Read Online Special Ops Exclusive by Elle Kennedy - Free Book Online Page A

redhead beside him. No, Rebecca was the more recognizable of the two of them. If anyone had been recognized, it was her.
    “Are you okay?” he asked tersely, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.
    She didn’t answer.
    From the corner of his eye, Nick saw that her hands were still wrapped around the mercenary’s .45 HK. Steady hands. Jeez, the woman had nerves of steel. She wasn’t trembling, her breathing was steady, her eyes alert.
    Only that white-as-snow complexion revealed her fear.
    “Rebecca.” He sharpened his tone. “Are you all right?”
    She blinked. Shook her head a couple of times. Then she turned to meet his concerned gaze. “What the heck is going on?” she blurted out. “Who were those men? What did they want from me?”
    “They were mercenaries. A private hit squad.”
    Her face went another shade paler. “Hit squad? They were sent here to kill me?”
    “Most likely.”
    Those green eyes blazed at his nonchalant response. “Why? Why would they want to kill me?”
    “Because you talked to me,” he said simply.
    Her breath hitched.
    Nick drove through an intersection and executed a hard left, speeding through the narrow streets of Mala.
    “I told you this would happen,” he went on, his tone harsher than he intended. “You spoke to someone about me, didn’t you?”
    “Yes.” There was no guilt in her voice, no remorse on her face, but she looked shaken as hell.
    “Who?”
    “My producer, Harry Drexler.” She let out a wobbly breath. “I asked him to dig around, find out why the sec def’s son would be in Cortega.”
    Nick cursed under his breath. “He probably triggered a hundred alarms when he started asking questions.”
    Not to mention broadcasted Nick’s location to the people who were hunting him.
    Wonderful. Now it was even more imperative that he meet with Salazar and get the hell out of Cortega.
    “I’m sorry,” Rebecca said quietly. “You told me to forget I ever saw you, and I didn’t listen, but you’ve got to understand, this is my job—”
    “This is your life, ” he cut in. “I told you that getting involved in this would put you in danger, but you just couldn’t let it go, could you?”
    “Involved in what? ” she said angrily. “Maybe if you’d offered a few more details last night, I would have been able to drop it the way you asked—no, the way you demanded. But what the heck did you expect would happen when you dangled that gee-dee carrot under my nose? I’m a journalist! I don’t stop asking questions, I don’t stop digging, not until I have the whole story, and I refuse to apologize for being dedicated to my job!”
    He sped through another intersection before turning to glare at her. “How clearer could I have been? I told you your life would be at risk if you told anyone about me.”
    “My life is always at risk,” she retorted, her jaw tighter than a drum. “It was at risk when I got shot at by those rebels in Johannesburg. It was at risk when I covered the civil war in Congo and when I visited a warlord’s prison in Nigeria and when—”
    “I get the point.”
    “Do you? Because I don’t think you understand what I do for a living.” Her tone grew surly. “I don’t walk away from a story. Period.”
    “Well, how’s that working out for you right now?” he said sarcastically.
    Rebecca fell silent, but he could feel the anger vibrating from that petite body of hers. Angry. She was frickin’ angry at him. After he’d just saved her life.
    She saved herself, buddy boy.
    Fine, so she’d displayed some impressive skills when she’d kicked that gun out of her captor’s hands, but if Nick hadn’t taken down the merc’s colleague, Rebecca wouldn’t have had the opportunity to act. The woman ought to be showing him some gratitude instead of stewing there as if he’d wronged her.
    Nick turned into the parking lot of a small plaza and drove to the alley in the back where he parked next to a black SUV.
    “What are we doing?”