Bulletproof Seal. Carol Ericson

into trusting him?

      Quinn’s large frame shuddered. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and clenched his fists at his sides.

      Rikki felt the loss of his touch like a cold wave washing over her. Tears ached in her throat. While she’d been locked up, she found out it had been Quinn behind that sniper rifle, and her hatred of him had kept her alive in the labor camp—that and his baby in her belly.

      Without her anger, what did she have left but love? And loving Quinn McBride had only ever brought her heartache. That’s all love ever brought.

      Flexing his fingers, he turned away from her and plucked his shorts from the floor. He stepped into them and ran a hand through his messy hair. “I just hope you believe me, that I’d changed my mind about the assignment. You can’t stand there and tell me that if the CIA had given you orders to take me down, you wouldn’t have done it.”

      “I guess we’ll never know.” She shoved her hands in her front pockets to stop herself from reaching for him again and smoothing her palms against the muscles that bulged and dipped beneath his flesh. “It’s not like we were...together at the time of your mission, anyway.”

      He sliced a hand through the air. “Don’t put that on me. I tried to follow up with you, but you’d disappeared and wouldn’t respond to my messages.”

      “I had my own assignment going on. That’s when David told me about Vlad and the North Koreans. At the end of our affair, I thought we’d decided to call it what it was.”

      “And what was it, Rikki?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, the skin across his biceps tight.

      She flipped the unfamiliar dark hair over her shoulder. “A fling—a dangerous, ill-conceived fling that defied all the rules of the navy and the CIA. A fling that would’ve gotten both of us written up and reprimanded.”

      “You really believe that shooting you offered me a way out, a way to keep our affair secret?” His dark eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “What we did wasn’t the brightest move on either of our parts, but it wasn’t enough to get me court-martialed or ruin my career. And you spooks break the rules all the time to justify the means in the end.”

      Licking her lips, she took a step back. “I’ve never slept with someone to get intel.”

      “Neither have I.”

      “I didn’t mean...” She waved one arm over his shirtless body. “I didn’t think that’s what you were doing here.”

      “Really? ’Cause you sure pulled away fast. The Rikki I knew wouldn’t have been able to turn off her desire like that. The Rikki I knew ran as hot as blazes.”

      A pulse beat at the base of her throat, and tingles ran up the insides of her thighs. Their need for each other had been undeniable and unquenchable. Whenever he’d touched her, she’d responded like a feral creature, her hunger not satisfied until he’d taken control of her body and mind in every way, slaked her thirst, tamed her wild cravings. He’d been the only man in her life who’d understood what she needed—before she’d understood it herself.

      Her nipples crinkled under her T-shirt, and the familiar wanting throbbed between her legs. Beneath half-closed lids, her gaze wandered to the handcuffs Quinn had let slide to the floor.

      If he didn’t ask now, if he didn’t wait for her consent, if he restrained and ravished her body like he used to, he’d fill the need she’d carried with her since the day she left him in Dubai.

      She cleared her throat and stuck out her hand. “Truce? You don’t get in my way, and I won’t kill you.”

      He ignored her outstretched hand. “I can help you. Someone must already be giving you information, since you seem to know a lot of what went down. One of David’s guys?”

      “You’re right. Someone else is already helping me, so I don’t need your assistance.” She swept her weapon from the counter and shoved it into the back of her waistband. “I just needed to hear a few things from your own lips.”

      Her cell phone buzzed, and she pulled it from her pocket. She entered her code and swiped her finger across the text message that had come through. She read the words Gator Lounge and then shoved the phone back in her pocket.

      When she raised her head, she almost bumped Quinn’s chin. He’d moved in on her again, and the heat coming from his body seemed to find its way into her pores.

      She stumbled back, crossing her arms over her chest.

      He held up his hands. “Since you wanted to talk to me, does that mean you already suspected I’d changed my mind about assassinating you?”

      She’d been hoping like hell he could convince her, and he had done so, but she still didn’t think she could tell him about Bella—not yet.

      “I was blinded by rage when I found out you were the sniper on that hill, but I’d already figured any navy SEAL sniper worth his salt would’ve been able to take me out before dropping those soldiers—especially you.” She held up one finger. “But the fact that you took the assignment enraged me just the same.”

      “I’m sorry, Rikki. If I had to do it all over again...”

      “You’d do the exact same thing. Duty and country.” She crouched down and picked up the handcuffs, then snapped them in their holder on her belt. She had no intention of leaving them here for Alice.

      “I won’t be staying in New Orleans long, and you can get back to doing whatever it was you were doing.” She wrapped her fingers around the neck of her beer bottle on the kitchen counter and tipped it back and forth. “But if you’re getting deployed again soon, I suggest you clean up your act, sailor.”

      “Where are you off to next? You can stay here until you leave.”

      She snorted. “Not a good idea. Take care of yourself, Quinn.”

      She held out her hand for a shake again. This time he took it, but instead of squeezing her hand, he cinched his fingers around her wrist and rotated her hand around. He pressed his lips against the center of her palm. “I’m glad you’re alive, Rikki. Makes the world a whole helluva lot more bearable.”

      She pulled away from him and crossed the room to the front door. As she grasped the handle, she tried to think of some flip, clever way to say goodbye, but her throat closed and her bottom lip trembled.

      In the end, Rikki slipped out the door without another word or backward glance.

      The sultry night air pressed against her as she loped along the streets not far from the French Quarter. She ducked into a clump of bushes in a park a few blocks from Quinn’s apartment and pulled out her scooter.

      Just after midnight, the bars would still be open, and Rikki had another appointment at the Gator Lounge before she settled her business in this city. Before she left Quinn—maybe for good this time.

      She hopped on the electric scooter and motored back toward the lights and action of downtown.

      One quick glance over her shoulder, and she let out a sigh of relief. Nobody had followed her. Why would anyone be following her? As far as the CIA knew, a North Korean soldier had shot her dead in the DMZ and a trustworthy navy SEAL had witnessed her death.

      She could trust Quinn not to out her. Besides, if he did and the CIA brought her in, he’d be going down with her. She’d make sure of that.

      Traffic got heavier as she got closer to the French Quarter. She kept her eye on the side mirror to monitor anything unusual behind her, and would slip between cars if someone seemed to be following too closely or for too long.

      When she reached the streets of the French Quarter, still teeming with tourists, she located the bar and then stashed the scooter on a side street. She slid from the seat and ran her fingers through her hair. Her contact had indicated the bar had a casual atmosphere, but she didn’t want to look like she’d just come in from a horse ride.