Page 7 of Going Rogue
With the assholes inside none the wiser.
A snicker tickled her throat. The big guy signaled with a sound, and she crawled out of her hiding spot, leaving behind a nice pile of explosive material. For being six-five, she had to give Crane props for moving as stealthy as a ghost. He managed to blend with the shadows, perhaps better than her, and she was damned stellar at it if she did say so herself.
She’d borrowed his balaclava to hide her bright hair but still felt overly exposed without her vest and gear. He’d given her his Glock, but she missed her own gun. Who knew what the militants had done with it? She didn’t want to waste time looking. Herprimary objective was to get out of this hellhole alive and hunting down equipment she could repurchase wasn’t worth the risk.
Neither is a relationship with Crane.
The thought flashed in her head like a warning sign. It was bound to get messy when they worked together. So she’d avoided him since she’d joined the team with Tactical Operations & Protection.
A deep scowl twisted her lips as she tagged his shoulder to let him know she still followed. His quick squeeze of her fingers in response sent a tingle racing up her arm. Not at all happy about it, she jerked her hand away.
Why kiss menow?
He’d either been messing with her, and she knew the idiot could turn anything into a joke.Orhe’d actually waited two years to kiss her. That option seemed unlikely.
Didn’t it?
Because who does that? Who waits two years to make a fucking move? Wondering about it heightened her anger, adding to the adrenaline surging through her veins. Beneath the balaclava, the corners of hereyes crinkled with the desire to interrogate him.
I need answers.
Following behind Crane, she promised to do just that as soon as they were safe.
After what felt like an eternity, they placed the last explosive device. They’d spent the past hour marking several buildings and all the vehicles they could—except the one they planned to drive out of there—with fertilizer bombs. They’d had to be strategic in their choices to avoid detection and save as much time as possible.
She’d wanted to split up so they could cover more ground more quickly, but he’d refused to leave her side. She didn’t know what had changed since yesterday, but Crane was acting differently toward her.
Protective in a way he hadn’t before.
Like he didn’t see her as part of the team anymore but a damsel in need of rescuing, which pissed her off. Her body hummed like the charges ready to go off. She was seconds away from calling him on it when a shout in Arabic pierced the still, evening air.
Before she could process what it meant,Crane pulled her behind a cargo trailer and pushed her back against it. He moved in front of her until she felt the rough material of his tactical vest poking into her chest, effectively blocking her body with his.
“What the hell are you doing?” An outraged hiss left her throat with the question as she glared at the back of his head.
When he said nothing and checked his weapon, she tried another tactic. “We can’t stop. We need to light the charges and egress like our lives depend on it because, oh yeah, they fucking do.” She’d meant to sound calmer, but desperation to get off this compound made any chance of that impossible.
His answer came as a low grumble she had to strain to hear. “Trust me, squirrel.”
What kind of answer is that?
Her body buzzed with adrenaline, but she made herself take a calming breath. “What did they shout?” She spoke Arabic, but Crane had a stronger grasp of the different dialects.
Again, she had to strain to hear hisresponse. “One of the militants found a fertilizer bag.”
The adrenaline coursing through her body surged with a powerful jolt, and she lost any pretense of calm. “Then we need to move. Now!”
???
Crane
Rogue was right. They should be accelerating their plan, not pausing here to be found. But the fact she didn’t have a bulletproof vest any longer damn near paralyzed him. Crane didn’t want to take the chance of her getting shot.
His brain told his legs to move, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—leave her vulnerable if the militants were onto them.
He felt her shift position and backed further into her. “Stay put.” He knew she wasn’t likely to listen, so he added a strained, “Please, Rogue,” hoping she’d cooperate.
They were close enough that he felt her sigh of acceptance. It did little to ease the worry gripping his muscles,though. His ears perked for any movement in their direction.
