Page 46 of Twister

She tightened her arms around his neck and nodded, focusing on the warm scent of him, the weight of his arms around her. Those were real and solid. And secure. He bent his head and kissed her, making her senses swim and her body goweak. And Sadie sank into it. Dragging his mouth away, Twister pressed her face back to his neck. “Go to sleep,” he whispered gruffly.

“I have one more thing to say to you.” She raised her head, and the muscles in his jaw bunched.

“Give it to me, babe. I can take it.”

The pain in her chest was intolerable, but it was some of the first real and strong feelings she’d felt, and she held on to them, knowing that she could tell him anything. “Your ability to drop the pretense of your tough guy attitude and power through your emotions, getting in touch with them, humbles me right down to my core. You’re putting yourself out there, being open, being vulnerable, and I’m so damned impressed you gave me your real, authentic self, the one you’d buried just like I have for so many freaking years, it became second nature to adopt that person.” Her voice was thick with admiration, hope, and tears. “And in my case, the need to twist myself into a pretzel, overextend myself, embrace the inability to say no, and to work so hard to be indispensable. You make it so hard not to want to just say yes.”

As if sensing the change in her, Twister caught her by the back of the head and tightened his hold, his embrace suddenly rife with tension. “If and when you do come to that conclusion, I’m never going to let you go, and I’ll cherish everything we have between us.” His gaze warm and intimate, he stared at her, his eyes alive. Then something flickered in his eyes, and he looked away, his expression suddenly strained. “But, right now, it’s important to have the space to process your own feelings.”

Those words hit her hard. With his understanding, she felt she was almost halfway there. This was Twister showing up, putting in an effort, and making space for her…for them. Her gratitude was off the charts.

It was up to her to sort out what she truly wanted, and her impulse was to agree, to jump in with both feet, but she’d donethat in her past, and it hadn’t served her well. This time she was going to think about herself first, because it wouldn’t be fair to Twister if she didn’t give this deep thought and consideration. He deserved all that and more.

Sadie woketo an empty bed the next morning. She vaguely remembered the warmth of Twister’s hand against her face, the feather-light brush of his lips against her cheek, before he eased his weight from her. But that had been just before dawn, when first light seeped into their room. It disturbed her that she hadn’t sensed his absence.

Tucking the sheet around her, she sat up, resting her elbows on her raised knees as she dragged her hair back from her face, a flutter of both hope and dread stirring in her belly. Today they were going back to the compound, back to work. There was still time on this assignment, and with that thought, some of the dread eased just as Twister let himself back into their room. He was sweaty and sexy, dressed in his running clothes. Just like divers, SEALs were never really on vacation.

“One of these days,” she said softly, “we’re going to have to sleep in and see what it really feels like.”

He grinned, stripping off his clothes and heading toward the bathroom. “Sleep in? What are you going on about, woman? I don’t know those words.”

She grinned back at him, watching as his taut backside slipped out of view. Well, if she couldn’t sleep in with him, she had other options. Before she could act on them, he poked his head out the door, his expression soft and tender.

He was staring at her, his wrist braced high on the frame, his face taut. Every single muscle in his body was delineated by thesheen of perspiration on his skin, and he looked male, aroused, restrained—and hot. Her knees got weak, then weaker. His voice low and strained, he said, “Have a shower with me, babe.”

After eating a solid breakfast, she found that Twister had sent their shopping bags and stuff to the compound so they could walk back through the city. She appreciated that, wanting to enjoy strolling with him hand in hand through the historical and bustling city. Their progress was quick until they encountered a growing mob who seemed angry. They were shouting at some people near a café.

Then the chanting started, now in English.

“Go home, tourists! We don’t want you here!”

Twister tensed beside her, and something happened that she hadn’t seen before. He changed into a warrior right before her eyes—all those heavy muscles tightened as his senses heightened. His eyes went steely and seemed to take in and assess everything in close proximity, and everything about him looked harder, deadly, professional. She saw him reach to his lower back, then drop his hand, and swear under his breath. It was instinct, a warfighter’s reflex to reach for his weapon. Her own adrenaline kicked in and started buzzing. She wasn’t exactly a commando, but she knew how to defend herself.

But it was woefully lacking when it came to Twister’s training. It hit home that this was a part of him she hadn’t seen, the part she knew was there, but seeing him in action hit home that he wasn’t just someone who did bodyguard work. This man had been part of the tip of the spear, had seen and experienced more than she could ever comprehend.

She cleaned ships, replaced equipment, heavy, dangerous equipment, braved the deep sea and the risks that were inherent in defying the mysterious and unpredictable ocean. Her job was about engineering, dive tables, going into dark places andretrieving lost and damaged items, vehicles, and the remains of what had once been fighting men.

With Twister, her world expanded, and she thought she knew men. She’d worked with them, trained with them, took the same risks as they did.

But she’d had blinders on.

But now they were lifted, giving her a look into the man who transformed into the big, bad wolf.

People milled around, pressing in on them, and Twister grabbed her hand, his gaze never leaving the crowd. “Stay close to me.”

She nodded, trembling at the swiftness of danger surrounding them during their romantic walk through such a sunshiny day. She did as he told her, stayed close to him, and he made his way through the crowd toward the other side, where the street continued onto the compound.

She looked over her shoulder and spied that damn goofy Disney shirt. She stopped, and her startled reaction wasn’t lost on Twister. He turned toward her, and then an object flew at them from the crowd, from the vicinity of her Jiminy Cricket sighting.

Twister moved so fast it left her breathless. He pulled her back, his body leaning as the object, a rock, sailed past them, making a terrible thumping sound.

A woman screamed, then started calling out, “Bradley! Brad! Oh, my God, someone call an ambulance.”

She turned and focused on the man on the ground. Twister jerked her forward as he knelt down to the guy. Sadie had the sense to keep calm. She wasn’t one to panic in a crisis. If she did that below the surface, she was dead. She pulled out her phone as he glanced back at her, approval on his handsome face. He started attending to the man, soothing the woman as she placed the call.

She turned back to the crowd and glimpsed the shirt. Anger licked through her, her whole body trembling with that emotion, suddenly enjoying the feeling of something so pure and true inside her—anger, and other emotions that had evolved over time to keep humans safe. Especially in the fight response, which evolved so she could defend herself from an enemy or danger, and in this case, David was now her enemy. Her focus sharpened, and her eyes narrowed as another surge of righteous anger flamed through her.

That bastard! He’d thrown the rock at them. She was sure of it. Before she had a chance to think about her state of mind, she reacted. Darting through the crowd, she sprinted across the street, anger compressing her lungs and swear words escaping her lips. She had to make sure it was him. She had to know. God help her, she had to confront him, tell him he was wasting his time on her, and threatening them like this wasn’t going to work out very well for him. He should turn himself in, fess up to whether or not he murdered Dylan, and give her some peace of mind.

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