lifted his hands as though she’d just made his point. “Well . . . yeah . . . that’s because you’re nuts.”
8
One hundred percent nuts, Mike thought, holding the line against his growing interest. She’d proven that from the get-go, right? She was nuts to take him on. Nuts to drug him.
“So are you going to help me or not?” she asked, more challenge than question.
He laughed. “That would be a not.”
“Not even if it means clearing your name? Not even if it means bringing whoever’s behind this to justice?”
“Not even.” Jaw clenched, he tried to ignore the pounding of his heart and the voice in his head that suggested he was making a mistake.
“Then you’re exactly who I thought you were. A cowardly, selfish bastard.”
He rose to his feet, tossing the syringe onto the table. “I do love living down to your expectations.”
“You know what your problem is?”
“I’m not the one with the problem.” He lifted his chin toward her bound hands as he prowled the room.
“You need to stop thinking about yourself,” she accused, not letting up. “Quit wallowing in your own self-pity and think about the men who died that night. About the men who took the rap with you. Ramon and the others deserve to have the record set straight. Cooper and Taggart deserve their day in court—deserve the trial they never got because you sold them out when you took a deal that steamrolled them along with you.”
“I didn’t sell them out. I saved their lives,” he countered, unable to stop his anger. Instead of rotting in a jail cell or six feet under, Cooper was living the good life in Australia, making money off his pretty-boy face modeling, screwing women, and not giving a shit. And for the past several years, Taggart had been doing what he wanted: working with a private contractor and mixing it up with the bad guys back in Afghanistan. Mike had saved their asses, but she didn’t get that. No one got it.
“Then save their honor,” she shouted back, and damn her, he swore she could see straight through him. See that even though he didn’t want to he still did care about what happened.
He still cared a lot.
“Help me find out who did this. Help me figure out if there’s more going on.”
He stalked toward the terrace doors, braced his palms on the frame above his head, and stared outside while she pecked away at him like a vulture on fresh meat.
“If we can get Cooper and Taggart on board, we can find whoever was responsible and expose them.”
“Get them on board?” He spun back around. The fire of conviction brightened her eyes; a flush of color stained her cheeks. A slice of smooth caramel skin peeked between the waistband of her jeans and the T-shirt that had ridden up her ribs. The generous swell of her breasts rose and fell with her agitated breaths.
And as angry as he was, as crazy as she was, damn if the sight of her didn’t turn him on like a flashlight.
Talk about fucked up.
“What alternate universe do you live in?” he snapped. “The boys and I aren’t exactly buddies anymore. They hate my guts. They’re not going to help me with anything.”
“And if they would?” She dangled the possibility like a carrot.
Damn his hide, he was tempted. So tempted to do something other than run from his past for a change. But it was pointless. “You’re dreaming if you think you can get either one of them to work with me again.”
Her coffee-dark eyes snapped with fire. “I don’t dream. I plan. I execute. And I make things happen.”
“Said the woman cuffed to the bed.”
“We can get Taggart and Cooper to help us,” she insisted.
He snorted. “When pigs wear tutus.”
“Look, Brown, before you tell me if you’re in orout, you think about this. Think about slinking back to your own little alternate universe, where you try to convince yourself every single day that what happened to you, what happened to all those people, doesn’t matter. You try to convince
8
One hundred percent nuts, Mike thought, holding the line against his growing interest. She’d proven that from the get-go, right? She was nuts to take him on. Nuts to drug him.
“So are you going to help me or not?” she asked, more challenge than question.
He laughed. “That would be a not.”
“Not even if it means clearing your name? Not even if it means bringing whoever’s behind this to justice?”
“Not even.” Jaw clenched, he tried to ignore the pounding of his heart and the voice in his head that suggested he was making a mistake.
“Then you’re exactly who I thought you were. A cowardly, selfish bastard.”
He rose to his feet, tossing the syringe onto the table. “I do love living down to your expectations.”
“You know what your problem is?”
“I’m not the one with the problem.” He lifted his chin toward her bound hands as he prowled the room.
“You need to stop thinking about yourself,” she accused, not letting up. “Quit wallowing in your own self-pity and think about the men who died that night. About the men who took the rap with you. Ramon and the others deserve to have the record set straight. Cooper and Taggart deserve their day in court—deserve the trial they never got because you sold them out when you took a deal that steamrolled them along with you.”
“I didn’t sell them out. I saved their lives,” he countered, unable to stop his anger. Instead of rotting in a jail cell or six feet under, Cooper was living the good life in Australia, making money off his pretty-boy face modeling, screwing women, and not giving a shit. And for the past several years, Taggart had been doing what he wanted: working with a private contractor and mixing it up with the bad guys back in Afghanistan. Mike had saved their asses, but she didn’t get that. No one got it.
“Then save their honor,” she shouted back, and damn her, he swore she could see straight through him. See that even though he didn’t want to he still did care about what happened.
He still cared a lot.
“Help me find out who did this. Help me figure out if there’s more going on.”
He stalked toward the terrace doors, braced his palms on the frame above his head, and stared outside while she pecked away at him like a vulture on fresh meat.
“If we can get Cooper and Taggart on board, we can find whoever was responsible and expose them.”
“Get them on board?” He spun back around. The fire of conviction brightened her eyes; a flush of color stained her cheeks. A slice of smooth caramel skin peeked between the waistband of her jeans and the T-shirt that had ridden up her ribs. The generous swell of her breasts rose and fell with her agitated breaths.
And as angry as he was, as crazy as she was, damn if the sight of her didn’t turn him on like a flashlight.
Talk about fucked up.
“What alternate universe do you live in?” he snapped. “The boys and I aren’t exactly buddies anymore. They hate my guts. They’re not going to help me with anything.”
“And if they would?” She dangled the possibility like a carrot.
Damn his hide, he was tempted. So tempted to do something other than run from his past for a change. But it was pointless. “You’re dreaming if you think you can get either one of them to work with me again.”
Her coffee-dark eyes snapped with fire. “I don’t dream. I plan. I execute. And I make things happen.”
“Said the woman cuffed to the bed.”
“We can get Taggart and Cooper to help us,” she insisted.
He snorted. “When pigs wear tutus.”
“Look, Brown, before you tell me if you’re in orout, you think about this. Think about slinking back to your own little alternate universe, where you try to convince yourself every single day that what happened to you, what happened to all those people, doesn’t matter. You try to convince
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