When Cody went back inside, he heard movement in the bedroom. Miranda was awake. He strode over and pushed the door open. She was standing beside the bed, dragging on her jeans. She stopped in the process of doing so and stared at him.

His chest tightened. God, she was beautiful. And she had no idea what was coming. What he had to do.

“How you doing?” he asked.

She dropped her gaze to the floor. Was that a blush?

“Fine. A little sore.”

At the thought of how she’d gotten that way, his cock started to tingle with arousal. Not now.

“Sorry about that.”

Her whiskey eyes were on his, wide and innocent. “Oh no, I loved it. Really. It’s been a long time and you—you treated me right. Thank you.”

Fuck.

“You’re welcome.”

She finished pulling her jeans on and spread her hands. “Look, I don’t want this to be awkward, okay? We had sex. I don’t expect anything from you. I don’t want anything.”

Now why did her words make him angry? He got what she was saying, and yet it pissed him off anyway.

“What if I want something?”

Her eyes widened a second. And then she looked… hurt? Regretful? A moment later she masked her expression, and he couldn’t tell what it was he’d seen.

“What could you possibly want?”

“Maybe I want to know more about you.” Whoa, since when had he ever wanted to know more about a woman he slept with?

She looked uncertain, and he hurried on. No way was he going to sound needy. That was weird. And not at all like him.

“I could also want you to know that I intend to do everything I can to help you, Miranda. I could want you to know that I’m not going to stop until we find out who betrayed you. No matter what happens, I want you to know that.”

Because tonight, when he handed her over to Samantha Spencer, she was going to hate him.

Her throat moved as she swallowed. “I appreciate that. You’ve been more than kind to me.”

Now it was his turn to look pained. Goddammit, he still hadn’t figured out how he was going to obey orders and keep his promise to her at the same time. But he would. He had no choice.

“I’ve been on the phone with my guys. We’re going to have to head back to Vegas and catch a flight out.”

She straightened from where she’d bent to pick up her shoes. “Is that a good idea? Conti could be looking for us. He’ll have spies at the airport.”

“We’re boarding a private plane. Different part of the airport than commercial.”

That much was true. Samantha Spencer was flying in on a government jet. He hated to think how much that was costing the taxpayers. Or just why it was necessary.

“All right. When do we go?”

Cody frowned. He hadn’t expected her to agree so easily. “We have a few hours. The flight will be tonight, so there’s no need to leave just yet.”

Miranda sat on the bench at the end of the bed and put on her shoes. Not the heels from yesterday but a pair of tennis shoes with a bright pink stripe down the side.

“I thought I smelled coffee,” she said, glancing at him for a second.

“Yep.”

“Great. I could use some.” She stood and brushed past him, not touching him or looking at him again.

Yeah, so it was awkward. They’d had sex last night, and now there was all the uncomfortable morning-after stuff to deal with. Any other time, any other woman, and he’d get up in the morning and walk away. There might be another session before he did, or he might just slip into his clothes and leave before she woke up.

But he couldn’t do that this time, even if he wanted to. Which, strangely, he didn’t. Neither of them could walk away right now, and that was fine with him.

“There’s bread for toast,” he said as he walked out into the living room. She glanced at him from the kitchen as she popped a K-Cup into the Keurig. “Might be cereal too. I didn’t check.”

“Great. Thanks.”

He’d eaten an energy bar from the stash in his duffel, so he hadn’t paid a lot of attention to what the safe house was stocked with. Miranda fixed her coffee and then poked around in the cabinets. She found cereal, poured a bowl, and ate it standing over the sink in the kitchen, staring out the window.

He wanted to know what she was thinking, but he wouldn’t ask. He also had an urge to walk over and slip his arms around her, tug her into his embrace. He wasn’t going to do that either.

She finished the cereal and rinsed her bowl. But she still didn’t leave the window. She stood there drinking her coffee, watching the road. It was empty of traffic, a dusty ribbon winding from the main road to the safe house, which sat tucked away in the scrub.

If he looked out the east window, he could see another house about a mile away. It was sparsely populated out here. Not many people wanted to live in the desert, he supposed. Or at least not in this part of the desert.

Cody went out to the truck, stashed his duffel inside, and checked his weapon. His team had made sure he had one when they’d gotten the truck for him last night. The gun was a 9mm, not as sweet as his Sig, but it would get the job done.

He shut the door and was turning to go back inside when a cloud of dust caught his eye. It was near the beginning of the road leading down to the house. There was no need for anyone to come down that road, but someone could be turning around.

And yet the cloud kept moving toward him, swirling around a black SUV that barreled along the road.

Cody sprinted to the door and threw it open. “Miranda! We’ve got company! Get your shit and get out here. Now!”

He started the truck with the remote key fob and turned impatiently, looking for Miranda. She came running out the door, gun drawn. They ran for the truck and jumped inside, doors slamming.

He jammed it into reverse, rammed his foot on the gas, and rocketed backward. Then he executed a one-eighty and cranked the truck into drive. The only way out was the road the SUV approached on. Yeah, this was the desert and the terrain was flat, but it was rocky too. He wasn’t taking the chance of bottoming out the truck, piercing the gas tank, or damaging the transmission and turning them into sitting ducks. The only thing to do was fly toward the SUV and play chicken.

Miranda propped a foot onto the glove compartment to steady herself, grabbed the handle above the door for support, and aimed the pistol over her knee. Cody shot her a look, his chest swelling with emotions he didn’t understand or have time to analyze.

But goddamn, she was spectacular. Tough and beautiful and deadly all at once. He’d never known that kind of thing could be a turn-on, but holy fuck, it sure was. He’d dated military women in the past, so he was used to tough-as-nails females, but none of them had been quite like Miranda.

She was cut from the same cloth as he was, and he liked it more than he’d ever thought possible. Her long hair hung over her shoulders, and her jaw was set at a determined angle. When they got out of this, he was looking forward to kissing her again, to watching that jaw soften as he brought her pleasure.

“I don’t know how they found us, but we got this, sunshine,” he said coolly. “I promise.”

She glanced at him, her whiskey eyes looking haunted. “We don’t even know who they are,” she said. “Conti? Or the agency? Or maybe it’s your guys deciding they don’t want to help me after all.”

That last statement pierced his conscience in ways he didn’t like. “Does it matter who they are?”

Her eyes hardened. “No.”

They flew down the road toward the SUV. Miranda kept aim, and Cody prepared to perform evasive maneuvers. The SUV grew bigger, the headlights shining through the dust. The driver wasn’t wavering yet—but he would.

Cody mashed the gas harder, and the truck responded with a surge of power, rocks spitting and plinking against the sides—

And then the truck died. Just fucking died. All the power went away as the brakes locked up and they skidded over the dirt. Cody held the wheel hard, keeping the truck straight as they slid. They came to a stop and his stomach twisted as he reached for the key and turned it again and again. Nothing happened. Nothing.

“Fuck!” He slammed his palm against the steering wheel and then grabbed his gun as he flung the door open. He didn’t know how, but they’d disabled the truck remotely.

“Follow me,” he ordered Miranda as he tumbled out and took up position behind the tires. He wasn’t giving up yet. No fucking way.

He heard Miranda fall to the dirt. And then he felt her behind him, one hand lightly stroking over his shoulders. “It’s okay,” she said softly, her breath tickling the shell of his ear as she leaned in and kissed his cheek. “It’s over, Cody. You tried.”

Before he knew what she intended, she stood and walked out in front of the truck. Her gun hung limply at her side.

“Goddammit, Miranda,” he shouted. “Get down.”

She didn’t move as the SUV rolled up. And then her arm came up, aiming at the vehicle. Cody started to go after her and drag her down, but a shot rang out and then another—

Miranda dropped like a stone in the dirt, her golden hair billowing over the rocks and scrub as she fell. Cody roared with rage as he surged upright, intending to shoot every last motherfucker in that vehicle. He prayed she was only hit, not dead, but his brain knew better. They’d been too close, the aim too precise. There was blood everywhere, her blood…

“Drop it, sailor. That’s an order.” Samantha Spencer sat in the passenger seat, window down, staring at him. But it was the semiautomatic rifle aimed at him from the rear passenger seat that made him check himself.

“What the fuck have you done?” he demanded, rage boiling inside him. Miranda’s body was still, her face turned away from him. Blood spattered her shirt and pooled beneath her body, soaking the sand. It made him ill in a way that blood and bodies never had before. At least they hadn’t shot her with the semi or she’d have been torn to pieces.

He started toward her but the gun in the window jerked and Samantha growled. “Stand down and drop your weapon.”

Cody complied, his stomach twisting. He didn’t look at Miranda again. He couldn’t. Samantha held his gaze.

“We did what was necessary. Now get back in your truck and drive away.”

“I was bringing her to you tonight. Why the fuck did you shoot her? Why not just wait for me to bring her to you?”

Samantha’s gaze never wavered. “She was dangerous. You were in danger, whether you realize it or not. She would have killed you rather than let you bring her in. Now drive away and forget about this.”

“You didn’t have to shoot her,” he insisted, his gut churning with fury and nausea. He’d been inside her last night. She’d been alive beneath him. So alive and beautiful. Dangerous? No fucking way. Not like that.

“She shot at us first. It’s regrettable, but it’s done. Get in your truck and drive. Now. That’s a direct order, sailor. Disobey me and you’ll be answering to Colonel Mendez.”

As if on cue, his phone rang. He answered with a clipped, “McCormick.”

“Drive away, son.” It was Mendez’s voice. “Let the CIA handle the situation.”

That was the moment when he knew it was over. The end. Nothing more he could do. Goddammit!

“Yes, sir,” he said, his heart aching. He didn’t want to accept the truth, but he had no choice. Miranda was dead. He’d promised to help her, and he’d failed spectacularly. He’d let her down, and she’d paid with her life.

He got in the truck and turned the key, his body on autopilot. He was numb. He couldn’t feel a damned thing. Couldn’t process everything that had happened.

The truck started as if nothing had ever gone wrong. As if this had merely been a bad dream and not reality. He put it into gear and backed away. The last thing he saw in the rearview was two men get out of the SUV and pick up Miranda’s lifeless body.

He put the pedal down and drove.

* * *

Miranda didn’t move until she was placed into the SUV. Then she sat up and pulled her shirt away from her body. The blood from the capsules they’d fired at her was sticky and messy. Someone handed her a towel, and she pressed it to her body.

“Sorry about that,” Sam said from the front seat. She knew it was Sam because it was the same voice from the phone call.

Miranda’s throat was tight. Her eyes stung. Now why on earth was she so upset over the fact she’d had to lie to a man she’d known for less than twenty-four hours? He’d been on her side, sure, but she’d had to do it. For his sake and hers. Or so she’d been told.

“I don’t know why we had to do it that way,” she grated. “It could have all gone wrong so quickly.”

“Yes, but it didn’t. I know the HOT boys. I know how they’re trained.”

“He could have been told what was happening,” she said, guilt suffusing her. “We didn’t need to stage a deception like this.”

Sam’s eyes were sharp as she turned to look at Miranda over the seat. “You needed to die, Miranda. The fewer people who know the truth, the better. There’s a mole in the agency, and we need to find out who it is. I can’t have a military Special Operator, a HOT operator—someone I do not control—knowing you’re alive. I told you he could be in danger too. Do you even care about that?”

Miranda swallowed. Of course she did. But it was too easy to think of Cody as being invincible. Strong and trustworthy. Someone she wanted in her corner.

“Besides,” Sam continued, “it’s bad enough we had to do it the way we did. He knows it was me, and I’d rather that wasn’t the case. I’d rather he think Victor Conti got to you—but there wasn’t enough time to set that up. If he were anyone other than HOT, neutralizing him wouldn’t have been an issue.”

She knew what Sam meant. Cody was highly trained and deadly. If he’d thought they were Conti’s men, he’d have killed them—or at least one of them before he’d been stopped. And how would they have stopped him? A tranquilizer? That would have been a dead giveaway when he woke up. Because Conti’s men would have killed him, not put him to sleep.

No, he had to know it was the agency who’d killed her because he had to be ordered to stand down. And he had to be willing to accept the order, which is why he needed to see Sam’s face.

Miranda ran a shaky hand through her hair. It was tangled and dirty now, but she didn’t care. She could still hear Cody’s rage. Still feel the sickening emotion in the pit of her stomach as she lay there and pretended to be dead. She’d had to fall just right, with her back angled to the tire opposite so he couldn’t see the absence of a gaping exit wound. And she couldn’t lie completely on her back because then he’d see her breathe. It had been tricky, but he’d been pissed and the situation had been confusing, which was what they’d counted on.

And yet it felt all wrong to lie to him like that, to cut him out of the loop so suddenly and violently. But she’d had no choice. Not if she wanted her life back. And not if she wanted to protect him from whoever was after her.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she dashed them away angrily. What the hell? She was an agent, a trained operative. She did what was necessary. Did the dirty work. She did not feel regret for doing the job.

Not until today anyway.

“You heard him. He had orders to take you in. Did you forget that?”

Yes, she’d heard him, and she’d felt his betrayal like a blow. It didn’t make her feel any less guilty for what she’d done though. “No, I didn’t forget.”

“He would have obeyed those orders, same as you obeyed yours.” Sam reached back and patted her arm. “We’ve got work to do. Are you ready to do it?”

Miranda gritted her teeth and swallowed down the uncharacteristic emotion boiling inside her. It made no sense why she was upset about this. Cody was a nice guy, but she didn’t care about him. She couldn’t.

Liar.

“Yes,” she said, shoving away the voice in her head. The emotion. The regret for what she’d done. She was a machine. An operative with a job to do. She didn’t have room for softness or tender feelings in her life. “Yes, I’m ready. Let’s do this thing.”