Page 8 of Lethal Pursuit

“Not sure yet. A GP, or maybe a surgeon.”

“Not a pediatrician? You seem good with kids.”

“I love kids. Not sure I could handle seeing sick ones day in and day out though.”

God, why did that make her heart squeeze for him? This man cared too much, felt too much. Didn’t he know how dangerous that was? If he was lucky, he’d never have to learn that lesson. She let the conversation lapse for a minute but was too curious about him not to keep asking questions. He seemed willing enough to answer them. “Did you grow up in Texas?”

He nodded, giving her a half smile that made her stupid heart flutter. “Born and raised outside of San Antonio. You?”

“Born in Mexico City. Moved to California when I was three.” She glanced over at him. “You part Italian, or Native American, maybe?”

He shot her a surprised look. “One-eighth Comanche, from my mother’s side. You got a big family?”

Not anymore.“Just my grandmother left now.” And a few other relatives she’d never have anything to do with again, lest she give in to the urge to dispatch them all to hell where they belonged. “And you?”

“My mom and three older sisters.”

That made her smirk. “So you were the man of the house, huh? I hope you had lots of bathrooms in your house growing up.” She and Pilar had constantly battled over time in their tiny bathroom. The thought brought a pang of wistfulness. Losing her sister had been thesingle hardest thing she’d ever faced. No matter where she went, she carried a piece of Pilar with her, even if the memories hurt. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It wasn’t so bad. I just learned to be fast. Get in, get out before anyone saw me.”

“So you were already way ahead of the covert ops curve when you enlisted.”

He flashed her a sexy grin that made butterflies flutter in her belly. “Yeah, I was.”

Grinning, she kept her eyes on the road and maintained the proper distance between her truck and the one in front of her. They reached the first checkpoint and stopped for the Afghan police to check their documents. Once the convoy got rolling again, the all clear was given and the gunner, Dawson, slid down into the backseat with a sigh.

“Warm out there for this time of year,” he said, wiping a sleeve across his brow. “You got any tunes in here, LT, or what?”

“Just the hip-hop on my MP3 player, unless you like Afghan music.”

“Hip-hop it is.”

She glanced over at Jackson. “You like hip-hop?”

He made a face. “I tolerate it.”

“Well, sorry, but I’m fresh out of Dean Martin. Unless you want to sing for us? Because I totally think you should.”

Dawson leaned forward. “Dude, you sing?”

“And he’s damn fine at it too,” Maya put in.

Jackson aimed a bland look at her and shifted in his seat. “Nah, I’m good. Throw on the hip-hop.” He turned his head away to stare out the passenger window at the bleak terrain they passed through.

Was the man actually embarrassed by her praise? With a laugh, Maya plugged in the cable and hit play. Dawson immediately started singing along and tapping out the rhythm on the door frame. She glanced over at Jackson to find him fighting a smile, enduring it all in his quiet manner.

They were over an hour north of Kabul when the CO in the lead vehicle came over the radio. “Suspicious vehicle on the shoulder ahead. We’re stopping to check it out.”

Jackson instantly reached out to shut off the music while Dawson sprang up from his seat to man the .50 cal. Maya slowed with the others. A half klick away, she spotted it. An old once-white Toyota pickup, left parked at an odd angle on the right side of the highway. Something she would have passed stateside without a second thought, but over here it posed a potential deadly threat.

She halted behind the second Humvee, keeping the engine running while Jackson and Dawson climbed out to provide perimeter protection, just in case the Toyota was an IED and insurgents were waiting nearby to detonate it remotely. Her M4 was within arm’s reach and her sidearm was tucked into its holster on her right thigh. She continuously scanned the surroundings, on alert and ready for anything as the minutes passed. Finally the lead team members walked away from the vehicle and the CO came back on the radio with the all clear.

Dawson climbed into the back to resume his position in the turret, while Jackson slid into the passenger seat. As he set his weapon down with another display of those muscles rippling across his back and shoulders, she was struck again by just how big and intensely masculine he was. Lord, the man tempted her.

In the civilian world she’d have handled things between them totally differently. When she was interested in a man, she went after him. They rarely said no. This time she couldn’t act on the attraction, and not just because of the risk of being caught and written up for a hundred different broken military regs. She might be willing to work around those obstacles if Jackson seemed like the fling type. But he didn’t, and that was all she had to offer. All she could ever offer a man.

He shut the door and settled back against the seat. She didn’t look away quite fast enough. He caught her checking him out and gave her a slow smile that did strange things to her insides. Annoyed at herself, she turned her attention back to driving and pulled out behind the truck in front of them. “See anything?”

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