Quinn woke to Marc kissing her neck, and heat flushed her skin. She turned languidly in his arms, a smile on her face. Marc’s warm gaze caught hers.

“Morning,” he said, his voice gravelly from sleep. The low timbre caused a pulse of remembered pleasure to course through her.

“Good morning.” She kissed him as his hand trailed down to her breast.

His stomach growled, and she giggled. “I think someone needs food.”

He lightly pinched her nipple, causing her to arch into him. “I can live without,” he said.

She wanted nothing more at that moment than to continue. She could start every day this way, with this smart, sexy, courageous man nibbling on her ear. She tilted her head to give him better access.

“We should eat while we can,” she said. “Or at least figure out when our flight is.”

He pulled back with a grin. “Are you a planner?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You have a hard time doing spontaneous things, don’t you?”

She pinched his arm. “I can be spontaneous.”

His eyes glinted. “Then show me.” He leaned back in for a kiss.

Much later, Quinn stepped out of the shower, now twice christened by them. She stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Marc was dressed in his low-slung cargo pants and gray t-shirt, his wet hair slicked back and a bit of stubble lining his jaw. He hadn’t shaved this morning, and she’d discovered how much she liked the feel of it.

“Damn, woman.” He stared at her towel-wrapped body. “Are you sure we can’t stay here one more day?”

“Get me some food,” she demanded, unable to hide her smile.

“Do you always get growly when you’re hungry? I bet you were awesome during training.”

“Go!” She waved at him while laughing. “I’m going to call Carmen and find out when the plane will be ready.”

Marc stilled, his face serious. He looked as if he were going to say something, and then his fake smile plastered on his face. “One breakfast coming up, ma’am.” He left the room before she could ask him about whatever thought he’d just had.

But did she want to know? Something tightened around her chest, making it hard to breathe.

She sat on the bed. This was ridiculous. She’d only known Marc a few days. They’d slept together and shared a mission. That was it. She rubbed at her chest. She shouldn’t make this out to be anything more than a fun night. Hell, he hadn’t even offered his last name to her. She had no way of finding him after they left Cartagena.

But oh, she wished otherwise. She’d found a man who was her equal. A man who ran toward danger and had the courage to help others. They fit together, both in and out of bed. But it wasn’t to be. She’d finally met a man she could fall for, and he refused to fall. Damn his stupid rules.

She reached for the phone to call Carmen, starting when it rang before she touched it. She smiled when she answered. “Buenos dias, Carmen,” she said. “I was just going to call you.”

“It’s Damien.”

A chill snaked down her back before her training kicked in, and her pulse calmed, her breathing evened. “How’d you find me?”

Damien huffed. “My man put a tracker on your friend when you were at the apartment.”

Shit. The trackers they used could be as small as a grain of rice. Easy enough to attach in a scuffle.

“What do you want?”

“Come outside now, and we don’t have to hurt your boyfriend.”

Did he mean Marc? She’d like to see him try. “Bastard.”

“Come to the lobby. Don’t make us come get you.”

Us. Of course he had backup. And she still didn’t know whose side he was on. Time to leave. “Fuck you, Damien.” She grabbed her clothes and started to yank them on. Maybe she could find Marc and slip out the back.

“I have the place surrounded. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

She pulled a black t-shirt over her head. She needed more time. “Why did you betray the Crown?”

“Me? You’re the one who went rogue. I’m just doing my duty by bringing you in.”

Was he telling the truth? Was he being played just like her? Maybe if he brought her in, then she could get the information to Fletcher still. At least Damien would get her out of Cartagena. Unless—

“What the hell is he doing here?” Damien muttered over the phone.

“Who?” She did up her cargo pants. Her boots were by the desk.

“It doesn’t concern you.”

Dread crawled up her spine. “Who, Damien?”

“Just a merc. Timmerman.”

She stilled at his words. Timmerman worked for Pérez. “How do you know him?”

“Nelson made me work with him before. Bloody detestable man.”

Nelson knew Timmerman. Damien’s boss really was dirty. That didn’t mean Damien was, though. If Damien really wasn’t working with Pérez, then— “Timmerman is working for Pérez. You’ve led him right to us. Get out of there.”

“What?” Damien cursed. “He’s got a gun. Get—”

There was a scuffle of noise. Then a new voice came on the line.

“Have I finally caught up to the Diabla Rojo I’ve heard so much about?”

“Let him go,” Quinn said evenly.

“You have one minute to get out here,” Timmerman said pleasantly. “Or I will kill the desk clerk. Bring your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said. “And he’s not here. He left to meet his team last night.” She pulled the two flash drives from the pocket of her cargos. Hot pink and matte black. She put one back in her pocket and the other on the desk.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” She couldn’t let both of them get caught in this trap. Marc would see that the information got to Fletcher.

“You now have thirty seconds.”

Marc could handle himself, but she couldn’t let Carmen get hurt. “I’m on my way.”

“Bring the flash drive.”

She hung up and yanked on her boots. She took a moment to write a quick note to Marc and then raced down the hall to the lobby. She had no time to wait for Marc as backup. Would he try to follow her, or would he leave and take the information back to his government?

Even if he did follow her, Marc alone wouldn’t be enough backup. She made a quick call on her cell before entering the lobby.

“This is Diabla Rojo,” she said to the gravelly voice of the man who answered. “I have information for you about Pérez.”

* * *

Marc carried the breakfast tray to the room and slipped inside. He stopped just inside the door. The silence of the room warned him something was wrong. He set the tray down quietly on the floor and drew his gun from under his shirt. He moved to the bathroom first.

Empty.

Then the patio.

Empty.

He frowned. Where was Quinn? A piece of paper with scrawled writing was on the desk. The flash drive sat beside it. Quinn wouldn’t have left that.

Two steps took him to the desk, and he snatched up the note.

Pérez found me. Don’t try to follow.

The mission comes first.

Get the flash drive to Fletcher.

Q

His heart started to thud hard in his chest. She wouldn’t have left willingly. He clenched his jaw and crumpled the note in his fist as a savage feeling made him want to punch the wall.

She’d quoted his words back to him. She expected him to leave the country with the information. To leave her behind.

His blood pounded in his ears. Why hadn’t she fought? Why hadn’t she trusted him to help her?

Because she hadn’t believed that he would. She’d thought he would think the information—the mission—was more important than her.

He gathered his gear as he put in a call to EDGE.

Cat answered. “Report.”

“I need backup ASAP.”

“Where?”

He gave the location of Pérez’s compound. “I’m en route right now. They have Quinn.”

“The SRR operator?”

“Affirmative.”

“Don’t go in until we get there.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Spooky, that’s an order.”

“You’re breaking up,” he lied.

“Spook—”

He hung up. Quinn had left her weapon and ammo behind, confirming to him that she’d been coerced into leaving. Whoever had her would have taken her weapon, so she’d left it for him. His skin crawled with the thought of her voluntarily walking into Pérez’s clutches. An image of the bruises on Anna Bishop’s face and body came to him.

He had to get to Quinn. They couldn’t be far ahead of him.

He raced down the hall to the lobby. No one there but Carmen, waiting at the front desk. She greeted him with a smile.

No distress on her face or in her eyes. Whatever had happened, there hadn’t been a fight, which meant Quinn had gone willingly to Pérez. That thought chilled his blood. What did they have on her to make her give up?

“Carmen.” He laid the flash drive on the counter, getting his mission out of the way. “I need you to mail this express.” He wrote down the address of EDGE Security in Montréal, the cover company for the covert military group. They’d know what to do with the information if he didn’t make it out of this. He laid one hundred dollars down beside it and strode toward the entrance.

“It won’t cost—”

“Keep the change,” he called over his shoulder.

He wasn’t surprised when three men stepped out from a black SUV when he left the hotel. From the way they kept their hands inside their jackets, all three had guns.

Three men.

He only needed one alive.