Page 108 of Hot & Heavy

She had much to plan now that the mission was over. Ian had said that he would help her… well, probably help her. With or without him, she needed to either buy a longship or arrange transport to the Norselands; and raise an army, either here or in the Saxon lands. Madrene was hoping, perhaps unrealistically, that Ian would convince his other seals to go with them. That small number of expert fighting men would be better than a far larger number of regular warriors.

A slight knocking noise from the garage door drew her attention. Mayhap it was just the wind, although there was no wind to speak of and certainly not in the garage. When the sound was repeated, she got up and looked down the hall to the closed office door. Geek was probably sulking over her harsh words.

Since the danger was over, she walked up to the door and squinted her eyes at the peephole. A man stood there. He had the short cut many military men wore in this place and his long sleeved tea-shert had the letters "U.S. Navy SEAL" on the front. So she opened the door.

"Ensign John Smith here," he said briskly. "Mac asked me to bring you over to the base. The commander wants to talk to both of you."

"Oh," she said. That made sense. "Why didn't Ian come himself?"

"He's already in meetings."

Madrene glanced into the garage, where the mow-tore was running on Ian's red car. He must have sent this man in his vehicle to get her. She nodded and said, "Let me tell Geek where I'm going."

"He already knows," the ensign said, taking her by the elbow. "Hurry. There's not much time."

Madrene was puzzled. Why the rush when the danger was over? And another thing: As the end-sign helped buckle her in the seat and backed out of the garage at a rapid pace, she noticed that the interior of the car was different.

"Why is the leather of these seats brown? I thought it was black. And why are you driving north? I thought the base was…" A number of observations came crashing over her then, one after another. The man's hands were a different color from his face and neck. He was wearing makeup, she realized with amazement; she had learned about makeup from Pretty Boy. She was fairly certain that the end-sign's hair and eyebrows were not this blond color naturally. In fact, she was beginning to notice some Arabic features, particularly in the shape of the eyes and nose. "Who are you?"

"Shut up, bitch!" the end-sign snarled in Arabic and pulled a weapon… a piss-tole… out of his shirt.

"You will to be our bargaining tool for getting Jamal released. You will spill your guts for us as you did for the See-eye-aye."

"Why doesn't anyone believe me when I say that I know nothing?" she answered him in Arabic, throwing her hands up in disgust. "You overvalue my usefulness in your ransom attempt. In truth, the people here do not care much for me, except for Ian, and even that is in question. So, if I were you, I would turn around and take me back. Ian might not lop your head off if you reconsider now. But later, who knows what—"

The end-sign used a very, very foul word—a Saxon one—then raised the handle of his weapon to hit her on the back of the head. Her last thought before blackness came over her was, ' Twould seem I am going to take part in the action after all.

Sometimes the road of life has a few speed bumps…

Ian stood and laid some bills on the table at the Wet and Wild for his part of the tab. The adrenaline pumping through his body now was of an entirely different kind. He was ready for battle again, but this time there would be no guns involved. He hoped.

"Running home to the little woman, are you?" Omar asked, grinning at him.

"Pussy-whipped already," Cage proclaimed.

"Bet you have the 'I love you, baby, please forgive me' spiel down pat," JAM said.

"Better have." Pretty Boy nodded. "Maddie was royally pissed over being left behind."

"Sure you don't wanna stay here and see what kind of action you can rack up?" Sly inquired. "Oops, I forgot. You've got action central going for you back home."

Ian refused to rise to their bait. There was a time he might have been irritated, even angry, that they would dare to speculate on his personal life. But right now, all he cared about was getting home to Maddie and getting on with the rest of his life.

"Uh-oh," Cage said, glancing over Ian's shoulder.

Ian turned and said the same thing aloud. "Uh-oh."

It was Jennifer, his ex-fiancée, and she was headed toward him like a guided missile. He stood his ground and waited for her to come to him.

"Ian," she said in a husky voice he'd once thought sexy, but which now seemed kind of pathetic. Being of average height, she had to go on tiptoes to reach up and kiss him. He turned his face at the last moment so that her lips grazed his cheek, not his mouth where they were aimed.

The smell of her perfume he would recognize anywhere. A light flowery scent that was not unpleasant, but it held no allure for him now.

She looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face. "Can we talk?"

"I'm in a hurry, Jen. Can we make it some other time?"

"There was a time when you would have fit me in." She pouted, which she probably thought was attractive.