Page 8 of Hot Pursuit
“See you around, Agent Parker,” she called over her shoulder as she sped away.
Nate watched her go, drawn like a moth to a flame. Her golden skin was radiant in the afternoon sun, and that auburn hair blazed like the streaks of a fiery comet, flying in the wind. The bright-red bottoms of that barely there bikini goaded him. The sound of her laughter was a soft echo in his ears.
Dangerous.
Dangerous.
Dangerous.
Thesnapof a door caught his attention. Nate blinked and shook his head, tearing his eyes away and turning his attention to his partner, the one slowly crawling up the stairs, clutching his stomach.
“Oh man, that rocking did not help things,” Leo muttered as he stumbled his way to the control panel and collapsed back in his chair.
Nate jerked his head in the direction of the yacht growing larger on the horizon and then tossed the radio in his hand to his partner. “Carter and Ryder are here. Boss is on line one.”
After a juggle or two, Leo secured his grip on the radio and turned the wheel to give them a better view of the approaching vessel. He grumbled not so silently the entire time, but a bad round of food poisoning mixed with some seasickness wasn’t enough to stop Leo. The two of them had been through worse together. Much worse than this.
Nate dropped back into his seat by the table and grabbed the binoculars again, shifting his notepad closer. One quick glance through the lenses told him it would be a few minutes before the yacht was close enough to get a good look at anyone and anything on board.
A sweet, buttery scent wafted into his nose.
He sighed and dropped the binoculars to his lap as his gaze fell on the bag of—What the hell had she called them? Coopas?—resting open on the other side of the table.
His stomach growled.
The muscles in his abdomen clenched.
Nate swallowed and frowned.
No. Stop.
He shook his head and looked away. This wasn’t a bake sale—it was a stakeout. And those were from a wanted criminal—a brazen wanted criminal. Sure, Carter and Ryder had never been violent. They had no reason to attack an FBI agent, had never hurt civilians, and had never been suspected of so much as firing a gun. Their skills were different, more refined, steeped in subterfuge rather than threats. The mobsters they worked with were the ones who relied on terror, on violence. But there was a first time for everything, a first time—
A breeze brushed softly against his cheek, carrying that delectable fragrance to his nose once more, making his mouth water and his empty stomach ache. It had been a few hours since his last meal, and it could easily be a few more hours until his next.
Nate’s defenses lowered as his hunger rose.
One bite couldn’t hurt…he reasoned as he slid his palm over the smooth surface of the table and dipped his fingers into the bag. But he paused, focus darting to the woman in the distance who was now standing at the edge of the dock, watching the horizon. She was bold—that was a given. Curious, maybe. Taunting, definitely. But not threatening. The cookies were nothing more than a way for her to get inside his head, a way to distract him…and apparently, they were working.
That’s it.
Nate defiantly grabbed a cookie, determined to meet her silent dare head-on. He was done going in circles, done with the mind games. And if they really were contaminated, then, well, he deserved what he got for not reading the suspect clearly.
He bit down.
And groaned, closing his eyes.
God damn, this is good.
Not that he’d ever tell her.
Jolene Carter.
Daughter of his target.
Expert hacker.
Criminal herself.
