Page 47 of The Geek and the Sheikh

“I confirmed that you were right when you said you saw them leaving the station,” Mark continued.

“Do you want a gold star?" she snapped. "—Oh, never mind. This is a waste of my time. Tell Bronislav that I’ll handle this on my own.”

Pissing off someone who made their living killing other people was never a smart thing to do, but how much stupidity could she be expected to withstand? She angrily rose from her seat. Paris was an immense city, but Junebug and Jameel wouldn’t stay in it. They would be working their way back to Jawahir. At some point, they would reconnect with their guards. If the tracking device was still in the British guy’s pocket, she could just wait until it led her back to them again.

In the meantime, what she needed to do was pull up the knowledge she had on both of them and map out the most likely scenario. It wasn’t much different from writing a software program. They either did one or zero, yes or no, this way or that way.

A firm, warm hand wrapped around her upper arm. She frowned down at it before slowly raising her eyes to meet with Mark’s. She wasn't really surprised by the intensity in the dark brown depths of his eyes. Killers were not usually known for their tranquility.

“Where are you going?”

She glared back at him, reminding herself that she was the only prayer Bronislav had and he knew it—even if his temper did lead him to make mistakes that involved a lot of death... mistakes which might very well lead to her own death. “To do my job. I'll contact you when you're needed.”

Mark smiled… if she could call the slight sneer that curved his lips a smile. A shiver of unease ran down her spine when he didn’t release her arm. In fact, it felt suspiciously like he was rubbing his thumb along the material of her sweater.

“I’ve got eyes on them. They are holed up at a hotel near the police station. When they move, we’ll be ready,” Mark said.

“Well, thatisuseful. You should have led with that.”

“I thought we could… discuss our next plan of attack,” he remarked, stepping closer until she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

Allison's eyes widened and then narrowed. The bloody bastard was looking for some action! That knowledge opened a floodgate of scenarios. If she could ignore his loathsome personality and history... hewasactually attractive. He had way more muscles than anyone she had been with. His face was rugged, masculine, and he had a few intriguing scars. His hands were large and calloused. Her face heated at the thought of that rough texture against her most sensitive skin.

It never would have occurred to her if he hadn't initiated this, but she absolutely could use this to her advantage. With Mark wrapped around her finger, her odds of survival just went up—and she would get to indulge in a few of her darker fantasies. Allison felt an electric charge of raw, primitive, feminine power.

She closed the distance between them. Sliding her hand into his unzipped jacket to caress his abs, she decided that keeping her enemies close was abrillianttactical move. She slid her hand lower and smiled when he swelled against her palm. Butterflies erupted in her stomach and heat seared through her at the thought of what would come next.

She tilted her head with a mischievous and coquettish expression and asked, “Do you have somewhere in mind?”

Thirteen

Warmth engulfed Jameel in his vivid dream. There was only one reason he would ever want to wake up from such an incredible dream and that was to experience it in real life. He stretched out a hand. His sleep-fogged mind was trying to piece together the disconnect between the vacant space next to him in real life and the woman he had been holding in his dream. That rift sent a shockwave through him, and he shot into a sitting position.

“Junebug.”

He would have winced at the edge of panic in his voice if his mind wasn't locked in the terror of her being gone. His heart hammered against his chest as his gaze flashed around the narrow confines of the room—and there she was, silhouetted by the glow of the computer screen. He fell back against the pillows.

She was so absorbed in what she was reading that she didn’t look up. He took the time to study her. Her hair fell like a wavy curtain around her body. She was wearing his shirt and had her legs bent with the shirt pulled down over them until all that peeked out was her dainty toes.

He pulled the comforter off the bed, walked over to her, and spread it over her shoulders like a backwards cape. She blinked up at him as if confused before she gave him a brilliant smile. His body immediately responded to the curve of those delicious lips, thinking of what she had done with them… and where.

“You’re happy to see me,” she teased.

“What are you doing awake? It is—”

He groaned when the digital clock ticked over to 3:01. He pulled the other chair over to the small table, sat down, and pulled the cover over his lap. He grimaced when she snickered. Despite the chill in the room, his manhood was standing tall, proud, and ready. Not even the cover could hide his obvious arousal.

“What has you so fascinated—on thescreen,not in my lap?” he asked in a gruff tone.

She grinned, halfway turning to him, but her eyes stayed on the screen and she absently nibbled on the end of her index finger. He tilted his head, reading the file she had pulled up. He frowned and sat forward.

“Is that an Interpol server?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I was searching for information on Allison’s goons along with a few other things. Allison’s friends are the same ol', same ol' standard mercs. Nothing special about them except where one of them used to work.”

“What is Operation Rebirth?” he asked, nodding toward the emblem she had up on the screen.

“I don’t know… yet. It’s strange that there is a connection between this guy and this hush-hush operation—particularlythishush-hush operation. It’s tied to a company called CRI. I hacked into their system. It took a while, but I found a file called Operation Rebirth. When I try to access it, all I get is a 404-error message. Either the file no longer exists or the link to it is corrupted. I’ll have to try again later. In the meantime, I decided to see if the FBI or CIA had anything on it and found this.” Junebug brought up a picture of the man they had seen at the train station. “Mark Hammer. Before he turned to mercenary work, he worked for CRI. He worked there for about a year before he left and was hired by the CIA. He didn’t last long, though. About six weeks after he was hired, a CRI agent named Avery Lennox contacted his department head and notified them he had been let go for attempted corporate espionage. I guess he forgot to put that on his resume.”

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