Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes #1)(37)

Sarah studied his eyes, the lines the years had left on this familiar face. He’d risked himself to save her before he knew who she was, and after he’d put himself at risk. Time and again, he’d proven to her that where the job was concerned, she could trust him. It was everything else that was still a mystery. She was in over her head, but he wasn’t.

“This is the kind of thing they pay you to do, isn’t it?” She had to wonder how many other damsels in distress he’d helped over the years.

“More or less, yeah. I do the things the company can’t do directly.”

“Like listen in to our not-so-friendly neighbors.”

“Pretty much.”

“I don’t know if I can do this, Rand. I mean…I’m a gopher. I’m not…you.”

“No, but you’re smart, you think fast on your feet, and deep down”—he placed her hand against his heart—“you know you can trust me. I’ll never let anything happen to you, Bitsy.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and snorted. She was never going to live that name down, was she?

“Look, all I need you to do is listen in on what they’re saying and tell me so I can write it down. That’s it. This morning was as dangerous as it gets. From here on out, it’s going to be pretty boring.”

“I’m going to hold you to that promise. I could do with some boring.”

He stroked his fingers over her cheek, his gaze searching her face.

She should put some distance between them. Things got infinitely more complicated when they factored in the intimacy they were toying with. This whole working relationship would be easier if they stuck to what they knew—being friends. Still, she felt safe when he was near, when he was focused entirely on her.

Part of it had to be the fantasy. And part of it was simply the here and now. She was a damsel in distress, and he was the hero, there to keep her safe. She had no illusions about her ability to protect herself. It made for a complicated push-and-pull. She wanted him, but she shouldn’t. When this was over and they went their separate ways, losing him—again—would destroy her.

Rand pressed his lips to hers, startling Sarah out of examining the should she, shouldn’t she, sides of her decision. He clearly didn’t suffer the same kind of misgivings she did.

She needed to push him away. Get some distance. Some perspective. Instead, she curled her hand into a fist, his shirt tangled between her fingers.

He leaned against her, his big body holding her a prisoner against the wall.

Fuck it. She wanted him. When this whole thing was over, she’d worry about the longevity of what they had. Until then, she was going to take what comfort and security he offered, no matter what form it came in.

She tipped her chin up, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His tongue teased her lips.

A sharp knock at the door froze them both.

Rand blinked at her, and she him. Who the hell’s that? She barely dared to breathe.

Another knock punctuated her thought. “Room service,” a male voice said.

Neither of them had ordered room service.

“Get in the bathroom, lock the door,” Rand whispered.

She nodded and ducked into the interior room. The flimsy lock wasn’t much protection, though.

“Just a minute,” Rand called out. He dug into his bag, pulling out a gun with a much longer barrel on it than anything Sarah had ever seen. He glanced up. “Close the door.”

“Who is it?” she whispered.

Rand shrugged and gestured again for her to close the door.

Sarah swung it shut. For a second. She pressed her ear to the door, feeling more than hearing his footsteps approaching the suite door. She cracked the bathroom open a bit, the better to hear.

“We didn’t order anything.” Rand’s voice sounded funny, sort of muted.

“Uh, I was told to bring champagne up for the happy couple?”

Rand muttered something.

Sarah peered around the corner, curious now. He opened the door, gun kept out of sight.

“Champagne?” Rand repeated back.

“Ah, yes, sir, I could—”

“I’ll take it. Thanks.” Rand shoved the door shut and watched out of the peephole.

Who the hell was sending them champagne? She tiptoed closer, peering at the bottle. Was it going to explode? Could it be poisoned? “Was it really room service?”

Rand’s head snapped around and he glared at her. “You’re supposed to be in the bathroom.” He shoved the bucket of ice at her. The bottle listed to one side.

It was a neat little bucket, complete with a holder for two glasses on the side. They clinked when the bucket moved, but otherwise were securely held in place.

Rand twisted the locks into place. “Get our stuff together. I want to move to the surveillance suite when the coast is clear.” He ushered her away from the door.

“What about this?” She set the bucket on the dresser. A folded piece of paper was taped to the top of the bottle. She opened it, scanning the words. “It’s from Li Qiang, well, the Chinese delegation, but I bet he’s the one that had it sent to us. What do you think?”

“I think they’re being nice.” Rand peered over her shoulder.

“Is it safe to drink?”

“Probably.”

She could do with a little something to take the edge off, but not if it would kill her. Still, did she want to chance it? Likely not.