Free Hot as Hell by Unknown

exhausted.”
    “Fuck off, Redmond.” Sam snarled. How could Conn even think he’d do anything to endanger
    Dawn? Because so far today, you’ve been thinking with your little head, not your big one.
    Conn slapped him on the back. “Hey, I know you. You want to mark your territory, even if it’s
    to make an impression on her and no one else. And fuck, man, I’d want to do the same in your place.
    Just make sure she gets some sleep and that the marks don’t show in the dress she’ll be wearing. If it’s
    anything like that bathing suit, she’ll be showing a lot of skin. Benrabi thinks she’s here alone and he
    has a clear playing field. We don’t want him sensing competition and making a crazy play to take her.”
    “Don’t worry. She’ll be rested—and unmarked.” Sam stomped off, taking the shortest route to
    the elevators to the suite’s floor.
    Yeah, he’d be careful when touching Dawn. She had delicate, ivory skin—easily bruised skin.
    Ordinarily, he liked leaving love marks on a woman he fucked. But Dawn wasn’t like his other women;
    she was more . When he and Dawn had sex, it would be making love. So, when it came to claiming her,
    he expected he’d be finding a more permanent, less physical, means of marking her as his—after the
    op was over.
    For now, he’d feed her, then give her a few orgasms so she could sleep deeply.
    In a way, Conn was correct—this afternoon was all about Sam claiming his woman and making
    sure she knew she was taken.

    ****
Dawn took a long, meandering route to her suite as Sam had ordered. She sniffed. Sam! What
    was she going to do with the man? Logically, he had to realize she was competent or she wouldn’t have
    been doing undercover work for Interpol. But men like Sam were wired to protect the little woman. He
    really needed to get over that mind-set if they were to work together.
    Two clicks over her ear bud indicated Conn had successfully blocked Benrabi’s man and she
    could head for her room now. She glanced down the long hall and snickered as Benrabi’s man tried to
    maneuver around two maids and their bulky carts. Conn had waded into the melee as if to help, but
    merely added to the confusion.
    Grinning, Dawn slipped into the stairwell and jogged up three flights to the floor one level
    below hers, then exited the stairs and took the elevator to her floor. Even if Benrabi had people hack
    into the hotel computer system, hotel security had buried her registration under an alias she’d used
    on past Interpol ops. None of the hotel staff knew her by sight or name since she’d been checked
    in before she arrived and had entered the hotel by a back way, escorted by Conn and hotel security
    before sunrise that morning.
    Anyone searching the hotel registry would find seven women with British passports checking
    in this morning. By the time Benrabi figured out her suite number by process of elimination, the op
    would be finished.
    Intel from the Dutch navy patrolling the area around Aruba, Bonaire, and Curacao was that
    MacLean’s container ship had anchored off the ABC islands in international waters. Until MacLean’s
    people moved to offload the kidnapped women onto Benrabi’s yacht or until the container ship entered
    the three islands’ territorial waters, the Dutch military could do nothing but keep an eye on things.
    Dawn’s exposure to risk on this mission was minimal. She’d been in far more danger during
    the Interpol operation in Belize, and that had been due to DJ and Tweeter’s situation more than hers.
    Tonight, she would serve merely as a distraction for Benrabi and MacLean.
    If there were any danger this evening, it would come from Benrabi after she’d completed her
    part of the op and left the casino. According to the current plan, Benrabi and MacLean wouldn’t be
    arrested until they moved to complete the transfer of the girls—where they’d find an unwelcome
    surprise. While Benrabi was still free, he could still try for