Page 82 of Hotter than Wildfire

“Then what the fuck’s she doing in a translation agency?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Christ,” Piet began in disgust, lifting his head to automatically check the street. His eyes widened. “There she is!”

“What? Where?” Montez shouted frantically, but Piet was already out of the car and running after a slender figure about twenty meters ahead of him.

Palmer looked behind her, but she wasn’t focusing on him. She had no idea who he was. Maybe she was looking for a taxi.

Well, he’d give her a ride, all right.

In a few strides he had caught up with her. She was prettier than in her pictures, with rich red-brown hair that shone in the sunlight, fine features, green eyes. Though right now she was crying.

Of course.

She’d just seen the video of her friend.

Well good, she was off balance.

The whole op was embarrassingly easy. Didn’t take more than thirty seconds. Smooth, textbook.

Piet reached out and put his hand around her upper arm. That was the thing with civilians—they never reacted. Touch him unexpectedly and he’d break your arm before you knew it. Fuck with him in any way, and you’d find yourself staring at the haft of a knife that was buried between your third and fourth ribs, the blade slicing deep into your heart.

But not Ellen Palmer, oh no. Even in a state of shock, she was clearly going to speak civilly to him. Whatever she was going to say was lost, though, because the syringe he had hidden in his palm sank deep into her bicep and her eyes rolled up in her head.

The Mercedes had rolled up behind him, stopping with the back door not a foot from him. At least Montez did this right.

Ellen Palmer’s knees buckled.

He caught her before she fell.

Harry was putting together a quote for a client, but his mind wasn’t on it. His mind was in the small, pretty office across the hallway from RBK Security, where his woman was. He had to really focus on what he was doing, because Ellen’s beautiful face kept floating across his field of vision.

She’d been so solemn this morning, so sad. Distant and reflective, staring out the window at the scenery without really taking it in as they drove across the bridge and into the business district.

The incident yesterday had really spooked her. Well, hell, it had spooked him. But he was a soldier. You dodge the bullet and forget about it. There will be another bullet, but not today. Nicole was okay, the baby was okay, move on.

Ellen found it hard to move on. She had a tender heart, which made him even more determined to shield her. Crissy had had a tender heart, too, and she’d been mown down by the creatures of the night. No one was going to touch Ellen, ever again. He’d move heaven and earth to prevent it.

There was an email, from Ellen.

Before he could read it, Nicole stuck her head into his office, Sam hovering behind her.

“Harry?” Nicole looked worried and for a second Harry was terrified that she was bleeding again.

Man, she’d scared the shit out of him yesterday.

He’d hidden it from Ellen because she was out of her mind with worry and guilt, but deep down the thought of losing that little girl they were all looking forward to so much was horrifying.

But it turned out that Nicole was concerned about the only thing worse than losing the baby.

“Harry,” she said softly, “it’s Ellen.”

“What?” Harry rose on legs that felt suddenly hollow. What could possibly be wrong with Ellen? He’d left her in Nicole’s office, which was as safe as modern technology and three determined and savvy men could make it. “What about Ellen?”

In the field, Harry was known for keeping his cool. That emotional detachment that had defined him his whole life came in real handy on ops, and in firefights. It was easy for him—just disengage the gear that drove his emotions and he was firing on all cylinders. Fast and cool and deadly.

That deserted him now while cold terror roiled his guts.