Quinn's Woman (3 page)

“A little to the left,” he said.

She glanced up. Sometime in their scuffle, her hat had fallen off. He registered long dark hair pulled back in a braid, brown eyes, a well-shaped mouth and a sprinkling of freckles on slightly tanned skin. Pretty, he thought absently. No, more than pretty. She was both elegant and tough. An intriguing combination.

One of her well-shaped eyebrows rose slightly. “A little to the left?” she repeated, then slid her hand over his groin and patted him. “I know most men like to think of their equipment as a weapon, but it’s not all that interesting to me.”

He chuckled. “You say that now, with me tied up and at your mercy.”

“Uh-huh. Just so we’re clear, there are no circumstances that would change my mind.”

She rose, stepped over to his other side and crouched again, this time running her hands over his other thigh. From there she felt her way up his stomach to his chest.

He liked the feel of her hands on his body. She moved quickly enough to show she really wasn’t interested, but thoroughly enough to find any concealed weapons. Or so she thought.

When she’d finished going through his jacket pockets and checking the hem and lining, she sat back on her heels. “You seem to be disarmed.”

“What about taking off my shirt?” he asked. “I might have something taped to my skin.”

“If you do, you won’t be getting to it anytime soon, will you?” She tapped his upper arm. “I tie a mean knot.”

He’d already figured that out. Pulling against the ropes hadn’t loosened them at all. He was going to have to find a different way to escape. Not that he wanted to go anywhere this second. His captor was the most entertainment he’d had in months.

He swept his gaze over her chest, lingering long enough on her breasts to make her shoulders stiffen. Then he returned his attention to her face. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth thinned, but she didn’t complain. Somewhere along the way, she’d learned the rules – if she was going to play in a man’s world, she would have to live by male rules. But that didn’t mean she had to like them.

They stared at each other, a minor contest of wills. Quinn knew he could wear her down eventually, but decided on something more interesting. A challenge.

“You cheated,” he said softly.

He waited for the blink, the blush, the guilt. Instead she only shrugged. “I won.”

“You took advantage of an accident.”

“Exactly.” She shifted until she was seated next to him. “Would you have

done things any differently?”

He wouldn’t have needed an accident to win, but there was no point in saying that to her. She already knew.

“Besides,” she continued, “that was my only chance to tie you up. You wouldn’t have allowed it otherwise.”

“Good point.”

“So who are you?” she asked.

“Your prisoner of war. Do you plan to abuse me?”

One corner of her mouth twitched. “Stop sounding so hopeful. You’re perfectly safe.”

“Darn.”

The twitch threatened to turn into a smile, but she managed to control it. When her expression was serious again, she said, “You never answered the question.”

“I know.”

She wanted to know who he was, and he would tell her...in time. Right now, despite the cool evening and the damp mud, he was enjoying himself. He had thought the war games would be boring and without any challenge. He was glad to be wrong.

She drew one knee up to her chest and leaned toward him. “If you won’t tell me your name, at

least tell me why you looked down. You’re a good fighter. You had to know it was a mistake.”

A good fighter? Now it was his turn to hold in a smile. He was a whole hell of a lot more than that. She’d never stood a chance, and he would guess she knew enough to figure that out.

Her chin jutted out at an angle that was pure pride. Who was she? Military?

“I knew you were setting me up and I wanted to see what you would do,” he said.

She stiffened. “You were testing me?”

“More like playing with you.”

Her breath caught in an audible hiss. Dark eyes narrowed again and he had a feeling she was itching to draw blood.

“Quinn Reynolds,” he said to distract her. “Now that you’ve felt me up and all, we should probably be on a first-name basis with each other.”

She ignored the bait. “So you won’t tell me when I ask, but you’ll share the information on your terms?”

“Something like that.” He figured she wasn’t going to offer her name, so he changed the subject. “Where’s your partner?” he asked.

“He’ll be back any minute, and then we’ll take you to headquarters. He took in our first four prisoners. Where’s your partner?”

“I got here too late to be matched up with anyone. Besides, I prefer to work alone.”

“Of course you do.” She sounded mildly amused. “You macho paramilitary types always do.”

“That’s more than a little judgmental.”

“It’s accurate.”

Quinn couldn’t argue with that. Instead he glanced up toward the damp, gray sky. “The rain’s going to start up again. If you’re not going to march me back to headquarters anytime soon, you could at least drag me under some cover.”

She, too, glanced at the sky, but in the darkness, there wasn’t much to see. He half expected her to leave him in the mud, but she surprised him by getting a tarp out of her backpack and spreading it under a nearby tree. Then she grabbed him under his arms and dragged him onto it.

Her strength impressed him, while her expression of annoyance amused him. What had her panties in a bunch? That her partner wasn’t back yet? That they both knew he was better than she was and probably only her prisoner for as long as it suited him?

“So what are you?” he asked. “Not military.”

She sat cross-legged on the edge of the tarp. “How can you be sure?”

“Am I wrong?”

She shook her head.

Just then the skies opened. Rain pounded the ground. In a matter of seconds the place where he’d been lying became a puddle. He pulled his knees toward his chest to get his feet out of the deluge.

His captor looked annoyed. He could hear her thoughts from here. How had he known it was about to rain? Who was this guy? Although he guessed she probably wasn’t using the word guy in her mind. No doubt she’d chosen something more colorful.

“If you’re not going to tell me your name,” he said, “I can try to guess.”

She adjusted the lantern and ignored him.

“Brenda,” he said.

She didn’t blink.

“Bambi? Heather? Chloe? Annie? Sarah? Destiny? Chastity?”

She sighed. “D.J.”

He wanted to know what the initials stood for but didn’t ask. She would be expecting that. Instead he said, “I’d offer to shake hands, but I’m all tied up at the moment.”

She smiled. “I can see that.”

Hey – a sense of humor. He liked that. A rough, tough woman in a very feminine package. If he could just get her to give him another full body search, his evening would be complete.

D.J. glanced at her watch and knew that her boy toy wasn’t going to make his way back to her anytime soon. It had been nearly four hours since Ronnie had left. He was either lost or captured. If he was close, she would hear him thrashing around in the bush. The silence told her she was very much alone with her prisoner.

She turned her attention back to Quinn. For a man who’d been left tied up on the ground for a couple of hours, he looked surprisingly relaxed. The rain had stopped, but it was still cool and damp. She shivered slightly. She would like nothing more than to head back to camp. There

was only one thing stopping her...one very tall, very strong, very male thing.

“The rules of engagement state that a prisoner may do whatever he can to escape,” she said. “However, once he and his captor start back to headquarters, he must go quietly.”

Quinn nodded. “I heard that, too.”

“And?”

He shrugged. “I was never one to follow the rules.”

Just what she’d thought. With Ronnie helping her, she might have a shot at keeping possession of Quinn. But with only herself to guard him, he would get away. She hated to admit that, but it was true. He was too good.

She eyed his powerful body and wondered who and what he was. How much did he know that she didn’t? Where had he learned it? She’d never met anyone like him, and being around him made her want to ask a million questions. Not that she would. Showing interest meant tipping her hand - something she’d learned never to do.

“If you won’t cooperate, we’re stuck here until morning,” she said. “We’ll be picked up by one of the patrols.”

“Fair enough – I don’t have to take a midnight hike, and you get credit for my capture.”

She didn’t trust his easy agreement. He was the kind of man who always had a plan. Still, he hadn’t made any moves to get away...at least not yet.

He shifted so that he was more sitting than lying, leaning against the base of the tree. Then he jerked his chin toward her backpack.

“If we’re stuck out here for the night, how about something to eat?”

At his words, her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. A flurry of phone calls had kept her from grabbing lunch before she’d headed out to the afternoon start of the war games.

She reached for her pack, then paused. “Where’s your gear?” she asked.

“Hidden.”

Hers had been hidden, too, right up until he’d found it. She wondered if she would be able to locate his pack, then decided it wasn’t worth facing the cold, rainy night to find out. They could get by on what she had.

She dug out four granola bars, two chocolate bars, an apple and another water bottle.

“No fast food?” he asked. “I have a hankering for some fries.”

“You’ll have to wait until they show up on the prison menu,” she said as she divided the wrapped snacks into two equal piles.

He eyed the food, then shrugged. “That beats an MRE.”

Meals ready to eat. Prepackaged food soldiers could carry into combat.

She’d tried a couple and, while they weren’t as bad as everyone claimed, she would rather dine on what she had in her pack.

“So you’re military?” she asked.

“Sort of.”

“Special Forces?”

“Something like that.”

She wasn’t sure if he was being coy to annoy her or because he couldn’t talk about what he did for a living.

She poured some water from the new bottle into the one she’d been using. When there was an equal amount in both, she propped one up next to Quinn. He half turned away from her, exposing his bound wrists.

“Want to cut me loose so I can eat?” he asked.

She chuckled. “Not even on a bet.”

He rolled back into a seated position. “Then you’re going to have to feed me yourself.”

He didn’t look very upset at the prospect. In fact, there was definite amusement in his dark eyes.

She ignored it, along with the teasing tone of his voice. If he thought hand feeding him was going to fluster her, he was in for a shock.

“I haven’t seen you around town before,” she said as she unwrapped the first granola bar in his pile. “You’re not stationed at the base here, are you?”

“No. I flew into the country day before yesterday and got to Glenwood this morning. I’m here to meet up with my brother.”

She broke the granola bar into small pieces and offered him the first one. He didn’t bother leaning forward, which meant she had to stretch her arm out across his body. When her fingers were practically touching his mouth, he finally opened and bit down on the food.

He winked. “The ambiance needs a little work, but I can’t complain about the service.”

She ignored him. “Where did you fly in from?”

“The Middle East.”

There was something about the way he answered the question that made her think she wasn’t likely to get any more information from him. She waited until he’d finished chewing, then offered another piece of the bar.

“What about you?” he asked when he’d finished chewing. “You live in Glenwood?”

“Yes.”

“What do you do?”

She hesitated because her natural inclination was to not reveal any personal information. Quinn waited, his expression interested, his body relaxed. Finally she shrugged and gave him the bare-bone facts.

“I’m a private consultant,” she said. “I teach classes at local schools, telling kids how to stay safe. I teach women basic self-defense. I’m also on call with several state and federal organizations, along with some private firms. They bring me in to help in extracting children from dangerous situations.”

“Domestic abductions?” he asked.

“Sometimes.” Domestic abductions meant the kidnapping of a child by the noncustodial parent. “Sometimes it’s a straight kidnapping for money or revenge.”

She stopped talking the second she realized she wanted Quinn to be impressed. Don’t be an idiot, she told herself. What did she care what this guy thought of her?