Page 53 of Silent Comrade
Realization hit her like a bucket of icewater. This guy was putting the moves on her to—wait for it—control her evenmore. No. Britt was in charge of Britt. This was her night. She haddecided. No overprotective guard dog, no matter how tempting, woulddistract her.
However. He had a mission to carry out. Shehad only begun her evening. Let no one ever accuse Britt of missingany opportunity to kill two birds with one proverbial stone.
“I’ve still got some stress to burn off.”She ducked under his arm. Breathlessly, she spun a quarter-turntoward him and asked, “Want to dance?”
A grimace creased his face as he dropped hisarm, stood up straight, and faced her head-on. “Not my scene. Don’tdance.”
“You should try.”
His neck flexed as his Adam’s apple rose andfell. “You should take my advice and let’s get you back home.”Let’s get you back home. Like it was a mission task tocomplete. Because it was a mission task.
“I’m not done here.”
“I say you are,” he growled, voice bothcaressing and abrading her.
“Sorry, but these are my choices to make.You didn’t have to come out here. You can’t create a scene becauseit’s a public place and you’re undercover.”
“Now you’re being unreasonable.” He wincedagain at a super deep bass throb.
She threw her shoulders back and drewherself up to full height, which, even with her heeled anklebooties only put her at chest height with the guy. “Look. If youwant to keep closer tabs on me, you know where I’ll be,” she said,thumbing behind her toward the teeming dance floor.
Before he could respond, she ducked behind anearby group of laughing, dancing women and then zig-zagged backthrough the crowd until she found Tachi.
“Everything okay?” Tachi asked, smiling astwo admirers shimmied and gyrated close enough to rub up againsther.
“You bet it is.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Red was in big trouble.
The earplugs had rendered him nearlydefenseless, so he’d ripped those out and shoved them back in thejacket pocket. The noise in this place hurt like hell. Overloadedelectronic beats hammered nasty, sour spikes of music into hishead. He couldn’t take much more of the squealing and shoutingpatrons, the sound creating a muffled background to the relentlesssound drilling through the speakers. The virus flared, hating thesensory loss. It hated the limitless threats contrasted with hisinability to identify true danger.
Britt’s outfit didn’t help Red’sconcentration. His Energizer pixie had transformed into a sexydancer. Her short crunchy skirt showed off lean thighs that madehis fingers tingle, so badly did he want to skim his way up herlegs to her hips. He swallowed.
Her edginess with the ankle boots was offsetby the slight curves hugged by her tight halter top. An expanse ofexposed luminous skin on her back tempted him like nothing he’dseen before. The tie at the back of her neck enticed him to undothat scrap of fabric and peel the garment off, licking his way overthe breasts beneath. Her nipples had turned into sexy, hard nubswhen he had touched her shoulder.
He shifted his stance. That move didn’trelieve the pressure like he’d hoped.
Damn it. Focus on the mission. Focus onthreat avoidance.
Focus on anything except the silky skin thathe’d only gotten a sample of. He couldn’t give into this … whateverwas brewing between him. God help him, he needed more of Britt.
The mission.
What mission? It was a joke of an assignmentand a joke of an operator assigned to it. This woman confounded anystandard protocol. His gut churned as he catalogued the variousweapons stashed on his person.
This whole evening’s security duty wasFUBAR. Sure, Rodeo hung out nearby, fending off willing partnerswhile remaining ready to jump into protection duties. Thislocation, this situation. Pure disaster. Unsecurable. The onlything that had kept her safe up until now wasn’t Red. It wasstraight-up dumb luck. That luck could run out any minute.
Red should have put his foot down and keptBritt from going out. A red clay-thick pounding pulse at his templefiltered through the techno music. He sucked in air and exhaled,logging ingress and egress points, and potential liabilities.
Everything in this place was a liability.Every. Damned. Thing. Red couldn’t force anyone to do anything, notwithout committing a crime. Morpheus Squad didn’t exist—not on paper. So he didn’t exist. His job wasn’tofficial.
Somehow, with Britt, things had gottenpersonal. Her relentless energy and independence and completeunwillingness to listen to him, had dug under his skin. A blendedwave of irritation and sexual frustration knocked him back a step.What could he do?
Fair’s fair. The best offense would be tokeep the target off-balance. God, Red needed to make her feel asunsteady and unsure as he felt when he was around her.Unfortunately, this entire job and his own fucked-up baggage barredhim from reaching out for what he truly wanted.
What he wanted was currently shaking hertoned butt as a J. Crew wannabe spokesmodel sidled up behind her.Light glinted off the fellow’s stiff, gelled hair. Red could hearthe guy’s salty lowmmm-hmmmof appreciation as he checkedher out.
