while aware of Jade’s mouthwatering scent. Her tight body I knew on an intimate level but not the most intimate one. Her lush lips that pouted every time she hit a brick wall while probing the interwebz.
The air fucking crackled with insane tension the longer I stood there, staring at the back of Jade’s neck bared by her pulled-up hair.
It went without saying we didn’t have Facebook accounts, we weren’t on Instagram, we didn’t have social media hookups, and we for damn sure didn’t post selfies despite Storm’s self-proclaimed seflie stick trick in the Sikorsky four days ago.
We had little to occupy our thoughts, hands, or time as we waited.
Jade and I were used to being in action.
She pushed back her wireless keyboard with a sigh before rolling her chair around.
I jumped back before she could run over my toes.
Her cheeks were flushed, lending a pink hint to her golden skin. Her eyes sparkled. Her hair was swept in a bun, two chopstick-style things shoved through the magenta-black mass to keep it in place. For all I knew they could be slim daggers honed to a fine edge that she wielded with an icepick grip. And she was just waiting for my back to be turned.
“What, Walker?” She reached up, letting her long, glorious hair cascade over her shoulders, down her back. She set the possibly lethal, carved-ivory instruments on the console. “I can smell your distrust every time you look at me.”
“I think that’s lust,” Madge commented with a hint of mischief.
Ignore.
I took two steps, leaning toward Jade. “What I can’t understand is why your people haven’t reached out to you yet.”
She wheeled her chair sideways, out of my reach. “Simple protocol. Go silent and stay untraceable when in trouble.”
“Well, I didn’t fucking follow protocol at all, and now my head’s on the chopping block.” I punched my hands to my hips.
Jade stood up, getting in my face. “I did not ask you to be part of this detail, wanker. You made it your business.” She poked me in the chest.
I bullied against her. “It’s our business. The goddamn business we’re in. And you should fucking thank me for getting you out of Beirut with your head intact instead of shot clean off.”
“You should be thanking me for not killing you in your sleep!” She tried to prod me back, but I was a hard wall of tall muscle in front of her.
And I was not stepping down.
“You snore,” she hissed.
“Oh, yeah? You drool. And you talk in your sleep.”
Jade’s face went murderous, the rage making her even hotter, me even angrier.
“I think I shall go to bed.” Madge sidled away, politely excusing herself.
She wasn’t stupid. She could tell when two powder kegs were set to go off.
We barely glanced at her, and I hardly noticed when the bedroom door snicked shut.
“I’d like to know how everyone scrambled on us so quickly in South Carolina. Not like we left a trail of breadcrumbs,” I gnashed out, straining toward Jade.
“Are you accusing me of something, Walker?”
“I think you know what I’m saying.” I prowled that last inch toward her, my hands clenching at my sides.
She flipped her hair back. “You think I’d risk Majedah’s and my lives just to . . . what? Take you down in the crossfire?”
“Wouldn’t put it past you.”
The air around us filled with antagonism. Distrust. And just like Madge had said, so much fucking unstoppable lust.
Neither one of us stepped down.
Seconds passed—tense and silent.
I relaxed my stance, lounging slightly back. “You know what I like to do when I need to expel some energy, Jade?” Her name came out buttery soft with a slight dare.
My eyes lowered to the dangerous curves of her body, and the atmosphere shifted again, compelling me closer to her sensual heat.
Her gaze widened, the green of her irises drowning in darker depths.
“What?” she asked, breathless and not backing down.
“Fuck or fight. So what’s it gonna be?”
Chapter Twelve
Fight
Maggie Brendan
Barbara O'Connor
Jan Washburn
Terri Blackstock
Norah Simone
Barry Kemp
G.P. Taylor
Alan Cumyn
Linda Barnes
Lisa Jackson