Page 3 of Going Rogue
When she reached for his gun, he grabbed her arm. “Nice try, squir—” At her wince, he loosened his grip. It might be 100-plus degrees, but that heat had nothing to do with the blood boiling in his veins as he stared down at the raw skin of her wrists.
Something dark stirred in his gut. A scorpion roused from its slumber under the sand.
“Sorry.” His thumb barely brushed the rope burns, and he had the strangest urge to kiss each hurt.
At the same time, Crane wanted to pop each and every one of these fuckers for the burns alone. Cold-blooded instinct pulled his eyes to the split on her lip, and his jaw tightened. They werealldead men walking.
“It’s fine.” She tugged her arm away, and he released her. “Plan B?”
At her arched brow, he let it go. Not because she’d brushed it off but because he couldn’t think about what else Rogue mighthave gone through if he wanted to keep a clear enough head to get them both out of here alive. “Hide.”
“Hide? That’s your Plan B?” She growled the question at him, baring her teeth, and he admired the way her eyes fired with incredulity. “This isn’t a fucking game! I’m not waiting around for them to seek us out.”
Granted, she was right. He didn’t like the idea of waiting to be found either, but it would be dark in a couple of hours. They could use the darkness to their advantage. “Just ‘til the sun goes down. Then we egress.”
He watched her work through their situation in her head. Her nose scrunched, highlighting the dusting of freckles across its bridge. The expression looked cute on her, and Crane fought back another smile. He couldn’t seem to stop now that he’d freed her. They might be far from safe, but he had every confidence they’d make it out of this shithole country in one piece.
She blinked, her rum-colored eyes glinting. “Fine. I know the perfect place.”
CHAPTER 2
Rogue
It stank to high heaven in here. Rogue hoped the ferocity of the smell would keep the militants away while she and Crane hid.
“Holy fuck. I’m going to lose my lunch.” Gagging noises emitted from his throat as he shuffled into the cargo trailer behind her.
She couldn’t tell if the heaving was real or feigned, but she understood the sentiment. “Go ahead. It’ll improve the smell.” The statement oozed sarcasm, and she rolled her eyes.
They’d crept around several piles of bagged fertilizer to enter the container. The smelly stuff had probably been transported inside it, but the militants had been smartenough not to leave something so potentially toxic baking inside a metal box. Even with the ventilation fan installed, this thing would heat up fast under the desert sun.
Over a hundred 40-pound bags had to be stacked around the trailer she and Crane had crept into. The militants weren’t using it to plant an herb garden in the desert. Fertilizer contained ammonium nitrate. Add a little fuel, some flame, and it became highly combustible.
Heading toward the back of the trailer, she used the flashlight she’d borrowed from Crane to navigate. No moonlight filtered in through the ventilation fan, and the inside of the container became nearly pitch-black as soon as they’d closed the door.
A sweep with her light confirmed what she’d discovered earlier. The rectangular trailer that companies used to transport goods on eighteen-wheelers or cargo ships remained empty. These boxes littered the militants’ compound, but this one had been placed as far from the main buildings as possible.
Likely because of the stench.
Fertilizer smelled fragrant regardless, but cooking it under the desert’s scorching heat . . . Yeah, a stuffy nose would’ve been welcome right about now. She checked the vent and ensured the fan was running. While poisoning the militants sounded like a good idea, she didn’t want to subject herself and Crane to that fate.
“My eyes are fuckin’ watering.” Crane slung the assault rifle he’d nabbed from a militant he neutralized onto his back and pressed his fingers into his sockets.
“Are you still whining?” Rogue shook her head and pulled him further away from the nasty stuff sitting outside. “You’re the one who wanted to hide.” He’d blown her original escape plan to smithereens, so she didn’t see another route out of there.
Despite the change in her plan, a part of her preferred this—not being alone—though she wouldn’t admit it tohim.
Since they were going to be in the container for a while, she placed the flashlight on the ground, standing up, with its beam shining between them.
Crane dropped his hands and shot her alook that screamed disbelief. “And this is the best option?”
Cozying up next to so much explosive material might be a risky choice, but they only needed a couple of hours. “Yes.” She couldn’t help the evil grin teasing at her lips. Crossing her arms, she arched a brow. “You think any of them want to come out here, either?”
The tight lines around his mouth twitched until a chuckle broke free. “How’d you know this was here?”
“Found it when we were searching for the target.” She shrugged and tried not to think about the shitshow of an op that landed them in this situation. Experience had taught her to trust her gut, and it had been rebelling before they started this mission. Something had been off . . . she just hadn’t known what.
Shaking away the feeling she’d ignored, Rogue met Crane’s gaze and explained, “I thought this might be a holding cell because of its remote location.” Her voice strangled with emotion before she added, “I was wrong.”
