Running Hot (3 page)

“Gotta be honest. You're not that scary to me right now.” Ford walked over to the edge of the bure and scanned the tropical forest beyond. “Tasha weighs, what, a buck-thirty?”

“If that.” Thinking about her brought a flash of her face to Ward's mind. Damn if she didn't have him wrapped around and chasing his own ass.

Ford was right about one thing: this situation was pretty damn embarrassing.

Ford turned back with his hands on his hips and a stupid grin on his mouth. “She took you down without trouble, so I'm betting I could take you without working up a sweat.”

“Tough talk, but you didn't see her.” The legs, that ass . . . the sexy way she held her own, not even a little afraid of him. Ward shook his head to push those thoughts out and stay focused. “Or the big needle she hit me with.”

“Interesting.”

Ward held up two fingers. “Twice.”

“She drugged you multiple times, but you still think she's hot.” Ford mumbled something under his breath. Something about Ward being a dumbass.

“Hell, yeah.”

“You sick bastard.” Ford took an extra gun out from where he had it tucked behind his back and handed it to Ward. Added in a lot of head shaking and a few more “dumbass” comments as he went. “Now what?”

“We go after her.” More out of habit than anything else, Ward checked the weapon. Satisfied it would do the job until he could get his hands on one of the stashes he had hidden around the island, he held it. He was ready to fight, and he had a feeling a battle loomed right around the corner—and not just with Tasha.

Ford used the toe of his sneaker to move the remaining debris around the floor. Broken zip ties and scattered papers. Nothing of any value, but all of it out of place in this out-of-the-way locale.

“We have three hundred acres to cover. Want to point me in the right direction?” he asked.

“She's wherever you think Tigana is.” Call it instinct, but Ward knew. Tasha was not on the island for sightseeing or to make a few bucks. She had a job to do. Just like him.

Ford froze. “You really think she's here to get to him?”

No question
. “This is going to be a race to see who gets to the guy first, and it's going to be us.”

“But she could still mess up our operation.”

Ward could almost hear the pieces click together in Ford's brain. The operation goals were clear. Go in, take Tigana out, and secure the weapons. No room for error. No way to take on the responsibility of a random woman on the island . . . regardless of how good she looked in those cargo shorts. “Definitely.”

“Damn.” Ford shook his head. “I hate this assignment.”

“At least no one drugged you.” The woman could have at least kissed him first. Seemed obvious to Ward.

“As if you didn't enjoy it.”

Ward hated to admit it, but his partner was not wrong on that score. He never thought of himself as the punishment type, but the whole kick-ass thing Tasha had going on worked for him. On every pathetic level.

“Oh, I intend to talk with Tasha about her nasty needle habit when I find her.” That and the flirting and the touching. Maybe see how they could get back there when the assignment ended.

“Plan on sticking it to her, do you?” Ford managed to ask the question with a straight face.

No way could Ward answer without sounding like a complete jackass. Not usually something that worried him, but he'd long grown out of the whole prove-your-dick-size-with-raunchy-locker-room-talk thing.

Ford broke the silence with what amounted to more of his unending commentary. “I'm just asking because you need to stay on task.”

That one Ward could not ignore. “Meaning?”

“The hot bartender isn't our assignment.”

Red-hot temper whipped up out of nowhere, and Ward shoved it back. “I know what the job is. I'm in charge, remember?”

Ford glanced at the ripped zip tie and the overturned chair. “Yeah, you look like you've got this handled.”

Chapter Three

A
WOMAN COULD
only sit in a tree for so long before the whole thing got silly. After three hours of waiting and watching, Tasha stretched. The branches bent and the leaves swayed as she balanced her leg along the bark. The soft, warm breeze caught most of the noise, but the right person, a trained person, might sense or hear her presence.

The muscles in her legs ached, and her finger cramped in its position along the side of her knife. She switched off from ready position to surveillance for about the hundredth time since she'd crawled up there. The small, lightweight binoculars were infrared and long range. She'd rather have a muffin, but they did have a practical use.

She scanned the trees. The ground. The distance.

Nothing. A strange lack of nothing.

The newest mumble of voices had disappeared fifteen minutes ago, and the sun burned through the trees, casting part of the forest floor in white spotlights and the rest in shadows. Not the best place to hide, but then again she didn't pick this battlefield.

After a few seconds of moving her legs and making sure her body parts still worked, she gathered her few possessions and dropped to the ground. Her knees bore the impact, as did the palm she balanced against the earth where she landed.

She took two steps before her senses clicked into high alert. A noise—slight, almost silent—passed by her left side. It was little more than a whisper of air, but she knew what that meant.

Before she could turn around, something hard pressed into the back of her head. The barrel of a gun. “Damn it.”

“Hello, sunshine.”

She'd know that husky voice anywhere. It licked against her in her dreams. Played in her head long after he'd abandoned his seat across from her at the bar during all those nights.

Ward Bennett.

She should have shot him and been done with it. So much for wanting to preserve his hot face with that bit of scruff and those meet-me-in-the-bedroom eyes.

She started to turn around. The gun rammed harder against her skull.

“Oh, I don't think so, sweetheart.” Ward's hand reached around, and he snatched the knife out of her hand. “See, I trusted you once, and you shot me full of drugs.”

Still reeling from the fact he got the jump on her, she calculated the number of weapons she still had within grabbing range. She could take him. She had before.

The thought almost made her smile, but she went with a shrug instead. “A misunderstanding.”

“Then you won't mind if I use that trick on you this time.”

That couldn't happen. She had to stay on her feet to neutralize Tigana. “A woman has to be careful. Some men are nasty on dates.”

A deep male chuckle then . . . “She's got you there.”

The sound of a second male voice screeched across her senses. One she could handle without trouble. Two put her at a disadvantage. If number two was anything like Ward, he was bigger and heavier than her. Then there was the issue of Ward's anger. She couldn't gauge how out of control that was at this point.

She blew out a long breath as a list of possible attack strategies filled her head. “You brought a friend. Fantastic.”

The pressure against her head eased, and before she could blink, two men stood in front of her. Ward's shoulders blocked most of her view into the woods beyond, but she recognized the other one. Brown hair and green eyes, good looking in that would-likely-break-your-heart kind of way.

He'd attracted a lot of attention back at the resort with his supposed businessman-looking-for-an-island investment front. Had an unusual name . . . she pulled it out of her mind somewhere. Ford. This guy and Ward looked like a matched set, all tall and dangerous with a smooth-talking calm about them.

And liars. Not businessmen. No doubt about it. The only mystery was why it took her so long to see it.

Ward motioned toward his friend with the big gun and even bigger frown. “This is Ford.”

“If you try to stick a needle in me, I'll break your arm,” Ford said.

Well, there was no confusing that statement. She appreciated that. “He's charming.”

Ford nodded. “I thought we should understand each other from the beginning.”

Her gaze kept zipping back to Ward. She hated the energy that bounced between her and him even more. She'd spent her entire career dealing with controlling assholes and assholes who thought having a penis put them in charge. But there was something different about Ward. When he looked at her, she knew she had his full attention. His gaze didn't wander. His eyes stayed even and clear.

“How did you sneak up on me?” She had to know. She'd scouted every inch of the area from above. She'd been trained to pick up sounds and see clues others missed. Yet these two, each one pushing over six feet, walked right up without tipping her off. Really, it was embarrassing.

Ward smiled. “Trade secret.”

That sounded like an admission to her. Of what, was the question. “Which trade is that again?”

“Watch her.” Ward handed his gun to Ford then started patting her down.

“Is this necessary?” And why didn't his hands on her bother her one bit?

Ward dropped one of her knives to the ground and then another before holding up the last one. “Apparently.”

“Where's the needle?” Ford asked.

“I only had two.” Which ticked her off. If she'd known she'd have to beat back a bunch of guys pretending to be office types, she would have brought vials of the knock-out drug.

“Huh.” Ford shrugged. “That's a shame.”

“Says the guy who didn't get stuck with it,” Ward grumbled as he slid his fingers into her boot and took out the small gun she'd stashed there.

This wasn't good. He'd been thorough, and everything she brought with her except for a small thin blade taped to her hip now lay on the ground. That made escape tough. She thought about kicking Ward in the head and running, but Ford looked ready and willing to shoot.

Her life would be much easier if the Americans would have just stayed in America. The least they could do was admit who they were . . . and then it hit her. The mirrored stances, the weapons, the we-like-to-kill attitudes. They were professionals. Not guns-for-hire or weekend warriors. They played the same game she played.

The pieces clicked into place. It would make sense for the United States to have people on the ground looking after Tigana. Those covert tracking skills and Ward's carefully crafted cover. And they had that look, which would mean neutralizing them and shooing them away before they trashed her assignment.

“You're CIA.” She didn't ask because she suddenly didn't need to.

Ward glanced up right before he stretched to his feet. “What are you?”

She noticed Ward didn't bother to deny the accusation. Didn't confirm it either. “A woman working on an island.”

Ford shifted his legs and adjusted his battle stance. “That's annoying.”

“Tell me about it,” Ward said. “You have one more chance here, Tasha.”

“Or?” No way would they drag out the interrogation tactics. If they tried, she would go out screaming.

“Spill it, or we tie you to a tree and leave you out here.” Ward clapped his hand against the bark right near her head, probably to reinforce his point.

She didn't need the highlight. She understood. Got it and now called up her bored tone to telegraph her lack of concern back to him. “Oh, please.”

“Try me.” But, really, the tying up thing didn't sound like a great option. Less painful than other options but hugely problematic. They weren't the only ones around here with a cover to protect, and Tigana's men could come back at any time.

“You did knock him out twice.” Ford winced. Even made an annoying hissing sound. “For future reference, men don't like that sort of thing.”

She backed up a step, small and hopefully not noticeable. With them crowding in, she needed her back covered and a bit of leverage. Wedging her body against the tree provided both. “I have a job to do.”

“Uh-huh . . . which is?” Ward had the nerve to twirl her knife.

Twirl. It.

Her heel hit a tree root and she rocked her weight to keep from showing any real movement. “You two are in my way.”

This time Ward winked at her. “Right back at ya, sweetheart.”

“Stop with the endearments.” She'd found him much more attractive back when he sipped drinks at the bar. Armed and grumbling Ward annoyed her. Unfortunately, the attractive part didn't go away.

Ward glanced down toward her shoes. “And you should stop fidgeting since you're not the one with the weapons.”

Damn it
. “It's a bit uncomfortable standing here with you two staring at me in angry-male mode and pretending to be threatening.”

“Pretending?” Ford asked in a low voice that didn't pretend at all.

“I'm betting you can handle yourself just fine.” Ward tapped his shoulder, right by the second injection site. “I've felt your handiwork with needles.”

“Do you two need some alone time?” Ford asked.

She could handle one of them, but the smartass overload from Ford was a bit much. She stopped glaring at him and faced Ward again. “Why did you bring him?”

“He usually has cash for beer.” Ward shot Ford a quick glance. “That sort of thing comes in handy.”

She didn't know whether to be impressed with Ward's ability to joke or to be ticked off. The whole thing where he simultaneously scoped out the area while keeping just out of kicking range from her looked familiar. She'd been trained. He'd been trained. It made for difficult escape planning.

But it was time to inch them toward some sort of resolution that didn't include one or more of their bodies scattered on the ground. “Do you need that beer when you're out here chasing down bad guys?”

Ward stilled. “Who do you think I'm chasing?”