Page 23 of Hot & Heavy

She shivered and turned her face away from his touch.

"Was it Jamal who did this to you?"

She frowned. "I know no Jamal."

"Whatever you say, honey." Even now, she protects the bastard. Is it love or fear? Not my problem.

The CIA guys will get all the info they want from her… one way or another. For some reason, that prospect bothered him. Not that they would hurt her physically, but they would play with her mentally, and if she was one of the tangos, God help her.

He stood and began to put the first-aid supplies away.

"Were you able to escape my ties from the beginning?"

"Yes."

"Much as I try to be a leader to my men at Norstead, I am still a woman and not made for battle games."

She exhaled loudly with disgust at herself. "I must do better. When I get back."

Ian had no idea what she meant, but he empathized with her feelings of failure at not living up to some standard. In his case, it was his father, Rear Admiral Thomas MacLean, who set the bar too high for him.

Who was it for Yasmine? Jamal? Or someone else? Perhaps a cause… like a religious jihad? "Don't feel bad. You tied me good. I should know. I'm an expert at these things."

"Because you are a seal?" she said, no longer mocking, just tired. "I am going to close my eyes for a moment… just for a moment. Are you going to ravish me whilst I sleep?"

"I promise I'll restrain myself."

His dry humor was lost on her. "Swear it on your sword… uh, weapon."

He laughed. "I swear it on my rifle."

"Nay, your knife."

"Okay, I swear it on my K-Bar."

"Good," she said and fell into an instant, deep sleep. She must have been exhausted. Probably hadn't slept at all, hiding out here, worried about being caught.

He sat back on his haunches, hands on his thighs, and for several long moments just studied her. She was a mess. Bruised, dirty, disheveled. There was nothing attractive about her.

And yet…

And yet…

Ian's heart squeezed and he felt breathless just looking at her. What did it mean?

Shaking his head to clear it, he stood, put the safety on his rifle, put his knife back in his boot and prepared to leave. He was here on a mission, which would not wait, not even for a woman who might very well be one of the rats herself.

He clicked on his headset and said, "Force, Force." It was the code word for their op, as well as the name of their squad. "Can you hear me?"

"Cage here."

"I'm heading out."

"What about the tango's honey?"

"Restrained."

"Be careful."