and warm enough to comfort a man
on a cold winter night.
"I'm a hell of an asset." There was no ego there,
it was simply the truth and Ian knew it. She was a hell of
an asset.
"This is my fight." And he didn't want her
anywhere close to the danger he knew was coming. "I'll take
care of Sorrell."
He would identify him, and if he couldn't kill him then he
would walk away and allow others to do it.
Either way, when the game was up, he didn't want Kira
anywhere close to the violence that would ensue.
"I want you on a plane out of here, this week,"
he told her then, meeting her gaze as he allowed the tips
of his fingers to caress the gentle curve of her cheek.
"Go back to the States and forget about this."
Her smile was a soft curve of sorrow. "Do you really
think I'm going to do that? I've found in the last
months that I would do a lot for you, Ian. But I won't do
that."
"That isn't your fight."
"I've made it my fight."
Where in the hell had she developed all this stubbornness?
She was the most intractable woman he had
ever met. She didn't argue, she didn't scream or yell. She
stated intentions and then followed through. He
knew that. Besides what he had learned of her in Atlanta,
his investigation into her had yielded the proof
of it.
"I won't come back here," he told her then.
"Tonight won't exist after dawn arrives, and it won't happen
again."
She shook her head, causing her hair to ripple over the
muscles of his chest and his taut abdomen.
"It may not. I hear you're a man of your word. But I'm
not leaving Aruba until I finish what I came to
do."
"Which is?" Frustration colored his voice.
"What the hell do you think you can accomplish here?"
"I can watch your back and gather the information you
need from the sources you can't access as the
Fuentes heir. That's my mission and I won't leave until
this is over. You can make my job easy, or you
can make it hard. It's your choice." She lowered her
head as she spoke, allowing her lips to caress his
shoulder, her fingers to knead the bunched muscles of his
biceps.
Ian continued to stare at the ceiling, frowning, trying to
distance himself from emotion and to use the only
weapons he had on hand for the perilous operation he was conducting.
He had the smallest team they
could put together; hell, it was so small he didn't have a
hope if the Fuentes soldiers didn't follow him
against Sorrell. That was his strength, the loyalty the
cartel possessed. It went beyond money, to familial
affiliations. Diego was related to the better part of his
generals. His generals were related to their
lieutenants and their lieutenants were related to the
soldiers. It was a circle that continued on and on.
There might be a few spies, a few speaking from both sides
of their mouths, but they all agreed.
Terrorism made it hard on the drug trade. Terrorist
fanatics made it even harder to sell drugs. Ergo, don't
let the French terrorist in on the business.
Some of the smaller cartels were too weak to fight the
pressure Sorrell brought to bear, but the larger
cartels opposing him were now doing what Ian had begun
eight months ago. Absorbing those smaller
operations with the promise of protection.
This wasn't a game, and there was a hell of a lot more to
it than drawing in information. If Kira aligned
herself with him, then for the first time in her own
career, she would no longer be giving the appearance of
a neutral party. She would be compromising herself. And
that begged the question, why?
For ten years she had worked as an undercover independent
operative for various agencies. First the
Federal Bureau of Investigation, and then the Department of
Homeland Security. Why risk herself and
her supposed neutrality now?
As Jason McClane's niece, and a stockholder in the various
companies and properties he owned around
the world, Kira was known as his "source." One of
the few people he relied upon when it came to
investing in certain businesses. He was well known
on a cold winter night.
"I'm a hell of an asset." There was no ego there,
it was simply the truth and Ian knew it. She was a hell of
an asset.
"This is my fight." And he didn't want her
anywhere close to the danger he knew was coming. "I'll take
care of Sorrell."
He would identify him, and if he couldn't kill him then he
would walk away and allow others to do it.
Either way, when the game was up, he didn't want Kira
anywhere close to the violence that would ensue.
"I want you on a plane out of here, this week,"
he told her then, meeting her gaze as he allowed the tips
of his fingers to caress the gentle curve of her cheek.
"Go back to the States and forget about this."
Her smile was a soft curve of sorrow. "Do you really
think I'm going to do that? I've found in the last
months that I would do a lot for you, Ian. But I won't do
that."
"That isn't your fight."
"I've made it my fight."
Where in the hell had she developed all this stubbornness?
She was the most intractable woman he had
ever met. She didn't argue, she didn't scream or yell. She
stated intentions and then followed through. He
knew that. Besides what he had learned of her in Atlanta,
his investigation into her had yielded the proof
of it.
"I won't come back here," he told her then.
"Tonight won't exist after dawn arrives, and it won't happen
again."
She shook her head, causing her hair to ripple over the
muscles of his chest and his taut abdomen.
"It may not. I hear you're a man of your word. But I'm
not leaving Aruba until I finish what I came to
do."
"Which is?" Frustration colored his voice.
"What the hell do you think you can accomplish here?"
"I can watch your back and gather the information you
need from the sources you can't access as the
Fuentes heir. That's my mission and I won't leave until
this is over. You can make my job easy, or you
can make it hard. It's your choice." She lowered her
head as she spoke, allowing her lips to caress his
shoulder, her fingers to knead the bunched muscles of his
biceps.
Ian continued to stare at the ceiling, frowning, trying to
distance himself from emotion and to use the only
weapons he had on hand for the perilous operation he was conducting.
He had the smallest team they
could put together; hell, it was so small he didn't have a
hope if the Fuentes soldiers didn't follow him
against Sorrell. That was his strength, the loyalty the
cartel possessed. It went beyond money, to familial
affiliations. Diego was related to the better part of his
generals. His generals were related to their
lieutenants and their lieutenants were related to the
soldiers. It was a circle that continued on and on.
There might be a few spies, a few speaking from both sides
of their mouths, but they all agreed.
Terrorism made it hard on the drug trade. Terrorist
fanatics made it even harder to sell drugs. Ergo, don't
let the French terrorist in on the business.
Some of the smaller cartels were too weak to fight the
pressure Sorrell brought to bear, but the larger
cartels opposing him were now doing what Ian had begun
eight months ago. Absorbing those smaller
operations with the promise of protection.
This wasn't a game, and there was a hell of a lot more to
it than drawing in information. If Kira aligned
herself with him, then for the first time in her own
career, she would no longer be giving the appearance of
a neutral party. She would be compromising herself. And
that begged the question, why?
For ten years she had worked as an undercover independent
operative for various agencies. First the
Federal Bureau of Investigation, and then the Department of
Homeland Security. Why risk herself and
her supposed neutrality now?
As Jason McClane's niece, and a stockholder in the various
companies and properties he owned around
the world, Kira was known as his "source." One of
the few people he relied upon when it came to
investing in certain businesses. He was well known
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