It was late when Luke slipped into the Ice Cave and opened a bottle of Icelandic Stout, happy to find the place empty. He’d spent the day avoiding people, aside from taking on the new recruits in the paintball court. Boy did he need a good shootout—obliterating everyone in his path with paint was his way of blowing off steam—unless he was flying Mach 1 somewhere in restricted airspace with a bandit on his tail.

Bloody oath, he’d be glad when the Morales Cartel op was over and he could move on to something else—something with no women involved. It would be over soon. The plan was for Henri to work with Mia for a few days and then there would be a big meeting with Garth. Luke was ready—past ready. All day long, he’d gone through a hundred scenarios on how they’d bring Morales into the open without getting anyone killed. Yeah, he’d do his job and watch Mia’s backside as she walked away to reunite with her family.

Fuck it.

Luke took a long pull on his beer, trying to think of anything but Mia—Michelle—whoever the hell she was.

Women—who needs them?

Luke certainly didn’t. He wasn’t the stay-around type anyway. His relationships lasted anywhere from one night to three months. Any longer and things got too predictable. Besides, he wasn’t exactly in the right business to maintain a relationship of any kind with anyone. Hell, he hadn’t even contacted his mother in the past three months…or had it been four?

And he should have learned the first time Mia stabbed him in the back she couldn’t be trusted.

Trust.

He’d been grilled a gazillion times on the first rule of being a spy. In this game, a man couldn’t trust a soul. The moment he let his guard down, he put his life on the line. It was that simple. Jeez, thank God he’d learned his lesson now. The next time he was in the field with Mia, he’d put on some armor.

After he’d polished off two stouts, Luke poured himself a shot of Stoli on the rocks with a twist of lime. Since Henri had taken over Mia’s training, he had no place to be in the morning. Hell, no one would give a rat’s ass if he stretched out on the bar and spent the entire night sucking vodka through a straw.

No sooner had he leaned forward to look over the bar for a straw long enough or maybe some medical tubing when the door creaked open. Luke didn’t need to glance over his shoulder to see who’d come in. The hair standing up on the back of his neck told him, so did the damned flutter in his gut and the miserable tingling across his shoulders.

Bloody hell, can’t a man enjoy a piss-up in peace?

“Hola.” Mia tiptoed inside like she was afraid she might wake someone. “Mind if I join you?”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She slid behind the bar and picked up a glass. “What are you drinking? Tequila?”

“Vodka. Rocks. Lime.”

Keeping her eyes lowered, she mixed two drinks the same and put one in front of Luke.

“Ta.”

She didn’t reply to his lazy thank you, but came around and sat beside him.

Luke tried not to watch out of the corner of his eye while she squeezed her lime and stirred with the cocktail straw then took a sip. “Mm. It’s strong.”

“Hmm,” he managed not about to tell her to let the ice melt a bit if she didn’t like it so strong. She could figure that out on her own like she did everything else. “How’s training with Henri?” Christ, he could have kicked himself for asking.

“Okay, I guess. She’s cool.”

“Huh.”

“But not as cool as you.”

The goddamned gut fluttering could stop now. Luke swirled his vodka and took a long drink. She wasn’t about to win him over with lame compliments no matter how his body parts responded.

“Um…I owe you an apology. I—ah—well, I didn’t intend to talk to Garth after we had our argument.”

“Oh really? You just marched straight to the Command Center to do what? Watch a monitor filming an empty building somewhere in Syria?”

“No. I didn’t even mean to go there. I just started walking and when I got to the end of the hall I went inside. I wasn’t even thinking about talking to the CO. I was mad—consumed with how upset I was because you refused to understand me.”

“Right, so it’s my fault. Always is.” Luke tightened his fingers around his glass, ready to throw it at the mirror behind the bar.

“I didn’t say that. I was upset—thinking with my feelings rather than reason. I just went inside and before I could turn around, Garth had me sit down and tell him…tell him everything.”

“Well, you did a mighty fine job of spinning your bloody yarn.”

“Sorry.”

“No worries. You bought me a few days of R & R.”

Gulping, she looked down at her cocktail and turned it between her fingers. “I know I haven’t appeared to always act trustworthy, but—”

“Appeared?” Luke had about as much as he could take. He swiveled and faced her. “Try this: You have not acted trustworthy at all. Good God, you must have been born with razor fingernails because I’m always pulling your daggers out of my back.”

She blinked—her face taking on a blank canvas she used with Morales. But Luke expected more—expected excuses. Was the brick wall her only response to his tirade? Jesus, when she met his gaze with “the stare”, giving her a piece of his mind didn’t make him feel anywhere near the gratification it should have. If she were a man, he could haul off and have a good barney. Smack him in the teeth and that would be the end of it. But, no, the damned woman had to be female.

She pushed the drink away. “Please, let me get this out before morning.”

So, two could play up the sarcasm? He rolled his hand through the air. “The floor is yours, madam.”

White lines formed around her lips while she inhaled. “It seems like I don’t always make the right decisions. I want to, but imagine what it’s like to be in my shoes for a moment.”

Luke finished his drink and started on the one she’d made. “That’s a little difficult given our difference in anatomy, but carry on.” He might be letting her have her say, but he definitely didn’t want her to feel comfortable about it.

“It’s hard to put into words—especially English words. You see, I feel like my life came to an end when I was six years old. After my abduction, I kind of stopped growing up.”

“I’ll say.” He reached over the bar, plucked the Stoli bottle and added more vodka.

“Maybe I deserved that, but I’m the first person who will admit I have a lot of maturing to do. Now please—just let me finish.” She crossed her arms and inhaled sharply. “During the early years, all I could think about was getting enough food and staying alive. Then when El Padrino bought me, I faced a new kind of hell. You even said it’s hell in a gilded prison.”

Luke nodded. Mia wasn’t wrong.

“It was a prison and I lived in a vacuum, afraid to be myself.”

“You acted like your life was scripted.” He drank, savoring the sharp alcohol as it burned its way down his throat.

“Yes, and then you flew me away. I thought leaving the hacienda would be liberating…but it was terrifying. Everything happened so fast. And the whole time we’ve been at ICE, it’s like I’ve been treading water as fast as I can in a hopeless attempt to make up for all the years I missed—to become the person I was meant to be.”

Luke swiped a hand down his face. Yeah, he didn’t doubt she was going through major shock.

“You had a normal life,” she continued. “You went to school and college and joined the Air Force. You were never forced to beg and lie and steal—and—and then be given to a vile man you could never respect.”

Taking in a deep breath, Luke squeezed his abs against the roiling in his gut. He knew what her past was like—and he couldn’t imagine it. All those years without support—formative years, too. Years when she should have been taking ballet lessons and learning to play catch with her dad. He tightened his fingers around his glass. No question, he felt sorry for her, but feeling sorry and trusting someone were two very different things. “I’m sure it must be hard for you, which is why I said you weren’t ready—I still don’t think you’re ready to go back into the fire with Morales.”

“Maybe not, but I found out you knew Garth was planning to send me back all along.”

He nodded. He did know and he’d kept it to himself.

“I swear to you, next time I’ll think clearer. I know I should have thought about how you’d be affected before I acted, and I didn’t. Next time I will. I promise.”

“No, sweetheart, you won’t because there won’t be a next time.”

She gasped. “Aren’t you going with me?”

“I’ll do whatever needs doing, but once this op is over, I’m done.” He pushed the stool away from the bar and stood. “I regret what’s happened to you, and I hope you are reunited with your family. You need to find a good psychologist and go back to school. Find something you really want to do—something where you won’t risk your life every time you walk outside.”

Without another word, Luke strode straight to the door and pushed into the hallway. He didn’t usually feel cooped up at ICE but, right now, being forty-five meters under a glacier made his skin crawl. He needed fresh air, preferably warm fresh air. If only he could go to Australia for a holiday and spend a week parasailing—chasing girls in King’s Cross—sailing Sydney Harbour—anything to take his mind off how damned beautiful Mia looked and how damned convincing she sounded.

***

Mia’s throat constricted as she stared at the closed door, willing Luke to come back, willing him to return and cup her face in his big, warm hands and tell her he forgives her. God, her heart would soar with joy to see him smile at her with happiness in those sky-blue eyes, lower his lips to hers and kiss her. She would wrap her arms around him and never let go. She’d tell him how much he’d come to mean to her. How much she admired him. How much she adored him.

Please come back.

Her lips stretched into a teeth-baring cringe as she clutched her hands tight against her chest, willing herself not to cry.

When he didn’t return, a tear did slip down her cheek. Furious with herself, she swiped it away.

He hates me.

And why wouldn’t he? Everything was fine until she had to open her mouth. Luke was doing a good job with her training. And he was a lot more fun to spar with than Henri. He mightn’t have been intimate since they’d come to ICE, but he’d be super careful to ensure he didn’t hurt her when they were on the mat. He always treated her like a lady and made her feel respected. There were all those long looks containing a hundred emotions merging their souls like an electrical current. And now she’d gone and blown it.

I’m such an idiot.

So many times at Hacienda Paraiso Mia had swallowed her anger and kept it to herself. And then as soon as she felt an iota of freedom, she’d let her temper get the better of her. One stupid moment of anger and she’d messed things up beyond repair.

Henri said if Luke couldn’t forgive her, then they weren’t meant to be. Mia couldn’t blame him. No, no, the fault was entirely hers. The worst part? When he walked out that door, it was like he reached into her chest, ripped her heart out and took it with him.

He made me strong. He made me believe in myself. And I ruined everything.

If it weren’t for Luke, she would still be in Mexico living in fear—she might have even been captured by Amado Zambada. Luke was the reason she was free. Luke was the reason she was in Iceland learning so many new things—learning that she was somebody and she had the power to stop an attack from Vincent Morales. In a couple of weeks, she’d learned how to fire weapons, disarm an attacker with a knife and, best of all, she’d learned how to use a computer.

She loved computers. She loved being able to access multitudes of information. She loved being a part of an organization that worked for good.

Picking up her vodka and lime, she sipped through the straw. “I like it here.”

The alcohol zipped through her bloodstream and made her head woozy. Or was it Luke’s words sinking in? After the op, he’d take her home and walk away. She’d never see him again. The friends she’d made at ICE would be like people from a dream.

I don’t want that.

She set the cocktail down and pushed it away. Please God, help me show Luke I’m good enough. Help me to prove my worth. I cannot mess up again!