the rest of the bedrooms.”
“Roger that.”
Jackson kept the light on the woman. “Mac, check the junction box. Jave, bring in the dog. Make sure this place isn’t wired to blow. Then let’s light up the place. Search it.”
“What about the prisoner?” Deke said, stepping into the room behind him. “Need help bringing him out?”
“What about it, ma’am ?” Jackson said, keeping his voice even. “Will you give me any trouble?”
She swallowed, but lifted her chin. “Depends on who you are.”
“Name’s Jackson Keller, and I’m with Charter Group.”
Her eyebrows lifted in question.
“I’m an ex-Navy SEAL, ma’am. So’s most of my team.”
“And that just means you know more ways to kill someone than the average criminal.”
Jackson grunted, surprised by her grit. “We’re a spec ops company, contracted by the U.S. government. Strictly legal.”
“And I’m to take your word on it?”
Jackson gave her a steady stare. “Seeing as you’re chained to a bed in Diego Guzman’s house, I’d say you don’t have much room to complain.”
Her chin lifted higher. “I’m not here by my choice.”
Her words bit like pellets. Her tone was bitter. Jackson’s heart stilled. “Were you kidnapped, ma’am?”
She nodded. “Yes, out of my apartment in Austin three days ago.”
Jackson kept his expression neutral although inside he seethed. “Were you molested? Do you need medical attention?”
She rolled her eyes. “I need the handcuff gone and for someone to find me some clothes.” Her mouth trembled but her gaze remained level, if still squinting at the light.
In his ear, he heard Mac. “No bombs, Jax. House is clear.”
In the next moment, the lights went on in the bedroom.
Deke came up beside him, staring at the disheveled woman cloaked by a pink satin sheet. The entire room looked like something out of an old Hollywood movie: cream walls and furniture, pale pink carpet and a bedspread patterned with pink roses. Despite her nudity and the suspicion darkening her very blue eyes, she fit the surroundings—opulent, soft pearl skin, hair the color of light honey. Although now, he thought maybe she’d been cuffed straight out of the shower because the sun streaked blonde hair was matted and hadn’t been brushed.
With her free hand, she pulled the edge of the sheet to just under her chin.
Knowing he’d stared too long, Jackson cleared his throat. “Before I can approach the bed and unlock those cuffs, I’ll need you to lower the sheet.”
Her fist tightened. “The hell I will.”
“Ma’am, you’re in a narco-terrorist’s house. I have to be sure you aren’t wired to blow.”
“I can assure you, I wouldn’t be this pissed-off if I were.”
Deke coughed. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Turning his head, Jackson gave him a deadly glare. “Deke, if you could go to the door and give her some privacy…”
Deke grunted but did as ordered, facing the hallway.
“It’s just me, now. Lower the sheet.”
Her lower lip jutted and she drew a deep breath, her gaze locking militantly with his. But she lowered the sheet, slowly, like a tease if she only knew, past perfectly rounded breasts with delicate pink nipples, down a softly rounded belly with a deeply indented waistline.
“That’s as far as I can reach,” she whispered.
He raised his weapon and leaned over to tug the sheet off the rest of the way. And even though he knew instantly the pressure plate to a bomb wasn’t hidden beneath her, he couldn’t resist lingering. Her legs were long and rounded but pulled up and to the side.
He knew he was pushing her, but as a soldier, he was never anything but thorough. Soft got you killed. “I’ll need you to spread your legs, ma’am.”
Her eyes widened with indignation, but she straightened her legs and then slowly opened them.
Jackson nearly groaned aloud at the sight of the soft blonde ruff and lovely pink pussy. He slung his weapon behind his back,
“Roger that.”
Jackson kept the light on the woman. “Mac, check the junction box. Jave, bring in the dog. Make sure this place isn’t wired to blow. Then let’s light up the place. Search it.”
“What about the prisoner?” Deke said, stepping into the room behind him. “Need help bringing him out?”
“What about it, ma’am ?” Jackson said, keeping his voice even. “Will you give me any trouble?”
She swallowed, but lifted her chin. “Depends on who you are.”
“Name’s Jackson Keller, and I’m with Charter Group.”
Her eyebrows lifted in question.
“I’m an ex-Navy SEAL, ma’am. So’s most of my team.”
“And that just means you know more ways to kill someone than the average criminal.”
Jackson grunted, surprised by her grit. “We’re a spec ops company, contracted by the U.S. government. Strictly legal.”
“And I’m to take your word on it?”
Jackson gave her a steady stare. “Seeing as you’re chained to a bed in Diego Guzman’s house, I’d say you don’t have much room to complain.”
Her chin lifted higher. “I’m not here by my choice.”
Her words bit like pellets. Her tone was bitter. Jackson’s heart stilled. “Were you kidnapped, ma’am?”
She nodded. “Yes, out of my apartment in Austin three days ago.”
Jackson kept his expression neutral although inside he seethed. “Were you molested? Do you need medical attention?”
She rolled her eyes. “I need the handcuff gone and for someone to find me some clothes.” Her mouth trembled but her gaze remained level, if still squinting at the light.
In his ear, he heard Mac. “No bombs, Jax. House is clear.”
In the next moment, the lights went on in the bedroom.
Deke came up beside him, staring at the disheveled woman cloaked by a pink satin sheet. The entire room looked like something out of an old Hollywood movie: cream walls and furniture, pale pink carpet and a bedspread patterned with pink roses. Despite her nudity and the suspicion darkening her very blue eyes, she fit the surroundings—opulent, soft pearl skin, hair the color of light honey. Although now, he thought maybe she’d been cuffed straight out of the shower because the sun streaked blonde hair was matted and hadn’t been brushed.
With her free hand, she pulled the edge of the sheet to just under her chin.
Knowing he’d stared too long, Jackson cleared his throat. “Before I can approach the bed and unlock those cuffs, I’ll need you to lower the sheet.”
Her fist tightened. “The hell I will.”
“Ma’am, you’re in a narco-terrorist’s house. I have to be sure you aren’t wired to blow.”
“I can assure you, I wouldn’t be this pissed-off if I were.”
Deke coughed. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Turning his head, Jackson gave him a deadly glare. “Deke, if you could go to the door and give her some privacy…”
Deke grunted but did as ordered, facing the hallway.
“It’s just me, now. Lower the sheet.”
Her lower lip jutted and she drew a deep breath, her gaze locking militantly with his. But she lowered the sheet, slowly, like a tease if she only knew, past perfectly rounded breasts with delicate pink nipples, down a softly rounded belly with a deeply indented waistline.
“That’s as far as I can reach,” she whispered.
He raised his weapon and leaned over to tug the sheet off the rest of the way. And even though he knew instantly the pressure plate to a bomb wasn’t hidden beneath her, he couldn’t resist lingering. Her legs were long and rounded but pulled up and to the side.
He knew he was pushing her, but as a soldier, he was never anything but thorough. Soft got you killed. “I’ll need you to spread your legs, ma’am.”
Her eyes widened with indignation, but she straightened her legs and then slowly opened them.
Jackson nearly groaned aloud at the sight of the soft blonde ruff and lovely pink pussy. He slung his weapon behind his back,
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