Page 3 of Trapped with the Covert Ops Soldier

She had to get out. Now.

Abby closed her eyes and fought panic. She was not in Syria, not surrounded by the dead and dying, not fighting for her life and the lives of her friends. The people she could hear now were all very much alive.

She was in the Missoula airport and home was just a drive away.

Abby opened her eyes and crawled away from the confusion, but there were men fighting everywhere. Most of them were big enough to do her some damage if they fell on her or landed a misplaced kick. But it didn’t seem to matter which direction she tried to go, everyone was fighting.

Men were punching, grabbing each other and generally acting like it was a free-for-all at a wrestling match. There was a lot of shouting. Some of it to try to calm things down. Most of it the sort of language her grandmother had told her never to use. Unless it was an emergency.

The situation was looking like it qualified.

A hand reached out, snagged the back of her shirt and yanked. Whoever had a hold of her jerked her backward into his body, spun her around, threw his arm around her waist and picked her up.

Smitty.

“Hang on doc, I’m gonna try to find a hole.”

She hooked both arms around his neck. “Go!”

He surged forward, one hand extended in front of him like a quarterback with a football. He turned and dodged two guys who fell to the floor in front of them, then dodged another cluster of men trading punches and insults faster than stockbrokers made deals on the floor of the stock exchange.

A couple of people stumbled into them, but Smitty pushed them aside. She buried her face in his shoulder to keep from getting another elbow to the head and clutched him a little tighter. He danced around, spun, and hit a door with his back. It opened and they stumbled inside.

The sudden quiet after the door swung shut disoriented her and she tightened her grip on Smitty’s neck. His scent, clean and woodsy, tempted her to do something supremely stupid, like lick.

“You okay, doc?” The arm around her had her plastered to him from breast to hip. His free hand came up to cradle her face and tilt it upward. “Geez, you’re going to have a hell of a shiner.” His breathing was fast and heavy, his gaze colored by concern.

“Yeah, I’m okay. You?”

“Better than you, I think.” His thumb traced around her nose and she winced.

There was blood on his fingers.

“Damn it, they gave me a bloody nose.”

“Better than a broken arm or leg.”

“True, but I’m never going to hear the end of it.” Shouts from outside the door drew her attention. “How long will this insanity last?”

“Someone will straighten them out. Eventually.”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” she said with a snort.

All humor left Smitty’s gaze. “You scared the shit out of me, doc.”

She frowned. “Ididn’t do anything.”

“You went down.” His arms tightened around her. “I thought those morons had trampled you.”

She patted his chest. “Thanks for coming to my rescue. I was afraid of the same until you snagged me.”

“Any other bruises?” he asked tilting her face up again.

“I don’t think so.” He bent closer, but the look in his eyes wasn’t worry. Desire heated his gaze.

She was so surprised she didn’t move a muscle when he placed a light kiss on her bruised eye. His lips trailed down her cheek and he bent a little more to catch her mouth in a quick kiss.

She sucked in a breath to tell him to stop, that this was a bad,badidea, but he kissed her again, lingering, tasting her. Heat uncurled from her belly to lash at her muscles and nerve endings.

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