Page 10 of Dangerous Mission

When I look up, she’s watching us. Standing in the rain, shivering.

The touch of her gaze is visceral. Heat tightens my skin below my wet clothing, which stokes my anger.

As I approach, she looks away. Which is a damned good thing. She should be nervous around me.

I snap at her. “Keep your boyfriend on lock. I’ve got enough to deal with.”

She stands back as I open the rear door and push Griff into the seat, praying he doesn’t throw up inside. The last thing I need is to be fighting my gag reflex all the way back to the ranch.

“Do me a favor, open the door if you’re going to hurl, got it?”

He grumbles, but there’s no fight in him. Another indication of the fact the man is practically dead on his feet.

Jesus that says a lot. Deltas are hard to take down. Just don’t ask me to admit that to one of them….

When I close him inside, I head for the back of the truck, leaving her. If she’s not smart enough to get out of the rain, that’s not my fault.

She’s Griff’s problem.

Not mine.

Definitelynot mine.

So why does it bother me so bad that she’s freezing, drenched, and rattled all to hell?

I fling up the door to the cap on the back of the truck and drop the tailgate. At least both still work. But inside, is a different story. Tools and gear are everywhere, tossed around like kid’s toys thrown down on a playground.

God. Another pain in the ass.

“Can I help you?”

That small voice drives a burr right under my skin. Icurse silently in my head, then look down at her, and I curse some more.

The pretty brunette with the blue lips, soaked hair, and the soulful brown eyes is smiling at me.

God, those eyes.

Men do stupid things over women who look at you with a gaze like that.

Other men.

Not me. Ever.

Then why the hell does it feel like I just stepped onto a frozen lake with cracked ice?

I sound rough and very much like an asshole when I speak. “No. You need to deal with Griff until I can get this done.”

With great effort, I focus back on the mountain of disheveled gear in the truck. Ignoring her. Everything about her.

Until she says, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

My head swivels around so fast my vision blurs.

“What?”

Not the most intelligent response, but that's all I got.

“Griff’s not my boyfriend.”