Page 28 of Close Pursuit

“No, I’m not worried,” she lied belligerently. “I just don’t think now is the time or place to collect.”

He moved to stand a little too close to her for comfort, and she was abruptly aware of how much bigger than her he actually was. And stronger. And they were so very alone out here in the middle of nowhere. Literally. He could force himself on her and there wouldn’t be a soul around for miles to hear her scream.

“Angel, when I collect on our bet, it will not be in a squalid cave, and you will beg me for it.”

Her eyes flashed, rising instinctively to the challenge. “I don’t beg.”

The corner of his mouth turned up in that sardonic half-smile of his. “Wanna bet?”

“No, thank you,” she replied tartly. “I’m already in debt to you. I don’t need to add to it.”

“I still need you to strip. All the way down to your skin.”

“Why?”

“I need to check for tracking devices in our clothes.”

She blinked, shocked. “Excuse me?”

“Tracking devices. I need to make sure none were planted on the gear or clothing we bugged out with.”

“Who on earth would want to track us?”

“I can think of any number of candidates, and some of them I’d rather not have knowing where we are.”

“Like who?” It was starting to feel like all she did with him was ask questions.

“Not on the list of approved topics between us.”

She scowled. “I’m not stripping unless you answer me.”

His gaze snapped up to hers, and this time amusement flashed before he banked all emotion. “Fine. The CIA. Their Russian counterparts, the FSB. The U.S. Army. The Mafia. That’ll do for starters.”

“Why would the mafia track you? What did you do to them?”

“I relieved them of substantial funds some years ago and have yet to give them an opportunity to win any of them back.”

“How?”

“In my rebellious youth, I went on a short-lived, but highly productive, gambling spree. And I chose the casinos I knew to be run at that time by the mob.”

“Didn’t you say something about being good at math? Or maybe someone mentioned it to me about you?”

“My undergrad degree was in math. Did a quick master’s in probability and a bit of post-grad work in cryptography before I decided to go to medical school.”

“How much did you take the casinos for?” she blurted.

“Enough to pay for my medical school plus…” he hesitated. “…a lot.”

Huh. So the good doctor was rich, too? It hardly seemed fair given how smart, sexy, and good-looking he was.

“That explains the mafia. So, why would the CIA and Russians want to track you?”

He threw her a stubborn look and merely shimmied out of his black jeans. Dang, that man was built.

“Let me guess,” she said wryly. “Not on the list.”

“Bingo.”

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