Warrior Rogue (The Drift Lords Series) by Nancy J. Cohen Page A

snatched it from her fingers. “Notebook and pens. Makeup. Scarf. Breath Mints. Sunglasses. Comb. Business cards. Calculator. An ebook reader.” Not to mention her birth control pills, the real reason why she needed to keep her purse.
    “Perfect, I’ll take those electronic devices.” His eyes gleamed as he collected her booty. “Let’s find a place in the shade where I can work. You don’t have any snacks in there, do you?” His dimpled grin disconcerted her.
    “Sorry. We can always search for some bananas if we get hungry.”
    “That’s the spirit.” Perching himself on a rocky ledge, Paz used the tools in the penknife to disassemble her gadgets. He spent several minutes working in silence, his face taut with concentration.
    Jen leaned against a knobby tree trunk and studied him. Golden highlights in his hair glinted in a beam of sunlight. A stubborn lock fell across his forehead. He raked it back with stiff fingers, a motion he did often as though he preferred to see things with clarity.
    Why, then, did she catch him wearing a guarded look when he thought no one was watching? Perhaps his confidence was tempered by an element of reserve.
    Her brow beaded with perspiration in the jungle heat. A chittering noise came from a nearby tree, while something slithered among the dead leaves on the ground. Jen didn’t like to think about what might be lurking in the bushes, so she focused on Paz instead.
    “What’s it like to be a Drift Lord? Do you really work in telecom in your down time?”
    “Yes, that’s my real job. Being a Drift Lord is sort of like your Army Reserves. We’re called to duty only when a rift occurs.” He scratched his jaw. “Hey, you got any fire starters in that sack of yours?”
    “You mean, like a lighter? I have matches if you need them. I take them from restaurants and keep a pack in my purse for emergencies.”
    “Supernova! I just need to weld these two wires together and that should perform the trick.”
    Her mouth curved upward. “It’s do the trick, Paz.” She glanced heavenward. “If you’re from up there, how did you learn English?”
    He lifted his chin. “I’m the team’s Communications Officer and Linguistic Specialist. I speak many languages, but I also have an implanted translator.” He pointed to a spot behind his ear. “We need to get you one. I left all of my equipment in Florida. That’s why I have to get back there.”
    Before she could ask him the rest of the questions hovering on her tongue, he snatched the matchbook from her hand. “Thanks. We should keep moving. I hear voices.”
    She straightened, brushing debris off her dress. She, too, heard a murmur from somewhere off to the right. As she scanned the treetops, she picked up a trail of smoke in the distance.
    “Hey, look. That smoke might be coming from someone’s chimney. It could lead us into town.”
    “All right, but I should finish putting this unit together. It’ll give us an accurate fix on our location. We’ll need our coordinates if we want to summon help. Give me your scarf so I can carry these parts.” He dumped the components onto the piece of fabric Jen gave him and tied the ends together.
    She prepared to move out. Her skin itched, and she yearned for a change of clothes. Her current state of dress made her a moving meal ticket for the friendly insects.
    Jen traipsed through the undergrowth after Paz as he sought to put distance between their position and the beach. Probably anyone with tracking skills could follow them. They weren't making any effort to cover their trail.
    Why did he suspect the natives might be hostile? Were they related to the thugs who disabled their plane? How could he know that? And where was the rest of his team? How had the man ended up bruised, naked, and confused on her film set?
    Sweat trickled down her back and between her breasts. She craved water, air-conditioning, and telephone service. They did have electricity on these remote islands, didn’t