“Okay, what’s going on?”
“Nothing I can talk about.”
“Why not?” Her gaze moved from his eyes to his lips, where it lingered, and then continued down his body.
That was the sexiest thing to happen to him in the past year. “I need a shower.”
“Want some help?” she teased.
“Normally I’d take you up on that.” He stalked across the room, pausing at the door to the bathroom.
“I was kidding. No man on earth would want to shower with me the way I must look.”
He moved to the bed and leaned over her, stopping a fraction of an inch before their lips touched. “Why not? Most men I know appreciate a beautiful woman.”
Those stunning hazel eyes of hers darkened. Being this close was probably a bad idea. Even if she wasn’t his witness, she was injured. No way could they do anything in her condition.
But then autopilot kicked in, and Reed couldn’t stop himself.
Hard Target
Barb Han
BARB HAN lives in North Texas with her very own hero-worthy husband, three beautiful children, a spunky golden retriever/standard poodle mix and too many books in her to-read pile. In her downtime, she plays video games and spends much of her time on or around a basketball court. She loves interacting with readers and is grateful for their support. You can reach her at barbhan.com.
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This book is dedicated to the amazing and strong people in my life. Allison Lyons, you continue to amaze me with your insight and passion. Jill Marsal, you are brilliant and I’m grateful to work with you.
Brandon, Jacob and Tori, you bring out the best in me every day—I love all three of you more than you can know. John, none of this would be this amazing and fun without you—my best friend and the great love of my life.
Liz Lipperman, a huge thank-you for answering my many medical questions and offering brainstorming support. You really are the bomb!
Contents
Emily Baker pulled her legs into her chest and hugged her knees. Waves of fear and anger rolled through her.
A hammer pounded the inside of her head, a residual effect from the beatings. Her busted bottom lip was dry and cracked from dehydration.
“Move,” one of the men commanded, forcing her to her feet.
A crack across her back nearly caused her to fall again.
The whole experience of the past few days had been surreal. One minute she’d been kayaking in a tropical paradise, enjoying all the rich sounds of the dense forest. The next she was being dragged through the jungle by guerrillas. She’d been blindfolded for what had to be hours, although she’d completely lost track of time, and had been led through pure hell.
Vegetation thickened the longer she’d walked. Thorns pierced her feet. The sun had blistered her skin. Ant bites covered her ankles.
A