She gave a sharp nod. “And another source.”
“Morgan’s not going to like that.”
Her eyes flattened. “Morgan is never going to know about it.”
True. At least, she wouldn’t hear about it from him. “Was Nikolai Drugov involved in artifact trafficking too?”
“I haven’t had a chance to delve deeply there. Connecting the dots takes time.”
When Savvy started playing dot-to-dot, she drew murals. Cal, he connected the same points and came up with a hangman every time.
“I need you, Cal. These men aren’t exactly feminists. An American woman dealing in artifacts and precious metals will be noticed in a way that a cowed sex slave would not.”
He snorted. “I doubt you can play cowed convincingly.”
She shook her head, her disappointment evident as she tsked. “Typical chauvinistic military asshole bullshit.”
“Typical spook.” She had no respect for military personnel who got the job done. He stood. “Find someone else to play master. I only work with trained soldiers.”
She tsked again. “Taking your toys and going home at one slight? I expected better from you. I’m slighted constantly—by you and everyone on this damn base—but I don’t whine about it. And for the record, I’ve had as much training as you. Plus, I’m trained to work alone.”
She stood and leaned on her desk. “I’m versed in special weapons and tactics. I can fight and kill unarmed. But unlike you, I’m expected to fuck to protect my cover. And if I don’t, and my cover is blown, our government will disavow me.” Her eyes hardened. “So yeah, I can act. My very life depends on my acting ability. It doesn’t matter if I can’t run ten miles carrying rocks like Special Forces, when my fate can turn on a badly delivered lie.”
She circled her desk to stand before him. “I can do everything you can do, Sergeant. Backward, while wearing high heels. So you can take your chauvinistic attitude and shove it up your ass.”
Standing before him was the fierce woman who hid behind a cold façade. There was far more to Savannah James than he’d imagined. And he could—and had—imagined a lot.
The woman was sexy as hell and pushed all the right buttons. She was danger and desire in one scary, beautiful package. “When we’re in public, you’ll be meek and subservient?” he asked.
“I never break character.”
“And when we’re alone?”
She ran a fingertip down his chest. Her eyes turned liquid with desire. And damn if his heart didn’t react to that.
“If I think we’re being monitored, I will stay in character.” She traced his neck upward from Adam’s apple to chin to bottom lip, her nail finding the skin under his short beard. “I will do whatever is necessary to get the job done.” She leaned close, bringing her mouth a breath away from his. Her scent was soft, sultry. Sexy. “My job is everything. My reason for living. And I protect it at all costs.”
Only now, when they stood so close, did he see the true emotion in her eyes, the lie of this husky-voiced seducer. She was showing him one facet of her acting, making him wonder if the surreptitious looks he’d received from her during their months in Djibouti had also been an act.
He’d egotistically believed Savannah James was attracted to him, and now he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been playing him all along. Setting him up.
But why? It couldn’t be for this. No way could Savvy have foreseen the path that took them here.
Except she was a spook, and the way she connected intel was freaky. And in the case of Drugov, she’d been on the money. Savvy was the unsung hero of that op. She’d identified Drugov as worth watching. She’d convinced SOCOM to send one of Cal’s teammates to Morocco to help trap the man. No one would ever give her credit, but her work had stopped a genocide.
And she did it all without leaving Camp Citron.
“So, Cal. Are you…”—she let out a soft, throaty laugh—“in?” Her sex-kitten voice combined with her scent would haunt him when he tried to sleep tonight. Her finger traced a straight line down his chest, over his heart, heading south, stopping just short of his belt.
He could so easily picture her popping open his combat uniform buttons on the trip down. His erection caused his pants to bulge.
She was acting. He, clearly, was not.
In one fast motion, he lifted her and set her on her desk, planting himself between her spread knees. He slid a hand behind her neck. Her breath warmed his lips as he rocked into the cradle of her thighs.
His erection brushed against her, and her breath hitched, telling him what he wanted to know. The sound, the flash of heat in her eyes, those were real. If anything, she wouldn’t want him to know she was aroused. She’d have masked it, if she could.
But the queen of control hadn’t been able to hide that reaction.
Satisfied, he released her and stepped back. They were equally exposed. Vulnerable. Heated up.
A level playing field for a game in which she would almost certainly always have the upper hand. She was the spook. He was a simple soldier.
Like her, his life was the job, the job his life. And also like her, screwups meant death—for him or his brothers-in-arms.
“I’m in.” And he was, no hesitation. But then, he’d always been in, and it had nothing to do with Savvy’s sexy plea. His XO had made it clear he couldn’t turn this assignment down, not without pissing off his command. SOCOM wanted a mole in Savannah James’s operation. They wanted to know what the hell she was up to and why she operated unfettered by superiors in the CIA.
When Savvy asked for Cal’s help, she’d unwittingly elected him for the job. She was a spy for the CIA. He was a spy for the US Army Special Operations Command.
Want to read more?
Read the full Evidence: Under Fire series, starting with the prequel to the first book, which is FREE.
BEFORE THE STORM: One Hot Night (Evidence: Under Fire 0.5)
