happened between them—or rather what hadn’t happened. “Are you leaving Incirlik?”
His face blanked. “No.”
“Why would you fly here, and at night? Is something wrong?” She stood up, her brain filled with all the dangers in the Middle East that he’d harped on so often. She wanted to believe his concerns were skewed because of his military experiences. They were in Turkey, after all, not Afghanistan or Iraq.
But still.
She swayed on her feet. His hand shot out to steady her, fingers landing right over her transplant scar. She jerked back instinctively.
His eyes shuttered. “We’re flying a demo of the new aircraft for the local military, showing off night moves. What are your plans for tomorrow?”
The abrupt subject change let her know loud and clear her questions were unwelcome. “Security cleared us for sightseeing around the base and into that city close by . . . uh . . .”
“Adana?” He sounded irritated again. “You’re leaving the security of the base to pick up a few souvenirs? Have you forgotten someone may have tried to blow you up back on that boat?”
“Apparently the security people here feel they have that well in hand. We can go to Adana as long as we have a security escort.” She stared back at him.
“Have you not listened to anything I’ve said? Good God, woman, I feel like I’m beating my head against a wall.”
“I hear that happens quite often to hardheaded people.”
His jaw flexed. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you have got a serious chip on your shoulder.” He raised his hands in surrender, backing a step. “Forget it. Lesson over. I’m out of here.”
“Wait,” she gripped his arm, “I don’t get this, get you. Security tells me it’s fine to leave the base. I do what they advise, and you rip my head off. How am I in the wrong here?”
“I have a more conservative approach when it comes to things like risking your life.”
Yeah, she knew she was prickly after a lifetime spent being fearful of risks and danger. “Why bother with things like self-defense if I’m going to spend my life in a bubble?”
“Do whatever you want. You’re an adult, and I can’t stop you. Good luck, and I sincerely hope you’ll enjoy an uneventful day of shopping for little ivory camels.”
She watched him plow through the door, his fist hammering the metal bar. Her body swirled with a mishmash of feelings: anger, attraction, frustration. Not surprising. But she hadn’t expected the flash of sympathy. What a dark way to live, always searching for threats around every corner, always expecting the worst, a mind-set she’d worked so hard to overcome.
Because she knew firsthand the dangers of sinking too far into darker emotions.
Some people feared the dark. Chuck Tanaka embraced those increasingly rare opaque moments when no one touched him.
He rolled from his back to his side on concrete as cold and unforgiving as his captors. The chain on his ankle shackle rattled in time with the muted music thrumming above him. A groan slipped between his cracked lips and echoed in the damp cement cell that reeked of cigar smoke wafting from the guard outside his door.
Which battered part of his body summoned the sound? Who the hell knew? He’d gone past pain two days into captivity.
Now he focused on one thing: keeping his brain locked away from the sadistic bastards who’d been working him over.
And the she-demon. She worried him more than those two goons. She utilized mind games with a skill that scared the crap out of him. Early in his stay, he’d heard screams from the next room. The only screams lately had been his own.
He didn’t expect to live. Even if somehow, beyond the odds, he was rescued, he could feel himself bleeding out inside. Still, he fought the Grim Reaper to give the tracking chip a chance to work, to lead someone here to break up this twisted woman’s operation.
The device would continue to transmit, even if he died, but
His face blanked. “No.”
“Why would you fly here, and at night? Is something wrong?” She stood up, her brain filled with all the dangers in the Middle East that he’d harped on so often. She wanted to believe his concerns were skewed because of his military experiences. They were in Turkey, after all, not Afghanistan or Iraq.
But still.
She swayed on her feet. His hand shot out to steady her, fingers landing right over her transplant scar. She jerked back instinctively.
His eyes shuttered. “We’re flying a demo of the new aircraft for the local military, showing off night moves. What are your plans for tomorrow?”
The abrupt subject change let her know loud and clear her questions were unwelcome. “Security cleared us for sightseeing around the base and into that city close by . . . uh . . .”
“Adana?” He sounded irritated again. “You’re leaving the security of the base to pick up a few souvenirs? Have you forgotten someone may have tried to blow you up back on that boat?”
“Apparently the security people here feel they have that well in hand. We can go to Adana as long as we have a security escort.” She stared back at him.
“Have you not listened to anything I’ve said? Good God, woman, I feel like I’m beating my head against a wall.”
“I hear that happens quite often to hardheaded people.”
His jaw flexed. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you have got a serious chip on your shoulder.” He raised his hands in surrender, backing a step. “Forget it. Lesson over. I’m out of here.”
“Wait,” she gripped his arm, “I don’t get this, get you. Security tells me it’s fine to leave the base. I do what they advise, and you rip my head off. How am I in the wrong here?”
“I have a more conservative approach when it comes to things like risking your life.”
Yeah, she knew she was prickly after a lifetime spent being fearful of risks and danger. “Why bother with things like self-defense if I’m going to spend my life in a bubble?”
“Do whatever you want. You’re an adult, and I can’t stop you. Good luck, and I sincerely hope you’ll enjoy an uneventful day of shopping for little ivory camels.”
She watched him plow through the door, his fist hammering the metal bar. Her body swirled with a mishmash of feelings: anger, attraction, frustration. Not surprising. But she hadn’t expected the flash of sympathy. What a dark way to live, always searching for threats around every corner, always expecting the worst, a mind-set she’d worked so hard to overcome.
Because she knew firsthand the dangers of sinking too far into darker emotions.
Some people feared the dark. Chuck Tanaka embraced those increasingly rare opaque moments when no one touched him.
He rolled from his back to his side on concrete as cold and unforgiving as his captors. The chain on his ankle shackle rattled in time with the muted music thrumming above him. A groan slipped between his cracked lips and echoed in the damp cement cell that reeked of cigar smoke wafting from the guard outside his door.
Which battered part of his body summoned the sound? Who the hell knew? He’d gone past pain two days into captivity.
Now he focused on one thing: keeping his brain locked away from the sadistic bastards who’d been working him over.
And the she-demon. She worried him more than those two goons. She utilized mind games with a skill that scared the crap out of him. Early in his stay, he’d heard screams from the next room. The only screams lately had been his own.
He didn’t expect to live. Even if somehow, beyond the odds, he was rescued, he could feel himself bleeding out inside. Still, he fought the Grim Reaper to give the tracking chip a chance to work, to lead someone here to break up this twisted woman’s operation.
The device would continue to transmit, even if he died, but
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