The infuriated man on his heels and stormed back toward the door. He stopped just shy of exiting the room, running a hand through his highlighted hair before turning back around with a narrowed glare.
“You’re thereasonhe’s dead!” Chase’s handsome face twisted with heartfelt emotion.
She couldn’t blame them for hating her. Not when she knew of the many lies they’d been fed.
Kaamisha also knew, until she found a way to gain their trust, they’d never believe a word that came from her mouth. Which is why she’d put into motion the plan that had brought her here.
She needed time to convince them—face-to-face—that she wasn’t the person they were after. That she wasn’t the cold-hearted killer they’d been led to believe.
“It’s obvious you know who we are.” Logan Hayes spoke up next. “Which means you also know why you’re here.”
I’m here because this is where I wanted to be.
“I’m assuming you brought me here to torture me, either for information or for fun.” Her gaze slid back to Donovan. “Perhaps a little of both?”
“Personally, I’d rather put a bullet in your brain and be done with it,” he muttered. “But you have answers we need, so here we are.”
Quite the charmer, that one.
“Information it is.” Kaamisha held the man’s infuriated stare. “You know, it would have been much easier for us both had you simply gotten up from your little table in the corner to come talk to me while I waited in line for my drink.”
In reality, that would have altered the very plan that had offered the opportunity to speak to them without fear of prying eyes. But she couldn’t show all her cards right away. Not until she’d confirmed what she suspected to be the truth.
A low curse came from the operative who’d spun away from her moments ago, his handsome face still etched with anger. Donovan spoke up again before anyone else had the chance.
“You knew I was there,” he rumbled low.
It was a statement, rather than a question.
“You’ve been going there for the past three nights. Andsince you and your friends are so very far from home, and as you so delicately pointed out, you’d rather put a bullet into my head, I assume you went to the coffee shop looking for me.”
“Found you, didn’t I?”
She smiled. “More like I found you.” To his teammates, she added, “I may not know what sort of drugs you forced into my veins, but I do remember everything right up to the moment the needle pierced my skin.” Her eyes found Donovan’s again. “My favorite part was when I got the drop on you and put the blade of my knife to your?—”
“Enough!” Logan’s booming voice echoed off the walls as he regained control of the conversation. “We’ve done our research, Miss Dawari. We know your mother was Aryana Dawari. The woman killed three years ago in Kandahar during a shootout between two terrorist groups. We also know someone out there has led you to believe that we were the ones responsible.”
A set of brilliant blue eyes found hers as another member of their team—the one who, according to the intel she’d been given, was called Lucky—picked up where Logan left off. “You blamed us for your mom’s death, so you orchestrated an ambush on our team two weeks later. Unfortunately for you, the five of us survived.”
“Everyone except Mr. Garrison.” She nodded sadly. “I truly am sorry for your loss.”
A low growl came from her right as Donovan spoke between a set of clenched teeth. “Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t you dare say his name.”
“I know you think he’s dead because of me, but I am not the one who?—”
A low whistling sound came from somewhere outside. It grew louder and louder with each second that passed.
She and the five men who had been staring her down all turned toward the bedroom window to Kaamisha’s left. Thehorrifying realization of the sound’s source hit each of them at once.
“Get down!”Logan yelled as he and the other former special forces operatives hit the floor of the bedroom face-first.
A wall of muscle slammed into her, causing her and the chair to go tumbling back. At the same time, a loud crash came from the suite’s other room.
Her ears were filled with a deep male grunt as the weight of her back split and splintered the wooden slats beneath her when she hit. Kaamisha braced herself, knowing her head would be next, but rather than bouncing off the unforgiving floor as she’d expected, the back of her head was cushioned by a masculine hand.
Donovan’s hand.
In the process of knocking her to the ground, he’d had the wherewithal to protect her head. A hero’s reflex, she assumed, given that he’d made his feelings toward her perfectly clear.
