He couldn’t believe it. This little wisp of a woman with no experience—military or otherwise—was used to plant bugs at the home of a known Taliban supporter. What was she thinking? More importantly, what were the people who put her up to such a mission thinking?

So what was he supposed to do now? Make all her problems go away? It was so typical of Jackson to offer just enough information to compel Declan into action, leaving the real meat of the issue, the real risks, hidden cleverly behind such a pretty exterior as Sophia’s face.

Damn, she was pretty.

But he wanted, at once, to radio Jackson and give him another piece of his mind, but he knew he couldn’t. His job was to follow orders, not question them. He wanted nothing more than to forget for a moment how gorgeous she was, and just hammer home the insanity of the whole situation. His call on the radio hadn’t yet been answered, but that wasn’t damning. Not with bombs still exploding around them. But as he cautiously walked Sophia out of their hiding spot, up out of their ditch and, eventually, into the small nondescript shack that was the squad’s temporary HQ, he realized that sort of communication would be impossible.

The place had been bombed to hell.

Entering it and accounting for any injured or dead had been made impossible by its implosion. Now it was just a mound of destruction. No shelter. No men. No radio.

Where had his squad gone? Had they made it out alive? He remained in the shadows as he looked around him, but the streets were quiet. Sophia, too, held quiet, as if knowing the type of worried thoughts that swirled around his head. He was glad she didn’t say anything, glad for the space. He needed it to save them.

“We’ll go into the hills,” he finally told her. “That was our fallback. We’ll go there and get in touch with Jackson, then we’ll get you out of here.”

She was still staring at him, blank-faced.

Declan said, “Have you fired a weapon before?”

Still blank. Still nothing.

“I’ll take that as a no. But just in case you need it,” he drew his handgun halfway from the side holster, ready to show it to her, when Sophia’s hand came across and blocked him.

“No,” she said. “Just let me go.”

“Let you go?”

“Just let me . . .” She looked around again. The poor girl seemed to have picked up the habit of startling at every odd little sound. Watching her, Declan knew she wouldn’t survive the night alone.

“Just let you what?” he said. “Just let you run off and get killed? Kidnapped again? You know how much of a pain in the ass it was to find you?” She didn’t say anything. She likely didn’t know. How could she know?

“A lot of people risked their life for you today. Including me. And you just want to go?” He did his best to hold anger and frustration in check. She was a civilian. She didn’t know. She was naïve and foolish—not just for the part she played in bugging that guy’s mansion, but even being here in Afghanistan in the first place. An art major. He grunted in disbelief.

“I just want to go back to the airport, back to Spain.” She was rubbing her eyes now, her voice sounding weak and tired.

She reminded him of a little girl, separated from her parents at the park or the zoo. His heart softened. He couldn’t expect her to act like him, a soldier who’d been through this sort of thing more than once. A man who lived every day with a big question mark hanging over his head. Was this the day he would die? “I know,” Declan said softly.

“My mother’s waiting for me there. In Spain. She’s probably . . . God, she’s probably so worried.”

“Well, let’s not give her anything extra to worry about.”

Sophia said, “I know.”

“So then stay with me.”

Quieter, she said again, “I know.”

“You know if you go back, they’ll kill you.” Now he was looking around. “There’s too many eyes here, watching for foreigners, no way to arrange any type of conventional travel without drawing too much attention. Plus, you don’t have any documentation. Right? What do you have on you?”

“Why? You want to make sure I’m who I say I am?”

“I know who you are,” Declan said, despite the knowledge that he really didn’t. He was trusting her to tell him the truth. Was she? How the hell could he know for sure? All she was, at least before their meeting, was a mission. A risk for him, and for her, a tragedy waiting to happen. But now, looking at her, listening to her trembling voice, feeling her trembling beside him . . .

Although it went against everything he’d trained for, keeping his emotions cool and detached from the objective, Declan knew that it also gave him a bit of an edge to feel at least a little attachment. Just a little bit at stake. A mission like this, a woman like Sophia, could keep his attention. Keep him honest.

Then he watched her head jerk to the side, her ear tipped into the wind. Declan had heard it, too. Voices. Definitely not American voices. Definitely not friendly.

He knew enough Farsi to understand the conversation, two men arguing about where to look for two asshole Americans. Their voices, and their search, were only a short distance away. As they spoke, that distance shortened.

It was almost as if Sophia knew the drill, not waiting this time for Declan to push her down and cover her. She was the prey. Hunters were after them. Maybe now she realized that it was for her own good. Now she wanted to be hidden and protected. And he wanted her under his protection, huddling close against her warm body as the voices grew louder.

If they could just hold still and hold quiet . . .

There was a soft warm feeling at his chin. He felt her breath on his lips, and then her lips were on his. Kissing him. Frozen, stunned beyond imagination, he could do nothing to stop her. He couldn’t move and give away their position. The sensation had completely taken him out of the moment, and out of the danger, and he was happy for the brief respite. Of course, it was also completely insane. She was scared out of her mind and doing this, kissing him like they were two back-seated teenagers.

Voices came even closer . . .

It should have knocked some sense into Declan. It should have scared him back into duty, into doing the smart, right thing. He should have known better. Now was not exactly the best time for getting his rocks off, despite his clearly feeling the arousal grow in him.

Another kiss, this time Declan doing the hunting, finding her mouth in the dark.

No, he did not know better.

The only thing Declan knew for certain was that this woman and their huddling together were going to create a lot of trouble.