Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 145091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Although she’d learned he could be hot as hell and not worth the effort while guys who weren’t gorgeous could be worth everything.
She stared down at Drake like the duck and sure enough, he was still lovely. Lovely and so much trouble.
“All right, buddy. Let’s hope you weigh less than you look.” She grabbed his ankles and pulled.
Nope. He was all muscle, and it showed. Still, she wasn’t exactly a lightweight herself. She got him in and started for the cabin.
Get him healed. Finish his mission and then ignore him for a couple of days and then he would be gone and she wouldn’t see him again.
Easy peasy. Lemon squeezy.
She parked the car in front of the cabin and got to work.
Chapter Two
Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t think that the world really works that way. Drake, you’ve been around politics all your life. You can’t be this naïve.
The words echoed through his brain, bouncing around and infecting his dreams.
He was dreaming, right? It was all a dream, and his sister hadn’t pulled a fucking gun on him and he hadn’t watched her die.
No. He didn’t want to be there. He was in control. He was in charge. He wanted to be somewhere else.
The dream shifted from the delicate, warm Southeast Asian landscape to some place infinitely colder. Colder, but he was still out of control.
Damn, Taggart was right. It was better to be in control. He’d enjoyed playing games, had learned he could play a lot of games, but he was different now. Now he needed to be the top.
He wanted to top her. He could top her. He could tie her up and play with her, and maybe he would forget what had happened months before. Maybe he could forget that his family had fractured beyond repair and would never be the same again.
Maybe he could forget that he was alone.
But he couldn’t top her because he was weak, and the world was spinning and then she was there.
There had been a beautiful woman and she’d challenged him, and then she’d put soft hands on him and he’d felt safe for a moment.
It was the safe part that let him know he was dreaming.
It was the flash of pain in his side that let him know it was time to wake up.
Long practice made him stay still. He didn’t wake up like most people. He remained still, allowed his senses to slowly bring him data.
He wasn’t in his own bed, and he wasn’t alone.
“I don’t know,” a soft voice was saying. “I didn’t look at anything. I sent it to base and that’s it.”
The world went quiet again, the only sound her feet shuffling across the floor. Was she pacing?
“No, I’m not curious because in a few weeks I’m out,” she said quietly. “They told me to take care of him so I am. I’m doing this job and then I’m done.”
The night before flashed through him.
His asset was dead, killed by whoever didn’t want the intel he’d brought to fall into Agency hands. He had proof that Russia was planning a coordinated attack on three separate Western embassies in Eastern Europe. Russia’s intelligence agency had been hard at work trying to shake the walls of Western democracy, and this operation would leave the blame placed firmly on a group inside a country looking to join NATO.
He’d had to get that intel to the Agency, and the fact that he’d been shot couldn’t stop him. He’d taken a bullet to the gut. Oh, at first he’d been sure it was nothing more than a flesh wound, but the hours he’d spent on the road to Romania had proven he’d been wrong. No flesh wound could hurt as much as that fucker. He’d been woozy at the end.
The car accident flashed through him. A blinding white and then the world had upended and he’d felt the crash of the car. How had he survived?
“How about you worry about you and I’ll handle DC boy.” There was a pause and then a sigh. “He fought hard. I don’t think he’s your typical trust fund kid. But he’s heavy as hell, and my back hurts from getting him inside.”
Was he a prisoner? He couldn’t remember anything after the horrific car accident.
Wait. He could see a flash of blonde hair and hands reaching for him.
Where was he? He’d been heading to a safe house. How had she found him? He’d been so sure he wasn’t being followed.
The sound of her voice wasn’t close, and it was moving. She was in another room, likely pacing as she spoke. Cautiously, he opened his eyes. He was staring at a ceiling, big logs crossing smaller ones. Cabin.
Deep breath. Move slowly. He was in a bed, and daylight streamed through the place where the curtains didn’t meet. He took stock of his body. The pain was there, but it was manageable.