Her sharp intake of breath was audible. Her eyes widened, and genuine surprise replaced the calculated defiance I’d seen until now. She stared at me as if seeing me for the firsttime—not as an enemy or obstacle but as something unexpected. A person, maybe.
So she knew even the more unpopular Jane Austen quotes. Good on her.
I filed that information away, then continued to lock eyes with her.
The shock on her face was almost comical. I hadn’t meant to reveal that part of myself—the part that remembered reading books and watching old movies during the few peaceful moments of my childhood and early teens. The part that existed before I became what I was now. The part that I preserved by reading those damn books at least once a year.
“That needs medical attention,” I said, more gently than I’d intended.
Her response was to try head-butting me—a move I easily avoided but one that had an impact on me nonetheless.
“What’s wrong with you? You already have a bleeding head wound. You want another one?”
So apparently, the short reprieve, the fleeting tender moment, was gone. Just because we shared some quotes didn’t mean we weren’t enemies.
She stared back at me. “What’s wrong with me? What is wrong with you?”
I shifted my weight, keeping her pinned, but eased the pressure. Her injury needed treatment, but I couldn’t afford to let her escape again. More importantly, I couldn’t afford to care about her beyond what the situation required. Yet I did. “Nothing is wrong with me.”
She turned her head to the side, stared at my hand pinning her wrist to the ground, then looked back at me. “And yet here you are, hunting me down and pinning me to the ground. Between the two of us, I’d say it’s fair to say there’s a lot more wrong with you than there is with me.”
“Enough,” I said, my voice rougher than intended. “We’re going back to the helicopter. You need medical attention.”
“I need to be left alone, especially by you,” she countered, but the fight in her voice was rapidly fading.
I could treat her like any other asset—impersonal, efficient, by the book. Keep my distance emotionally while physically dragging her back to the helicopter. That was what my training dictated. That would keep the mission clean.
Or I could acknowledge what was happening here. This wasn’t just another job. This woman wasn’t just another target. At the very least, she was Vince Salvini’s sister. And there was also Grey’s special interest.
The professional in me knew better. Getting personally invested was a rookie mistake—one I hadn’t made in years. One I couldn’t afford to make now with so much at stake. So what if something about her intelligence, her defiance, her gumption, was getting under my skin.
Fact was, she was valuable, and she was injured.
I looked down at her, and we locked eyes, and I saw more than just an asset. More than a means to an end, more than just Salvini’s little sister. I saw someone fighting, caught between forces larger than herself. She was just a pawn, a piece on the chessboard.
Not unlike myself.
“If I help you up, are you going to run again?” I asked, softening my tone slightly.
Her eyes narrowed, studying me with that calculating gaze. “Is there really any question?”
Smart answer. Cocky, too. I couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at my lips. “You should keep your enemy in the dark. And despite what you think, I’m not out to hurt you.”
Something flickered across her face—doubt, curiosity, perhaps both.
I made my decision. I’d maintain enough professional distance to complete the mission, but I wouldn’t pretend this was even remotely routine. And she needed medical treatment before anything else.
“Or you use whatever means necessary to dazzle your enemy, so he can’t see what’s going on.”
I got up and dragged her up with me, my hand still wrapped around her wrist. “That’s your plan? To dazzle me into submission?”
“Is it working yet?”
I cocked my head to the side and stared into her beautiful face, her deep, dark brown eyes. “Not yet, but keep on trying, and we’ll see.” I turned and pulled her with me, back to the fence, acutely aware of her bare feet.
She didn’t struggle but didn’t go willingly either.
Once we made it through the opening, I lifted her into my arms and marched back to the helicopter, which was parked right behind the fence.
