He winks, sets me on my feet, and leaves the tent.
Vanessa comes up to me. "Zoe, it's like God heard our conversation. I can't believe we're getting rescued.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “And they're all hot like we requested." She wiggles her eyebrows.
My gut drops further.
Did I get it wrong? Is he really not part of the Global Leaders?
He's a good guy?
I am in trouble.
4
Dirk
Zoe Diego. The Zoe Diego.
Her music fills my playlist. I've been to at least a dozen of her concerts over the last twenty years. And not just since she became uber-famous in Latin America.
In my early twenties, I discovered her. One of my favorite Latin bands was playing in Mexico, just south of my parent's place in Texas. I was home on a break from the Marines and my brother scored some tickets. She wasn't the headline, but when she came on stage, the atmosphere became electric. When she finished her set, it made the band I came to watch seem like amateurs.
After that, I listened to anything I could of hers. Every new album that came out, I bought as soon as I could get my hands on it.
Her voice has been with me in every country, warzone, and mission I've ever been a part of.
Over the years, as technology made things easier, I followed her on her social media accounts and watched her interviews.
It's how I know she is bi-lingual and speaks English and why I didn't talk to her in Spanish at first. She's so fluid in both languages it never crossed my mind when I chose to speak English.
She's always been the sexiest woman I ever laid eyes on. And she's smart too. But when she climbed out of the pit in a sequin gold dress and stilettos, it threw me for a curveball. My adrenaline, which was already racing like it always does on missions, spiked even higher.
She's the only woman on Earth who could wear that in the jungle and not look ridiculous.
Over the years, I've seen Zoe in every hairstyle imaginable. Since she's been in captivity for the last fourteen months, her hair has grown out, and her natural chocolate brown color frames her face. The rest of her hair has blonde streaked through it. Any other woman would look unmade, but not Zoe. Every bit of her sparkles and shines, and it isn't because of the sequins she's wearing.
When Spanish rolled out of her pouty lips, her brown eyes had a fire in them. I thought, if she wants to play this game, then I'll play. And I shouldn't have. It was devious, and now she probably trusts me even less.
And I'm completely screwed.
Close ups of her on camera and in photos always were hot, but now I know. The press duped me. The real Zoe Diego is more sensational than I imagined.
And she thinks you're an ass.
I've never told a target that they were mine when I was rescuing them. It came out of my mouth before I knew it, and the look on her face was all I had to see. It was the wrong thing to say, and then she shuddered in fear or disgust. I'm still not sure which one.
And then, I couldn't control my mouth when she responded. I don't know why I chose to tease her during a rescue.
It was inappropriate and could have put her in more danger.
Then you told her you were going to muzzle her.
What the heck were you thinking?
I groan, sorting through the tub of food that Interpol sent to the camp. Nothing can happen between us. She's a target. My job is to deliver her to safety and nothing else. There's a professional line that shouldn't be crossed.
Why would you even think you stand a chance?
It's Zoe Diego, not just any woman.
She did say you were sexy and hot.
She thinks you're a moron.
You need to work on your game. You've lost it.
Deliver her and forget about how the hottest woman on Earth thinks you're an idiot.
Where am I delivering her?
Why did she think I was part of Jonas Torres's cartel?
Who are these Global Leaders?
"Dirk, are you bringing the food in, or do you need help?" Malin shouts out the tent flap.
"I've got it."
Why am I sorting through this? Just bring the crate.
I pick up the box and carry it into the tent. Malin has a first aid kit out.