Page 9 of Edge of Danger

“I’m a one-man show.”

“No way. Nobody’s dumb enough to come to this place without back-up.”

“Where’s your back-up, then?” he challenged.

She huffed. “I don’t need back-up to give kids vitamins and vaccines.”

“Your employer sent you to the most dangerous corner of the globe with that crappy a cover? Are theytryingto kill you?”

Frankly, she’d said pretty much the same thing to her boss before she left on this assignment. But the intel she was chasing down had been hot, and time had been short.

She’d been tracking an American separatist group calling itself the Patrick Henry Patriots—PHP, for short—for longer than she cared to think about. Over a year, now.

When one of their members had popped up on a government computer as having bought a ticket to Khartoum, Sudan, it hadset off alarm bells galore in various government agencies. Seeing as she was the only full-time operative tracking PHP who would recognize most or all of its members on sight, she was by far the most qualified person to be over here finding out what a bunch of bubbas from Idaho were doing in a place like this. Of course, not only did she knew all of the group’s members on sight, but she also knew their MO’s.

Which was why she was confused as hell by this junket into North Africa’s hottest hotbed of terrorist activity. The Patrick Henry Patriots were all about American patriotism. They despised foreigners of all stripes and believed the white, American male—armed with a shotgun, pick-up truck, and a case of beer—was the rightful ruler of the entire planet.

Ian startled her out of her musings by declaring forcefully, “Your boss is an asshole for sending you here. Quit this job and go home. Now.”

She shrugged. “I like the job.”

“Why?” He looked like the question had fallen out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Giving poor kids from a rotten place a better shot at surviving is good work. Satisfying.”

He shot her a skeptical look over her insistence on sticking with her lame cover, so she switched subjects. “Why are you here, Ian McCloud?”

“Mom and apple pie?”

It was her turn to snort. The PHP guys really felt that way. But this man was in another class of warrior altogether. He was the real deal. “Try again,” she retorted.

“I like to kill shit and blow stuff up,” he threw out.

That sounded more accurate. “Be that as it may, why are youhere? It looked to me like you’re acting purely as an observer. What are your marching orders? No wait, let me guess. Don’t interfere. Just watch. Don’t let anyone know you’re here.”

He didn’t bother to deny the truth of her guess and merely challenged, “What areyourorders?”

It was her turn to shrug. “Vaccinate as many kids as I can…and don’t die.”And find out who the PHP guys are here to meet and why.

Thinking back to where his rooftop observation post had been, she probed a little more. “Are you here to watch El Noor? You were pointed at the edge of his sector—why is the U.S. government interested in a small-time, local warlord like him?”

“Local today. International tomorrow.”

So. Military intelligence thought El Noor was looking to expand his operations, huh? Interesting. But not germane to her investigation of a bunch of American separatist nutballs. “Good luck with that, G.I. Joe.”

He grunted. “Good luck to you, too. You’re gonna need it, honey.”

She lunged across the low table and grabbed him by the throat with both hands before he even blinked. Fruit and plates went flying, clattering onto the tile floor. “Important safety tip, Tonto. Don’t call me honey.”

McCloud surged to his feet, meeting her threatening move with one of his own. His hands, bladed like knives, struck the insides of her wrists sharply enough to send her hands flying away from his neck. He grabbed fistfuls of her shirt and hauled her up against his big body, glaring down at her from a range of about twelve inches, one-hundred-percent a killer. And pissed.

Piper froze, appalled that she’d just assaulted a trained killer. It had been pure reflex. Her father always had called her honey, and just hearing the word made her react violently.

Very carefully, she used her palms to pet his chest soothingly.Nice tiger. Good kitty.

The warm bulge of his pecs registered under her fingertips and her breath hitched at the raw masculine appeal of the man.She lifted her hands away carefully and stepped back, breathing altogether too quickly for her peace of mind.

“Why didn’t you break my wrists for that?” she asked in a small voice.

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