Bulletproof Seal. Carol Ericson

light sparked in her eyes, and her nostrils flared, the heat between them still palpable.

      Desire and need surged through his body, making him hard.

      “Drop your pants.” She waved the gun.

      He swallowed. He’d been kidding, but he should’ve known better than to kid with Rikki—not in her current frame of mind. “You’re serious?”

      “Damn right. I can’t check you for weapons, but at least if you’re naked I can make sure you’re unarmed.”

      “Rikki...”

      “The last time we were together, if you want to call it that, you had me in the crosshairs of your sniper rifle ready to take me out.” She steadied her Glock. “What’s changed since then except I had the good fortune to escape from the labor camp?”

      A knot twisted in his gut. He knew those North Korean labor camps, and the thought of Rikki confined to one of them made him sick.

      “Drop ’em.”

      “Okay, okay.” He pushed himself to his feet, feeling completely sober. He unbuttoned the fly on his shorts and yanked them down. The flip-flops he’d been wearing earlier were wedged beneath the coffee table, so the shorts dropped to his bare feet.

      “Kick them off and stand away from the sofa where I can see you.”

      He rolled his eyes but complied, stepping out of his shorts and kicking them across the room. He could get into a tussle with her right now, but she did have the upper hand.

      He stepped away from the sofa and the table and held his arms out to the side. “Nothing on me.”

      Except the raging erection she could clearly see bulging in his black briefs.

      Rikki’s gaze dropped from his face to his crotch, and her cheeks flushed. “Now the T-shirt.”

      Patting his chest, he said, “Do you really believe I have a holster on underneath this shirt? A knife strapped to my back?”

      “I’m not taking any chances. Off.”

      He grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and peeled it off his body. He dropped it to the floor. “Happy?”

      “Turn around.”

      Turning around for her inspection only made him harder. Maybe that would be enough to prove to Rikki that he was on her side—would always be on her side.

      When he faced her again, he shoved his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs. “You want the rest off?”

      “Don’t be ridiculous.” She reached behind her back and pulled out a pair of open handcuffs, dangling them from her fingers.

      Quinn’s mouth dropped open. “No way.”

      “I know you. I know who you are and what you’re capable of. I’ve come this far, and I’m not taking any chances.” She jingled the cuffs. “If you want any more information out of me, hold out your arm—your right arm.”

      He stretched his arm in front of him. Two more inches and he could touch her soft cheek, tell her everything he’d thought about this past year.

      She snapped the cuff around his wrist and yanked on it, the metal cutting into his flesh. “Over here, by the radiator.”

      He would’ve preferred the bedroom, but he followed in her wake as she pulled him toward the window.

      “Sit down and link the other cuff around this pipe.”

      He slid to the floor and hooked himself up to the pipe on the radiator. He crouched on his haunches.

      Rikki let out a long sigh and placed her weapon on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. She dragged a stool from the kitchen and straddled it. “That’s better.”

      “Rikki, I’d never hurt you.”

      “You were singing a different tune sixteen months ago.”

      “I explained all that to you. Now that I’m—” he rattled his cuffs against the pipe “—contained, are you going to tell me what happened? What were you doing in North Korea?”

      “You mind if I have a beer? Scratch the request. What are you going to do about it?” She hopped off the stool, and he watched the sway of her hips in those tight jeans as she walked around the counter into the kitchen.

      Before Rikki sat back down, she tipped the neck of the beer bottle at him. “You keep drinking like you were tonight, and you’re gonna trade one six-pack for another...and wind up just like your old man.”

      He clenched his stomach muscles. She’d been checking him out despite all the tough talk. “North Korea?”

      “My partner, David Dawson, got intel that Vlad was meeting with the North Koreans.”

      Quinn raised his eyebrows. “Vlad?”

      “I knew that would get your attention.” She took a sip of beer. “David had a way into the country across the DMZ and tagged me to go with him.”

      “Under the radar of the CIA. They didn’t know why you were there.”

      “David didn’t trust anyone, and it turns out he was right.” Rikki sniffled and wiped the hand holding the beer bottle across her nose.

      “The CIA didn’t kill David. They thought you had a hand in his death.”

      “I know, but they were wrong. The North Koreans killed David and captured me. I had already been their...guest for several days before you spotted me marching along.”

      “They killed David and were sending you to a labor camp.” Quinn bumped his manacled hands against his forehead. “If I had been faster, had taken out the soldier holding you first, you might’ve had a chance.”

      “I had no chance, not there. I figured I was a dead woman when I went for the soldier’s gun anyway. The area was crawling with North Koreans. You saw that after you took your shot.” She dragged her fingernail down the bottle’s damp label, ripping a line through it. “I-I thought the person out there was trying to save me and I didn’t even know it was you—not until later. And then I found out it was you and you were trying to assassinate me.”

      He clanged the bracelets against the radiator. “Not when I killed that soldier. I’d changed my mind already. I was trying to help you, Rikki, but I failed, and I’ve been punishing myself ever since.”

      Her gaze swept over his unkempt apartment, his tousled hair, the stubble on his face. “Maybe the navy punished you for failing in your duty, for failing to take out the rogue CIA operative.”

      “They didn’t. They figured you were dead and one way or the other, I was the cause of your death.” Closing his eyes, he lowered his backside to the floor and drew his knees to his chest. “I’d figured the same thing.”

      “That’s why neither the CIA nor the navy can know I’m still alive.” She pinged her fingernail against the bottle. “Not until I can sort all of this out.”

      “How did you escape from the labor camp?”

      “The kindness of strangers.”

      “The kindness of strangers and a will to survive. I know you, too, Rikki.”

      “I had a lot to live for.”

      “Because you got information on Vlad?”

      “Yeah, Vlad.” Her eyelashes fluttered. “And now I’m going to bring him down and clear my name.”

      “I’ll help you.”

      She chugged some beer, eyeing him over the bottle. “How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you’re not going to run back to your commanding officers and tell them I’m still alive?”

      Quinn lifted his hands.