My eyes roll. I can already picture it. The fistfight. The sheriff. My daughter watching, as two grown men go at it in a diner parking lot.
Nope. Not happening.
“This is not Victorian England,” I snap. “There will be no duels outdoors or otherwise. Do I make myself clear?”
Jack chuckles but doesn’t argue.
John, however, licks his lips, letting his gaze drop—to my thirteen-year-old seventh-grader. His eyes linger a fraction too long on her chest.
“Remember what I told you.” His threat snaps what little patience I had left.
As I reach for my sidearm, Jack’s lazy charm vanishes. A blizzard brews in his gaze, his jaw tightens, and his fists clench.
I don’t know what’s about to happen next, but one thing is certain—this night has taken a dangerous turn.
Chapter 7
Hunt
I grab the pedophile’s arm, drag him through the restaurant, then shove him out the door. “You come within an inch of those two ladies, I will kill you.”
The lowlife scumbag snarls. “You won’t be here forever, asshole.”
“Fuck off. Now.” My knuckles ache to connect with his flesh, but it would blow my cover.
Watching his hands, I keep mine by my waist, ready to react.
Gun? Knife? Fists?
Finally, he points a finger, spitting at my feet. “Next time.”
Arms crossed, I wait for his Hummer to disappear before fetching the O’Malley women.
As Kelly drives me to her friend’s garage, my mind shifts from the intruder to the way her willing lips molded to mine. A simple kiss turned my cock to steel. Huh. I can’t remember that ever happening before.
Focus, Hunt.I pull on the bothersome thread, dangling on the edge of my subconsciousness.
What kind of man ogles a young teenager? Why didn’t her mother speak up? I would ask, but not in front of young Mack, who seemed oblivious to the sexual undertones.
His voice sounded so familiar…
Shit. He was one of the mercenaries in the woods last night.
Bracing my arm against the driver’s seat, I lean until my mouth meets her ear. “Out with it. Who is he?”
“I already told you. Nobody. Leave it.” Face pale, she glances in the rearview mirror. In the back seat, her daughter listens, thumbs halted over her phone.
“What,exactly,were you supposed to remember?” My inner FBI agent has forgotten I’m a science guy, not a representative of the law.
She, however, has not. “I can take care of it.” White-knuckling the steering wheel, her mouth tightens.
Is it possible she’s aware of the Iranians coming over the border? If so, no wonder she wants to partner with me. She’ll make sure I see nothing. It would explain her heated response to my kiss. If I’m caught up in her sexuality, I won’t be able to think straight.
Well, babe, I am forty years old and not so easily duped.
We ride the rest of the way in silence. At the garage, I find my key under the mat and wave goodbye. I don’t ask if she will join me tonight in the woods. Circumstances clearly have changed.
Back at my hotel, I try to ignore thoughts of her as I layer on clothes. Finally, I step into my snowsuit. White, gray, and black splotches will make me one with the forest. This time, I park my SUV near a farmhouse, closer to where the sheriff arrested me. The stillness reminds me of Afghanistan. A ghost, I traverse the woods soundlessly. The black balaclava warms my face. Thick gloves, specially made for shooting, cover my hands.
