Backblast by Candace Irving (miss read books TXT) 📕

But so had John's.

Swiftly. Silently.

Shit.

She had about two seconds before this thing headed south—in a major way. Pun absolutely intended. "That's enough." She stepped in between the men, shoving at John's damp chest as she glared up at him.

He didn't budge.

Neither did she. "I mean it, John. Knock off the gorilla warfare. And put some damned pants on, will you?"

She wasn't sure what had given the spook pause, but something had.

The scowl on his face had finally splintered apart and regrouped into open confusion. "I think you meant guerrilla."

John actually had the nerve to laugh. "Oh, no, she meant gorilla."

You bet she had. She stalked over to the desk to retrieve his trousers since he clearly couldn't be bothered, throwing them at him as she returned. "Now, put that appendage away, Mr. Goethe."

The spook glanced down at John's shirt, her bare legs and feet beneath. "I'll…wait outside."

John's fury might have ratcheted down several clicks, but it was still there, spiking into his answering nod. "You do that."

The door closed behind Riyad with a solid snap.

She turned her back on her very own, chest-pounding silverback and headed for the desk to gather up her clothes. Bundle in hand, she turned again to march into the bathroom to get away from him, since—

"Hon?"

She whirled around, staring up into that irritating twinkle that was once again warming the gray.

The twinkle took on a glow as that dent slowly folded in.

"What?"

His scarred paw came up. Dangling from the end—the scrap of white cotton she'd evidently dropped. Her underwear.

"Like I said—you're an ass." She snatched the scrap of cotton from his paw and spun around to stalk into the bathroom.

He was still laughing as she slammed the door.

Worse, everything that had been said while the spook had been in the room—and everything that hadn't—was still spinning through her brain as she thrust her hand into the shower to turn off the spray. It all continued to spin in as she dressed as quickly as she could. It was still spinning as she braided her hair and tucked it under, but when she reached out to switch on the faucet to splash water on her face, the diamond on her left hand winked up at her, finally forcing her to slow down and pause altogether.

To accept it.

She'd slipped in and out of so many identities, so many times, when she'd worked undercover, the rings hadn't even registered. She'd just put them on and immediately forgotten about them. But as she stared at the brilliant, mini explosions of blues that this oversized rock was throwing off every time light from the overhead fixtures hit it, she realized her mistake.

She should have looked at them.

Even without Riyad's dig and John's comeback, it would've been obvious. The diamond wasn't a fake. Nor had Tulle picked the rings up on behalf of the Army. John had. Somehow, he'd found a moment to slip into a jewelry store today and had purchased them with his own money. They might've needed the rings to complete their covers so they could compare notes in private and away from the embassy, but John had been working a second, simultaneous mission this entire time—and it was extremely personal.

He had no intention of returning the rings for a refund. Let alone accepting them back from her.

So, now what?

Focus. Find out why Riyad was here—and if her budding suspicions about the former SEAL were correct. More importantly, if the two were connected.

She shored up her nerve as best she could and exited the bathroom.

John had obviously had a second shirt in his bag, because he was dressed and standing at the desk, secreting the final piece of his coup-level arsenal within his suit. She stepped up beside him and reached for her shoulder holster—only to find her right hand engulfed in his. He used her fingers to guide her around until she was facing him.

Those proprietary paws of his slipped into place at the small of her back, tugging her close as he bent down to capture her stare.

Her.

"Stop worrying. It'll all work out. Just…give it time. Meanwhile, I meant what I said. What we do when we're off the clock is nobody's business but ours. USASOC sent me here. You, too. I spent fifteen months wanting you back in my life. I'll be damned if I'll let anyone get in the way of us when we're not actively on the job. Anyone."

He was right. They might be Army, but they deserved a life.

She might not be ready for what he was really saying with that diamond, but she was ready for him. At the very least, she was ready to risk finding out.

"Rae?"

She slid her hand up around the back of his neck as she stretched up to press her lips to the growth on his cheek, then moved on to murmur in his ear. "Agreed."

His breath eased out as he released her. "I'll get the door."

She donned her shoulder holster, frowning as she automatically slid her SIG out, then in, to check it. Her fingers were trembling again.

Peachy.

She crossed her arms as Riyad entered the suite. The motion served two purposes. It hid her recalcitrant hand from John, and it also let the spook know she was still royally pissed at him. "Where's Nathan?"

"Near as I know, still at the consulate in Peshawar. Why?"

"Because you're supposed to be there, too. Assisting him."

"I was. I did." Riyad must've had as exhausting a day as John, because he finally scrubbed his hands over the dark growth on his jaw and sighed. "Look; Castile's fine, okay? He's a good man, and he has everything in hand. We sat down and reviewed his approach. I offered a few course corrections—but, all in all, it's solid. He's good to go. He will ID that woman from the cave. It's just going to take time. Boots on the ground."

John flicked his stare at the black leather dress shoes at the base of the spook's suit. "Those