HOT SEAL Rescue (HOT SEAL Team - Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

strong. She was used to staying on her guard, and she still would, of course, but his gesture meant something. He wasn’t out to kill her. At least not immediately.
    “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome. Trust me now?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t trust anyone. But I believe we’re on the same side. At least for now.”
    “I’m going to help you, Miranda. We’re getting out of here. Promise.”
    She’d love to believe him, but she’d learned never to count the chickens before the eggs hatched. That’s how you ended up dead in this business.
    “I’m going to need a change of clothes and a burner,” she said, all businesslike. “Can you manage that?”
    He shot her that sexy grin again. It melted through her like a flame cutting through wax. “Sunshine, I can manage anything you need.”

5
    M iranda was as jumpy as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, as Cody’s grandma always said. She fidgeted in her seat, swiveling her head to look out the rear window of his rented Explorer. He’d taken a chance returning her clip, but he’d felt like it was necessary to get her to trust him. So far, so good.
    Cody navigated the big vehicle through the crowded streets of Las Vegas, heading south. He’d first thought about taking her home to his grandparents’ place up north, but considering the kind of man Victor Conti was, that probably wasn’t the best idea. Cody didn’t know what Miranda was into, or what kind of hell she might call down on them once she made her call back to her handler.
    Fortunately, Cage had called him with directions to a safe house in Arizona. “It’s not much,” he’d said. “But it’ll be a good place to go while we figure things out on this end.”
    He hoped like hell they did figure it out. Someone had betrayed her—that’s what she said, and Cody tended to believe her. He didn’t think she’d been careless with her information, but then again he didn’t know anything about her as an operative. He’d gotten the jump on her, so why couldn’t others?
    So many questions about Miranda Jane Lockwood—and few answers.
    “What about those clothes, cowboy?” Miranda said as they passed yet another shopping center.
    He glanced at her. Funny how everyone in his life called him cowboy even if they didn’t know he’d grown up on a ranch. He’d ridden in more than a few rodeos—bulls, broncs, and roping—but he didn’t do a whole lot of that anymore, unless you counted mechanical bulls at honky-tonk bars. There just wasn’t any time for it.
    He rode horses when he was back home for a visit, and he worked the ranch even though his grandfather had enough hired help. After being on a dangerous mission, it was relaxing to spend hours in the saddle moving cattle from one pasture to another.
    “Why do you call me cowboy?”
    She shrugged and turned to look out the window again. Her profile was so pretty. Her lips pressed forward in a pout before she spoke, as if she was thinking.
    “You’re wearing boots that look broken in, rather than a shiny new pair, and faded jeans.” She shrugged. “Stick a cowboy hat on you and there you go. You look like you could really live that life. Tourists always stand out, but you look like the real deal.”
    He laughed. “Fair enough, I guess. I grew up on a ranch, though the Navy is my home now.”
    “So the boots are authentic then.”
    “They are indeed. Been wearing them since I was about eighteen, I think. Nothing like a good pair of broken-in boots.”
    “About those clothes,” she said.
    He laid on the horn when some asshole in an exotic car cut him off. “I thought it was safer to get away from the city before stopping.”
    She didn’t respond, and he knew she was fuming.
    “How long you been an agent, Miranda Jane?”
    Her head whipped around, two whiskey-colored eyes staring back at him. “Long enough. Too long maybe.”
    “Too long?” He glanced at her. “You don’t look like you’ve been out of high school for very