Page 67 of Dangerous Games (Tempting SEALs 2)

"I know your women normally hover about you, closer than any others," she drawled maliciously. "That one will bow to no one willingly, Clint."

He grimaced in irritation. No shit.

But he was catching the undercurrents to the conversation. He had known that if Fuentes' drug was involved in this, then the chances of Trina's involvement were high. She had been part of the drug network two years before and had been girlhood friends with Carmelita Fuentes, the viperous bitch who had run Fuentes' cartel at Diego's side with a bloody hand.

"She'll heel." He kept his response clipped. Morganna was playing her role perfectly. And why wouldn't she, he thought with a spurt of inner amusement; defying the rules came so naturally to her.

"Masters members have been watching her quite closely," Trina murmured. "I was so hoping she would apply for sponsorship. There's no way she would have heeled to any of the Doms, which would have put her on auction. I would have made certain of it." She glanced at her watch again, a slight frown furrowing her brow.

"Leave it alone, Trina," he growled.

"If you're sponsoring her, you can put her up for auction, Clint."

"She didn't apply for sponsorship, Trina," he snorted.

"Have you signed an agreement with her?" Her brows lifted questioningly as a hint of amazement showed in her gaze.

Clint didn't bring women to the parties; he picked up women at the parties. He had never shown a willingness to participate in the sort of relationships that existed just under the surface of the atmosphere he partied within.

"No agreement," he admitted, glancing at Morganna again.

Damn her. That skirt molded over her ass perfectly, reminding him of the silky feel of it and the feel of his cock sinking slowly within it. He didn't fight the lust he knew was reflected on his face. Trina would read it. She would process it...

Her chuckle grated on his nerves.

"She is the real one," she said then, drawing his gaze back to her as she tilted her head, watching him with a hint of regret.

"Excuse me?" He narrowed his eyes as he rotated his wrist, swirling his drink in his glass, allowing the ice to clink against the sides.

"Every woman you've had since I've known you has resembled her. But she's not the imitation; she's the one you've always wanted. I'm not the only one who has recognized that."

"What's your point, Trina?" He was aware of the fact that every woman he had bedded for years had reminded him of Morganna. It was the only way to stay away from her, to diffuse the hunger eating at him. He just wasn't aware that anyone else had figured it out.

Catlike calculation filled Trina's angular face as she lowered her chin and watched him through veiled lashes.

"I like you, Clint," she said then, her voice low as she wept the area with her gaze. "Perhaps a bit too much."

That one was a surprise.

"Would you like to clarify, Trina?"

"She has made enemies. Powerful enemies, my friend. Just as you have."

Shit. He tensed at the undertone of her voice.

"When?"

"You know when. And if you're smart, you now know who. Diego isn't dead, Clint." She stood carefully to her feet, leaning closer as irritation flashed in her eyes. "You have five minutes," she whispered. "It's all the head start I can give you. Get out of here, and get your woman out of here, before it's too late."

Fuentes wasn't dead. It should have been a shock, but it wasn't. Clint had never been satisfied with the information that had come through, that the charred remains of Diego Fuentes' body had been found within the hacienda that had burned to the ground that night.

Fuentes would not have gone into that burning building for any reason, and Clint knew he hadn't been trapped inside it when it began burning. Fuentes was behind the drug, and Morganna had stepped in his path when she had witnessed the dealers spiking that woman's drink.

"We're out of here." Clint leaned close to Morganna's ear. whispering the words as his hand tunneled under her hair to the opposite ear and slipped her receiver free.

She was better than he gave her credit for. She didn't argue. She turned to him with a graceful smile, though her gray eyes had darkened, sharpened. She turned with him. moving easily at his side as he curved an arm around her waist and led her quickly through the house and into the darkened kitchen.

As they entered the tiled room she paused only long enough to slip free of her high heels before they headed quickly to the back door.

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