the back of her mind she heard another voice extolling his virtues of bravery, determination and concerned for the welfare of others. She might not be alive if he hadn’t jumped into the alligator-infested swamp after her, or if he hadn’t gone in again to pull their life raft to the shadows of the trees.
Well, damn. Just when she thought she’d get away from him and his band of brothers, she’d been ordered to stay put by her boss. In the morning, when Royce arrived, she’d have to get him to call off the SEAL so that she could get on with her search to find her father’s killer. She didn’t have time to get involved with a sexy SEAL. His broad shoulders and tempting smile were beginning to wear on her. She had to get away before she did something dumb like kiss him.
Three hours later, after they’d answered what questions they could for the FAA, DHS, county sheriff, state police and everyone else who could possibly be involved, they were finally allowed to leave the base.
Quentin needed a shower. He smelled like swamp water and, despite his discomfort, he was hungry. He could imagine Becca felt the same. Her anger seemed to have dissipated as the day wore into evening.
“Some of us are headed to the Shoot the Bull Bar for a beer. Are you coming?” Jace asked.
Quentin shook his head. “I need a shower and a gallon of coffee, not booze.”
Becca rose from the conference table and stretched. Even in a swamp-water-dingy white blouse and wrinkled trousers, her dark hair in funky disarray, she was a beauty.
His groin tightened at the thought he would be spending the night in the same building as her, possibly the same room.
Rip entered the war room and handed Quentin a cup of coffee. “I’m headed to the bar, but I can drop you at your apartment on the way.”
“You are a lifesaver.” Quentin wrapped his hand around the cup and inhaled the fragrant scent. “And yes, I’ll take you up on that ride as soon as I convince Becca she’s coming with us.”
Rip grinned. “Did you score in Cancun?”
Quentin winced when Becca joined them at that exact moment. “No, he did not score, nor will he. If you don’t mind, could you drop me at a hotel?”
“Sure,” Rip responded.
“Then you’ll have to drop me there, too.” Quentin turned to Becca. “I’m not leaving you alone. Either you stay at my place where I have two bedrooms, or I stay with you in your room at a hotel.”
“I’m not staying in the same room as you, Loverboy,” she said.
“So you’re telling me you want to stay in my apartment?”
“No. I didn’t say that.”
He leaned close to her. “Just so you know, when I give my word, I keep it.”
“And like I told Royce, I don’t need a bodyguard. We don’t even know why they shot down the plane. It could have been someone after Sawyer, not me.”
“Or it could have been you since you’re on the trail of whoever hired the assassin who killed your father.” Quentin crossed his arms over his chest. “Your choice. Togetherness in one hotel room, or sleeping in separate rooms in my apartment.”
Becca’s lips pressed into a thin line. She waited twenty of Quentin’s heartbeats before she finally said, “Fine. Your place. But I’m not sleeping with you.”
“You hear that, Duff?” Rip grinned. “A female who isn’t falling for Loverboy’s killer charm. This has to be a first.” Rip turned to Quentin, shaking his head. “What happened in Mexico? Are you losing your touch?”
Quentin ignored Rip’s comment and raised his brows at Becca. “I didn’t ask you to sleep with me. Besides, who said I wanted to sleep with you?”
Rip clapped a hand on Quentin’s back. “If you two have things figured out, I’d like to leave while we can.”
“We’re ready.” Becca sailed past Quentin and Rip and marched down the hall.
Quentin stood for a moment, admiring the view of her swaying hips.
Duff clamped a hand on Quentin’s shoulder. “Forget it, she’s not that into you.”
“Oh, she is,” Quentin said. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”
“That’s right, feed the ego, Loverboy.” Duff walked with him to the exit. “If you want to win her over, my advice to you is to get a shower. The only female you’re going to attract smelling like you do is a female gator.”
Outside, the parking lot was slowly clearing of the emergency and government vehicles. Rip hit the button to remotely unlock his truck. When the taillights blinked, Becca headed in that direction.
Before Quentin could open the door for her, Becca was inside, adjusting her seatbelt in the front passenger seat.
Quentin climbed into the backseat behind her.
Rip slipped behind the wheel. “So, Becca, is it?”
“Don’t feel obligated to engage in small talk,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”
“Gotcha,” Rip said, a smile spreading across his face. He shot a glance at Quentin in the rearview mirror. “She’s a real ball-buster, isn’t she?”
Quentin ignored him. It had been a long day and he was tired of the smell and stickiness of his clothing against his skin. The sooner he got a shower, the more human he’d feel. Then he could continue his campaign to win over the pretty secret agent.
Rip pulled up in front of his apartment building. “Got a key, or did it go down with the plane?”
Quentin nodded. “I have a spare.”
“Under the welcome mat?” Rip asked.
“Something like that,” he replied.
“In this day and age, you’re willing to risk someone finding your spare key?” Becca frowned. “Maybe the hotel is a better idea.”
“We’re here. Give my apartment a chance. If you don’t like it, I’ll drive you to the hotel myself.” Quentin got out, opened Becca’s door and held it while she climbed down. “Thanks, Rip.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Rip said with a grin. Then his face sobered. “Hey, and if you need anything just yell. Hopefully, whoever took a shot at the team won’t try picking you off one at time.” Rip drove off, leaving Quentin with Becca. Alone.
Quentin had been thinking along the same lines. If someone was truly after Becca or the SEAL team, they’d gone to a whole lot of trouble to take them out with a fiery plane wreck and helicopter attack. After the failed attempt, wouldn’t they come after them again in a subtler attack?
Perhaps staying alone in his apartment wasn’t such a good idea after all. Granted, Montana lived in the same apartment building. Though Montana had opted to have a beer with the guys at the Shoot the Bull, he’d be back later. Since he was on the same floor of the apartment complex, he’d be within shouting distance should Quentin and Becca run into trouble.
With a sigh, Becca faced the building “Which one is yours?”
Quentin hooked her elbow. “I’ll show you.” He led her to his door and reached up to the porch light fixture and pulled the spare key from between the base plate and the wall. “See? Not under the mat.”
“I feel so much better,” Becca said, her voice dripping sarcasm.
“Great. We can get this evening off to a good start with the right attitude.”
“The only thing that will