ve tried the truth, but then he would’ve come under suspicion. Then his pride had taken over and he had to prove that he could carry out the assignment, prove his professionalism and dedication.

He snorted softly, and the leaves on the branch tickling his nose stirred. Prove to whom? His old man?

The group on the ground was on the move again, and Quinn took up his position. His rifle weighed on his shoulder like a lead block. His breath came out in short spurts.

Usually before he dropped a target, a deadly calm descended on him. Now, his heart raced and his trigger finger twitched. In this condition he’d be lucky to hit that boulder twenty feet away.

He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath through his nose and blew it out through puckered lips. He swallowed. He shifted. He braced the toes of his boots against the rock behind him.

Then he refocused. He put Rikki Taylor in his crosshairs for the last time.

Rikki licked her lips, and Quinn could almost taste their sweet honey on his own tongue. She tossed her fiery hair over one shoulder.

Quinn blinked and, in the split second of that one blink, Rikki attacked one of the guards, going for his weapon.

Quinn needed no other proof. He tracked his rifle to the other guard, lined him up and took the shot. The soldier jerked once and dropped to the ground.

Quinn swung his scope back to Rikki’s struggle with her captor, and his heart stuttered. The soldier had possession of his gun, and Rikki had fallen to the ground, out of sight behind a clump of bushes.

As Quinn watched through his scope, blood pounding in his ears, the North Korean soldier shot his weapon into the bushes.

In a fury, Quinn zeroed in on the man who’d just shot Rikki, but before he could even take aim, Quinn came under attack from a hail of bullets.

Taking down the other soldier had revealed his position, and now he was outnumbered and outgunned. He rolled to his back and scrambled down the hillside like a forward-moving crab. He scuttled behind a row of trees and started breaking down his rifle.

Dragging himself up and wedging his back against a tree trunk, he stuffed his gear into his bag and then swung it onto his back.

He lunged forward onto his belly and army-crawled his way through the forest to the tunnel that would take him back to South Korea and the designated pickup point.

What would he tell his superiors? He did end up with mission success. Although it wasn’t his bullet that had done the job, he had neutralized the target—Rikki Taylor.

They’d been wrong. They’d all been wrong. Rikki had not been working with the enemy.

And now that Quinn was responsible for her death, his life wasn’t worth living.

Chapter One

Sixteen months later

The footsteps echoed behind her on the rain-slicked pavement. Rikki stopped and spun around. Silence greeted her as she peered down the dark, narrow street.

With her muscles coiled tightly, she continued, and her tag-along followed suit. As she began to turn again, the footsteps, two sets, quickened and two bodies rushed her.

The glint from a knife flashed in the night, and Rikki finished her turn with her feet flying. She kicked the assailant with the knife in the gut, and he doubled over, his weapon clattering to the cobblestones.

The other man yelped in surprise and before he could recover, Rikki swept up the knife from the ground and wielded it toward her attacker’s face.

“Get lost, or I’ll slice you from chin to navel. Yu done know?”

The man’s eyes widened so that the whites gleamed like two orbs. His friend groaned from the ground.

Rikki growled, “And take him with you.”

He held up one hand and grabbed his buddy by the arm with the other, dragging him to his feet. “Eazy, nuh.”

“You take it easy and get moving or I’ll call the police.”

The two hapless muggers took off, and Rikki pocketed the knife. The streets of Jamaica, even in the tourist trap of Montego Bay, turned deadly after dark, but Rikki had more to fear in her own country right now.

She slipped into the alley where an orange light swayed in the breeze, sidling along the walls of the ramshackle building. She ducked under a tattered blue-and-white-striped awning and rapped at the window.

A curtain stirred. Rikki stepped sideways into the weak light to identify herself.

A wiry man opened the door and hustled her inside as he poked his head into the alley and looked both ways. “Where’s your ride?”

“I walked from the main street.”

He shook his head. “Dangerous place for anyone to be walking, especially a girl like you.”

Rikki hid her smile behind a covered cough. “I’m okay. Are you Baily?”

“The one and only.” He double-locked the door behind them and twitched the curtain back in place.

“Do you have everything ready?”

“Come with me.” He crooked one long finger in her direction.

Rikki followed him through a single room where an old woman sat in front of an older TV, the blue light flickering across her lined face. She didn’t acknowledge Rikki’s presence or even move a muscle.

Baily shoved a dark curtain aside and waved Rikki into a small room. He pointed to a green screen and said, “Stand in front of that. I’ll get your picture first. Everything else is ready to go.”

As she took a step toward the screen, Baily tugged on her sleeve. “Business first.”

Rikki pulled a wad of cash from her pocket. Those thieves on the street would’ve hit pay dirt with her—well, except for the fact that they’d picked a CIA operative, trained in self-defense and street fighting, as their target.

She counted out the agreed-upon sum, and Baily got to work.

Thirty minutes later, Rikki had a Canadian passport and a birth certificate for one April Thompson. She studied the passport with the Jamaican stamp. “I heard you were good, Baily. These better not let me down.”

“Never had a problem yet.” He cocked his head in a birdlike fashion. “Girl like you in trouble with the Babylon?”

“Babylon?” She stuffed the documents into the manila envelope he’d handed to her.

“De law.” He waved his hands in a big circle. “De system.”

“You could say that.” She stuck out her hand. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

He shook her hand and then yelled, “Darien!”

Rikki jumped, jerking her hand from his grip and placing it over the newly acquired knife in her waistband.

Baily placed one finger against the side of his nose. “No worries. Darien just my boy. He’ll take you back.”

A skinny young man poked his head into the room, his dreadlocks bobbing and swaying. “Yeah, Daddy?”

“Take this young woman wherever she wants to go. Don’t stop anywhere.”

Darien grinned. “Sure ting.”

After thanking Baily, Rikki followed Darien outside.

He turned sideways and scooted between two of the houses along the alley. A chain clinked and rattled, and Darien pushed a scooter out in front of him. “Hop on de back.”

Clutching her fake documents to her chest, Rikki climbed on the back of Darien’s scooter. He zoomed through the streets of Montego Bay as she shouted directions in his ear over the buzzing sound of the bike.

A block away from the resort, she tapped Darien’s shoulder and pointed to the side of the street.

The bike sputtered to a stop, and he leaned it to one side as if it were a mammoth Harley instead of a putt-putt scooter. Rikki slid off the back and handed Darien a folded bill.

His gaze darted from the outstretched money to her face. “Daddy would smack me in da head if I took that.”

“Daddy doesn’t have to know.” She tucked the cash beneath his fingers curled around the handlebar of his scooter and twirled away. She made a beeline for the resort and didn’t slow her pace until she walked through the front entrance.

“Good evening, Miss Rikki.”

“Hey, George.” She waved her manila envelope and scurried out the side door and across the pool deck, where drunken tourists had gathered for one last nightcap.

The damp foliage brushed her skin, and she inhaled the sweet, heavy fragrance of the white bellflower as she tromped down the path to the cottage. When she was inside, she leaned against the front door, closing her eyes and hugging the fake documents to her chest.

“Did you get what you needed, Rikki?”

Rikki opened one eye and dipped her chin to her chest. “I did. Thanks, Chaz.”

Her stepfather winked. “I’ve been on this island a long time. I know important people in low places.”

Her mother floated into the room behind Chaz, her long gray braid hanging over one shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do this, Rikki? You don’t owe them anything, and as far as they know, you’re dead. You and Bella could live here with us for as long as you like.”

Rikki rolled her eyes. “I would go stir-crazy here, Mom. Besides, I have to do this. I have important information.”

“They don’t deserve it.” Mom sniffed.

Bella cooed and gurgled from the other room, and Rikki dropped the manila envelope on a table and hurried toward the bedroom. She leaned over the crib and scooped up her baby girl, holding her close and breathing in her baby-powder scent.

“She’s going to miss you.”

Rikki glanced at her mom, who stood with her shoulder wedged against the doorjamb, and blinked the sudden tears from her eyes. “I’m doing it for her, Mom. I have to get my life back for both of us.”

“Does that mean seeing him?”

“I have to start with him, see what he knows, maybe use his contacts.”

“You don’t have to tell him about Bella. She’ll be safe with us until you can return and reclaim her, reclaim your life.”

Rikki bounced her daughter in her arms, burying her face in Bella’s soft ginger hair. “I’ll see how it goes. I plan to use him to get what I want, and if that means telling him we have a daughter, I’ll do it.”

“He doesn’t have a right to know about her.”

“Lizzie.” Chaz had come up behind his wife and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let Rikki handle this herself...and let her have some time alone with the baby before she has to leave.”

Chaz ushered Mom out of the room and blew Rikki a kiss before shutting the door.

Rikki collapsed in the rocking chair, cuddling Bella in the crook of her arm. As she sang softly to her baby, Rikki let the tears spill onto her cheeks.

She didn’t know what she’d do when she came face-to-face with Quinn McBride—the man who’d tried to kill her and had gotten her locked up in a North Korean labor camp.

The man she still loved.

* * *

QUINN STUMBLED INTO his apartment and made his way to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. He banged his shin on the coffee table and scowled at it. “Who put you there?”

He yanked open the fridge door and studied the sparse contents as he swayed on his feet. Giving up, he slammed the door, and the condiment bottles rattled and clinked against the beer bottles.

His stomach growled. The taxi driver had refused to wait for him outside the restaurant where he’d wanted to pick up some food, and Quinn didn’t want to get stuck walking home through the streets of New Orleans lugging a bag of food, especially without a weapon at his side.

And he didn’t trust himself with a weapon right now—not in his condition.

He fumbled in his back pocket for his cell phone and scrolled through his contacts. If he couldn’t get to the food, he’d make the food come to him.

His thumb swept past Rinaldi’s Pizza and he backed up. Rikki’s name jumped out at him, grabbing him by the throat. As he hovered over her name, his finger shook, and it had nothing to do with the booze coursing through his veins.

He’d kept her number on his phone and had even called it once or twice just to hear her low, sultry voice caress his ear. But the last time he’d tried to call it, the harsh tones of an automated operator told him the cell number was out of service, and he had no business trying to contact the woman he’d sent to her death.

Dropping his chin to his chest, Quinn smacked the cell phone against his temple. If only he’d shown more restraint out there on the DMZ. He could’ve taken out both of the soldiers holding Rikki. She would’ve responded in an instant, would’ve been able to take appropriate evasive action.

She’d been one of the best damned operatives in the field.

The CIA and navy had clouded his judgment, had accused Rikki of being a double agent, had sent him there to take her out. If he hadn’t been so damned eager to please his superiors, he would’ve gone in with a backup plan.

He always had something to prove.

He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He needed to stop playing back the incident in his head over and over every day. Rikki was gone. The CIA was happy. The navy had sent him out on another assignment, which had allowed him to stuff everything away as he’d concentrated on the mission, and now that he was home on leave, he could erase it from his mind another way—the old-fashioned McBride way.

He hunched over the kitchen counter, bringing the phone close to his face. Avoiding Rikki’s number, he placed a call to Rinaldi’s and ordered an extralarge pizza with everything on it.

When he ended the call, he smacked the phone on the counter and yelled out to the empty apartment, “That calls for another beer.”

His stomach rumbled again as he stared at the fridge, and suddenly the effort required to grab a bottle and twist off the top overwhelmed him. He went into the living room instead and crashed onto the sofa, grabbing the TV remote on his way down.

He clicked through the channels, settling on a true crime show about some cold-case murder, and stuffed a throw pillow beneath his head.

The doorbell startled him awake, and the remote fell from his fingers, which had been dangling off the sofa. He ran his tongue around his parched mouth and swept his wallet from the coffee table.

He peered out the peephole at the pimply-faced kid on his doorstep and swung open the door.

The delivery guy’s eyes popped open as he held out the pizza box. “Your pizza, sir.”

God, he must look even worse than he felt. He handed the kid more money than he should’ve just to compensate for scaring the hell out of him.

When he collapsed back down on the sofa, Quinn rewound the show, since he’d dozed off during most of it—dozing off being a polite term for passing out stinking drunk.

Before digging into the pizza, he retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and downed half of it before making it back to the sofa. Three slices later and no closer to figuring out whodunit, Quinn closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the sofa cushion.

This time, the click of a gun near his temple woke him up.

Other than blinking once, Quinn didn’t move one muscle. Then he spread his hands in front of him and said, “Take what you want, man. Wallet’s on the table. Anything you can carry out is yours.”

The gunman behind him huffed out a breath and then purred in the low, husky voice that haunted his dreams, “You sure have gotten soft since trying to kill me, McBride.”

Chapter Two

Quinn jerked forward and cranked his head around. He choked as he stared at Rikki—but not Rikki—behind the Glock. She always did prefer a Glock.

Her blue eyes had been replaced by a pair of dark brown ones, narrowed in rage. Long, straight strands of brown hair framed her face instead of the thick, wavy red locks that used to dance on her shoulders like tongues of flame, tickling his body when they made love.

“Rikki?” He held out a trembling hand and then clenched it, cursing his drunken state. Maybe this was all an alcohol-infused hallucination. “Is it really you?”

She stepped back, wrinkling her nose. “You smell like a brewery.”

Then it hit him. Her presence two feet away sobered him up like a cold shower and a pot of coffee, and his blood hummed through his veins with elation. “How are you here? I—we thought you were dead.”

She took another step back, her aim at his head never faltering. “Yeah, too bad for you the North Koreans wanted me more alive than dead. That shot the soldier took grazed me, nothing fatal, but at least it protected me from the bullet waiting up on that hill—a bullet from a deadly navy SEAL sniper.”

“I wasn’t going to do it. Why do you think I took out the other soldier? I realized you hadn’t turned traitor the minute I saw you make a grab for your guard’s gun. I couldn’t get a clean shot at the soldier holding you, but I thought you might be able to take care of him yourself.”

Her lashes dipped over her eyes once. Her mouth softened, and for a crazy minute he almost took that as a sign to kiss her. Yeah, if he wanted a bullet between the eyes.

“That’s a good story. At what point during your prep for the assignment did you realize the CIA spy you were supposed to eliminate was your former lover?”

“Not right away.”

“But even if you had known immediately, you never would’ve turned down the mission, would you?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I received an order. The CIA had proof.”

His words, spoken aloud now to Rikki’s face, sounded tinny and paltry to his own ears. How would they sound to hers?

She snorted. “And of course you would’ve had to reveal that you’d carried on a fling with a CIA operative while we were both on assignment in the Middle East.”

“If I had doubted the evidence against you in any way, not only would I have owned up to our...affair, but I would’ve tried to convince them to call off the hit.”

“Instead you charged right in like the good little soldier you are, all honor and duty.” Her dark gaze flickered to the half-empty pizza box and the two bottles of beer on their sides at the base of the coffee table.

“All I needed to see was one shred of proof contradicting the CIA’s story—and you gave it to me when you charged that soldier. That’s why I shot the other one. I was trying to give you a chance.”

“Are you sure you didn’t kill him because you were afraid I’d already passed along secrets to him?”

“They were low-level grunts marching you along the DMZ. I didn’t figure that was the time and place you were going to spill intel. Besides—” Quinn kicked the pizza box out of the way and braced his foot on the edge of the coffee table “—if I’d wanted to take everyone out, including you, I would’ve started with you first and then dealt with the two soldiers.”

She flipped back her dark hair with a shrug of her shoulder. “Maybe.”

“I had you in my crosshairs, Rikki. Had you there for a while. I could’ve dropped you at any time. I couldn’t do it.”

The corner of her eye twitched. “What does the CIA think? I know my name’s not cleared, so whatever you told them, it didn’t have much of an impact. Unless you told them nothing and took credit for eliminating a CIA spy.”

He scratched his unshaven jaw. How did she know her name hadn’t been cleared? How did she get out of North Korea? “I told the CIA and my commanding officers in the navy exactly what happened. Told them their intel must’ve been wrong, that the North Koreans had you as a captive.”

“They didn’t believe you?”

“They didn’t care. I also told them the North Korean soldier had shot you dead. Case closed.”

“Except it’s not closed, is it? Here I am.”

At least the gun had slipped a little from her grip. Even in his current muddled state, he probably could disarm her. Then again, nobody ever benefited from mistaking Rikki Taylor for an easy target.

“How’d you get out of North Korea? How’d you get here? Where have you been the past—” he counted on his fingers “—sixteen months? And can you get that gun out of my face?”

“If I do, will you take me down? Call the CIA and turn me in?”

He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do I look like I’m in any condition to do that?”

She cocked her head. “You do look pretty bad, but I’m not stupid enough to underestimate a navy SEAL sniper—even one I shared a bed with. Or maybe that should be especially one I shared my bed with.”

“Ouch.” He held his hands in front of him, wrists pinned together. “You can tie me up or cuff me if you want.”

A light sparked in her eyes, and her nostrils flared, the heat between them still palpable.

Desire and need surged through his body, making him hard.

“Drop your pants.” She waved the gun.

He swallowed. He’d been kidding, but he should’ve known better than to kid with Rikki—not in her current frame of mind. “You’re serious?”

“Damn right. I can’t check you for weapons, but at least if you’re naked I can make sure you’re unarmed.”

“Rikki...”

“The last time we were together, if you want to call it that, you had me in the crosshairs of your sniper rifle ready to take me out.” She steadied her Glock. “What’s changed since then except I had the good fortune to escape from the labor camp?”

A knot twisted in his gut. He knew those North Korean labor camps, and the thought of Rikki confined to one of them made him sick.

“Drop ’em.”

“Okay, okay.” He pushed himself to his feet, feeling completely sober. He unbuttoned the fly on his shorts and yanked them down. The flip-flops he’d been wearing earlier were wedged beneath the coffee table, so the shorts dropped to his bare feet.

“Kick them off and stand away from the sofa where I can see you.”

He rolled his eyes but complied, stepping out of his shorts and kicking them across the room. He could get into a tussle with her right now, but she did have the upper hand.

He stepped away from the sofa and the table and held his arms out to the side. “Nothing on me.”

Except the raging erection she could clearly see bulging in his black briefs.

Rikki’s gaze dropped from his face to his crotch, and her cheeks flushed. “Now the T-shirt.”

Patting his chest, he said, “Do you really believe I have a holster on underneath this shirt? A knife strapped to my back?”

“I’m not taking any chances. Off.”

He grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and peeled it off his body. He dropped it to the floor. “Happy?”

“Turn around.”

Turning around for her inspection only made him harder. Maybe that would be enough to prove to Rikki that he was on her side—would always be on her side.

When he faced her again, he shoved his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs. “You want the rest off?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She reached behind her back and pulled out a pair of open handcuffs, dangling them from her fingers.

Quinn’s mouth dropped open. “No way.”

“I know you. I know who you are and what you’re capable of. I’ve come this far, and I’m not taking any chances.” She jingled the cuffs. “If you want any more information out of me, hold out your arm—your right arm.”

He stretched his arm in front of him. Two more inches and he could touch her soft cheek, tell her everything he’d thought about this past year.

She snapped the cuff around his wrist and yanked on it, the metal cutting into his flesh. “Over here, by the radiator.”

He would’ve preferred the bedroom, but he followed in her wake as she pulled him toward the window.

“Sit down and link the other cuff around this pipe.”

He slid to the floor and hooked himself up to the pipe on the radiator. He crouched on his haunches.

Rikki let out a long sigh and placed her weapon on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. She dragged a stool from the kitchen and straddled it. “That’s better.”

“Rikki, I’d never hurt you.”

“You were singing a different tune sixteen months ago.”

“I explained all that to you. Now that I’m—” he rattled his cuffs against the pipe “—contained, are you going to tell me what happened? What were you doing in North Korea?”

“You mind if I have a beer? Scratch the request. What are you going to do about it?” She hopped off the stool, and he watched the sway of her hips in those tight jeans as she walked around the counter into the kitchen.

Before Rikki sat back down, she tipped the neck of the beer bottle at him. “You keep drinking like you were tonight, and you’re gonna trade one six-pack for another...and wind up just like your old man.”

He clenched his stomach muscles. She’d been checking him out despite all the tough talk. “North Korea?”

“My partner, David Dawson, got intel that Vlad was meeting with the North Koreans.”

Quinn raised his eyebrows. “Vlad?”

“I knew that would get your attention.” She took a sip of beer. “David had a way into the country across the DMZ and tagged me to go with him.”

“Under the radar of the CIA. They didn’t know why you were there.”

“David didn’t trust anyone, and it turns out he was right.” Rikki sniffled and wiped the hand holding the beer bottle across her nose.

“The CIA didn’t kill David. They thought you had a hand in his death.”

“I know, but they were wrong. The North Koreans killed David and captured me. I had already been their...guest for several days before you spotted me marching along.”

“They killed David and were sending you to a labor camp.” Quinn bumped his manacled hands against his forehead. “If I had been faster, had taken out the soldier holding you first, you might’ve had a chance.”

“I had no chance, not there. I figured I was a dead woman when I went for the soldier’s gun anyway. The area was crawling with North Koreans. You saw that after you took your shot.” She dragged her fingernail down the bottle’s damp label, ripping a line through it. “I-I thought the person out there was trying to save me and I didn’t even know it was you—not until later. And then I found out it was you and you were trying to assassinate me.”

He clanged the bracelets against the radiator. “Not when I killed that soldier. I’d changed my mind already. I was trying to help you, Rikki, but I failed, and I’ve been punishing myself ever since.”

Her gaze swept over his unkempt apartment, his tousled hair, the stubble on his face. “Maybe the navy punished you for failing in your duty, for failing to take out the rogue CIA operative.”

“They didn’t. They figured you were dead and one way or the other, I was the cause of your death.” Closing his eyes, he lowered his backside to the floor and drew his knees to his chest. “I’d figured the same thing.”

“That’s why neither the CIA nor the navy can know I’m still alive.” She pinged her fingernail against the bottle. “Not until I can sort all of this out.”

“How did you escape from the labor camp?”

“The kindness of strangers.”

“The kindness of strangers and a will to survive. I know you, too, Rikki.”

“I had a lot to live for.”

“Because you got information on Vlad?”

“Yeah, Vlad.” Her eyelashes fluttered. “And now I’m going to bring him down and clear my name.”

“I’ll help you.”

She chugged some beer, eyeing him over the bottle. “How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you’re not going to run back to your commanding officers and tell them I’m still alive?”

Quinn lifted his hands. “Do you really think I couldn’t get out of these if I wanted?”

She sputtered and slammed her bottle on the counter. “Try it.”

“I don’t want to.” He hunched his shoulders. “That’s the point. I want you to feel secure. I’m no threat to you, Rikki. I wanna help you.”

Someone banged on the front door, and Rikki jumped from the stool, grabbing her weapon. “Who’d you call?”

“Nobody.”

“Quinn? Quinn, buddy? You alive in there?”

Rikki took three steps toward the radiator, raising her brows and her gun in his direction.

Quinn whispered, “It’s just a friend, an acquaintance from the bar.”

Leaning over him, Rikki pushed open the window. As she clambered onto the sill above him, she said over her shoulder, “Get rid of him.”

“You’re crazy.” Quinn tried to grab her ankle with his manacled hand, but she slipped out the window and onto the ledge outside the building.

“Quinn? I know you’re in there, buddy. You left your hat at the bar.”

A knock followed his words, and a woman’s voice came through the door. “C’mon, sugar. Open up, and we can continue the party.”

His hat. Damn it. He didn’t care about the hat.

Alice’s singsong voice continued. “Little pig, little pig, let me in, or I’ll huff and puff and blow.”

The doorknob rattled, and Quinn’s stomach sank when the door started to ease open. He’d forgotten to lock it. He rose from the floor and stuck his head out the window. “Rikki. Give me those keys.”

In response, she slid the window half-closed and left him to his fate.

Chapter Three

Rikki heard the door bang open all the way, and the woman with the Southern accent let out a whoop.

“Whatcha doin’ there, sugar?”

The man, who seemed a bit more sober, said, “This isn’t a burglary or anything, is it?”

Quinn rattled the handcuffs. “Just a little...fun that got out of hand.”

The man swore and chuckled. “Is the little lady still here?”

Rikki held her breath as she pressed the palms of her hands against the rough siding of Quinn’s apartment building.

“Long gone. Can I get some help here, Elvin?”

“I don’t know about that, sugar. I like what I’m seein’.”

Rikki didn’t blame Ms. Southern Belle. She’d liked what she’d seen of Quinn, too. His slide into despair over her supposed death couldn’t have been that dire, given the condition of his hard body. Hard all over. Hard for her.

Elvin grunted. “Alice, if you think I’m going to hang around while you torture Quinn here, you’ve been drinkin’ too many Hurricanes.”

“Who said anything about torture, and who said anything about you hanging around?” Alice must’ve walked toward Quinn, as her words carried right out the gap in the window.

Rikki shuffled a few steps on the ledge to the left.

“I finally got Quinn right where I want him, as soon as he loses that underwear.”

Quinn cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, I think I’ve had enough fun and games for the night. Thanks anyway, Alice.”

Elvin interrupted Alice’s foreplay. “Do you have the keys, man?”

Rikki traced the outline of the cuff keys in her front pocket. At least Elvin seemed to be in a hurry to get out of there. A nearly naked man in handcuffs would probably give this good ol’ boy nightmares.

The handcuffs jangled against the radiator. “She took the keys. Must’ve thought it was pretty funny.”

“You want me to call a locksmith or something? Go home and get my saw?”

“God, no.”

Quinn practically shouted, and Rikki couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips. Served him right for leaving her for dead in the DMZ.

“Grab a paper clip from the drawer by the dishwasher. There should be a bunch of loose ones in there. That’ll do it.”

Rikki heard heavy footsteps and then heavy breathing near the open window.

Alice asked in a low, hoarse voice, “You sure you don’t wanna give me a whirl, sugar? I know I could do you better than the girl who left you here.”

“No offense, Alice, but I’m not sure you could. She wore me out.”

Rikki clapped a hand over the laugh bubbling on her lips and teetered forward.

Finally, Elvin came to the rescue. “Will this work?”

“That’ll do it. Right there.”

A scrape and a click later and Quinn said, “That’s better. Thanks, man, and thanks for picking up my hat. I could’ve lived without it.”

“We’ll get out of here. Maybe that little firebrand will return.”

Quinn raised his voice. “I hope so.”

“Can we at least take the pizza?”

Quinn answered, “Go for it, Alice. I’ll see you guys around.”

“Maybe another time, sugar, when you’re not so...tired.”

Quinn mumbled something incoherent, and Rikki closed her eyes and took a deep breath, thankful she didn’t have to listen to some other woman having her way with a naked and chained-up Quinn.

The front door shut, and Rikki’s eyelids flew open. Now Quinn was free, probably armed and most likely pissed off.

The window beside her slid open the rest of the way, and Quinn stuck his head out. “Are you okay out here? God, I had visions of you tumbling off my building.”

Rikki tossed her head. “It’s a wide ledge and it’s so humid out here, I’m practically stuck to the side of the apartment.”

“Come here.” He stretched out his arms. “And for God’s sake, be careful.”

She sidled along the wall and ignored his help when she got to the window. “I got this.”

When Quinn stepped back, Rikki swung into the room, her gun in the waistband of her jeans. She drank him in, still in his briefs, a light sheen of sweat dampening his chest.

“Why did you do that? Why’d you leave me hooked up to the radiator?”

“How was I supposed to know your front door was unlocked? If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of breaking into your place through your bathroom window.”

“You left me exposed to that...man-eater.” He hooked a finger around one bracelet of the cuffs and dangled them in the air. “I should’ve taken her up on her offer and left you out on that ledge until morning.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Her question wiped the smile from his face. “Because you’re here, standing in front of me, fulfilling every one of my wishes over the past year, and now I don’t ever want to let you go.”

Before she had a chance to blink, Quinn had her in his arms, and hers curled around his neck in a traitorous response.

His head dipped, and his mouth sought hers. The kiss he pressed against her lips tasted like booze and...desperation. Her muscles tensed. She wasn’t here to be Quinn McBride’s salvation.

The desire that pumped through her veins and clouded her brain began to lift. As if waking from a dream, she planted her hands against the flat, smooth planes of muscle shifting across his chest. She pulled away from his demanding mouth, backed away from the prodding erection that promised a night of heaven and a morass of hell.

“Quinn. We’re not doing this.” And how much of “this” was a trick to lure her into trusting him?

Quinn’s large frame shuddered. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and clenched his fists at his sides.

Rikki felt the loss of his touch like a cold wave washing over her. Tears ached in her throat. While she’d been locked up, she found out it had been Quinn behind that sniper rifle, and her hatred of him had kept her alive in the labor camp—that and his baby in her belly.

Without her anger, what did she have left but love? And loving Quinn McBride had only ever brought her heartache. That’s all love ever brought.

Flexing his fingers, he turned away from her and plucked his shorts from the floor. He stepped into them and ran a hand through his messy hair. “I just hope you believe me, that I’d changed my mind about the assignment. You can’t stand there and tell me that if the CIA had given you orders to take me down, you wouldn’t have done it.”

“I guess we’ll never know.” She shoved her hands in her front pockets to stop herself from reaching for him again and smoothing her palms against the muscles that bulged and dipped beneath his flesh. “It’s not like we were...together at the time of your mission, anyway.”

He sliced a hand through the air. “Don’t put that on me. I tried to follow up with you, but you’d disappeared and wouldn’t respond to my messages.”

“I had my own assignment going on. That’s when David told me about Vlad and the North Koreans. At the end of our affair, I thought we’d decided to call it what it was.”

“And what was it, Rikki?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, the skin across his biceps tight.

She flipped the unfamiliar dark hair over her shoulder. “A fling—a dangerous, ill-conceived fling that defied all the rules of the navy and the CIA. A fling that would’ve gotten both of us written up and reprimanded.”

“You really believe that shooting you offered me a way out, a way to keep our affair secret?” His dark eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “What we did wasn’t the brightest move on either of our parts, but it wasn’t enough to get me court-martialed or ruin my career. And you spooks break the rules all the time to justify the means in the end.”

Licking her lips, she took a step back. “I’ve never slept with someone to get intel.”

“Neither have I.”

“I didn’t mean...” She waved one arm over his shirtless body. “I didn’t think that’s what you were doing here.”

“Really? ’Cause you sure pulled away fast. The Rikki I knew wouldn’t have been able to turn off her desire like that. The Rikki I knew ran as hot as blazes.”

A pulse beat at the base of her throat, and tingles ran up the insides of her thighs. Their need for each other had been undeniable and unquenchable. Whenever he’d touched her, she’d responded like a feral creature, her hunger not satisfied until he’d taken control of her body and mind in every way, slaked her thirst, tamed her wild cravings. He’d been the only man in her life who’d understood what she needed—before she’d understood it herself.

Her nipples crinkled under her T-shirt, and the familiar wanting throbbed between her legs. Beneath half-closed lids, her gaze wandered to the handcuffs Quinn had let slide to the floor.

If he didn’t ask now, if he didn’t wait for her consent, if he restrained and ravished her body like he used to, he’d fill the need she’d carried with her since the day she left him in Dubai.

She cleared her throat and stuck out her hand. “Truce? You don’t get in my way, and I won’t kill you.”

He ignored her outstretched hand. “I can help you. Someone must already be giving you information, since you seem to know a lot of what went down. One of David’s guys?”

“You’re right. Someone else is already helping me, so I don’t need your assistance.” She swept her weapon from the counter and shoved it into the back of her waistband. “I just needed to hear a few things from your own lips.”

Her cell phone buzzed, and she pulled it from her pocket. She entered her code and swiped her finger across the text message that had come through. She read the words Gator Lounge and then shoved the phone back in her pocket.

When she raised her head, she almost bumped Quinn’s chin. He’d moved in on her again, and the heat coming from his body seemed to find its way into her pores.

She stumbled back, crossing her arms over her chest.

He held up his hands. “Since you wanted to talk to me, does that mean you already suspected I’d changed my mind about assassinating you?”

She’d been hoping like hell he could convince her, and he had done so, but she still didn’t think she could tell him about Bella—not yet.

“I was blinded by rage when I found out you were the sniper on that hill, but I’d already figured any navy SEAL sniper worth his salt would’ve been able to take me out before dropping those soldiers—especially you.” She held up one finger. “But the fact that you took the assignment enraged me just the same.”

“I’m sorry, Rikki. If I had to do it all over again...”

“You’d do the exact same thing. Duty and country.” She crouched down and picked up the handcuffs, then snapped them in their holder on her belt. She had no intention of leaving them here for Alice.

“I won’t be staying in New Orleans long, and you can get back to doing whatever it was you were doing.” She wrapped her fingers around the neck of her beer bottle on the kitchen counter and tipped it back and forth. “But if you’re getting deployed again soon, I suggest you clean up your act, sailor.”

“Where are you off to next? You can stay here until you leave.”

She snorted. “Not a good idea. Take care of yourself, Quinn.”

She held out her hand for a shake again. This time he took it, but instead of squeezing her hand, he cinched his fingers around her wrist and rotated her hand around. He pressed his lips against the center of her palm. “I’m glad you’re alive, Rikki. Makes the world a whole helluva lot more bearable.”

She pulled away from him and crossed the room to the front door. As she grasped the handle, she tried to think of some flip, clever way to say goodbye, but her throat closed and her bottom lip trembled.

In the end, Rikki slipped out the door without another word or backward glance.

The sultry night air pressed against her as she loped along the streets not far from the French Quarter. She ducked into a clump of bushes in a park a few blocks from Quinn’s apartment and pulled out her scooter.

Just after midnight, the bars would still be open, and Rikki had another appointment at the Gator Lounge before she settled her business in this city. Before she left Quinn—maybe for good this time.

She hopped on the electric scooter and motored back toward the lights and action of downtown.

One quick glance over her shoulder, and she let out a sigh of relief. Nobody had followed her. Why would anyone be following her? As far as the CIA knew, a North Korean soldier had shot her dead in the DMZ and a trustworthy navy SEAL had witnessed her death.

She could trust Quinn not to out her. Besides, if he did and the CIA brought her in, he’d be going down with her. She’d make sure of that.

Traffic got heavier as she got closer to the French Quarter. She kept her eye on the side mirror to monitor anything unusual behind her, and would slip between cars if someone seemed to be following too closely or for too long.

When she reached the streets of the French Quarter, still teeming with tourists, she located the bar and then stashed the scooter on a side street. She slid from the seat and ran her fingers through her hair. Her contact had indicated the bar had a casual atmosphere, but she didn’t want to look like she’d just come in from a horse ride.

She ducked to peer into the side-view mirror and pulled a lipstick from the purse strapped across her body. She hadn’t thought to primp before accosting Quinn in his apartment, but then she hadn’t thought much at all about what she wanted to accomplish by seeing him.

To make sure the heat still blazed between them? Check. To see if he still had a body that could weaken her knees? Check. To find out if her presence would make him happy? Check.

She had to admit to herself that seeing him...disheveled had given her a small, petty sense of pleasure. It had also backed up his claim that he’d had a change of heart about shooting her. Quinn wouldn’t be drinking if something weren’t troubling him.

Now that she’d confirmed that, she’d have to tell him about Bella. He deserved to know about his daughter, even though he’d never mentioned wanting children to her.

She straightened up and pulled her blouse over the gun in her waistband. She didn’t expect trouble from her contact, but she had to be prepared for anything. Ariel had vouched for him, and that was good enough for Rikki.

She’d know her guy by his blue Dodgers cap in a city with no pro baseball team. Rikki joined the throng of tourists still crowding Bourbon Street after midnight, and quickened her pace when she saw the street for the bar up ahead.

Someone plowed into her and she spun around, her hand hovering at her waist. The drunk who’d bumped her gave her a sloppy smile and raised his drink. She stepped to the side and rounded the next corner. A green neon sign announced the Gator Lounge, and Rikki surveyed the pedestrians behind her before ducking inside the darkness.

She shivered as the air-conditioning hit her warm skin. She’d overdressed for the heat and humidity in jeans, a blouse and tennies, but shorts and a T wouldn’t have worked for breaking into Quinn’s place and carrying a weapon and cuffs.

Her gaze flickered across the small cocktail tables and then rested on the back of a man seated at the bar, a blue baseball cap on his head.

Rikki scooped in a breath and threaded her way through the tables. As she hopped onto the stool next to her contact, she waved at the bartender.

“What can I getcha?” The bartender slapped a napkin on the bar in front of her.

“Light beer, no glass.” She slid a glance to her right to see if her words registered with the man in the Dodgers hat.

She waited for his prearranged response—a folding of all four corners of his napkin.

He picked at the label on his beer bottle with his fingernail.

She held her breath.

The bartender placed her beer on the napkin. “Three dollars. Running a tab?”

“No.” Her eyes glued to her contact’s cocktail napkin, she unzipped the front compartment of her purse and pulled out a five.

Finally the man beside her dipped his head. “I have what you want, but who are you?”

The question had her convulsively clenching her fist around the bill in her hand. That was not part of the deal. He wasn’t supposed to ask any questions. He was supposed to hand over a flash drive with information—after folding the damned corners of his napkin.

She turned toward him and smiled sweetly. “You can’t possibly have what I want...sugar. And who the hell are you?”

He jerked his thumb upward, hitting the bill of his cap.

Rikki’s heart stuttered. None of this made sense. He had half of the plan right, and it couldn’t be just a coincidence. Who else would be wearing a Dodgers cap in this particular bar in New Orleans at this exact time?

Her laugh tinkled as she creased her money and tucked it beneath a candle. “Sorry, I’m no Dodgers fan. In fact, I don’t even like baseball.”

Wedging one foot on the floor, she took a quick gulp of her beer. She needed to abandon this rendezvous—and fast.

As she shoved herself to her feet, the man grabbed her wrist and growled in her ear, “I have a gun pointed at your ribs. Make a move, and I’ll take you down.”

Chapter Four

Quinn plowed through the crowd of people on Bourbon Street, stepping on a few toes and upsetting a few drinks. The Gator Lounge occupied a side street, and he made for the corner of that street like a heat-seeking missile.

Before he stepped through the front door of the bar, he tugged his baseball cap low on his forehead. If Rikki made him as soon as he walked into the bar, he’d lose his chance to find out what business she had in New Orleans. He might lose his chance of ever seeing her again.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he hunched his shoulders and dipped his head. Two steps into the bar, he scanned it quickly, and his heart jumped in his chest.

His gaze locked onto Rikki and a man in a blue cap heading for the back of the bar. Quinn had frequented enough bars in the past few months to know this one led to an alley running behind it. Rikki and her companion were headed either for the restrooms or out the back door. Either way, he’d be in the vicinity to intercept them.

He backed out of the Gator Lounge and jogged through a small courtyard between buildings. He hugged the side of the bar and poked his head around the corner into the alley.

The blood in his veins ran cold as he watched the man propel Rikki in front of him—by force. Every line in her body screamed that she didn’t want to be in his company or be going anywhere with him.

Plenty of people had seeped into this alley off the main street, and Quinn joined their ranks, edging closer to Rikki and her abductor.

The guy in the cap seemed distracted. He didn’t notice the pedestrians who passed by him and Rikki, wasn’t expecting any kind of intervention—and that was the way Quinn liked it.

Quinn joined a trio of late-night revelers and as they walked past Rikki and the man, Quinn dropped back. He reached out and grabbed the man’s arm, twisting it behind him before he could use the weapon gripped in his hand.

Rikki made a muffled cry and dropped to the ground.

Quinn gave the man’s arm a quick yank and heard the crack of his bone.

The man howled, his legs buckling beneath him.

Quinn heard a shout behind him. “Hey, hey. What are you doing?”

Plucking the gun from the man’s useless arm, Quinn kicked him in the gut for good measure.

Someone came up behind Quinn and grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”

As Quinn shrugged off the stranger’s hand, he slid the man’s weapon beneath his shirt. “Dude was taking off with my girl. You’re comin’ home with me, Lila.”

Rikki grabbed the sleeve of Quinn’s T-shirt, glanced over her shoulder at the concerned onlooker and shrugged. “Jealousy.”

Quinn hustled Rikki out of the alley before someone called the cops or an ambulance. When they hit Bourbon Street, Quinn whipped the hat from his head and clasped it against his side with his arm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. How the hell did you know where I was?”

“Car?”

“Scooter a few blocks away.”

“You wear a helmet with that thing?”

She poked him in the side. “You’re concerned about helmet safety at a time like this?”

“Let’s get that helmet from your scooter, and then we’ll hop on my bike.”

“If you see me to my scooter, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” He gripped her upper arm. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Some guy with a gun almost took you away—again. I wanna know what kind of danger you’re in, and I wanna help. I owe you that.”

“Really...” She tripped as he pinched her arm tighter. “Okay. My scooter’s around the next corner.”

Quinn loosened his hold on her and smoothed his fingers over the bunched material of her blouse. If he’d learned anything about Rikki during their short affair, he knew she didn’t respond to halfhearted attempts at persuasion—or lovemaking.

She pointed to a small electric job with a white helmet locked to the back. “That’s it.”

“Let’s grab it and go. You don’t know if they ID’d your vehicle or followed you.”

“No.” She bent over the scooter and released her helmet. “I was not followed from your place—unless it was by you. How’d you know where I was?”

“Later. My motorcycle is back toward the bar.” He patted his waistband. “I got the guy’s gun, so unless he has a backup he’s not going to be taking any shots at you.”

“The way his bone cracked when you twisted his arm behind his back, I don’t think he could handle any weapon right now.” She crossed her arms over her helmet, hugging it to her midsection.

“When I saw him hustling you away at gunpoint, I wanted to do worse than break his arm, but I don’t need to be charged with murder or even questioned at this point. Who was he?” He placed his hand at the small of her back and propelled her across the street.

“Later.”

As they reached the other side of the street, Quinn ran his hand along the waistband of Rikki’s jeans, sitting low on the curve of her hips.

She stiffened beneath his touch. “I don’t think it’s the time or place to be groping me.”

“I’m not groping you, unless you want me to.” He briefly cupped her derriere through the tight denim. “What happened to your gun and handcuffs?”

“He relieved me of them and dropped them in a Dumpster right outside the club.”

Quinn muttered an expletive. “Maybe we can retrieve them tomorrow.”

“We?”

“Here’s my bike. Get that helmet on and hop on the back.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay to drive this thing? You were sleeping off a bender when I sneaked into your apartment.”

“The events since that time have gone a long way to sober me up.”

She held out her hand. “Doesn’t matter how you feel, Quinn. Your blood alcohol level is probably still over the legal limit. You don’t want to get arrested for murder or driving while under the influence.”

He jingled the keys and glanced down at his Honda. “Can you manage a bike this size? It’s not your little scooter.”

She snorted. “Hop on the back.”

Rikki handled the bike like she handled everything else—with confidence and ease. He did have to help her hoist the bike onto its kickstand, but she’d been right about taking the wheel—or the handlebars. He’d been an idiot to take a chance like that on the bike, no matter how sober he felt, but he couldn’t stand to see her waltz right out of his life just after he’d discovered she’d survived the ordeal in North Korea.

How the hell had she escaped that torture?

As they approached his front door, Rikki hung back. “You didn’t leave your place unlocked again, did you? We’re not going to find Alice waiting in your bed, are we? Or worse?”

“I can dispense with Alice easily enough, but if that man who had you at gunpoint has any friends, we want to make sure he hasn’t ID’d me and dispatched one of his cohorts to wait for us.”

Rikki’s brown eyes widened as if the thought had never occurred to her. If it hadn’t, her spy skills needed some refreshment.

Where had she been since escaping from North Korea?

He tucked her behind him. “Wait here while I give it a quick check.”

Her hand grabbed his side, and she lifted her abductor’s gun from his waistband. “Now I’m armed, too. We’ll take ’em on together.”

“I forgot who I was dealing with.” He unlocked his door and pushed it open slowly with his foot. When it stood wide, he entered his apartment with his weapon sweeping the room.

Rikki closed and locked the door behind them and crept in beside him, peeling off to check out the back rooms. She called out, “All clear.”

Quinn peered over the counter into the kitchen. “All clear here.”

Rikki joined him and blew out a breath. “How would that guy have ID’d you? He barely got a look at you before you took him down.”

“If he knows who you are, he might make the connection from New Orleans to me and me to you.”

“There aren’t many people who knew what we did in Dubai.” Her lashes fluttered, and she got busy putting away the spare gun. “I mean, that we...hooked up. I don’t think some random person from intelligence is going to make that link between me and you.”

“Intelligence? Is that who that was? You said it yourself earlier. The CIA thinks you’re dead.”

She raised her shoulders to her ears. “I don’t know who he was, and more important, he didn’t know who I was.”

“Are you telling me that was some kind of random abduction?” Quinn shook his head. “No common street thug is going to get over on you, Rikki, especially when you have a gun and cuffs on you.”

“I didn’t say he was a common criminal. The guy had mad skills himself and I’m not downplaying your heroic rescue, but he’d let his guard down by the time he got me outside the Gator Lounge. He wasn’t expecting anyone to come riding to my defense.”

“You think he was from the Company?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t get that far in our acquaintance, but he did not know who I was. He asked me.”

“Maybe I am still drunk.” Quinn massaged his temple with two fingers. “If he didn’t know who you were and he was some kind of spy, why was he abducting you and why were you meeting him?”

Rikki hopped on a stool, straddling it, knees wide. “First, you. How did you know I was going to the Gator Lounge when I left here?”

“I didn’t know you were going straight there when you took off, but I saw the text message come through.” He clicked his tongue. “Careless, Rikki. I was looking straight down at your phone, but then maybe you wanted me to see that message.”

She shot up on the stool, her back ramrod straight. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Now you. Who were you meeting at the Gator and why?” He held up one finger. “And don’t even try lying to me.”

She slumped, her shoulders rounding, her hands on her knees. “I don’t know exactly who I was meeting. We had a series of clues for each other, a back-and-forth, starting with his Dodgers cap.”

“That guy was wearing a Dodgers cap. What happened?”

“I spotted him at the bar, everything on track. I ordered a beer, using the agreed-upon language, but he didn’t reciprocate. He went off script. My contact didn’t know who I was and wasn’t supposed to ask, but this guy...” She waved one hand in the air.

“You figured he wasn’t your guy or maybe your guy had been replaced? What did you do?”

“I admitted nothing to him and was getting ready to abandon the mission. I must’ve telegraphed that because the next thing I knew, he had his gun poking me in the side.”

Quinn crossed his arms, curling his fingers into his biceps. “Did he ask you any more questions at that point?”

“Nope. Started marching me away to God-knows-where.” She captured the unfamiliar brown hair in one hand and curled it around her fist.

Quinn’s gaze locked onto the dark, silky strands. Even without her wavy red hair and bright blue eyes, he’d recognized Rikki in a flash. Why wouldn’t he? She’d been in his dreams nightly.

He tugged on a lock of his own hair, which he’d grown out since his previous deployment. “Is that a wig? It’s so...different.”

Her mouth formed an O and released a little puff of air. “I thought we were talking about my abductor.”

“We are, we will, just wondering about the transformation.” The warmth from his chest began creeping up his neck.

Even discussing a violent incident and a mystery, Quinn couldn’t tamp down his attraction to Rikki. He could take her right now, across that kitchen counter, bent over that stool, and not give another thought to her mysterious meeting or the man he’d beaten down in the alley.

What did any of it matter with this woman back in his life, sitting right in front of him, inches away?

She tossed her head, and the dark hair flowed over one shoulder. “It’s not a wig. I had my hair straightened when I had it colored. It’ll last for several weeks—as long as I need.”

Quinn ran both hands over his face as if waking from a long, drugged sleep. “As long as you need to do what, Rikki? What are you doing in New Orleans? What was that meeting all about?”

“The man I was supposed to meet had something for me, something that might help me clear my name. I need that. I need something before I can go to the CIA and reveal that I’m still alive—and no traitor.” She blinked and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.

The Rikki he knew, the woman who’d dumped him in Dubai, never cried. But that woman had been a trusted CIA operative at the top of her game and still on the rise.

When she’d succumbed to him, knowing her superiors would frown on her conduct, knowing she could be reprimanded, she’d spun out of control. Their desire for each other had been so great they’d both thrown caution to the wind. They’d made love in glass elevators high above the glittering city, coupled in the warm waters of the Persian Gulf in a place that frowned upon spouses holding hands in public.

And during all of it, the kick-ass CIA operative who could disarm a man without breaking a sweat and interrogate a suspected terrorist for twenty-four hours straight had relinquished control to him in every way. She’d waited for his commands, done his bidding, which was really her own. She could pretend to herself that he’d mastered her mind and body, but in reality he’d been the captive. She’d enthralled him. Still did.

Quinn launched forward and crouched beside her. His thumb swept her bottom lashes where a single teardrop trembled, although she’d willed it not to fall.

“You deserve that life back, and I’m going to help you reclaim it. What did your contact have for you?”

“A-a flash drive containing some information. I don’t think he even knew what the info meant, but he was going to pass it along to me.”

“On whose authority? Who’s your contact at the agency? Who sent him?”

Rikki swept her tongue along her bottom lip. “Maybe it was all a setup. Maybe the goal of the plan all along included my capture. The flash drive a ruse to lure me out.”

“Who sent him? Not some anonymous source? You didn’t trust some anonymous CIA drone, did you?”

“It was Ariel.” She hunched forward, her nose almost touching his. “You know Ariel, don’t you?”

“The head of the Vlad task force. Several of my SEAL team members have been on assignments controlled by Ariel—and they trust her, or him.”

“Her. Ariel is definitely female.”

“How do you know that? I think one of my team members actually spoke to her, but we’re not even sure it was the real Ariel.” Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “You know her?”

“Ariel was my mentor at the CIA when I started. You know, one female spy to another in a department dominated by men.”

Quinn sat back on his heels. “You mean, you know the real Ariel? The actual woman behind the clever pseudonym? From what I understand, the Vlad task force is controlled by Prospero, Jack Coburn’s black ops organization. Ariel, Prospero—from the Shakespeare play.”

“Yeah, I remember my Shakespeare and yeah, Ariel is with Prospero now, recruited from the CIA several years ago.”

“Her real name?”

Rikki ran her fingertip along the seam of her lips. “Ariel.”

Quinn jumped to his feet and paced in front of the window. “You don’t owe her anything if she set you up.”

“I can’t be sure she did. She’s the one who discovered I was in the labor camp and not dead. She’s the one who helped me escape, get back to...get out.”

“Maybe she did all that so she could dial in the CIA and have them recapture you. Maybe she didn’t want you hobnobbing with the North Koreans, possibly passing them intel.”

“I don’t believe that, not...Ariel. If that’s what she wanted, my contact at the bar would’ve followed through with our assignment without alarming me, and then she could’ve sent the FBI to pick me up and arrest me.” Rikki slid from the stool and edged around the counter into the kitchen. “That’s not how this went down.”

“Maybe the contact himself went rogue. Maybe he recognized you.”

She made a half turn from the fridge, a bottle of water in her hand. She raised it. “In this getup? Just because you had me figured out immediately doesn’t mean some CIA agent is going to recognize me from a photo in a briefing on spies within the Agency. Dark hair, dark eyes...” She patted her hip. “A few extra pounds. This is a damned good disguise.”

When she touched her body, Quinn’s gaze followed her hand. Rikki had always been long and lean. He tracked up the curve of her hip to the loose blouse draped over her form, brushing the ample swell of her breasts.

He swallowed hard. He’d always enjoyed Rikki’s slim, athletic build—especially given their marathon lovemaking sessions in...unusual places and circumstances. But for the first time this crazy evening, he noticed the new softness of her body—the way her jeans hugged her derriere and thighs, the seductive sway of her hips when she walked, the way her blouse pulled tight across her breasts when she spread her arms or gestured. His erection pulsed again.

Then he blinked. Rikki hadn’t just escaped from a North Korean labor camp. She’d been recuperating somewhere.

Quinn cleared his throat. “God, it’s late. You’re bunking here tonight, and I don’t want to hear any arguments.”

She snapped her mouth closed and chugged some water from the bottle. “Okay, but just so we’re clear you’re sleeping in the bed and I’m taking the couch.”

Quinn’s erection ached for relief, and he tugged on the hem of his cargo shorts. “Yeah, of course, but I have a sofa bed in my office and you can have that.” He opened his mouth in a pretend yawn. “We can try to figure out what happened to your contact tomorrow. If you still trust her, get in touch with Ariel.”

Rikki sloshed some water in her mouth before swallowing. “Do you happen to have an extra toothbrush?”

“I’m on leave, and you’re in luck because I just went to my dentist two weeks ago. I think he’s under some misconception that the navy supplies me with one toothbrush every two years, because he loaded me up. They’re in the second drawer on the right. This place has two bathrooms, so you’re welcome to the other one.”

“I’ll take the water with me to bed.” She swept her small purse from the counter. “This is good. I’ll get a good night’s sleep and regroup in the morning. I’m sure Ariel will have an explanation for me.”

“If you think you can trust her.”

“I do.” She turned at the entrance to the hallway. “Thanks for your assistance tonight, Quinn. Maybe I did want you to see that text after all.”

“You can always ask me, Rikki. You can ask me for anything.”

A smile trembled on her lips, and then she disappeared down the hallway.

Cocking his head to the side, Quinn listened as she got a toothbrush from his bathroom and then shut herself in the other one.

He sprinted down the hall and ducked into the second bedroom. He pulled out the sofa bed, darted to his bedroom, snagged a pillow from his bed and tossed it onto the sofa bed. Despite his best efforts at a quick assembly, Rikki hovered at the door of the office as he dragged a blanket across the bed.

“Just making up the sofa bed. Did you find the toothbrush and toothpaste okay?”

“Yep.” She ran her tongue along her teeth.

“Okay, then. Tomorrow.” His gaze darted to Rikki still propping up the doorjamb. She didn’t expect him to squeeze past her, did she? He couldn’t handle that.

A few seconds later that seemed like minutes, Rikki pushed herself off the door. “Nice apartment. I had memorized your address from...before. I was hoping you still lived here.”

He spread his arms. “Still here. Sleep tight.”

He practically ran from the room, slamming the door behind him. Sleep tight? What did that even mean, anyway?

He brushed his own teeth and studied his reflection in the mirror. He needed a shave—and an attitude adjustment. Rikki didn’t want him anymore. She’d made that clear before. And after he’d gone on a mission to assassinate her? Yeah, pretty much killed any thread of a chance he had left with her. Now if he could only send that message to his body.

He yanked the covers back from his bed and pulled off his T-shirt. He unzipped the fly on his shorts and hooked his thumbs in the band of his briefs as he started to take them down with his shorts. He usually slept naked, but maybe leaving on his underwear would protect him from lustful thoughts about Rikki.

He crawled between the sheets, rolled on his side, then the other side, and then flopped onto his back, one arm flung across his face. Briefs, no briefs, fully clothed, suit of armor—didn’t matter. Rikki Taylor was in his blood, and now she was back in his life.

About an hour later on the edge of another feverish dream, Quinn bolted upright in bed, his heart racing. He paused and heard the noise that had awakened him.

Someone pounded on the door again.

Quinn rolled out of bed and grabbed the gun on his nightstand. He crept toward the front door and paused, holding his breath.

The pounding resumed, following by a groan and a shout. “Quinn? Quinn, you there?”

Quinn drew his brows over his nose and released the locks. He eased open the door, and a man fell across the threshold, bruised and bloody.

“Quinn, you gotta help me. They’re gonna kill me.”

Chapter Five

With her blouse pulled on over her panties, Rikki tiptoed to the office door, the gun Quinn had taken from her abductor clutched in her hand.

She opened the door a crack and sucked in a breath as the men’s voices, Quinn’s and someone else’s, carried down the hallway.

Had he called someone to take her in?

She rubbed her eyes. If that were the case, the guy wouldn’t be banging on the front door in the wee morning hours. She pressed her ear to the gap in the door, wrinkling her nose. She couldn’t hear a damned thing.

With the gun leading the way, she edged down the hallway and tripped to a stop.

Quinn looked up from tending to a badly beaten man stretched out on his living room floor. “Put down that gun and soak some towels with water.”

The authoritative tone of his voice had her jumping into action. She placed the weapon on the kitchen counter and scurried back to the hallway, where she rummaged through a few shelves, sweeping towels into her arms.

In the kitchen, she ran two of the towels beneath the faucet until they were soaked and dropped next to Quinn attending to the injured man.

As Quinn checked the man’s injuries, Rikki dabbed the cuts on his face with the corner of a damp towel. “Who is he?”

“CIA.”

Rikki dropped the towel and jerked back. “You called him?”

Quinn spit out between clenched teeth, “I did not. He just showed up on my doorstep like this. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing here, but he’s a friend, and I’m not turning him away.”

“O-of course not.” Rikki grabbed the towel and continued cleaning the man’s facial wounds. “What happened to him?”

“I don’t have a clue. He appeared and collapsed.”

The man moaned, and Quinn leaned in close. “Jeff, Jeff. What happened?”

Jeff peeled open one puffy eye, caked with blood. “Got the jump on me. Beat me up.”

“Who? Street robbery? Do you want me to call the cops?”

“No.” Jeff dug his fingers into the flesh of Quinn’s arms. “On the job.”

Quinn’s eyes met Rikki’s for a split second, and her heart flip-flopped. The CIA on the job in New Orleans? She couldn’t stay here. Couldn’t stay with Quinn any longer.

Quinn tugged Jeff’s shirt back down over his stomach. “I don’t see any weapon wounds.”

“No weapons.” Jeff closed his eyes. “Unless you count the guy’s fists.”

“You need some ice.” Rikki dabbed the last of the blood from Jeff’s face. She gathered the bloodstained towels and wrapped them in a plastic bag. She loaded another plastic bag with ice.

When she returned to the living room, Quinn had helped Jeff onto the sofa. Without the blood smearing his face, Jeff no longer looked half-dead.

Rikki perched on the edge of the coffee table, facing Jeff. She thrust the bag of ice at him. “Here. Can you manage?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Jeff grabbed the impromptu ice pack and pressed it against the lump forming around his eye.

Quinn started for the hallway. “I’ll get you some ibuprofen and water.”

As Quinn walked away, Rikki scooted off the table. “I’ll get the water.”

She and Quinn returned to Jeff’s side at about the same time, and Rikki noticed Quinn had pulled on his shorts. That made two times she’d seen the man almost naked in one night, and she didn’t have to use her imagination for the rest. They’d spent two whole days together in his hotel room sans clothing. Answering the door for room service had been the only times either of them had slipped into something to cover their nakedness.

Rikki tucked her hair behind one ear and held out the bottle to Jeff. “Here you go. Feeling better?”

She just hoped to God her disguise would see her through and Jeff wouldn’t recognize her, but then nobody in the CIA would be expecting to run into Rikki Taylor—the dead double agent.

“I feel a lot better.” Jeff tapped his jaw and winced. “I’m really sorry about intruding here.”

Heat prickled Rikki’s cheeks. If only. “Oh, no, we...”

Quinn shrugged and dragged Rikki against his side with one arm, his hand resting perilously close to the under-curve of her breast, his warm skin soaking through the thin material of her blouse.

In her haste, Rikki had yanked on her top but hadn’t bothered with a bra and Quinn seemed to be taking full advantage of that fact.

“Yeah, man, bad timing.”

Rikki bit her bottom lip. Definitely taking advantage.

“I’ll be out of your way tomorrow morning. If I can just stay the night, I think can get back on track.”

“Are you sure you don’t need medical care?”

“I could use some, but there’s nothing urgent. Nothing that can’t wait for tomorrow. I’m really sorry, Quinn.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad I was here. Can you tell me what you were doing in New Orleans?”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.