Hard Beat
How I guessed correctly that she’s in her room, I have no clue, but when she opens the door, a visual sucker punch hits me square in the gut. An obviously just-awoken Beaux stands before me, eyes heavy, lips swollen, that curtain of hair covering her bare shoulders like a caress, and body warm like something I want to curl into. She has on a tank top and the tiniest pair of shorts that show off her toned legs.
If I thought coming up here was a mistake before, I know it for certain now. Every cell in my testosterone-driven body screams for me to back her up against the wall and see if her lips are as warm and inviting as they look.
And a distraction is exactly the kind of thing I don’t need as I prepare to walk out of the hotel and into a possible lion’s den.
So I shake the sparks of desire from my mind as I barrel past her into her room without being invited.
“Please, make yourself at home,” she mutters under her breath as I take in her room. Same layout as mine, just reversed, but where my table and nightstand are covered with maps and notebooks, hers are lined with camera bags, equipment, and what looks like three laptops that I assume are needed for storage and backups.
I hate myself for what I’m about to do, but it’s a hell of a lot more productive than sliding between her thighs again.
I don’t like her.
At least I didn’t want to.
I use my warring thoughts as a catalyst to purge the confession. “I’m meeting with a source.”
The jolt of her body doesn’t hide the surprise that her eyes try to play down. “About what?”
She gets minor brownie points for not saying I knew it like a gloating child. Very minor at that, but it’s a step in the right direction.
“Need-to-know basis,” I say, crossing my arms across my chest and leaning my ass against the dresser behind me.
“We’re partners.” Her forehead creases as she mimics my posture.
“No, we’re not.” She snorts in rebuke, but I don’t play into her game, and I’m definitely not ready to bestow that term on us yet. “Here are the ground rules, so I suggest you pay attention because you only get one shot with me. You fuck up, you’re gone – I don’t care what the hell Rafe says.”
We stare at each other for a moment in silence. For some reason I expect her posture to wilt from my authoritative tone, but she just stands her ground, shoulders square, and eyes wide, so I continue. “Bring a camera. A cheap one. Even though no one in their right mind would visit here on a vacation, we’ll look like tourists to the outsider. When we meet up, your mouth is to stay shut and your camera is to remain at your side. You don’t meet his eyes, and you make it known that I’m in charge. You don’t question me, ever, in front of the locals, let alone a source.”
“But, Tan —”
“Don’t argue or I’ll leave without you. Your choice, rook.” I shrug my shoulders to reinforce my words.
“Glad to know you enjoy your power trip enough, you live in it twenty-four/seven.”
She needs to take this more seriously. I take a step forward and close the short distance between us. “It’s not a power trip. It’s called trying to keep you alive. You got a problem with that?” Her comment grates on my nerves that are already frayed because she’s showing her naïveté. I’m on the farthest thing from a power trip when it comes to this.
“Nope. Just a little confused. I’m not supposed to have your back?” She angles her head to the side and stares at me, the thin cotton of her shorts giving absolutely everything away beneath, and fuck if she’s not doing it on purpose to distract me.
My eyes burn into hers – the darkest of emerald green – a slight nod of my head the only acknowledgment that she has a point.
“Get covered up,” I tell her. “The last thing we need is to draw attention to us because…” My voice trails off as I gesture at her attire, but I silently complete the thought: because you’re so goddamn gorgeous you could stop traffic.
She walks past me without a word toward the dresser and bends over as she rifles through the contents. And of course the movement affords me a very fine visual to add to the one I’ve already created where her hair is wrapped around my fist.
By the time I clear away the thought, Beaux is looking over her shoulder as she straightens up. “Do you mind?”
I’ve been caught looking but refuse to apologize. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”
She glares until I hold my hands up in surrender and walk toward the door to let her get dressed. Before I open it, I stop, facing the door with my head hung down, and give her a tiny little inch in that mile I’m holding over her head.
“My rules? They’re not a power trip. I’m making sure we fit in and follow their cultural beliefs,” I murmur in a tone completely devoid of any smugness. “Men must be in charge of their women here. If they see you lacking obedience, then they’ll think I have no control and will be less responsive to me. And I have to have the locals’ respect for them to think I’m honorable enough to give me information, risk their lives, and jeopardize their families’ safety.”
For some reason I have a feeling the obedience thing is going to be a problem.
Chapter 7
S
itting in the front seat of the beat-up Isuzu taxi on the way to the meet, with the smell of the dirt surrounding us, the motion of the car over the bumpy roads, the native music in my ears, I can’t believe I actually missed this place. Normally I’d have my Worldwide News–appointed translator driving me, but I have a feeling his absence is another means through which Rafe is trying to confine me to the hotel, at least until I’ve been here long enough to prove my stable state of mind.