Mercenary's Honor. Sharron McClellan
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a TV reporter, you know that the El Parque de la 93 sector is dangerous,” he said, not bothering to hide his derisive feelings regarding her profession.
She didn’t appear to notice. “It’s a wealthy area. Good shopping. Popular clubs—”
“Kidnappings,” Angel interrupted.
“—and muggings,” Fiona interrupted back. “I know all that. The wealth brings in more than the tourist trade.”
Maybe she wasn’t a total waste, Angel decided. She knew the region and its pitfalls, but book knowledge wasn’t the same as street smarts. “There are also spies. People who would do anything for money. Including turning you over to Montoya.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “You don’t exactly blend.”
“Ya think?”
He tried not to smile at her unexpected sarcasm.
“I can’t let this tape out of my sight,” she continued. “Tony trusted you, so I do, too. Kinda,” she added with a slightly mocking half smile. “Besides, two people are better than one.”
“Not when one is a tall blond reporter on the run,” Angel countered.
Fiona took a step toward him, all defiance and determination. “I have the only tape. What if you’re caught? I have to make sure this tape gets into the right hands.”
Angel sighed in exasperation. He had two sisters and knew that tone. She wasn’t going to back down, and there was no time to argue. He needed to get her to safety and get the footage to the public. And he was going to have to do it with her in tow. “Fine. But a few things first.”
She relaxed, her shoulders dropping from their tense position. “Like what?”
“We wait until dark to head to the district.”
“Isn’t that when most robberies happen?”
“Yes, but Montoya won’t expect you to travel then, and as for muggers, I can take care of them.”
“No doubt,” she said, her eyes traveling from his feet to his mouth. When she reached his eyes, her cheeks turned a bright red.
Angel chuckled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Fiona gave a tentative smile, but her cheeks remained bright. “I just meant that since you’re a mercenary, you can take care of yourself.”
“I know what you meant,” he said.
Juan squeezed her arm. “Angel is more than a mercenary. He is a hero. He will protect you.”
Fiona nodded. “A hero? Who did you save?” she asked.
“He saved a busload of children from bandits,” Juan said. “And another time, a village—”
“Shut up,” Angel said. He didn’t need the bartender telling Fiona his business.
“So, a bit more than a paid killer,” Fiona said, her voice warm.
The thought of her admiring him, seeing him as a hero, rankled him. Admiration meant obligation, and he was up to his neck in responsibility. “No. I was paid. And I killed,” Angel said. That was all she needed to know. Anything else was for friends, and Fiona was not on his friends list.
Her skin returned to its normal shade of pale, pink china. “Fair enough,” Fiona said, the warmth gone from her voice. “I suppose I should pay you, then.”
“Money’s good,” Angel said. He felt like an ass, but it was too late to back down now.
“So why help me?” she asked, staring at him with narrowed, curious eyes. “I can’t pay you. Not yet.”
“You can owe me.”
“Agreed,” she said. “Once the footage is safe, I’ll get you your money. Somehow.” Her eyes distant, she smiled for the first time. “And if this story wins an Emmy, I’ll invite you to the party.”
“An Emmy party?” Isabel had talked of the same thing the morning she left to get her big story.
He’d teased her about party aspirations as she’d walked out the door. Painful hindsight told him that he should have gone with her, but she hadn’t told him the truth about the danger. If she had, he’d have kept her in bed. Safe in his arms.
Instead, she died for a story and a stupid award.
“Is winning the biggest prize all you people think about?” he asked, lashing out and not bothering to hide his contempt.
Fiona took a step back, her small smile fading. “I was making a joke. Kidding.”
“There’s truth in every joke,” Angel said. “Who are you trying to fool? Me or yourself?”
Her cheeks turned pink again, and she returned his glare. “Forget I said anything,” she said after a few seconds.
“Forgotten,” he said, knowing it wasn’t.
“Whatever,” Fiona said, breathing so hard she trembled. “You know what? I don’t need you, your mental baggage, or your attitude. I’ll deal with this myself.”
Despite her brave words, he didn’t miss the fear and uncertainty beneath her anger. She couldn’t do this alone, and they both knew it. “No. You won’t,” Angel said.
“Watch me,” she said. Her eyes darkened, and she turned on her heel.
Angel sighed. Damn, she was determined to make him pay before she gave in to common sense. He watched her walk toward the door. He didn’t think she’d actually try to solve her situation on her own, but when egos were involved it was hard to judge what someone might do.
Especially a reporter with a reputation at stake.
Still, if she wanted to play head games, he’d be happy to oblige. “I can’t say that I’m surprised that you’re a selfish pain in the ass,” he commented when she was halfway across the room.
“Selfish?” She stopped midstep and turned to face him, her hands on her hips. “How can you say that?”
“You’d put the only evidence that we have against Montoya in danger because I’m not nice to you? Because I pissed you off?”
She bit her lower lip, thinking, and the unexpected urge to kiss her full, defiant mouth overwhelmed Angel. This was going to be harder than he thought, he realized. Much, much harder.
He followed her steps, not stopping until he was in her space. “We don’t have to like each other to do this, do we?” he asked.
She tilted her head upward until her mouth was inches from his. The tension between them grew with each beat of Angel’s heart. He crossed his arms over his chest, putting the barrier between them for both their sakes.
“I suppose not,” she said.
“Good.” Angel breathed a sigh of relief and stepped back.
“Yeah, good.” She rocked back on her heels then forward again. “What now? We have hours to kill before nightfall. What do we do until then? Hide? Drink? Banter? Try not to kill each other?”
“We go to my apartment,” Angel said. “And we go to bed.”
Chapter 3
Fiona’s jaw dropped as she stared at Angel, unable to believe he’d suggest sex after all she’d been through. She wanted comfort, but screwing a virtual stranger wasn’t the path to solace. “I am not having sex with you,” she squeaked.
He raised a brow. “I didn’t say anything about sex. I said go to bed, and that’s all I meant. We’re going to have a long night ahead of us. We need to sleep when we can.”
Once again, Fiona’s cheek flushed with heat. Angel brought out the worst in her, and a part