Marc fought not to grin at Quinn’s fierce smile. It revealed the warrior she hid from most people, and it entranced him.

They found a standard car to “borrow,” and Quinn drove. They’d decided to circle the apartment building once for a quick recce.

It was almost full dark and the street lights were on. People roamed the streets as if it were noon. Some wore sweaters, but the evening was warm by Marc’s standards.

The five-story beige apartment building had no balconies and was situated a few blocks away from the main downtown. You couldn’t get a more boring building if you tried. On either side were more boring buildings, as though this area of the city was an afterthought, the buildings thrown up quickly to accommodate people. The traffic out front moved at a normal pace, and the pedestrians all headed either toward downtown or into one of the buildings. Like worker ants marching into and out of their sandy nest.

“I don’t see anyone staking it out.” He scanned the people around the front. No one stopped or rested anywhere near. Nothing unusual. “No video surveillance either.” The street lamps were only that; none of them held cameras.

Quinn nodded and parallel parked farther up the street between two cars. She put the keys under the seat, and they got out.

“What if someone steals it before we get back?”

She shrugged. “So we steal another one. But this way, if something happens and only one of us gets away, we won’t have to worry about the keys.”

He frowned, not liking that scenario. She meant if something happened to her, then he could still get away. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

She glanced at him, surprise widening her eyes. “You might have to.”

He clenched his jaw. How could she think that? “No.” He held up a hand to stop her from talking. “I already know you wouldn’t leave me behind, so this isn’t up for discussion.”

She studied him as they walked to the apartment, but he refused to acknowledge her gaze or her ridiculous idea of him leaving her behind again.

They reached the glass front door of the building. “Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, and he swung it open. The apartment was on the fourth floor. They took the elevator up to a hall that smelled of cooking meat and spices. Marc tried the handle. “Locked.”

Quinn pulled out a set of lock picks and knelt before the door. He pulled his weapon and watched the hallway.

“Marc,” she said quietly and drew his attention to a tiny sliver of wood, barely a centimeter long, on the floor near the bottom hinge of the door.

“You think she had that in the hinge?” A simple trick to tell whether someone had been in her apartment. If her door opened, the tiny piece of wood would fall.

Quinn nodded and got back to trying to manipulate the tumblers. “Someone’s been here since she was taken.”

“Someone who locked the door behind them. Why would they care if they already had her?”

Quinn didn’t answer. Something to ponder later, after they’d retrieved the drive.

A click signaled the lock opening. Marc stepped in front of Quinn, ignoring her frown, and slowly opened the door. The lights were off, but streetlights offered a dim illumination of the room. A Spanish TV drama of some sort blared from the apartment next door.

He pushed the door wider, holding his Sig Sauer up, and stepped farther into the room. The door opened into the living room of the tiny one-bedroom apartment. A small galley kitchen lay to his right, closed off from the rest of the apartment. The door swung shut behind him, and he sensed Quinn just to the rear of his right side, her weapon drawn. She waited for him to move, letting him take the lead. She trusted him to lead her into an unknown situation. And it hit him.

He also trusted her.

They moved in unison through the spare living room, past the threadbare couch, a desk with nothing on it, and a small bookshelf with a TV on top. Quinn moved to the half-open door of the tiny bathroom while he continued to the closed door of what had to be the bedroom. He waited while she glanced in and cleared the room.

She joined him just to his rear again and tapped his shoulder signaling her readiness.

He swung open the bedroom door and darted in and to the left, his weapon moving where his eyes scanned on first glance. A double bed. Night table. Closet. Quinn followed right behind him, going to the right and checking behind the door. They made short work of the closet and under the bed.

“Clear,” he said.

“Clear.” She rolled her shoulders and glanced toward the front door before she flicked on the lights. “Let’s find this flash drive.”

“What’s up?”

Her lips pressed together. “A feeling. Let’s do this fast.”

Everyone in the business had had “feelings” that had saved their asses at one point or another. Marc’s instructors and superiors had always told him to trust his gut, because it wasn’t some guardian angel whispering in your ear—it was your subconscious screaming at you about something your conscious mind had been too preoccupied to notice.

“Roger,” Marc said. “I’ll take the main room. Remember to check the vents.”

“Wilco.”

“And check not just under the mattress but between the bed joists, and all the baseboards.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Did you want to do the search yourself?”

He held up his hands. “Sorry. It’s just…”

“You’ve never worked with a woman?”

He almost laughed. “My regular team leader is a woman.”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”

He couldn’t help his grin. “She is a fucking force of nature. So no, I don’t have a problem with the fact that you’re a woman. I just don’t know what your skill set is.”

Quinn nodded. “Fair enough.” She dropped down to look under the bed. “Trust me. I can search a room without disturbing it.”

“Are you going to tell me what unit you work for?” he asked, even though he knew.

“No.” She wiggled under the bed.

Her butt moved enticingly, and he paused for a second to appreciate the view. Strong and lean limbs with just the right amount of curve to her.

“It’s SIS,” he said, pretending to guess.

“Those stuffed shirts? What kind of impression do you have of me?” she scoffed. “Are you going to do any searching?” she called out from under the bed.

He turned away, grinning. “I’m searching.”

Twenty minutes later, he’d exhausted the living room, even going through the cushion coverings on the couch. Quinn had gone through the bedroom and now helped him in the kitchen.

He shut the final cupboard. Quinn stood on the counter, the light from her phone illuminating the small space between the ceiling and cupboards.

“Anything?” he asked.

She shook her head.

He ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the counter. They’d looked everywhere that they could think. “Are you sure she said it was here?”

“She told me I’d be able to find it.”

Quinn hopped down to the floor. A few tendrils of her red hair had escaped her braid and bounced with the action. “Do you think Pérez broke in here and found it?”

He walked back into the living room. “No. If he had, then I don’t think he’d be fooling with taking Ian hostage. He’d just have killed him and gunned us down.”

She stood beside him and surveyed the room. “I’m pretty sure that’s what they were trying to do to us.”

He shook his head. His thoughts slowly formed into an idea. “No. This is a big operation. They want whatever information Anna had on them. They must have known she’d have a copy, and that’s why they tortured her. If they’d found the flash drive, then they’d just start exterminating anyone who had anything to do with this. Whoever’s in charge would have put a sniper on us. Instead, they’re letting us lead them around.”

She tugged on her braid. “Damn, I think you’re right.”

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go back to the beginning. What were Anna’s exact words?” An agent wouldn’t have put the flash drive in an easy to find place. Bishop was too experienced to put it anywhere normal. Especially if she thought someone experienced might be looking for it.

Quinn frowned. “She only told me her address.” Her face cleared. “Holy shit. She said where a woman would find it.” Quinn grinned. “I know where it is.”

* * *

How could she be so stupid? Quinn left Marc in the main room while she dashed into the bathroom. She’d already done a search in here of the vanity, the shelf of toiletries, towels, vents, showerhead, toilet tank, and ceiling fan. But there was one place she hadn’t looked. At least not closely.

She dumped the box of tampons out onto the little counter of the vanity. One of the tampons didn’t roll like the others. She grinned and lifted it. Someone had made a tiny slice in the white-and-pink plastic wrap and removed the tampon, replacing it with a slender silver flash drive. Looking into the box, a person wouldn’t have been able to tell it was in there. Even dumping the tampons out, Quinn had almost missed it.

Clever, Anna.

A thump sounded from the main room. Quinn frowned and slid the flash drive into her bra before she stepped out. Marc stood with his hands up while Damien and a tree trunk of a man held guns on him.

“It appears they followed us,” Marc said to her.

“Shut up.” Damien turned to her. “Give it to me.”

“What are you doing, Damien?” Was he working for Pérez?

“I’m bringing in a rogue agent and confiscating stolen information. Now hand it over.”

She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

He aimed his weapon at her head. “Give me whatever you found in there.”

He really had turned on her. “I didn’t find anything.”

Damien swung his gun to point it at Marc’s head. “Don’t lie to me.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Marc’s face stayed inscrutable. She held up her hands. “I’m not,” she said calmly. “And what do you mean rogue agent?”

“Don’t bother with the innocent act, Quinn.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Damien looked at her, a sneer on his face.

Marc moved. Fast. He gripped Damien’s weapon, pushing it away from himself, even as he kicked out and sunk a foot into the tree trunk’s gut. With an explosive breath, the trunk went to his knees. Marc elbowed Damien in the face without letting go of the weapon—once, twice.

Damien fell to the ground, unconscious.

Quinn took one step and kicked out at the tree trunk’s head. It snapped back, and he toppled over and didn’t move. Marc stood over the men, his eyes cold. Quinn went into the kitchen and snagged the duct tape she’d seen in one of the drawers.

As she crouched down, Marc held Damien’s hands together behind his back so she could wind the tape tight around them. After they did his ankles and mouth, they moved to the second man.

Marc studied Damien when they’d finished. “He’s going to be a problem.”

She nodded and shrugged. “He’s supposed to be one of the good guys. Until we know for sure, we don’t kill them.”

“I’ll make a note,” he said with a half-smile. “You have it?”

She smiled and patted just above her left breast. Marc’s gaze zeroed in on her hand. Heat flared in his eyes. She froze for just a moment, her body reacting instantly with an answering heat sweeping over her like being doused in gasoline and lit with a match.

Marc abruptly turned away and strode for the door.

She frowned. Had she imagined that glimpse of lust?

Damien let out a feeble groan.

Time to go. It was better if she’d imagined it. They couldn’t explore whatever was between them, and even if they did, it was a lost cause.

Quinn shut the door behind her and jogged down the hall after Marc.