Quinn walked through the growing crowd of shoppers, scanning for trouble. Trying to put the kiss out of her mind. Had he been acting, like he’d said? It had felt so real. Too real.

Not that it mattered, according to Marc. He’d just been playing a role and gotten carried away. He probably wasn’t even interested in her at all. The memory of waking up in his arms brought a flush to her face. Damn, he’d probably been embarrassed by her cozying up to him.

She shook away her thoughts. She had no time to moon over a man, especially a man she wasn’t even sure she could trust.

She glanced at Marc, who sat and sipped coffee. His gaze, even over this distance, connected with hers and her heart began to thud. She swallowed. Why couldn’t she control herself? He pushed his hat back and scratched his head.

He’d spotted Ian. Time to get to work. She took her hair from under her cap and assumed the role of naive doctor, weaving through the stalls of the market toward the steps of the cathedral. She couldn’t see Marc any longer with the crowd, but she could at least trust he kept an eye on things.

Ian came into view. He mounted the steps of the cathedral and then stood and faced the crowd. Quinn almost put up her hand to wave when he glanced to the right, where a man with a mustache stood, holding something under his jacket with one hand.

She’d seen him at the compound. One of Pérez’s men.

Fuck.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket. It was silently ringing with Marc’s number.

“It’s a trap,” Marc said, breathing hard. He was running.

Quinn shifted so she stood behind a group of people and pulled her ball cap back onto her head, hiding her hair a bit. “How many men?”

“I’ve got six so far, one on either side of Ian and two more across the plaza and two drivers. They haven’t spotted you yet. I’ll meet you at the south end of the square.”

“I’m not leaving Ian. They’ll kill him.”

Marc’s heavy sigh carried through the phone. “Will you let me handle it?”

“No. We do this together.” She stepped beside a stall and out of direct line of sight of the open plaza.

“Fine. I’ll do the distraction, and you grab him.”

“What type of distraction?”

“You’ll know it when you see it. Keep the phone line open.”

“Wilco,” she said without thinking and then silently cursed her slip.

Marc didn’t comment on her use of the military short form of the words “will comply.” Maybe he was too preoccupied to notice. “Give me two minutes,” he said. “Be prepared.”

She stuck her phone in the pocket of her shirt and moved as close to the steps as she dared. The other solo guard was a wiry, lean man who stood in a gap between buildings. She came to within ten meters of him, hiding behind another stall, and waited for Marc’s distraction.

It didn’t take long.

The guard closest to her perked up and stopped scanning the crowd to look at the bearded guard on the other side of the building. He pulled out a walkie-talkie and spoke into it. His voice grew louder.

“Carlos. Juan. Answer me.” He shook the walkie-talkie and repeated his call. Someone must have said something that she couldn’t hear because he started shouting into the thing. “Who the fuck is this?”

Marc had to be taking out the guards one by one. She liked his style.

She used the distraction to move up behind the man, gripping her weapon. It was too public an arena to shoot him, so she used the butt to strike him on the back of the head. He crumpled to the ground.

Ian stared at her, his eyes wide. He shook his head. “They’re everywhere. Run!”

“Come with me now, Ian,” she commanded.

The bearded man sprinted toward them.

Ian stood there without moving. What the hell was his problem? She ran up the steps. “We have to go.”

“They’ll kill you. They’ll kill me for talking to you. What did you do, Quinn?”

She didn’t bother to explain; she grabbed his arm and tugged him down the steps. Ian stumbled after her, jerked off balance.

“Please let me go.” He pulled on his arm. “They said if I went with you or warned you, then they’d kill me.”

She gripped his arm harder, not letting him stop. The bearded man was almost on them. “They’re going to kill you anyway. I can protect you.”

The bearded man pulled a gun from under his shirt. She lifted hers first, took a split second to aim, and pulled the trigger. The echoing crack of the shot made everyone look around—Ian actually covered his ears—but she had already slid her gun back under her shirt. The bearded man’s forward momentum sent him sprawling down the steps. She looked around, wide-eyed, blending in with all the other tourists. A woman screamed and pointed at the body.

That was their cue to leave. Quinn pulled on Ian’s arm again.

He came without resistance, gaping back at the man. “You killed him.”

“Yes.” They needed to get to the south end of the plaza, but the crush of people seemed to have increased. Or maybe it was the man behind her who refused to run, whether out of shock or dread. Either way, he was slowing them down. “Come on, Ian.”

His face was pale, and he panted as he stumbled along behind her, his gaze never staying too long in one place. He alternated between muttering a litany of curse words and saying “oh God” over and over.

Marc appeared ahead of them on the corner of the street. He looked capable and strong, and part of her relaxed at the sight. She may not know everything about him, but some inner part of her trusted him to be her partner, to have her back.

He spotted her and started toward them, while scanning the area behind them, looking for pursuit.

“What took you so long?” he asked with a slight smile.

That smile flipped something in her stomach, and she couldn’t help the answering grin. “I stopped for a souvenir.”

He fake rolled his eyes. “Women and their shopping.”

“Seriously?” They headed to the side street. “You went there?”

Ian looked close to passing out. “Are you two flirting? You just killed people. That isn’t funny.”

Marc turned a cold gaze on him, the warrior back in his expression and demeanor. “We saved your ass. Stop complaining.”

Ian shook his head. “You didn’t save me. You condemned me!” He swung an arm back to the plaza. “Pérez is expecting Quinn and me. And you just fucked that up.”

“Expecting?” Understanding dawned on her.

Marc seemed to grow in stature, and his expression turned to icy stone. He stepped closer to Ian, menace emanating from him. Ian swallowed and stepped back.

“How long have you been working for Pérez?” Marc growled.

“It’s not like that.” Ian backed away again.

Marc stepped within striking range. “Is he paying you?”

“It wasn’t for anything serious. And my family needed the money,” he said. “My mom is sick.”

Quinn closed her eyes against the pain of the betrayal. Ian was her friend. They’d worked side by side for months.

“What did you do for him?” Marc seemed calm, but his eyes glinted dangerously.

Ian took another step back and glanced behind him.

“Don’t try to run,” Marc warned.

“I watched Quinn,” he blurted out. “Nothing special. Pérez just had a thing for her. He wanted to know if she had a boyfriend or anything.”

Marc glanced at her, and Quinn frowned. “He wanted to know if I had a boyfriend? But anyone could have told him I didn’t date. I only went on one date the whole time I’ve been here.” It had been a friendly man—the medical supplier who came once a week from Bogotá to deliver goods. They’d gone out to a local restaurant for dinner. She hadn’t even kissed him.

And she hadn’t seen him since. She hadn’t even thought of the man since, and had actually been a little bit grateful when the new guy had told her Miguel had transferred. “Did something happen to Miguel? Did Pérez hurt him?”

Marc gave her a sharp glance, but she ignored him and focused on Ian, who shook his head. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. I think Pérez just talked to him.”

Transferred. Right after their date. She hung her head, guilt breaking over her.

“What else did you tell Pérez about her?” Marc asked.

“Nothing major.” Ian had his hands up. “Just who she called and if she got any mail.”

Her phone was password protected, so he wouldn’t be able to access her contact list. “Did you listen to my conversations?”

His guilty expression told her everything. He’d told Pérez anything he could about her.

Marc glanced behind them, back to the square. “Let’s move.”

Two men ran toward them, still a good distance away, but they had guns out.

“Car?” she asked. “Or taxi?”

Marc moved a few steps to a small black sedan and stood by the driver’s window. “Car.” He rammed the butt of his gun against the window, breaking it. A few more knocks took the rest of the glass out. He opened the door and swept the glass out, protecting his hand with his shirt.

The men were almost at their street.

“Why don’t I stay here?” Ian said.

“Seriously?” Quinn asked. “Do you seriously think Pérez will let you go? You can’t be that stupid.”

A gunshot echoed down the street. She ducked into the passenger side of the car. Marc twisted wires together from the compartment under the steering wheel. He tapped one against the other. A spark and then the roar of the engine.

Marc set the car in gear.

“Now or never, Ian,” Quinn said.

Another gunshot and curses followed Ian as he dove into the back seat.

“We’ll drive him to the embassy,” she said.

“I’d rather leave him behind,” Marc said, but the car leapt forward.

* * *

Marc parked the car one block from the British Embassy. Two British soldiers with assault rifles stood on either side of the locked gate, with more in the guardhouse, plus at least three on the roof of the building.

“You’ll be safe here until you leave the country,” he told Quinn, knowing she wouldn’t go in. Not if she’d been classified as a rogue operator. But he wanted to see how she’d react. “I’ll walk you to the gate.”

Quinn shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere.” She turned in her seat and looked back at Ian. “Get out. I hope I never see you again.”

“Quinn, I didn’t mean anything by it. I didn’t think I was doing any harm.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Go.”

Ian left without another word, scurrying to the gatehouse. The spineless man spoke with one of the guards before he was escorted inside. “You sure you don’t want to walk away right now? I could finish whatever it is that you feel you need to do in Cartagena.”

Come on, Quinn. Level with me.

He didn’t expect her to reveal who she really was, but he wanted her to trust him with the real reason why she needed to go to Cartagena. Or maybe she wouldn’t because she really was a rogue agent? And what did that mean? Had she made a deal with someone or killed someone she shouldn’t have? Maybe he could help her clear her name?

Whoa. Where had that thought come from? No one had said she was innocent; in fact, just the opposite if she’d been accused of going rogue.

He couldn’t let himself be manipulated by her. Chances were good that the real Quinn—or whatever her name was—hadn’t shown herself yet. Marc just had to stick close to her to find out what she was up to.

Quinn stayed silent and watched Ian, her face stony, before she faced him. “I need to finish this.”

Marc waited a moment before he tried again. “Look, I know you’re hiding things from me, and right now I don’t care. I just want you safe. If you don’t want to go to the embassy, then where can I take you?”

Her lips pressed together. “I need to go to Cartagena.”

“What’s the real reason?” he pushed. Tell me.

She took a deep breath, and for a moment it seemed as if she’d tell him. “I told you why.”

“And will you be running from me once we get there?”

She had no reaction beyond a slight tightening around her eyes. He’d guessed her plan right. He clenched his jaw so tight it ached. “What the fuck, Quinn? All I’ve done is help you.”

She glared right back at him. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

He had to stay with her. He’d been ordered to, but he found he also wanted to. He wanted to help her against all logic. I’m an idiot. But he gentled his voice. “I’m good at what I do. I can help. Let me.”

“I’m not some fragile flower.”

Time to change tactics. He sighed heavily. “Fine. If you don’t want my help, then I’ll leave.”

Her soft intake of breath alerted him. She hadn’t expected him to agree with her so easily. Not that he was actually going to go anywhere.

“Tomorrow,” he lied. “I’ll leave tomorrow. But for the drive and tonight, you’re stuck with me.” He wouldn’t be leaving, but now he had time to convince her to trust him and to let him tag along with whatever she was up to.

She paused before nodding. “Deal.”

Good enough. He’d figure this out. He put the car in gear. “To Cartagena.”

Her lips twisted into a parody of a smile. “Cartagena.”