Page 17 of Hot & Heavy

Not surprisingly, Yasmine continued to prattle on. "Why are you talking to yourself?" She stepped closer, but not too close, to see what he was about. "I knew a man once who talked to himself… Dar the Dumb. He was demented. Are you demented? Huh? Huh?"

"So what's with the pussycat?" Pretty Boy inquired.

"That's debatable… whether she's a pussy… cat, or not." Ian chuckled.

"Oooh, I am getting closer and closer to killing you," she said.

"Get this," he told Pretty Boy. "She just might be the Big Rat's cheese. And she speaks Arabic."

"Oh, my God! You hit paydirt?"

"In spades."

"Is she as beautiful as the intel said?"

He looked over at the glaring woman, who seemed to think he was talking to himself. She must have been totally cloistered all her life not to recognize a headset… or kept in some harem, like she claimed.

But no, no way was this chick ever selected for a harem. She was tall, probably five-ten. Her long, dirty hair, which stuck out every which way, was a nondescript color because it was so stringy and greasy…

probably a mousey brown. Her eyes were pretty, though, sort of an icy blue. And her mouth… holy shit!

… why hadn't he noticed her mouth before? Angelina Jolie had nothing on her in that department. But even with that mouth, she was not a babe by any means. He laughed and answered Pretty Boy, "Beautiful is not the word I would use."

"Are you talking to yourself about me?" she demanded to know. "If you are, stop it."

He just waggled his eyebrows at the shrew.

"I could put a gag on you," she warned.

"Sonofabitch!" Pretty Boy said. "Did I just hear her say she was gonna put a gag on you? How could she do that?"

"Because she knocked me out with a rock and tied me up… ankles and hands."

Pretty Boy must have heard the amusement in his voice because he laughed.

Ian still had the K-Bar in his boot and could slit his ties at any minute. He preferred to wait for the right time.

"You're going to get laid tonight, aren't you?" Pretty Boy accused him. "That's not fair."

" I don't think sex is on this puss's agenda."

"You can be certain of that," Yasmine said hotly. "And remember what I said about my talent." She waved her fingers toward his crotch.

"Wait till I tell the other guys about this," Pretty Boy said. "You're the only one on this squad who isn't horny enough to bang any babe in sight… well, almost the only one… and of course you're the one who gets the prize."

"Listen, she's no prize. In fact, she says she's been kicked out of nine harems because—"

" Harems?" Pretty Boy sputtered.

"—because she claims to have a talent for turning hard-ons into wet noodles."

"Hasn't anyone told her it's supposed to be the other way around?" Pretty Boy chuckled and said something to one of the guys who must have come up beside him. "You won't believe…" was all Ian heard.

He glanced over at Yasmine, who was crouching down and fiddling with his backpack, unable so far to undo the clasps. There were things in there he did not want her to see. "Gotta go," he said hurriedly. "Tell Garfield and Sylvester who I have and ask for further orders. She says she was being held against her wishes. Maybe she can be offered asylum in return for some information. On the other hand, she might be lying through her teeth."

"Got it. Over and out."

"So, sweetheart," he drawled out then, causing her to stand quickly and look down at him suspiciously,