Free Deep Rising (An Outside the Lines Novel) (Entangled Select) by N.R. Rhodes

broad chin. His lips appeared surprisingly full.
    No, no, no.
    She wouldn’t cave to him or to her own weakness.
    This man was well aware of his charms, and he’d pulled out all the stops with her. The fact that he could try to make a move when she was vulnerable pissed her off. “I’m having a moment,” she muttered, “but that doesn’t make me easy. If your next tactic is seduction, you’re way off base. I’m not about to act the Medea just because you hugged me. And I’m certainly not thinking about sex while I’m under suspicion of terrorism.”
    “I held you because you were shaking, and contrary to what you think, I don’t like to see people suffer. I’d hoped a little lighthearted banter would put you at ease. But you’re right. I shouldn’t show you any compassion or humor. We have a terrorist to trap. He happens to be your brother. You’re likely an accomplice—”
    “I’m not,” she insisted, but he talked right over her.
    “—and you say ‘act the Medea’ like you have someone to betray.” His features hardened. “Protecting your brother, Lana?”
    “There’s nothing to protect. I wouldn’t do this! I’d never hurt innocent people. There must be a mistake.”
    “One way or another, we’ll find out.” His gaze raked her from head to heel. “As for the rest, don’t stand there and act like it’s all one-sided.”
    She couldn’t argue. For a moment, she’d responded. Maybe the reaction stemmed from some jacked-up Stockholm syndrome reaction, or from her vulnerability and her need to connect with someone— anyone —no matter the consequences, but whatever the origin, she needed to quash the impulse. ASAP.
    “Are you seeking to distract me?” he asked in a low, rumbling drawl. “A guilty woman in your position might utilize her feminine wiles…”
    Feminine wiles? Like she had any. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m innocent.”
    He tilted his head to the side. “Make no mistake, with or without intimacy I’ll do what needs to be done.”
    “You would—”
    He nodded, silently confirming his capability of killing if merited, so much as admitting he’d done so before. She could’ve done without the confirmation.
    “For most people,” he continued, “there’s no justifiable reason to take another’s life. Once upon a time, I thought along those same lines.”
    He didn’t appear inclined to elaborate so Lana asked, “What happened to change your beliefs?”
    “People. I was exposed to monsters who would hurt children or slaughter an entire village in the name of freedom. Men and women who killed and tortured and wrought havoc on mankind simply because they could.” He shrugged. “The world is a better place without them in it.”
    Lana would have agreed under certain circumstances, but she didn’t consider herself worthy—in any situation—of determining who deserved to live or die.
    She had only known this man for a matter of hours, and aside from occasional glimpses of kindness, he had been rude, caustic, overbearing, and violent. Jared, whatever-his-real-last-name, remained a professional operative of the CIA. He delved into terrorism and violence. Accustomed to getting what he wanted no matter the cost, he fell far short of a compassionate shoulder to cry on. She was just a means to an end.
    And the end was nowhere in sight.
    He crossed his arms. “Before this conversation gets out of control, let me say I don’t want to fight with you. I want to believe you. I’m the good guy, and if you’re as innocent as you claim, then you and I are on the same team.”
    His small concession sucked the hostility right out of her. “I know.”
    “We’re under an exceptional amount of stress. It can…complicate things.”
    She imagined how a different operative might treat her. Once the term “terrorist” surfaced, sympathy typically fell by the wayside. He could’ve been much crueler, far less understanding. Considering the evidence, he didn’t need to show