Gabe Cannon, battle-hardened commando, is pursuing a rogue soldier but finds something entirely different and unexpected at the takedown...Gabe inched closer, watching for a trap. He flicked the safety off his gun. Come on. Turn. He moved another step closer then stopped with his feet apart, gun raised, silencer in place.
His target sensed him at last and spun around.
Oh, hell.
Gabe caught the curve of a breast in the moonlight, and his finger froze on the trigger as he stared at the woman.
She could be a trap--Tekla’s accomplice or a decoy.
He had a kill order.
Most of the men he worked with squeezed the trigger each and every time, preferring to err on the safe side. He’d been like that once. A muscle jumped in his cheek. He pushed the North Village incident from his mind.
The woman stared at him for a startled moment, then her instincts kicked in and she ran. He lunged after her, caught up in three leaps and brought her down hard. She was lean, yet soft, every inch unmistakably feminine. But none of that feminine softness showed in her fighting spirit. She shoved against him with all she had. She had to know she was conquered, yet she refused to yield, stirring some of his base instincts.
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