Arrow to the Soul by Lea Griffith Page A

clothing. She’d come unarmed and they’d stripped her of clothing. To demean her? Oh, they really had no idea if that was their motivation. Arrow had grown up in Hell. Naked and afraid were her very best friends.
    His gaze was tactile and her nipples peaked, sensation shooting through her chest straight to her core. She cocked her head, analyzing the unknown feelings. His gaze fell.
    Enough. “Where is Bullet?” she asked.
    His face hardened and any interest she’d seen there seconds ago, dissolved. Bitterness rode the curves of his mouth and Arrow breathed in a sigh of relief. Bitterness she could handle. It was the other emotion that flared in his pitch eyes she refused to deal with.
    She had used her body as a weapon before, though. Gave it a moment’s contemplation and then dismissed it. For some reason the thought of luring the man before her with sex made her stomach clench. Maybe because she recognized there would be follow through and that Arrow would never allow.
    He watched her watching him and it became a test of sorts for them both. Things lay in the air between them that neither seemed inclined to reach out and touch.
    “Bullet?” she asked again, keeping her voice light.
    “I don’t know. Are you hungry?”
    She laughed. “You’ll feed but not clothe me? Interesting,” she responded.
    “There are clothes at the foot of the bed.”
    Arrow picked the clothes up and stepped into them. White cotton underwear, white sports bra, black T-shirt, and black cargo pants. No shoes. She sighed, not bothering to hide it. “Tell me of this agenda,” she demanded.
    “We want Joseph and The Collective destroyed.” His voice was hot, deep and stroked her skin like warm water.
    “Yet you said our agendas didn’t align. It seems to me they ride side by side, together. That is what all of First Team wants. Bullet told you this when she gave you her name.” She looked up at him then, gave him the full force of her stare.
    Most men turned away from her unable to meet her gaze full-on, understanding she was beyond their ability to handle. The man before her smiled and it unsettled Arrow. She licked her suddenly dry lips. His smile froze.
    “You were headed to kill the Chinese president.”
    She feigned a gasp. “No! Was I?”
    “Tsk, tsk, Saya. Sarcasm doesn’t become you. You and I both know that’s exactly what you were headed to do. I tried to stop you from killing in Mexico. You asked why the tranq? You are a force to be reckoned with and we couldn’t allow you to throw the entire Eastern Hemisphere into chaos. The tranq allowed us to stop you and perhaps gain your cooperation.”
    “Yet I would say that I came here on my own, thus your assertion I was on my way to kill the President of China is incorrect.”
    He shook his head. “That you stopped here to visit Bullet doesn’t play into this discussion.”
    “Yet here I remain,” she reminded him.
    He shrugged. “Semantics.”
    She stared him, hearing his words, processing them, and searching for underlying motives. He believed what he said. But this went much deeper than his off-the-cuff analysis of her motives, and she was going to set him straight.
    Arrow breathed deeply, trying to control the rage she knew her next words would bring to the surface. “There was a child who lived in the Fujian Province of China. Her name was Ching Lan and when she was young, her mother and father escaped the oppression of her homeland and moved to Canada. They made a name for themselves there, grew to be respected as pillars of their Asian community. Their daughter went to school in America and eventually she signed up with an organization whose goal was to help children in need.”
    Adam Collins stood still as she walked to stand in front of him.
    “I met Ching Lan when I approached her about a particular child who needed a guardian. I’d watched Ching Lan, knew her to be not only a motherly type but also versed in martial arts, so a protector in all aspects.