Hot Rebel (8 page)

Victoria swallowed. “I can’t just take him to Ian. He’ll be suspicious. New recruits are ex-military, ex-cops, whatever. And they usually arrive after Ian checks them out with his contacts. He has operations elsewhere, so there’s no guarantee he’d assign Nick to Qu’rim.”

“Trust me, Sergeant Brandon will have a very long and checkered history when we’re done. He’ll be a very dirty operator and precisely what Black wants. Besides, you need a spotter, don’t you?”

Nick gritted his teeth. This was the part he didn’t like. He didn’t mind being kicked out of HOT or having a record as a dirty soldier. All of that was temporary anyway. But acting as Victoria’s spotter was going to drive him to drink.

She glanced at him and he gave her a bland smile. Inside, he was seething. But no one else was right for the job. It had to be him. Dex was still too new to HOT—and Jack Hunter was flying in to take Nick’s place in the squad. They’d be shadowing him and Victoria as much as possible. But mostly he’d be flying without his backup.

Victoria was pissed enough at him to turn him over to Black. But her sister was the key here. So long as Mendez held out the promise of something she’d been unable to get from Black, her loyalties would swing toward them.

“You’ll get Emily away from the terrorist camp? You’ll send her back to the States with a clean record?”

“You do realize that your sister may not want to leave bin Yusuf?”

“I know that.” She hesitated. “But I don’t believe it. If she was happy, he’d have no reason to keep us apart.”

Mendez studied her. “I can’t promise a clean record. She’s been living in a terrorist organization for years now. She’ll be on no-fly lists, and she’ll be watched. But she’ll be free to come and go, and she’ll be able to find work.”

Victoria nibbled her lip. “Ian isn’t stupid. If he didn’t know bin Yusuf wanted me dead before, he probably will now. He’ll want to know how I escaped—and how I managed to kill three men after they’d disarmed me.”

“Was he there? Does he know they took your weapon?”

She didn’t answer, but Nick could tell she was thinking about it.

Mendez kept his gaze on her. “I’ve sent a cleanup team. There won’t be any bodies left. You can say whatever you want about how you got away. Are you a good liar, Miss Royal?”

“I can be.”

“Then tell a damn good lie and stick with it.”

She blew out a breath and shook her head. “This is a bad idea. Ian will be suspicious—of me, of Nick, of the whole damn thing. He’s not going to suddenly tell me anything about his operations.”

“He doesn’t need to. Just get Sergeant Brandon into the outfit and leave the rest to him.”

CHAPTER SIX

Was she really going through with this? Victoria stood near the car waiting to take her into Baq and stared off into the desert. The sun was setting, turning the sky blood red and the dunes orange. It was beautiful, but not the sort of place to take for granted. Forgetting for even an instant that the desert was a constant struggle between life and death could be fatal.

Victoria shuddered. She’d nearly been killed earlier today when she’d stood under a bridge and stared down a man with a gun. She would have died if not for Nick Brandon and his team.

She still didn’t know who they were or what this outfit was, but they were definitely special operators. She suspected they were Delta Force, no matter what Nick said. It was either that or Green Berets. What else was there?

And she was about to walk back into Ian’s headquarters and tell him she’d found a spotter. Someone she used to know and had met again today when he’d come to her aid in Akhira.
 

God, it was risky as hell, but apparently this Colonel Mendez had access to things that normal colonels didn’t. Like CIA reports. She’d had no idea Ian was former CIA. He’d always styled himself as ex-military, and he worked unconventionally. He had the trust of the locals in a way that surprised her, but that hadn’t worried her until the mission two weeks ago. Now she wondered just whose side he was on.

Nick came out of the building and swaggered toward her. He’d taken off the gear, but he was still dressed in desert camouflage. He was tall, his shoulders stretching the uniform impressively, and there was a day’s worth of stubble on his face. Soldiers had strict rules for grooming, but not out here. Just another indication he wasn’t regular Army.
 

Her belly did a flip the closer he got. She pressed a hand to her middle and told herself to breathe. He came to a stop and stared down at her, his kiss-worthy lips forming a hard frown. She could see the ball chain from his dog tags glinting against his neck where he hadn’t tucked it into his T-shirt. Why, oh why, did he have to be so damn appealing?

“I know you don’t like me,” he said, “but you
can
trust me to protect you out there.”

Her heart thumped and she swallowed. “First of all, I can protect myself—been doing it for two years without you. And second, I never said I didn’t like you.”

He snorted softly. “Have it your way then. And you haven’t liked me since the moment we met, so no use pretending otherwise.”

“I didn’t like your superior
attitude
, Preacher Boy. Big difference.”

He blinked. “What attitude? I showed you to your room. I was polite.”

She was surprised he remembered that. “Ha! You looked at me like I was something you’d scraped off the bottom of your shoe. I thought it was because I was a woman invading sacred territory. And you weren’t polite when we were in the field.”

“No, I was trying to win. But I never took you for anything less than an equal. I thought you knew that.”

“You insulted me. I’m sure I’m not remembering
that
wrong.”

He actually grinned, his teeth flashing white in his tanned face. He had lines at the corners of his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He’d been almost too pretty three and a half years ago. Now that he had some hard edges? Geez.
Sexy, sexy man.

“I insulted your ability. Not your gender. Typical trash talk.”

Victoria frowned. Was that right? He’d pushed her buttons, but as she searched her memory, she couldn’t remember him ever calling her weak or implying she wasn’t good enough because she was a woman.
 

Why had it felt so damn personal at the time? And, dammit, why did he have to be so agreeable now when she really needed to keep distance between them?

“You didn’t insult anyone else like that. Just me.”

“You were the closest competition I had.” He shrugged. “I won’t apologize for rattling your cage. I’d have done the same to anyone.”

She was still looking up at him and trying to figure out where this unsettled feeling in her belly was coming from when he reached out and smoothed the pad of his thumb over her forehead. Shock ricocheted through her, and she took a hasty step backward, breaking the contact. Her body tingled, a surge of moisture dampening her panties.

Nick dropped his hand to his side and stood there like a mountain. He looked… safe. She wanted to do what she’d never done before, which was wrap her arms around him and press her cheek to his chest. It was disconcerting as all hell.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was out of line.”

“What were you doing?”

“You had a frown line. I didn’t like that I’d caused it, so I thought I’d smooth it out.”

She frowned. “Well, don’t touch me. I don’t like it.”

She liked it too much
.

“See, I was right.” One corner of his mouth twitched up.

“About what?” Why couldn’t she think when he looked at her like that?

“You don’t like me.”

She backed up another step. She did like him. More than she should. She was out of her depth with him—and she couldn’t let him know it. She’d been taking care of herself for too long to let one sexy man screw with her goals.

“I like you just fine. But don’t touch me, and we’ll get along a whole lot better.”

He shook his head slowly. “Ah, Vicky, you are a challenge.”

“And don’t call me Vicky,” she said automatically.

He perked up at that. Then he laughed. “So that’s it, huh? Vicky.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t call me Preacher Boy and I won’t call you Vicky. Got it?”

Dammit
. “You drive a hard bargain. So what do I call you? Shithead?”

“Brandy works. Nick works. Pick one.”
 

“Not as interesting as Preacher Boy, but whatever.”

The driver of her car came outside in civvies. He was supposed to drop her in a market in Baq. She’d make her way back to Ian’s from there. And then she had to talk Ian into bringing Nick into the outfit. Her pulse skipped. What if Ian simply handed her over to bin Yusuf and washed his hands of her?

Nick lifted his gaze to the car for a moment before dropping it back to her. “Don’t worry, Victoria. I’ll be nearby, waiting to hear from you. If anything feels off, call me and I’ll come for you.”

“I’ll shoot my way out and call after.”

He’d given her back her purse after she’d agreed to Mendez’s proposal. She hadn’t even known he had it. But everything was there, and she’d taken out her phone and programmed in the numbers they gave her.
 

He laughed. “Fine, whatever. But calling first might make getting away easier.”

Nick shoved his hands in his pockets as they faced each other. The driver started the car, and she knew it was time to go. But she didn’t want to turn away from Nick, didn’t want to get in the car and watch him fade into the distance.
 

It wasn’t like her to feel this way at all, and that was just the cue she needed to force herself to turn and walk away. Ridiculous to feel any sort of attachment simply because they’d known each other a lifetime ago in a simpler world.

She pulled open the car door and started to duck inside. But her gut churned.
 

Driven by some emotion she couldn’t name, Victoria turned and walked back over to Nick. He was frowning at her when she reached up and pulled his head down. She pressed her lips to his cheek, felt the roughness of his stubble and breathed the smell of him—sand, spice, and cool water—deep into her lungs.
 

“Thanks for saving me,” she said, her lips close to his ear.

She started to step away, but he caught her close and turned his head, his lips meeting hers. The contact was shocking—and delicious in a way she hadn’t anticipated. She’d been kissed before, but this… this was better than any of those kisses had been.

His mouth was soft and hard against hers, his hands firm on her hips as he held her against him. The kiss was hot and tame all at once. Simultaneously the most arousing and most chaste kiss she’d ever had. He didn’t force her mouth open, didn’t thrust his tongue between her lips—he just kissed her hard and thoroughly before setting her away from him and taking a step backward.
 

And, God, she wanted his tongue so badly now. Wanted to feel it sliding against her own, stroking her senses higher.

But the kiss was over and he was looking at her, his jaw firm and a hard look in his eyes.

“You’re welcome,” he said, and it took her a moment to remember that she’d thanked him for saving her.
 

“I… I have to go.” Her cheeks flamed as she said it because he knew she had to leave as well as she did. The car was running, and she’d left the door open. She took a step backward, and then another.

Then she turned and got inside the car, determined not to look at him again. But she failed because she looked up, her gaze clashing with his right as she closed the door. And she didn’t look away as they drove off. Nick didn’t move from the spot she’d left him standing in.

It was only when the car turned and he was out of sight that she remembered how to breathe.

*
 
*
 
*

She’d imagined the whole thing. It was the only explanation. Victoria lay in her bed and pushed her hair off her face. The air conditioner wasn’t working right, and the room was hot. She lay on top of the covers in a pair of tiny panties and a tank top and stared up at the ceiling fan whipping overhead.
 

There was no way she’d kissed Nick Brandon. No way she’d felt the hard muscles of his body, the solid pressure of his thighs against hers, the mildly disturbing hardness between them. No way in hell.

She closed her eyes and bit back a moan. She always slept alone, but for once she wished she had company. And not just any company. Victoria pressed her eyes tight and tried to rid herself of the vision of Nick Brandon watching her drive away.

The house was silent, which meant that Ian was asleep or working alone. Only a few operators stayed here at a time when they weren’t on assignment. Others were quartered in different hotels or rentals nearby.

She’d been nervous when she’d walked into the house today, but Ian hadn’t seemed in the least surprised to see her.
 

“You don’t look like someone who’s seen her long-lost sister,” he’d remarked.

Victoria kept her purse close, her fingers itching to wrap around the butt of her pistol. “I didn’t,” she said. “It seems as if Zaran bin Yusuf had something else in mind.”