Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“Who the hell decided image was the most important factor in a war zone?” I glanced back over my shoulder, and her chin rose a good two inches.
“Senator Liu,” Holt answered.
“Go figure, the ones who are taking armored helicopters when they get here next week are the same guys telling you to drive,” Graham quipped, keeping adequate distance from the lead car. “Gotta love politicians.”
We passed the two-kilometer mark; we were making good time.
“How the visit is perceived is important,” Izzy argued.
What? Every one of my instincts wanted her on the first plane out of here, and she was concerned about the perception of it?
“The fact that you value perception over security is exactly why you shouldn’t fucking be here,” I snapped over my shoulder, raising my brows so she’d know I was talking right to her.
Her mouth dropped open before I looked away. Pay attention.
“We’re just doing our jobs—” Holt started.
“As if you have a say in where I should and shouldn’t be?” she fired back, her eyes narrowing into a glare.
Graham’s eyebrows hit the ceiling, but he kept his attention on the road.
“You want to do this here?” Maybe it was best since I couldn’t get my hands on her in the car, though I wasn’t sure if I wanted to shake some common sense into her or kiss her until that damned ring fell off.
Who was he? Some trust fund baby her father approved of? Someone with the political connections and pedigree they’d always wanted for her?
“I wanted to do this three years ago,” she challenged, leaning forward against the seat belt until I heard the click of its locking mechanism.
“Am I missing something?” Holt asked slowly, undoing the top button of his shirt.
“No!” she snapped.
“Yes,” I replied at the same time.
“Huh.” Holt glanced between the two of us but wisely shut his mouth.
“I’ve been in firefights with less tension,” Graham mumbled.
“Shut up.” My jaw clenched. He was right, which only pissed me off even more.
We passed the next four kilometers in silence, entering the Green Zone, but only a few ounces of the tension eased as we reached the relative safety of the embassy. The decorative glass windows that wove a chevron-like pattern on the front of the building were just that—decorative. The concrete wall right behind them was built to sustain a blast. I just wasn’t sure it could sustain Izzy and me being under the same roof.
Graham put the car in park, and I got out, adjusting my weapon before opening Izzy’s door to find her fighting with her seat belt.
“This. Stupid. Thing.” She tugged on the belt and jammed her thumb into the release button.
The sight cooled the hottest flares of my frustration, and surprisingly, I fought a smile. It was just so . . . Izzy. If she stayed this flustered, she wouldn’t only fumble; she’d also start to babble.
God, I missed her uncensored babbling.
“Let me help.” I leaned in.
“I’ve got it.” She shoved her sunglasses to the top of her head and shot me a look that didn’t need four letters.
Putting my hands up, I backed out as she furiously pulled at the strap. Then I scanned the perimeter again, raising my own glasses now that we were in the shade.
Webb was already out of the lead car.
“Not. Supposed. To. Be. Here.” She seethed with every yank, mocking my words.
“You’re not. This is the last place on earth you belong, Iz.” Did she have a death wish?
“Glad to see you’re still an ass.” Each time she pulled, the car bit harder into the seat belt, making it that much shorter. “What the hell is wrong with this thing?”
I ducked in without permission and depressed the buckle with a hard, quick push, releasing the seat belt. Her hands jerked back from the contact, scraping my palm with her ring. “At least I’m an ass who can undo the seat belt.”
Our gazes clashed, and the breath of space between us charged with enough voltage to shut down the four-chambered organ known as my heart. Too close.
I backed the hell up, getting out of the car and sucking in a lungful of misery, giving her—and me—some space.
“Sorry, that belt sticks,” Graham called back from the front seat.
“Now you tell me,” Izzy muttered, her cheeks flushing pink.
“Isa, is everything okay?” Holt asked from behind me as the aides started toward the guarded door of the embassy.
“Isa?” My head drew back as Izzy climbed out of the car, swinging her backpack over her shoulder.
“That’s me,” Izzy retorted, walking right past me without another glance.
“Her name is Isab—” Holt started.
“I know her name,” I said, cutting him off.
Webb stood to the side as the team filed inside with their charges, watching the exchange with a tilt to his head that said I was going to hear about this in about five minutes. It was bad enough that Izzy knew my real name—which was something I was going to have to talk to her about—but I was acting like a fool and knew it.