Page 100 of Rescuing You

It hadn’t, though. Michael was good at what he did. “I’m not trying to slither out of anything. I’m trying to keep my girlfriend safe.”

“Right. What was it last time? Oh, yeah. Your brother’s girlfriend⁠—”

“His wife. And son. And about twenty other innocent women and children who were saved because⁠—”

“How many laws did you and your team of merry men break that time? All of you would be in prison if not for Price.”

That might be true. Travis had made a call, and the local sheriff hadn’t charged any of them. Which they shouldn’t have, considering Michael, his brothers, and some hired bodyguards had saved a lot of lives. “You’d have left them to die? To burn to death?”

“That’s not the point.” The tight tone of his voice told Michael he’d hit his target. “You’re a lone ranger. No matter what happens when we catch up with you, you’ll be off my team.”

Michael cringed at the threat.

He hadn’t wanted the assignment because he wasn’t much for working with a team—that was true. But since he’d joined, he’d come to like the camaraderie. He liked knowing teammates had his back.

Except he didn’t really believe it. If he did, he wouldn’t be stuck in Turkey, alone, with no team members to help him out.

Brock wasn’t wrong to want him gone. The fact burned like acid in his throat.

“Are you going to go to the consulate or not?” Brock demanded.

“I’ll contact you when we’re safe.” Michael ended the call.

And tossed the burner phone out the window.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Leila was seated on the edge of the bed in Michael’s hotel room wearing the ugly clothes he’d bought her. The pants and sweatshirt were baggy and made her look chubby. Wearing the wig cap—it was already making her head ache—she looked ridiculous.

Her hair hidden, her makeup off, wearing the most horrible clothes imaginable, she felt vulnerable in a way she couldn’t explain. As if her makeup and long hair were shields, and now that those shields were gone, everything she’d ever wanted to hide was scattered all around her, exposed, waiting to be picked up, studied. Judged.

Michael, who was setting all manner of tubes and powders and brushes on the bedside table, glanced at her, then looked again. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She hated her defensive tone. She hated more that she felt the need to defend herself.

But he grinned. “I’m not sure I have the skill for this. All this time, I thought you were just really good at makeup, but I was wrong. You have the most striking eyes.”

And just like that, her defenses slid away. Michael was on her side. Why would she doubt him?

He went back to his pastes and powders. “What’s your sister doing?”

“Resting.”

“How is she?”

“Sick. You will make me look like a man?”

He chose a bottle and faced her. “Don’t worry. You’ll still be pretty.”

Her cheeks warmed. It was silly that she cared.

He tipped her head up and rubbed something thick and pasty beneath her cheekbones. “I know you don’t want to, but it’s time for you to tell me everything about your family.”

She ducked away. “When you tell me everything, I will do the same.”

His eyebrows rose. “Will you?”

The way he said it, like a dare, had her ire rising. “Why do I have to share my secrets if you don’t have to share yours?”