she began to shiver. “I’m—I’m fine. I just need a shower and a change of clothes.”
“I’ll drive you,” Sean said.
Sophie stared up at him in surprise. She’d have bet he wouldn’t have left the scene until he’d gone over every square inch of it.
“After all, it was my fault you were out there getting shot at.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Rafe muttered.
Sean stiffened. “At least it was a plan.”
Sophie rushed to defuse the animosity between the two. “All right, please. Drive me to my apartment. I’ll change and we can come back here to discuss our next move.”
Rafe caught her eye and shook his head slightly. She needed to watch what she said.
Sure enough, Sean picked up on the remark. “Our next move?”
She stood and nodded. “Sure. Your next move.”
“Montoya, how long before I can see those tapes, and interview your men? Mr. Botero is going to want to know exactly what happened.”
“Any time you want. While you’re chauffeuring Sophie, I’ll take a look at them.”
Surprised at how shaky she still felt, Sophie directed Sean to her car, a late-model BMW convertible.
He stopped. “Maybe we should go in the pickup. I’m liable to get your car dirty.”
She looked him over, moistening her lips as her gaze lingered on his dust-streaked hair, the T-shirt that hung loose over his jeans, the mud-caked work boots.
Then she looked down at herself. “I’m as covered with dirt and dust as you are.”
“Okay.” He reached to open the passenger door for her and the muscles in his arm rippled. She knew how good that arm had felt, curved protectively around her head. No one had ever put themselves in harm’s way for her. Never. It was a new feeling. A warm and disturbing feeling.
Her body gave a little shudder as she moved in front of him and stepped into the car. Her tight skirt rode up, drawing a glance and a scowl from Sean before he slammed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. He dug a cell phone out of his pocket before he climbed in and buckled his seat belt.
As he pulled away, avoiding the section of the driveway where the kidnappers’ car had spun around, reaction to her near miss clutched at Sophie.
Her job with the CIA had been as a graphics expert. She’d spent most of her time forging documents, identifying and duplicating inks and dyes used in water-marks and aging paper. She’d never had any field experience, although she’d gone through all the training and kept her firearms proficiency up to date.
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