“Why don’t we work together?”
Carmen looked up at him, eyes wide. “Huh?”
“I said, why don’t we work together?”
CHAPTER 4 - CARMEN
I STUDIED NATE closely. Was he serious? He was, wasn’t he?
“You say my partner messed up, but I’ve only got your word for that. How do I know you didn’t get my colleague killed?” José might have been a sexist pig, but he’d completed many missions successfully. “You really think I want to work with you after that?”
“I was in the next room when your colleague was pissing around in el antílope’s suite. Didn’t you realise the fat fuck took a nap each day at three p.m., regular as clockwork?”
Obviously not. “How do you know that?”
“Because I do my homework.”
“Maybe so, but you still almost died.”
Nate closed his eyes and groaned, and I took those few seconds to study him. Hair the colour of milk chocolate, café au lait skin, and when he looked at me again, irises the same dark brown as a strong espresso. The man was perfectly edible, and this time, it was my turn to groan. I should not have been thinking that way.
“Not my finest moment,” he admitted. “But when the guards started searching the house, I had to get out of there. All I could do was blow the explosives I’d set and hope the blast got Lozano.”
“And it didn’t.”
“No, it didn’t.”
This was weird. Discussing death with somebody outside my unit like it was normal, when the reality was anything but.
“Aren’t you worried I might tell someone I saw you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I got away, remember? Firstly, you’d have to admit you compromised your operation when you got distracted by a dog, and secondly, I can produce three witnesses who’ll swear blind I was drinking beer with them by the pool at the time of the incident. Perhaps you were mistaken?”
“You wouldn’t…”
“Try me.”
How had my life come to this? When I joined the army, I’d been determined to do good, to protect others from the fate that had befallen Juliana rather than offering thoughts and prayers every time another young woman got caught in the crossfire. Terrorists, drug lords, street gangs—none of them cared how many innocents got caught up in their wars.
I’d outscored most of my male colleagues on every test, come top of the class in marksmanship, and had more confirmed kills than any of them, but I still didn’t have their respect. They never missed an opportunity to put me in my place, and Nate was no different. He played dirty.
Which left me no choice but to join in his game.
“I do have a plan.”
“Can’t wait to hear it.”
“Let’s take a trip to the range. One target, five hundred yards, ten rounds. If I win, you back off and let me take the lead on Lozano. If you win, I’ll play sidekick.”
“That’s it? That’s your plan?”
“Worried you’ll lose?”
“No.”