Page 22 of Fighting for Scarlett

She’d blanked out while he was stitching up her gunshot wound—medical treatment wouldn’t be high on the priority list once she was taken into custody, and he didn't want the wound getting infected—which could have indicated she was reliving her trauma. Or she could have been figuring out a plan on how she was going to handle the fallout of her decisions.

When she had learned Raul Castillo was not in custody, she had seemed relieved. But was it because she thought she was safe now or because no one was around to contradict whatever story she was going to weave?

She was obviously confused by his anger toward her, although she was yet to confront him on it, but even that wasn’t proof of her innocence. Scarlett had no idea the email had been found, she probably thought she had wiped her trail clean.

Even the fact she had immediately curled into him the second she fell asleep could show that she had nothing to hide, or she could be attempting to play him, hoping she could manipulate him into being on her side.

Not going to work, little traitor.

What was working was her making him doubt himself and his abilities. Tate had never had this problem before, doubted the intel, or doubted a target he was sent in to retrieve or neutralize.

But Scarlett made him doubt everything.

To the point where he was considering if it was time for him to get out of the game. Maybe he’d been in too long and was starting to lose what had made him a good SEAL.

Because every atom in his body screamed at him that Scarlett was innocent.

Only she wasn’t.

What good was he going to be as a SEAL if he could no longer trust his instincts?

Instincts kept you alive, kept your team alive, and brought you home safe after completing a successful mission.

Without them he was useless.

One night of sex with this woman and everything he had always believed he was good at had been thrown out the window.

Frustration at himself only stoked the fires of his anger at Scarlett. And then again at himself because he had done absolutely nothing to move her when she had snuggled into his side, draping herself across his chest just as she’d done that night.

He hadn't pushed her away then and he didn't now.

Stupid.

Did he need to be beaten over the head with it?

Scarlett Madden had sold out her team, employer, and country. She’d been lying to him from the beginning, and he had no doubts that her attempts to reach out were because she thought it would be helpful to have a SEAL on her side.

I'm not on your side, little traitor. Not ever.

It was time to wake Scarlett if they wanted to get to the exfil point. Actually, he should have woken her fifteen minutes ago, but for some reason, he’d been unable to disturb her sleep when she so obviously needed the rest.

Now they were out of time, Scarlett could sleep on the plane. She would if she knew what was good for her because once she got back Stateside and was taken into custody she wouldn’t be getting much rest.

“Wake up, Scarlett,” he ordered as he shook her a little rougher than was necessary.

“Tate?” she mumbled as she blinked sleepily and stretched.

Damn. Why did she have to look so good in his clothes? Why did she have to look so good, period? Even exhausted with dark smudges under her eyes, dirty with tangled hair, and cuts and bruises littering her body, she looked gorgeous.

Too gorgeous.

Was she used to using her body to get what she wanted?

He had a feeling she’d grown up every bit as lonely as he had, but what was she prepared to do to gain a little companionship?

“Time to leave,” he snapped, annoyed that no matter how many times he reminded himself that this woman was the enemy, that she had betrayed him and their country, his body couldn’t seem to get the memo.

Too many months spent lusting after her.

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