Page 43 of Her Mercenary

“No. You just watch them being hurt.”

A spark of anger flew through me. “I don’t hurt women, Samantha. And you don’t know a goddamn thing about me or why I do what I do.” I unzipped the pack and wrestled out a T-shirt and a pair of lightweight all-weather pants. “Here.”

The clothes were snatched from my hand like a starving child would a loaf of bread.

“Turn around,” she demanded.

I turned my face away but remained crouched in front of her. I listened to the rustle of fabric as she slipped into the clothes and resettled on the cave floor. Then a long, deep, exhale.

I turned back to the pack, but not before sneaking a glance at her.

My suit jacket had been folded neatly and placed on a nearby rock. The gray T-shirt swallowed her small frame, the thin fabric draping over a pair of erect nipples and perky round breasts. The pants were many sizes too large, but she’d found the drawstring around the waist and had cinched them tight. The cuffs she’d rolled above her small, delicate ankles. Chipped pink nail polish speckled her dirty toenails.

Our eyes met. Something crackled between us.

I tore my gaze away and began inventorying the bag I’d originally packed for one, mentally counting how many days of survival it now allowed for two.

Samantha watched me closely, unmoving, her back against the wall, a sharp rock now clutched in a death grip in her fist.

“Why?” she asked suddenly. “Why me?”

“What do you mean, why you?”

“Why me? Why save me?”

“I didn’t think I needed your approval to be removed from a gang rape.”

“I’m not the only one being gang-raped in that house.”

“You’re the only one I was tasked to save.”

“What?”

I pulled a canteen of water from the pack and shoved it at her. “Drink.”

“What do you mean, you were tasked to save only me?”

I shook the canteen. “Drink.”

She took it and threw it against the wall. Surprised, I cocked a brow.

Samantha folded her arms over her chest. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve got one hell of an attitude on you, considering your position less than an hour ago.”

“That’s why I have one hell of an attitude on me, you fucking idiot.”

Touché.

“Roman, tell me—”

“The United States government hired me to save you.”

Save—that word again. Fuck.

“The government?” Her eyes popped in disbelief. “Why? I’m just a schoolteacher—there are American children there that need to be saved!” Her voice tightened with emotion. “Why the hell me? The children need to be saved—why me?”

“Because you have information that could take down the entire network, thereby saving not only the children but hundreds of other slaves.”