Page 10 of Covert Temptation

Godlike, really.

His black hair was kept trim and short, military style, but she could tell if he let it grow, it would curl. Her mind ran with that, picturing a young Dante with black curls tumbling over his forehead and a mischievous gleam in his brown eyes, as deep as earth after it rained.

At this point, Kennedyknewher imagination was getting carried away. Dante King never smiled. Ever.

He wore a perpetual scowl whenever he looked at her. Even the few times she’d seen him interacting with any of his brothers on the special ops team, he still wore a serious, stoic expression.

He wore the look now, though his gaze seemed to be fixed on her chin and a wrinkle wove over one dark eyebrow as if he couldn’t figure out a puzzle.

She issued a soft sigh, lips parting, and suddenly, his gaze snapped up to hers.

There it is. The notorious scowl.

She disliked everything about this guy. Even if she put a paper bag over his head, he wouldn’t be suitable boyfriend material because he’d still be able to talk. Which meant she’d have to gag him too.

A little crazed giggle bubbled up her throat, and she dipped her head to trap it in. Just then, the pilot’s voice came over the comms, informing them that they would be landing in two minutes.

Landingwherewas anybody’s guess. She had stopped trying to guess what the SEALs would do right after they locked her away in the safe house.

Next time she ran, she’d have to be smarter and avoid all those cameras that obviously picked out her entire route to Grand Central Station and even gave away which train she got on. How careless of her not to consider that.

Dante didn’t react to the pilot’s announcement at all.

She fixed her stare on his chest. Though his chest was broad and thickened with muscle, it was still the chest of a colossal dickhead.

Their bodies swayed a little as the chopper lost altitude, buzzing over the world, dark with only a few clusters of lights from buildings below.

“Put this on.” He tossed her a black garment.

“It’ll mess up my hair.”

“Too damn bad. Put it on, Kennedy.”

She highly disliked how Dante said her name, drawing it out that way. She snatched up what she already knew was a blackout hood. When Chase took Alyssa and Kennedy to the special ops base, they were forced to wear hoods then too, so they couldn’t see where the secret base was.

With a low curse, she removed the hearing protection and pulled the hood over her face.

Her heart gave a huge throb, throwing itself at her ribcage. Panic tried to win out over her senses, but she wasn’t going to let anything be in charge of her and focused on meditation counting, breathing in for five beats, breathing out for five beats, until she felt the landing gear touch down on solid earth.

She reached up to take the hood off, but before she could move, Dante’s fingers clamped around her upper arm and he tore off her hood with the other.

Her hair was thick but still prone to frizz after being stuffed in hoods. She felt it crackle around her as she blinked to adjust her eyes to the dim light on the back of a building.

Dante planted his hand over her head, squashing her hair down, and forcing her to duck under the chopper blades.

Could he be any more of a massive dickhead?

She hunched until they cleared the blades, then she jerked her arm in an attempt to free herself from his grip.

“I can walk on my own.”

He grunted. “You can also run. I’m not taking any chances.”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. He was right, after all.

Her boot heels crunched lightly on the paved walkway leading toward that light. As they neared the building, the brick of the structure came into sharper focus. She didn’t know everything about the special ops team, like why they hid in plain sight or made their guests wear hoods, but she did know the mansion was the team’s base.

Dante led her to a back door painted as black as the shadows that surrounded it. She swallowed hard, wishing she had made it farther on that train, or gotten off at any of the stops along the way. Then she could have gotten a head start.

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