Page 20 of Covert Mission

Oh, wait. Maybe that’s why my brain is fuzzy and my legs are weak.

Every single piece of clothing I have on is glued to me like a second skin. I even have salt rings on my blue shirt.

“What do you expect, it’s hotter than the underbelly of a car out there? Only slightly better inside thiscabina.”

I fan my face and glare at him. “At least the breeze through the window does help.”

He fishes around in his cargo pocket. When he’s done, there is a small, white packet in his gigantic palm. It’s unlabeled and has two capsule-sized lumps in it.

“Electrolytes.”

I shove my hands behind my back. “Are you trying to poison me?”

“Fucking hell, woman. I’m trying to save your life. I don’t poison people. I shoot them, sometimes I slit their throats. I break their necks. Push them out of planes. Blow them up. You get me?”

“What?”

The only answer I get is him crossing his arms.

I swallow hard.

Holy mother of baby Jesus, he’s intense. Like off the charts.

“No! I don’t get you. Maniac.”

He snaps necks. Slit throats.

I know people like that exist. Operators. Assassins. I just never had one really pissed at me before.

I need to get out of here.

But I don’t feel well and arguing with him is making it worse. I’m shaky all over. My fingers tremble as I snatch the bottle of water from his hand, rip the cap off, and down the thing. “Give me the pills.”

He rips open the packet and drops the capsules into my palm.

Reluctantly, I toss them back. Then I grab the wet towel and bury my face in it.

What is wrong with me? Ugh!

How could I be attracted to a man likehim?

Why did listening to him talk about slitting throats, breaking necks, and shooting people ignite something between my legs?

This is mortifying.

I hate unnecessary violence.

Hate. It.

When I force myself to look at him again, I’m still dizzy with whatever he’s caused to happen to my nervous system.

He’s still watching me.

Those eyes.

Dangerous weapons. They rove all over my face. I want to both lean in and scoot away.

I need to shake the bossy, overprotective mountain of muscle.