“I think it does.” Raider moved toward the doors and placed his hands in the middle, digging his fingers between them. Or rather, he tried to do so.
Nothing happened.
Brigid’s breath quickened. That fast, she was back in a cell. Her lungs hurt. Her vision narrowed from the outside, making her eyes sting. Were they even on the top level? How far would they have to fall? God, she had to get out of there. She sucked in air.
He turned then, narrowing his focus onto her again. “Whoa.” Stepping in, he grasped her chin and lifted her face enough to meet his eyes. “Take a deep breath.”
She couldn’t breathe.
“Now, Brigid.” The command in his voice shot through her panicked mind.
She instinctively heeded it and pulled in air, filling her lungs. Automatically obeying him just as she had in the pub. What waswrongwith her?
“Now let it out. Slowly.” He waited until she did so. “Again.”
She obeyed his order, and her heart rate slowed down. Then she started to focus on something other than her imminent death in a small space. His size. His scent of male and musk. His nearness and warmth.
Her heart kicked back in along with her libido. Heat flushed through her, igniting nerves, softening something deep inside her. His grip remained gentle yet firm on her chin. If he lowered his head, his mouth could be on hers.
Where the heck had that thought come from? Heat burst into her face, no doubt turning her a very unappealing crimson.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, the tone deep and reassuring. “The door will open.”
The door? What door? She coughed. “You don’t like me.” The words tumbled out. Was she reminding him or herself?
Both of his dark eyebrows rose. “That’s not true.” He released her and stepped back.
“Yes, it is.” She wanted to cross her arms but forced herself to remain still and in control.
“No. I just haven’t figured you out.” He turned for the door again.
She frowned at his broad back. “So?”
“I figure everyone out.” He smacked his palm against the door. “Open, darn it.” The doors shook and then inched open awkwardly. He’d done it again.
“You sure have a way with elevators,” she breathed, jumping out into the dingy hallway.
“Just wait until you see how good I am with a fiancée,” he murmured, moving out behind her and bringing heat and power with him.
She shivered. Was that a threat or a promise?
Chapter Four
Raider held the outside door open for the charming computer expert, his gaze automatically scanning the area for danger. Dim streetlights cut through the dark night, illuminating the barren area. The wind blew pine needles across the dew-covered grass, landing against an ancient picnic table placed beneath trees in an odd and deserted park next to the nearly vacant parking lot. The lone building, erected sometime in the late seventies, was set among trees about an hour outside of DC.
The Homeland Defense Department didn’t want Angus Force’s small unit to be comfortable, that was for sure. That was fine with Raider. He might wear thousand-dollar suits once in a while, but most of his life, he’d felt lucky if he had food in his belly and some sort of roof over his head—especially if nobody wanted to hurt him right at that moment.
Of course, pain came from unexpected places. He placed his hand at the small of Brigid’s back and then grinned when she jumped. “We’re engaged, Irish.” His hand remained in place. “You’ll need to get used to me touching you.”
She hurried her walk. “Whatever.”
Skittish, wasn’t she? He easily followed the redhead toward his truck, which was parked in the center of the lot. Her skin was warm beneath her blouse. Keeping her off balance was necessary. It’d be easier if she wasn’t so damn likable. They’d forged a natural friendship, and he actually trusted her, which was odd for him. It made his job more difficult.
She was smart, and now that she had her feet under her with the Deep Ops unit, she was starting to ask questions. Ones that showed she saw beneath the surface. He needed to be careful with her. With what he showed her. His single goal was to bring down the Coonan family, and if that included her father, so be it.
An energy-efficient light green car whipped into the lot, and Raider instinctively pivoted to put Brigid against his truck, blocking her with his body. The car lurched to a stop, rocking slightly. The door opened, and Clarence Wolfe unfolded his six-foot-six frame with the grace of a panther on the hunt.
Raider fought amusement. The guy looked like he’d gotten out of one of those crazy clown cars. “What the hell are you driving?”
