Gator kept his fingers tangled tightly with Flame’s as they raced over the waterway and marsh to reach the small island Burrell had loved so much.

“Do you regret your decision?”

He glanced at her. “Not anymore. No.”

Flame sucked in her breath. He just accepted what was between them. He didn’t care if Whitney manipulated them or not. He had no idea how protective he could look, how possessive and how intense the desire that shadowed his eyes was when he looked at her. She detested Peter Whitney and everything he stood for. Whitney believed the end justified the means and that humans were small sacrifices to make for the greater good of knowledge. She had seen so much pain inflicted on the other girls he’d bought from the orphanages as well as experienced it herself.

Throwaways he’d called them. She still flinched inwardly every time she thought of it, every time she recalled the contempt in his tone. Joy Chiasson was not a throwaway. Neither was Burrell. Flame could stand up for the ones like her, the ones no one else would stand up for. Whitney with his billions might get away with his monstrous experiments, but she would bring down the ones she could.

“Flame.”

She shook her head. “Don’t, Raoul. I have to think about this. Give me time to think things through. Something is going on here and I have to figure it out.”

“Why? What does it matter if he manipulated us sexually or emotionally or whether we’re just attracted because we know each other like no one else could? We have a chance at something few people ever have.”

“What? Great sex? He’ll put us in a cage and watch us.”

His fingers tightened around hers. He’d been in a cage, waiting to be murdered. “I’m not going to let that happen. We’re worth millions of dollars to the military. I go out on missions when they send me and I come back and report and take my leave. That’s my life. It has nothing to do with Whitney. No one is going to lock us up when they need to use us. What would be the point of that?”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

They were nearing the island and Gator throttled down, taking the airboat right up onto the island into dense reeds. “This is where we get off. You’re going to get muddy.”

“I have to buy new clothes anyway.” Flame jumped onto a small patch of what looked like solid ground, but sank up to her ankles. “Ugh. Why is it every single time we recon, it’s always in the mud or in water?”

“It’s going to rain too.”

“I didn’t need you to tell me that.” She worked her way carefully through the sludge until she was on more solid ground, then began to make her way across the island toward the small basin where Burrell had always kept his houseboat.

There was little left of it, mostly the smell of burnt wood and the blackened remains of one part of the deck. She could see Burrell’s favorite chair partially burnt lying in the reeds near land. She stumbled, pressing her hand to her mouth.

“I can do this, Flame,” Gator offered. “There’s no need for both of us to be here. We don’t even know if anyone’s going to show up.”

She lifted her chin. “Burrell was mine. I didn’t have him very long, but he was mine. He didn’t deserve to get chased out into the swamp, shot, and thrown to the alligators. I’ll take these people down, and if I’m a little uncomfortable so be it.”

Gator kept his face completely expressionless. She did things to him, to both his body and mind when she talked like a warrior. He respected her, wanted her, admired her courage. Her leg had to hurt like hell, but she was barely limping. He had the sinking notion he was be ginning to fall in love. Judging by the look on her face, she wouldn’t welcome the admission so he simply stayed silent.

Wanting a clean sweep of the surrounding area, Gator chose the high ground. They didn’t have long to wait. A car slowly made its way along the narrow ribbon of road leading to Burrell’s island. The driver parked in the small widened area where Burrell’s old truck still remained. Three men pushed the doors open, all the time looking around them warily.

Flame’s fingers closed around Gator’s wrist. “I’ve seen the man in the plaid shirt before. He works security for Saunders.” Could Saunders have had Burrell killed? He couldn’t have known she’d taken his money. There was nothing to trace the robbery back to her. What had Burrell said that morning? He was meeting Saunders later in the afternoon to pay him with a bank draft rather than cash.

She sank down, uncaring that she was sitting in muddy water. Her legs wouldn’t hold her. She never considered Saunders might kill Burrell if the riverboat captain made his last payment and took possession of the island. She looked around her. “Look at this, Raoul. This is a tiny piece of land, mostly uninhabitable. The ground is spongy, the water table is high. It’s worthless. There isn’t even enough wildlife to hunt for a living here, or trees to harvest. Saunders can’t want it badly enough to kill for it.”

Gator stroked a caress through her hair. “I have a feeling Saunders doesn’t like to lose. He’s a high-stakes player. Parsons has been trying to get something on him for a long time and from what I understand, they know Saunders is dirty, they just can’t nail him. And it isn’t because he’s that careful. His people are too afraid of him to ever testify against him and everyone who’s ever tried to go up against him has ended up dead.”

“What about Parsons? Is his cover really that good? I found out he was DEA. If I could, why couldn’t Saunders? A good computer hacker can find most anything.”

“Parsons resides here. He doesn’t really hide what he does. He’s a businessman and he lives in the same area as Saunders. They struck up a friendship and go to the same clubs. Saunders likes to rub elbows with the politicians and the hotshots in town. Parsons is only one of them. Saunders knows the mayor and even the governor.”

“But why would Parsons investigate here, in New Orleans, a man who would kill not only him, but his entire family?” She rubbed her forehead, a little frown on her face. “If he’s pretending to be friends, he’s playing a very dangerous and stupid game. And if they are friends, then he’s dirty right along with Saunders.”

“Who else did the agency have? They couldn’t get any one near Saunders and Parsons was already here and he knew Saunders socially. He had no choice.” His hand dropped to the nape of her neck, easing the tension out with his strong fingers. He kept his gaze on the three men as they tried without much success to read signs. The rain had been heavy all through the night and it was already beginning to drizzle again. It was obvious from the way they moved in the mud, the sweat on their clothes, and the way they slapped at all the insects, that the men weren’t used to the heat and mud of the bayou. They wouldn’t last long.

“You got all that information from Lily, didn’t you?”

He glanced up at the recrimination in her voice. We’re just goin’ to have to agree to disagree about Lily, sugah. Peter Whitney can burn in hell for what he did to you, but Lily is as much a victim as you are, maybe more. She believed he loved her. She even thought he was her biological father.”

Flame turned her face away from him. The rain came down harder, drenching them in spite of the canopy of trees. The three men jumped back into their vehicle, obviously consulting with one another before driving up the frontage road a short distance, past the remains of the burnt-out houseboat. The men looked at the blackened ruins and then pulled a U-turn and proceeded back toward the freeway.

Flame started to rise. Gator’s fingers tapped her wrist and he shook his head, holding up his hand for silence. He held up two fingers and pointed back toward the interior of the swamp.

Flame remained crouched in the mud, listening. She’d been so focused on the three men she hadn’t paid much attention to anything else. The familiar rhythm of the swamp was off-key. There was the hum of insects and the croak of frogs, even the scurrying of lizards through the brush, but something was slightly off-kilter. She closed her eyes and heard the soft whisper of material against bark. Someone was stealthily climbing down from a tree. It took a few minutes to pick up the steady heartbeat.

“Now who do you suppose has come looking for us?” she asked softly.

“Don’ jump to conclusions, cher. I’m going to circle around and see if I can spot him. I don’t want you killin’ anyone before breakfast.”

“You know he’s probably enhanced, Raoul. He’s here looking to find out what happened to his buddy. We can follow him when he leaves. Don’t go giving him a target. And don’t tip him off that we know he’s here.”

Gator laid a hand over his heart. “You think so little of my abilities. I may be charmin’, cher, but I know my stuff. He isn’t going to see me.”

The tightness in her chest increased tenfold. She grabbed his arm to keep him with her. She couldn’t, wouldn’t lose him. “You can’t go, Raoul.”

The little catch in her voice was his undoing. He ran missions all the time, most of them in the deadliest hot spots of the world, but here she was, looking up at him with fear in her eyes, fear for him, and he couldn’t move. “Kiss me.”

“What?” She scowled at him. “Are you crazy?”

“Right here. Right now. You kiss me.”

“Or what? You’re going to go play hide-and-seek with more killers? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Gator caught her arms and pulled her to him, his mouth coming down on hers. “He’s spotted us and he’s coming toward us. For God’s sake, don’t kill him. Can you get a good jump off your leg?” He whispered the words into her mouth, breathing into her, his tongue:easing even as he issued the warning.

“I’ll go left,” she said.

“We need him to escape and lead us back to whoever sent him,” he reminded, tightening his grip on her.

She kissed him back, leaning into him, pretending to be oblivious to the approaching man. She couldn’t help enjoying Raoul’s mouth or the subtle way his body moved against hers. All the while she listened for the approach of the man stalking them.

He was right on them when she felt rather than heard Gator say “now” against her lips. Simultaneously they crouched and leapt, pushing off each other, springing up into the air and backward, Flame to the left, Gator to the right, somersaulting in perfect synchronization to land behind their enemy. Flame saw the gun in his hand and he instinctively turned toward Gator, thinking him the bigger threat. She launched herself in the air again, this time wrapping her legs around the man’s neck in a scissors hold.

They both went down hard. He lost his grip on his rifle, reaching back to try to break her hold before she strangled him. Flame locked her legs together, exerting more pressure in an effort to subdue him fast. He pounded on her leg with his fist, three short, hard punches that took her breath away. Her leg was already damaged from the day before and she couldn’t focus away from the pain enough to keep the pressure on him.

Gator kicked their assailant in the head hard as he reached down and jerked her to her feet. “He’s got partners. Get out of here. There are more of them.” He shoved her toward the canal. “Run, damn it.”

She didn’t hear anything, but she felt the telltale rush of her senses, a heavy dread that signaled far more danger. Flame ran, but her leg was throbbing, every step jarring her. She tried to hide it, jumping over the fallen logs in their way and racing toward safety. Gator dropped behind her, covering her back as they zigzagged through the e and brush to leap into the reed-choked canal. He shoved her underwater as bullets spit into the water around them. Keeping contact, they dove as deep as possible, using the rotting logs and plants on the bottom to pull them away from the island and out toward more open water.