it might have worked.
"You're bleeding." Her attention flicked to his left arm. "I used to faint at the sight of blood." She gave a quick, breathy laugh. "That doesn't seem to be a problem anymore."
Keep her talking . He didn't just want to hear her voice. He needed to make sure she didn't flip out on him. He reminded himself this was not a fellow agent in front of him. This was Rhonda, single mother, writer, waitress, the love of his life.
Michael watched the tango as he closed the distance between himself and Rhonda. "Are you bleeding anywhere?" His heart rose in his throat as he waited for her to answer. Please, God, don't let her say yes. If she were hurt, even a friggin' scratch, he didn't know if he could bear it.
"My feet maybe," she answered him almost absently. "That whole professional female thing makes for a great line, but heels, no matter how small, weren't made for dashing through a Cambodian forest."
"You're probably lucky you didn't break an ankle." Michael knelt beside her. The right thing to do might have been to take her gun. If he had full use of both his arms, he might have tried to coax her into handing it over. Instead, he raised his own, aimed it at the tango, and gazed at her. It took only a few heartbeats before she lowered her weapon on her own.
"I was smart enough to take off the shoes."
Michael saw them lying beside her feet on the ground. She had run barefoot through the forest. Yeah, no doubt the bottom of her feet would be a mess by now.
"You do all this for nothing." The tango spat, coughed, and started to push himself up on his hands. A leer split his lips. "You come after the boss. You lose. Mr. Phay nowhere around tonight."
Michael heard the words, felt the fury coil like a snake in his gut around the disbelief. "Where is he?"
The tango laughed, a quick burst of sardonic air. "When he finds you, you'll know."
Veng Kim Phay was after him. That didn't come as news to Michael. He knew the kingpin had abducted Rhonda to get to him. Son of a motherfucking bitch, he stayed away because he knew this would happen. It happened anyway.
"We can't leave him alive." Rhonda didn't ask him. She told him.
Michael looked at her and saw her steadfast insistence behind that statement.
The tango muttered something in Khmer. Rhonda didn't seem to understand him, but Michael heard every word. The bastard thought to take her back to the compound, to have his way with her, to finish what he started.
Michael heard something in his head pop. Anger turned the edges of his vision red. What had this bastard done to her already? Dear God, had he raped her? He suddenly felt himself spiraling down a pit of fury, barely hanging on to his sanity.
"Michael." The way she said his name in that soft, sultry, calm voice saved him. For now. God only knew what would happen to him when he found out the truth of what had really happened to her inside the walls of Phay's compound. God only knew what he would do to Phay.
His gaze danced over her face. The guilt of the last few weeks, hell, the last two years, settled in his gut. The love he'd felt for her almost from the start ached in his chest. "This is more in-your-face research than I ever expected to give you."
He saw her lips tremble just a little, enough to let him know she remembered. He told her that day on the docks to call him anytime she needed info on the DEA. She no doubt had gotten a mountain of it since coming to Cambodia, and his instincts told him it was far from over.
Gaze still locked with hers, Michael raised his gun another fraction and plugged the tango right between the eyes.
* * * *
Waterston, Mississippi
"I want to go with you."
Jackson Graham headed down the hall of his apartment to his bedroom, praying with each step that she wouldn't follow. His luggage lay open on his bed, where he'd abandoned the chore of packing to answer the door when the buzzer sounded. He went straight for his dresser, pulled several pairs of briefs and
"You're bleeding." Her attention flicked to his left arm. "I used to faint at the sight of blood." She gave a quick, breathy laugh. "That doesn't seem to be a problem anymore."
Keep her talking . He didn't just want to hear her voice. He needed to make sure she didn't flip out on him. He reminded himself this was not a fellow agent in front of him. This was Rhonda, single mother, writer, waitress, the love of his life.
Michael watched the tango as he closed the distance between himself and Rhonda. "Are you bleeding anywhere?" His heart rose in his throat as he waited for her to answer. Please, God, don't let her say yes. If she were hurt, even a friggin' scratch, he didn't know if he could bear it.
"My feet maybe," she answered him almost absently. "That whole professional female thing makes for a great line, but heels, no matter how small, weren't made for dashing through a Cambodian forest."
"You're probably lucky you didn't break an ankle." Michael knelt beside her. The right thing to do might have been to take her gun. If he had full use of both his arms, he might have tried to coax her into handing it over. Instead, he raised his own, aimed it at the tango, and gazed at her. It took only a few heartbeats before she lowered her weapon on her own.
"I was smart enough to take off the shoes."
Michael saw them lying beside her feet on the ground. She had run barefoot through the forest. Yeah, no doubt the bottom of her feet would be a mess by now.
"You do all this for nothing." The tango spat, coughed, and started to push himself up on his hands. A leer split his lips. "You come after the boss. You lose. Mr. Phay nowhere around tonight."
Michael heard the words, felt the fury coil like a snake in his gut around the disbelief. "Where is he?"
The tango laughed, a quick burst of sardonic air. "When he finds you, you'll know."
Veng Kim Phay was after him. That didn't come as news to Michael. He knew the kingpin had abducted Rhonda to get to him. Son of a motherfucking bitch, he stayed away because he knew this would happen. It happened anyway.
"We can't leave him alive." Rhonda didn't ask him. She told him.
Michael looked at her and saw her steadfast insistence behind that statement.
The tango muttered something in Khmer. Rhonda didn't seem to understand him, but Michael heard every word. The bastard thought to take her back to the compound, to have his way with her, to finish what he started.
Michael heard something in his head pop. Anger turned the edges of his vision red. What had this bastard done to her already? Dear God, had he raped her? He suddenly felt himself spiraling down a pit of fury, barely hanging on to his sanity.
"Michael." The way she said his name in that soft, sultry, calm voice saved him. For now. God only knew what would happen to him when he found out the truth of what had really happened to her inside the walls of Phay's compound. God only knew what he would do to Phay.
His gaze danced over her face. The guilt of the last few weeks, hell, the last two years, settled in his gut. The love he'd felt for her almost from the start ached in his chest. "This is more in-your-face research than I ever expected to give you."
He saw her lips tremble just a little, enough to let him know she remembered. He told her that day on the docks to call him anytime she needed info on the DEA. She no doubt had gotten a mountain of it since coming to Cambodia, and his instincts told him it was far from over.
Gaze still locked with hers, Michael raised his gun another fraction and plugged the tango right between the eyes.
* * * *
Waterston, Mississippi
"I want to go with you."
Jackson Graham headed down the hall of his apartment to his bedroom, praying with each step that she wouldn't follow. His luggage lay open on his bed, where he'd abandoned the chore of packing to answer the door when the buzzer sounded. He went straight for his dresser, pulled several pairs of briefs and
Similar Books
