Carol Ericson - Bulletproof Seal

She snorted. “And of course you would’ve had to reveal that you’d carried on a fling with a CIA operative while we were both on assignment in the Middle East.”

“If I had doubted the evidence against you in any way, not only would I have owned up to our...affair, but I would’ve tried to convince them to call off the hit.”

“Instead you charged right in like the good little soldier you are, all honor and duty.” Her dark gaze flickered to the half-empty pizza box and the two bottles of beer on their sides at the base of the coffee table.

“All I needed to see was one shred of proof contradicting the CIA’s story—and you gave it to me when you charged that soldier. That’s why I shot the other one. I was trying to give you a chance.”

“Are you sure you didn’t kill him because you were afraid I’d already passed along secrets to him?”

“They were low-level grunts marching you along the DMZ. I didn’t figure that was the time and place you were going to spill intel. Besides—” Quinn kicked the pizza box out of the way and braced his foot on the edge of the coffee table “—if I’d wanted to take everyone out, including you, I would’ve started with you first and then dealt with the two soldiers.”

She flipped back her dark hair with a shrug of her shoulder. “Maybe.”

“I had you in my crosshairs, Rikki. Had you there for a while. I could’ve dropped you at any time. I couldn’t do it.”

The corner of her eye twitched. “What does the CIA think? I know my name’s not cleared, so whatever you told them, it didn’t have much of an impact. Unless you told them nothing and took credit for eliminating a CIA spy.”

He scratched his unshaven jaw. How did she know her name hadn’t been cleared? How did she get out of North Korea? “I told the CIA and my commanding officers in the navy exactly what happened. Told them their intel must’ve been wrong, that the North Koreans had you as a captive.”

“They didn’t believe you?”

“They didn’t care. I also told them the North Korean soldier had shot you dead. Case closed.”

“Except it’s not closed, is it? Here I am.”

At least the gun had slipped a little from her grip. Even in his current muddled state, he probably could disarm her. Then again, nobody ever benefited from mistaking Rikki Taylor for an easy target.

“How’d you get out of North Korea? How’d you get here? Where have you been the past—” he counted on his fingers “—sixteen months? And can you get that gun out of my face?”

“If I do, will you take me down? Call the CIA and turn me in?”

He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do I look like I’m in any condition to do that?”

She cocked her head. “You do look pretty bad, but I’m not stupid enough to underestimate a navy SEAL sniper—even one I shared a bed with. Or maybe that should be especially one I shared my bed with.”

“Ouch.” He held his hands in front of him, wrists pinned together. “You can tie me up or cuff me if you want.”

A light sparked in her eyes, and her nostrils flared, the heat between them still palpable.

Desire and need surged through his body, making him hard.

“Drop your pants.” She waved the gun.

He swallowed. He’d been kidding, but he should’ve known better than to kid with Rikki—not in her current frame of mind. “You’re serious?”

“Damn right. I can’t check you for weapons, but at least if you’re naked I can make sure you’re unarmed.”

“Rikki...”

“The last time we were together, if you want to call it that, you had me in the crosshairs of your sniper rifle ready to take me out.” She steadied her Glock. “What’s changed since then except I had the good fortune to escape from the labor camp?”

A knot twisted in his gut. He knew those North Korean labor camps, and the thought of Rikki confined to one of them made him sick.

“Drop ’em.”

“Okay, okay.” He pushed himself to his feet, feeling completely sober. He unbuttoned the fly on his shorts and yanked them down. The flip-flops he’d been wearing earlier were wedged beneath the coffee table, so the shorts dropped to his bare feet.

“Kick them off and stand away from the sofa where I can see you.”

He rolled his eyes but complied, stepping out of his shorts and kicking them across the room. He could get into a tussle with her right now, but she did have the upper hand.

He stepped away from the sofa and the table and held his arms out to the side. “Nothing on me.”

Except the raging erection she could clearly see bulging in his black briefs.

Rikki’s gaze dropped from his face to his crotch, and her cheeks flushed. “Now the T-shirt.”

Patting his chest, he said, “Do you really believe I have a holster on underneath this shirt? A knife strapped to my back?”

“I’m not taking any chances. Off.”

He grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and peeled it off his body. He dropped it to the floor. “Happy?”

“Turn around.”

Turning around for her inspection only made him harder. Maybe that would be enough to prove to Rikki that he was on her side—would always be on her side.

When he faced her again, he shoved his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs. “You want the rest off?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She reached behind her back and pulled out a pair of open handcuffs, dangling them from her fingers.

Quinn’s mouth dropped open. “No way.”

“I know you. I know who you are and what you’re capable of. I’ve come this far, and I’m not taking any chances.” She jingled the cuffs. “If you want any more information out of me, hold out your arm—your right arm.”

He stretched his arm in front of him. Two more inches and he could touch her soft cheek, tell her everything he’d thought about this past year.

She snapped the cuff around his wrist and yanked on it, the metal cutting into his flesh. “Over here, by the radiator.”

He would’ve preferred the bedroom, but he followed in her wake as she pulled him toward the window.

“Sit down and link the other cuff around this pipe.”

He slid to the floor and hooked himself up to the pipe on the radiator. He crouched on his haunches.

Rikki let out a long sigh and placed her weapon on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. She dragged a stool from the kitchen and straddled it. “That’s better.”

“Rikki, I’d never hurt you.”

“You were singing a different tune sixteen months ago.”

“I explained all that to you. Now that I’m—” he rattled his cuffs against the pipe “—contained, are you going to tell me what happened? What were you doing in North Korea?”

“You mind if I have a beer? Scratch the request. What are you going to do about it?” She hopped off the stool, and he watched the sway of her hips in those tight jeans as she walked around the counter into the kitchen.

Before Rikki sat back down, she tipped the neck of the beer bottle at him. “You keep drinking like you were tonight, and you’re gonna trade one six-pack for another...and wind up just like your old man.”

He clenched his stomach muscles. She’d been checking him out despite all the tough talk. “North Korea?”

“My partner, David Dawson, got intel that Vlad was meeting with the North Koreans.”

Quinn raised his eyebrows. “Vlad?”

“I knew that would get your attention.” She took a sip of beer. “David had a way into the country across the DMZ and tagged me to go with him.”

“Under the radar of the CIA. They didn’t know why you were there.”

“David didn’t trust anyone, and it turns out he was right.” Rikki sniffled and wiped the hand holding the beer bottle across her nose.