Aegis Security 03 - Extreme Measures by Elisabeth Naughton Page A

foot traffic.”
    She glanced down at her open shirt, soaked bra, and torn skirt. She’d dressed the part for her meeting earlier today, hoping to coax out as much information from her contact as she could. While sleeping with an informant was out of the question, she’d never been against using her God-given assets to get what she needed. Today, however, the push-up bra and formfitting skirt hadn’t done a thing to help her cause. In fact, now they deterred them.
    And damn, there was something from that meeting she was forgetting. Something important she needed to remember . . .
    Her gaze strayed to Zane, bare-chested and gorgeous, even with that blood-soaked T-shirt wrapped around his arm. Neither of them was dressed for Seattle foot traffic, but she wasn’t going to let that hinder her. And she was determined to get them on that ferry, no matter what it took.
    She gripped the tails of her ruined shirt and tied them at her midriff. It left her belly way too bare for her liking, but at least her breasts were now covered. “Lack of appropriate attire has never stopped me from getting the job done.”
    Heat flared in his eyes. A wicked, knowing heat that told her he was remembering the night in Beirut when they’d been locked in that van together, running surveillance on a safe house where they suspected an arms dealer linked to the Taliban was holed up. And without warning, a tingle ran down her spine and shot between her thighs. She’d been draped in cloth that night—as was customary for women in the culture—and they’d been so bored, sitting there hour after hour after miserable hour with no movement, that he’d challenged her to a dare: to see who could break the other’s concentration first.
    She’d won, of course. She hadn’t even needed to remove the first scarf. He hadn’t seen her coming. But he’d definitely felt her, especially when she’d leaned over his lap and slid the zipper of his jeans down.
    Stupid move. Stupid risk to take in a country that didn’t value women. They’d been lucky they hadn’t been seen. Or that nothing had gone down at that safe house while they’d been distracted.
    If she were honest, she’d admit that night was part of the reason she’d walked away from Archer without an explanation. It hadn’t just been about her career. It was about the fact that when she was with him, she forgot what she was supposed to do and gave in to what she wanted to do. And for a woman in her position, in some of the places around the globe she traveled, that wasn’t just idiotic, it was deadly.
    Her cheeks heated at the memory, and a pain she didn’t want to acknowledge took up space in her chest.
    “Just keep up, Archer.” She headed for the parking lot as dusk turned to darkness, careful to keep her expression neutral and pick her way over rocks and leftover construction materials so nothing tore up her bare feet. “And try not to bleed everywhere. That, more than my shirt, is bound to get us noticed first.”
    “Beautiful,” Archer said at her back, his voice low and warm and so damn gruff she felt it all the way in her core, “it’s not your ripped skirt or my bleeding arm that’ll make us stand out. It’s those world-class breasts of yours. Damn things should have a warning label on them. We won’t get far with you dressed like that.”
    An idiotic warmth unfurled in her stomach. That he’d looked. That he’d noticed her breasts at all. A warmth she wasn’t going to give in to this time. They’d become unlikely allies for the time being, but that didn’t mean they were on the same side. Zane Archer had very clear right and wrong boundaries. He’d never understand or condone the things she’d done, but she justified them by knowing she was making a difference. A difference she couldn’t see today but someone else would feel tomorrow.
    Or so she hoped.
    The smartest move for her right now was to play along, not be confrontational, and then ditch his ass the first