Free Special Ops Exclusive by Elle Kennedy Page B

they’d turned onto the overgrown driveway half a mile back.
    “This is your safe house? It doesn’t look very safe.” She paused. “Is this where I’m supposed to be stashed? ”
    Nick briefly closed his eyes and counted to three.
    You cannot murder this woman, he told himself.
    He shut off the engine and yanked the keys out of the ignition. “It’s safe enough,” he said, then reached for the door handle.
    Rebecca stuck close to his side as they approached the paint-chipped front door of the single-story farmhouse. The house had seen better days—its thatched roof looked ready to collapse, all the windows were boarded up, and the surrounding lawn was overrun with yellowing grass and tall weeds.
    “Who owns this place?” Rebecca asked curiously.
    “As of five days ago, I do. We bought the property online the day before I came to Mala. We’ve learned to take precautions over the past year. Now we always make sure to arrange for a safe house before we venture out into the world.”
    He reached into his pocket for the key he’d picked up from the Realtor’s office the morning he’d arrived in Cortega.
    “You really bought this farm?” Rebecca sounded amazed. “On the off chance that you might need a safe house?”
    “Trust me, it didn’t cost much,” he said wryly.
    As if to punctuate that, the front door creaked like a haunted house prop and released a cloud of dust when Nick pushed it open.
    They walked in to find the house’s interior as desolate and run-down as the exterior. The main room offered a wooden couch with ratty plaid cushions, a dining area with a broken table and appliances that were covered in a thick layer of dust. The entire place smelled like mildew, urine and sour milk.
    Rebecca made a gagging noise as she breathed in the not-so-appetizing scent. “Okay, first thing on our to-do list? Open the gee-dee windows.”
    Nick didn’t want to smile, but her backdoor expletives never failed to bring a grin to his lips. “Don’t worry, we won’t be here long,” he assured her, but he did stalk across the room to crank open the kitchen window.
    A warm breeze wafted into the room, making dust motes dance in the air. Nick dropped his go bag on the uneven wood floor and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. As he keyed in a quick text, he felt Rebecca’s gaze on him.
    “Who are you texting?” she demanded.
    “Enrique Salazar. Telling him I need to meet him ASAP. I can’t afford any more delays.”
    Rebecca offered a sweet smile. “You mean, we can’t afford any more delays.”
    A frustrated groan lodged in his chest. Christ, this woman was tenacious. She refused to accept reality—he was not involving her in this quest for Waverly. In fact, the second he could make it happen, he was sending her to their base camp in Ecuador where Tate and the others could keep an eye on her. He’d already broached the idea in the car, but she’d shot it down so fast and so firmly that he hadn’t mentioned it again.
    Still, he had no intention of teaming up with this pigheaded redhead. For some inexplicable reason, he’d felt protective of Rebecca since the moment he’d seen her get swallowed up by that mob. He wasn’t willing to put her neck on the line, especially because this entire mess had nothing to do with her.
    He reiterated that now with a scowl. “This isn’t your fight, and no disrespect, but if you tag along you’ll only get in my way. I work better alone.”
    That stubborn chin of hers jutted out and he resisted the urge to march over and plant a kiss on her rosy-red lips. Even with her T-shirt streaked with soot and blood and her red hair a tangled mess, the woman was a damn knockout. His body reacted to the mere sight of her, prompting him to break the gaze and focus on the text he was in the process of composing.
    After pressing Send, he held out the phone to Rebecca. “Call your producer,” he told her. “Tell him to get out of town.”
    Anxiety filled her expression.