office box in Texas. That’s my official residence.” Used to be San Diego, but that’s another story. “I graduated from the school of hard knocks, but majored in sociology at the University of San Diego.” In between deployments and before murder trials...
“Navy brat,” she murmured, taking a bite off the end of that crispy treat.
Her lips closed over the slice of meat and Hotrod had to close his eyes. Everything this woman did drew him back to sex. Either it was all her, or he was still that horny.
“Just interested in group dynamics. People. What makes them tick. That’s why I went into sociology. But how about you? You said you were an agent. I’d guess either CIA or FBI. Truth or dare?”
She snapped at that crispy slice, and he grimaced, painfully aware what those straight, pearly whites could do to a treasured part of his anatomy. If she were ever to get that close.
“You’re good,” she purred. “I was FBI, but I worked an op for the Agency last year. Not doing that again. Don’t like what they expect of their agents. Moved onto something better.”
He could’ve watched her chewing and swallowing all night. “Like what?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper. His eyes on her luscious lips and mouth. The suggestive tease of her tongue on the end of that salty slice of meat.
“Ever hear of a covert surveillance company called The TEAM, out of Alexandria, Virginia? Alex Stewart? He’s former USMC and owns that company. It’s one of the best on the East Coast, may even be the best in the States. I needed a break, so I quit the federal circuit and signed on with him last month.”
Hotrod cocked his head, finally understanding why this bungalow didn’t feel lived in. “So you’re on vacation? This place isn’t yours?”
Snap went another inch of that crispy bacon.
“Oh, it’s mine, all right. I bought it on a whim last month, but just arrived yesterday. Needed time to decompress.”
“Oh? Why?” They had yet to touch the cantaloupe.
She shrugged. “Can’t do the deep, dark infils the Agency wants anymore. Not like I worked for them to begin with. Uh uh. No, sir. I was FBI until my boss loaned me to the CIA, just because I look Spanish.” She stabbed air quotes around the bacon hanging off her lip and mumbled, “Me. A second-generation Iranian immigrant. I look Spanish. Do you believe that?”
That answered another question. “Your mother?” he guessed.
She nodded. “Yes, Mom was one of the Iranian scientists who handled mustard gas canisters during the Iran-Iraq War back in the ’80s. Do you remember that? When Israel caught wind of the attack, they bombed the weapons depot where Mom worked. No gas canisters were damaged, but she took advantage of the chaos to escape. She still won’t say how she got out of Iran.”
“Because she’s protecting her friends.”
Persia’s head bobbed. “I realize that. Anyway, I’m Iranian on Mom’s side, American on Dad’s. They still live in Mississippi.”
That surprised Hotrod. “Not working for the American government?” Usually the USA grabbed up foreign scientists.
“No. Not for Uncle Sam. Dad had just bought a rundown tobacco plantation before they met. She helped him change it from a derelict dump to one of the county’s most productive farms. They grow cotton now. They met at a baseball game, do you believe that? An Iranian scientist falls in love with a cotton farmer over baseball? Sounds like a fairytale, but I swear it’s true.”
“The American dream,” Hotrod whispered.
“I guess.” She huffed, blowing a silky ribbon of dark hair out of her eyes. “Anyway... My last job in Brazil damn near killed my heart. Too many kids involved. I hate when children get hurt. Still messes with my head. Makes it hard to remember why I was really there. You know? Part of me turns into a raging beast thinking about it. I wanted to kill anyone who touched them and save every last child. Only I couldn’t. I didn’t.”
Brazil? That cut a little too close to home. Hotrod had just been undercover in the Highlands of Minas Gerais, Brazil, along with his US Army Ranger buddy, Gregor, aka ‘Charlie Brown’ Jorgensen, Special Agent Julio Juarez, and another damned cocky female, one-time US Army Corporal Duncan. Meg. She’d planned on adopting an entire orphanage of unwanted children the last time Hotrod saw her. She and Juarez were instrumental in ending Orlando Zapata’s bloodthirsty reign. They’d done the impossible. Saved a hand full of orphans in