Miranda was as jumpy as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, as Cody’s grandma always said. She fidgeted in her seat, swiveling her head to look out the rear window of his rented Explorer. He’d taken a chance returning her clip, but he’d felt like it was necessary to get her to trust him. So far, so good.

Cody navigated the big vehicle through the crowded streets of Las Vegas, heading south. He’d first thought about taking her home to his grandparents’ place up north, but considering the kind of man Victor Conti was, that probably wasn’t the best idea. Cody didn’t know what Miranda was into, or what kind of hell she might call down on them once she made her call back to her handler.

Fortunately, Cage had called him with directions to a safe house in Arizona. “It’s not much,” he’d said. “But it’ll be a good place to go while we figure things out on this end.”

He hoped like hell they did figure it out. Someone had betrayed her—that’s what she said, and Cody tended to believe her. He didn’t think she’d been careless with her information, but then again he didn’t know anything about her as an operative. He’d gotten the jump on her, so why couldn’t others?

So many questions about Miranda Jane Lockwood—and few answers.

“What about those clothes, cowboy?” Miranda said as they passed yet another shopping center.

He glanced at her. Funny how everyone in his life called him cowboy even if they didn’t know he’d grown up on a ranch. He’d ridden in more than a few rodeos—bulls, broncs, and roping—but he didn’t do a whole lot of that anymore, unless you counted mechanical bulls at honky-tonk bars. There just wasn’t any time for it.

He rode horses when he was back home for a visit, and he worked the ranch even though his grandfather had enough hired help. After being on a dangerous mission, it was relaxing to spend hours in the saddle moving cattle from one pasture to another.

“Why do you call me cowboy?”

She shrugged and turned to look out the window again. Her profile was so pretty. Her lips pressed forward in a pout before she spoke, as if she was thinking.

“You’re wearing boots that look broken in, rather than a shiny new pair, and faded jeans.” She shrugged. “Stick a cowboy hat on you and there you go. You look like you could really live that life. Tourists always stand out, but you look like the real deal.”

He laughed. “Fair enough, I guess. I grew up on a ranch, though the Navy is my home now.”

“So the boots are authentic then.”

“They are indeed. Been wearing them since I was about eighteen, I think. Nothing like a good pair of broken-in boots.”

“About those clothes,” she said.

He laid on the horn when some asshole in an exotic car cut him off. “I thought it was safer to get away from the city before stopping.”

She didn’t respond, and he knew she was fuming.

“How long you been an agent, Miranda Jane?”

Her head whipped around, two whiskey-colored eyes staring back at him. “Long enough. Too long maybe.”

“Too long?” He glanced at her. “You don’t look like you’ve been out of high school for very long.”

“I’m twenty-six.”

“Me too.”

“So how long have you been a SEAL?”

“Five years. And don’t think I didn’t notice how you changed the subject just now.”

He could tell she didn’t want to do it, but she couldn’t stop herself. One corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. “You’re on to me.”

He’d like to be on her all right. On her, in her, with her all the way to the end of an explosive orgasm. His dick started to throb with arousal, and he called up the most unattractive images he could think of to get it to stop.

“Yeah, well, don’t change the subject,” he said gruffly.

“I’m not telling you anything. I’ve already said too much, in fact.”

“If I’d let you go back there, you wouldn’t be any better off than you are right now. Conti has spies everywhere. Guarantee you he knows we went to the Rio by now. He probably knows the room we entered and when we left. He also knows we’re in a rental, and he probably knows the plate number—”

“Which means we have to ditch this thing,” she said very coolly.

He admired the way she didn’t unravel under pressure. “Yes, ma’am, we do. I’ve got my guys working on getting us another car.”

“You’ve thought of everything,” she murmured.

“It’s my job.” It was, but he hadn’t expected to be doing it for another few days. Visit the grandparents, try to find Maggie, go to Cage’s wedding to Christina—the sister of the Alpha Squad commander, no less, and one seriously sexy lady, though saying that to Cage’s face would get him pummeled—and then back to DC and whatever new assignment awaited.

Life as he expected it to be, even if the bit about going on missions and risking his life was unpredictable from one operation to the other.

“Good thing for me, I guess.”

“Yes.” He glanced at her. “Where’s your backup? Why were you on this op alone?”

She didn’t look at him. “I don’t work with a team the way you do,” she said. “Some things require a lot of preparation and delicacy.”

“So if things went wrong, which they did, you had to get yourself out? Sounds like a shitty op to me.”

“I don’t question the work. I just do it.”

It didn’t make a lot of sense to him, but then he wasn’t CIA. Still, she couldn’t have been operating entirely alone—unless what she was doing was off the books. Now that was possible, sure. And it was mighty intriguing.

She let out a breath and turned to look at him. “I need to call my contact as soon as possible—which means I’d appreciate a burner and some clothing.”

“I’m aware of that, sunshine. You’ve told me a couple of times now.”

“Yes, but you don’t seem to be doing anything about it.”

Irritation was beginning to creep around the edges of his cool. “I’m telling you it’s not safe yet. Or didn’t they teach you anything in spy school?”

The corners of her mouth tightened. “You can’t think of any alternatives? Like I’ll hide in the backseat and you can go in without me?”

Cody snorted. “And come back outside to find you gone? No, thanks.”

She only stared at him for a long moment. “Why do you even care? You don’t know me. After this is over, you won’t ever see me again. What’s it matter what happens to me?”

He shot her a look. “It matters because my job is saving people from harm. I don’t put them in the path of it and then walk away.”

“I didn’t ask you to save me. I’m capable of saving myself.”

“Maybe so, sunshine—but I’m with you until we reach your people, so you might as well get used to it.”