Quinn's Woman

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.