Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes #1)(6)

He wrapped her arm in gauze and a bandage, doing a hack job. Later, he could dress the wound properly, sew it up. For now, he’d just be happy if she didn’t leave a blood trail.

Rand doused the area in bleach and did a quick wipe-down. It would have to do.

“Come on.” He wrapped an arm around Sarah’s waist and steered her toward the back door.

“I don’t feel so hot.”

“You’re doing great. Hold out just a little bit longer, okay? How long were you in the air? When’s the last time you ate?”

There was a place he could go. It wasn’t his, but they didn’t have the luxury of being picky.

“I dozed on the plane, but I haven’t eaten since… Wow. Dizzy.”

Shit.

“Come on, you can do this.” Rand tightened his grip a moment before Sarah’s knees gave way and she slumped against him, all the life gone out of her.

Great. Now he just had to carry her eight blocks and avoid the MSS. No problem, right?

…

Kim Young-sik glared at the cell phone. He was right over the signal—and the target was nowhere to be seen. The American girl was gone. Vanished. They’d almost had her. He’d seen her. Knew what the whites of her eyes looked like when she was scared. And somehow she and the man she’d met up with had still managed to evade them.

“Spread out. She can’t be far.” He shoved the phone into his pocket and turned to the two shadows at his back. The MSS agents melted into the night on silent feet.

If they lost the girl… He didn’t want to contemplate that.

For the price he’d paid for the information, there would be others on her trail. They needed to get to her first. There was a mole on the north side of the DMZ, and Young-sik intended to cut their throat for that betrayal. First, he’d find the American girl.

She’d be easy to break.





Chapter Two


Sarah’s head was being beaten by an angry army of toddlers. Or, that was what it felt like. At least her nephew wasn’t gnawing on her ear, like that one time she’d fallen asleep on the sofa after too much wine. Emily had just watched and let it happen. The bitch.

And what the hell was that smell?

She was in bed, but everything else was fuzzy around the edges. Jet lag did weird things to her head.

Sarah rubbed her face with both hands. Her left arm twinged with a deep, painful cramp. She hissed and stretched it out.

“Careful,” a deep voice said right next to her. As in, in-the-bed-with-her close.

Sarah turned her head, struggling to recall the last few hours—or yesterday, even—but it was a blur.

“Where am I?” And who was he?

“Seoul.”

Rand.

Her stomach tightened, and her toes curled. The lust uncurling in her chest chilled. Nothing good would land her in a bed with him. All her girlish daydreams about waking up exactly like this died a miserable, wailing death.

How much shit was she in? What had happened to bring them together?

The last thing she remembered was being at the airport and…a call with Irene…and then…it went a lot fuzzy.

She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her right hand. She had that yucky cotton-head feeling and her mouth was dry. Had she taken something?

“The painkillers did a real number on you.” Rand sat up, the early morning light highlighting his broken features, the deep scars. They’d aged, some lessening, so he appeared more like the guy she remembered and less like the wounded hero. He was still as ruggedly handsome as the day he walked out of her life a broken man.

“What happened?” Pills. That was why she felt so funny. She cradled her aching head in her hands.

“Short version, the company put a tracker in your arm, and someone sold you out to the MSS. More of us might be in danger. I don’t know yet.” He was either frowning, or his face was stuck that way. “Tracker’s gone. Haven’t made contact yet.”

“I was running—and you were there.”

“Drink.” He pushed a bottle of chilled water into her hand.

Sarah drank the liquid greedily. Her empty stomach cramped. How long had it been since she’d eaten? She couldn’t begin to process Rand’s succinct account of what’d happened. Not before tea and a meal.

“There’s food in the kitchen.” He thumbed over his shoulder. Like many small Korean apartments, the space was a single room, with an entry that doubled as a kitchen. She was willing to bet the bathroom was there, too.

“Starving. How long was I out?”

“You passed out for a bit, then we got here, and you conked out for the last six hours.”

She’d arrived in Seoul late in the afternoon, cooled her heels until time to do the drop… Which meant it now had to be mid-to-late afternoon. Not morning at all.

“Shit. I missed my flight.” Sarah stood, still wearing her shoes, jeans, and T-shirt she’d left the States wearing.

“You’re still alive.”

“I know, but—”

She should have been in China. Her drop there was for eight tonight. Then on to meet up with Charlie, the agent over all the operatives in Asia. Truth be told, she wasn’t sad about missing time with him. Ever since their failed fling, she never quite knew how to act around him. Things had changed, and he wasn’t the man she’d first met. He’d never been like Rand. No one could measure up to him, though. That was just the way of things.