urge to protect her rose as strong as it was unwelcome. He’d tried to push away the thought. This woman was into some nasty stuff, and he couldn’t let the fact that she looked so delicate, so vulnerable, distract him. Sure, if she was the wide-eyed novice she appeared to be, the urge would be understandable, but he knew better. Still, the feeling nagged.
He retrieved his phone and dialed quickly.
“The target’s on the hotel shuttle,” he said.
“Shuttle?” Sam sounded as confused as Cruz felt, but they’d have to work that out later.
“Yeah, get over there and check the place out quick. I want to keep eyes on her, so I’m getting on now,” Cruz said.
“Got it.”
Sam disconnected and Cruz headed toward the shuttle, wondering what his confounding quarry was up to.
••••
Nola rested against the shuttle seat and stared out the window, her breath creating a fog on the glass. In the few moments that she’d been outside, the heavy humidity that clung in the air had coated her, leaving a fine sheen on her skin, which had prickled into goose bumps when she’d entered the air-conditioned vehicle. Good thing she was no stranger to either.
But even if she had been, neither the moist heat nor the contrasting cold of the bus would have been able draw her attention from the sights and sounds of Ho Chi Minh City. She’d never heard anything like it, not even close. The city sounded alive , seemed to be almost bursting at the seams with movement, life. And as amazing as the city sounded, the sight of it was something else altogether. The streets teemed with traffic: cars, buses, motorbikes, people on foot, all moving in a haphazard and seemingly random pattern. But from where Nola sat, it appeared to be a beautifully coordinated routine, one she doubted she would ever tire of seeing.
This couldn’t have been more different from home, from anything she’d imagined, let alone thought she would ever see in person. So though she was exhausted from the flights, sweaty but cold, and nearly ravenous, Nola was also invigorated. During the long hours on the flight—made so much more pleasant by the leg spent in first class—nerves had creeped up, and Nola wondered if she’d made a mistake. But just these few minutes had proven this had been worth it.
A thump , followed by the jostling of her seat, drew Nola’s attention from the window. She started and looked over, her gaze landing on a man’s crotch. Her eyes widened, but she couldn’t look away, and it occurred to Nola that the bulge a few feet from her face was almost as impressive as the city. She flushed and lowered her gaze, but the strong thigh she landed on didn’t derail the train of her thoughts, so she looked up again.
Of course, the sinfully tight T-shirt and the equally tight-looking stomach it covered weren’t any safer. Nor was the broad chest, the even broader shoulders, or the chiseled jaw that was sprinkled with a five-o’clock shadow that Nola couldn’t help but imagine scraping against her thighs.
With nowhere else to look, she lifted her eyes to meet his, and the faint throb that had started to pulse between her legs intensified, and her nipples, which were already puckered from the cold, pulled tighter, though the response had nothing to do with the temperature. His eyes were a sharp, almost arctic-blue color that should have made her shiver but had the opposite effect.
One glance at those eyes filled her with heat, incited a tugging neediness that Nola couldn’t ever recall feeling. And when he narrowed his eyes and lifted one corner of his mouth in a semismile, Nola squirmed in her seat.
He saw it, too. She could tell from the way the smile deepened, the little glint that sparked in his eyes.
And then the moment was over. The man moved down the aisle, and Nola drew on all of her reserves to keep herself from watching his retreat. She was curious as to whether his back was as impressive as his front, but she was already
He retrieved his phone and dialed quickly.
“The target’s on the hotel shuttle,” he said.
“Shuttle?” Sam sounded as confused as Cruz felt, but they’d have to work that out later.
“Yeah, get over there and check the place out quick. I want to keep eyes on her, so I’m getting on now,” Cruz said.
“Got it.”
Sam disconnected and Cruz headed toward the shuttle, wondering what his confounding quarry was up to.
••••
Nola rested against the shuttle seat and stared out the window, her breath creating a fog on the glass. In the few moments that she’d been outside, the heavy humidity that clung in the air had coated her, leaving a fine sheen on her skin, which had prickled into goose bumps when she’d entered the air-conditioned vehicle. Good thing she was no stranger to either.
But even if she had been, neither the moist heat nor the contrasting cold of the bus would have been able draw her attention from the sights and sounds of Ho Chi Minh City. She’d never heard anything like it, not even close. The city sounded alive , seemed to be almost bursting at the seams with movement, life. And as amazing as the city sounded, the sight of it was something else altogether. The streets teemed with traffic: cars, buses, motorbikes, people on foot, all moving in a haphazard and seemingly random pattern. But from where Nola sat, it appeared to be a beautifully coordinated routine, one she doubted she would ever tire of seeing.
This couldn’t have been more different from home, from anything she’d imagined, let alone thought she would ever see in person. So though she was exhausted from the flights, sweaty but cold, and nearly ravenous, Nola was also invigorated. During the long hours on the flight—made so much more pleasant by the leg spent in first class—nerves had creeped up, and Nola wondered if she’d made a mistake. But just these few minutes had proven this had been worth it.
A thump , followed by the jostling of her seat, drew Nola’s attention from the window. She started and looked over, her gaze landing on a man’s crotch. Her eyes widened, but she couldn’t look away, and it occurred to Nola that the bulge a few feet from her face was almost as impressive as the city. She flushed and lowered her gaze, but the strong thigh she landed on didn’t derail the train of her thoughts, so she looked up again.
Of course, the sinfully tight T-shirt and the equally tight-looking stomach it covered weren’t any safer. Nor was the broad chest, the even broader shoulders, or the chiseled jaw that was sprinkled with a five-o’clock shadow that Nola couldn’t help but imagine scraping against her thighs.
With nowhere else to look, she lifted her eyes to meet his, and the faint throb that had started to pulse between her legs intensified, and her nipples, which were already puckered from the cold, pulled tighter, though the response had nothing to do with the temperature. His eyes were a sharp, almost arctic-blue color that should have made her shiver but had the opposite effect.
One glance at those eyes filled her with heat, incited a tugging neediness that Nola couldn’t ever recall feeling. And when he narrowed his eyes and lifted one corner of his mouth in a semismile, Nola squirmed in her seat.
He saw it, too. She could tell from the way the smile deepened, the little glint that sparked in his eyes.
And then the moment was over. The man moved down the aisle, and Nola drew on all of her reserves to keep herself from watching his retreat. She was curious as to whether his back was as impressive as his front, but she was already
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