Her cheeks went pink. He'd never seen shy play on her before. Sugar bit her lip. "If you're honestly.... hell, I don't know what I'm doing. But I'm willing to take away the booty call embargo." She took a breath, and the vulnerability disappeared. Sugar flicked him in the chest. "But if you hurt my feelings, I'll cut off your balls and leave you to bleed out."

He laughed and took a step closer. This is the kind of girl I'm falling for? Wait... am I falling for her?

He shook his head and kneaded his knuckles into his eyes. He opened them and stared at the vamped-up knockout who'd threatened his manhood. For this chick, he would take a risk. If nothing else, he would go down having fun.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Sugar's throat was Sahara dry, and her head was swimming. She felt sober, but that was only the adrenaline. Too much tequila was still burning through her veins. The hotel service room was hot and humid. Piles of linens, humming pipes, and industrial gadgets that did Lord knows what cramped the already-small space.

Jared stepped away from her, hushing orders into his cell phone. He didn't have to whisper. The humdrum of the equipment kept his call confidential. She couldn't hear a word, yet she could guess every word. Sugar needed help. She couldn't handle herself. Screw that. Irrational and irritated, she couldn't calm her annoyance. Titan didn't need to swoop in at every occasion.

She gambled a step forward and felt her leg tremble. The stiletto boot teetered on its heel until she leaned back to the wall. Maybe they did, and maybe I'll stay put for another minute. Her hands shook, and her head pounded. Freakin' adrenaline-tequila shakes. Coming down's gonna be a bitch.

"You okay?"

She glanced up to see Jared watching her stare at her vibrating fingers. Great. Never better. Fan-freakin'-tastic. "You can stop asking me that."

He smiled as if this were the most fun he'd had since choppering out of Afghanistan.

Good for him.

"Well, all right then, Sugar. For a minute, I thought you'd gone all woozy-stumbly on me. Guess that wasn't you about to take a noser into a hot-water pipe."

"Oh, kiss my ass, Jared."

He chuckled, and she wanted to smack away his grin. Cockiness poured off him, as if he might lean her across his knees at any moment. "Don't think I won't, baby cakes."

Her skin flushed. Knowing what was on his mind, knowing how good it had been before... He was a roller derby of distraction. Around and around they went. A little violent, a little fun. Lots of games and strategy. She was hungrier for him than she'd realized.

As though he could read her mind, in two long strides, he was at her side, snagging her hand. She didn't fight him because she was already fighting with herself. Don't crawl into his arms, rub his chest, or plead for a kiss.

As he led her back to the stairwell, her body buzzed. His hyper-vigilant king-of-the-operatives hat was still firmly in place. All his talk and those soulful looks were little more than foreplay to him. He could toss them out and forget. Too bad she was still on fire.

The protective act worked for Jared in a major way. He was sexy in his own style. Not even decked out in tactical gear, he looked as if he ate his Wheaties every morning, then bench pressed his Expedition.

His gaze swept from side to side, on the lookout for bad dudes to kill. My vigilante white knight. He was smooth about it; she would give him credit for that much. At every turn of the stairwell corner, the man knew what was on the other side before she did. Such a badass.

They passed her floor and kept moving, probably to his suite, which was definitely the safer option. Hers would have enemy eyes on it. She was still a target, even if Titan had decimated whatever GSI ops were on site.

He opened the door onto his floor, ready to kill, and walked them to the door farthest away from the elevator and closest to the other set of stairs.

"Home sweet home." He inserted his key card and toed open the door.

She tried for a deep breath, which didn't work out so well. Who knew why this time? She'd already been in his suite. They'd already done the down and dirty. Nothing else came to mind that could take her breath away. But, still, it was gone.

The weight of the room strangled her. Its tension and apprehension were smothering, except to Mr. Unflappable. Jared moseyed past her, not remarking about how she clung to the entryway like a wallflower at a high school dance.

Unable to step forward, Sugar wrestled with an internal battle. Alone with him again-I want him. I don't want him.

"Hungry?" he called from the kitchen, rummaging around. The rest of his grumbles were inaudible, probably about her and their situation.

"Here." He threw her a large bottle of water. His towering frame stretched against the doorway. "Drink."

Always in charge. Always flexing his muscles. And why was that man always forcing food and drink on her? So irritating. But she was thirsty. "Okay."

She twisted the top and followed him into the living room. He was so pushy. Although, he seemed to only push when necessary, like when she was dehydrated or drunk. Sugar bit her lip. Maybe he wasn't the ass.

His brooding, intense gaze was hot. Lord help me.

"Drink faster, Sugar."

She stifled a yes, sir and a flip of her favorite finger. "Fine." Tipping the water back, she drank as she'd been ordered. Seriously, I can take care of myself without J-dawg telling me how to behave.

"Mr. Westin?"

Sugar screamed, spurting and spinning. The butler stood behind her. She took a choking breath. Water dribbled down her shirt, and she choked again. What-are all butlers on stealth mode? Of course they were; they'd been trained by Jared Westin, operative extraordinaire. "Sorry, my bad."

She wiped at her shirt, again noticing how greasy her hands were. Oh, that's hot. A shower was high on her priority list.

His expression unreadable, Jared crossed his arms. The butler appeared unfazed. After all, he did work in a hotel that had just been the scene of a gunfight, and as far Sugar could tell, the Abu Dhabi's version of the cops hadn't shown up.

The theme song to Cops played in her head, uninvited. Sugar took a long chug of water. She definitely needed to sober up more than she'd thought.

Jared shared a knowing glance with the butler. "A little help in the kitchen, my man. Black coffee and food that'll soak up Jose."

"Patron," Sugar corrected.

"Patron," he said to her, none too thrilled at her correction. Then he turned his attention back to the butler. "Maybe some breakfast. Pancakes. Waffles. Something. No raisins."

She raised her eyebrows, but he nodded to the butler and walked away while dialing his phone.

No raisins? So now the bastard has a sliver of a heart, and he pulls a thoughtful moment out of his well-shaped ass.

"I'm going to wash my hands." She found a washroom in the hallway, where the decor was masculine. Very Titan and very lived in. She wondered how often he stayed there. How many other women had his butler made breakfast for? She knew she shouldn't care, but her mind wandered anyway.

After only enough time for her to speculate on the inner workings of Jared's head, the butler knocked on the ajar washroom door and invited her to the dining table. Heavenly aromas drifted out the kitchen before she could say Top Chef: Abu Dhabi.

Jared came back with a mug of coffee and flipped a chair around so that he could straddle it. He nodded to her empty water bottle. "You need some coffee?"

"No. Thanks, though." Her sobering was in full effect. So was exhaustion. She needed to sleep, but that wouldn't be happening any time soon. Not while people were trying to kill her. Not when she wondered about how she was falling for a man who, to the best of her knowledge, had never had a single long-term relationship. Just like her.

Plus, caffeine would make her jittery, and that wouldn't help anyone. Staying awake and being exhausted was the best plan. "What's on our agenda? I can't stay squirrelled away in a hotel room forever."

The butler appeared with an orange juice for her and two plates of pancakes. Jared's fingers flexed around the mug, and he remained mum. A twinge in her stomach said he was holding back. He tapped a finger on the lip of the cup, drumming through the steam. He was holding back. Big time.

"Jared?"

He put the coffee down and cracked his knuckles, one at a time. "You think this is your fight, Sugar." His cadence was slow, thought out. The tone was patriarchal.

"It is." Her speculation was right on. Something was up. The worst seemed likely. Her stomach twisting, she nodded him on, willing him to understand what she needed. Maybe not all of the fight was hers, but she definitely owned a good portion of it.

"You'll hate me, and that's fine. I don't care. GSI's out of your league. At least when they're rappelling elevator shafts. You and Kip, one-on-one, I'd bet on you. You're smart, know your weapons. But you versus all of them-I'd rather have you somewhere safe."

What? Not a chance. "Jared-"

"No discussion." He took a long sip from his mug. "Until this hotel is clear, you stay within my eyesight. The boys will line up whoever they find, interrogate them, and we can leave. I'd guess mid-morning."

"Leave? Like go home."

"Yeah, you know a different definition, baby cakes?"

"We can't just leave."

"Why the hell not?" He put his mug down, pinched his brow, then dug into his pancakes while still straddling the backward-facing chair.

"I'm not leaving Asal."

The fork stopped midway to his mouth. His head dropped forward. She had no doubt that he'd forgotten about the girl. Well, to hell with him.

He took his bite and chewed like he was gnawing on cement. "Sugar, what do you expect me to do with her? You pulled her out of a bad situation. Feel good about that. She'd have died on the mountain. Now let the UN gal do her thing. Put Asal in a safe home."

"You mean orphanage?" she spat, slapping her hand on the table. The silverware rattled. The tiny flicker of her appetite was long gone.

He took another bite, then another. "I don't know what you want from me. What did you think you could do, just hang out with her in this hotel for the rest of your lives? Shit."

She shrugged. The future seemed far away. She hadn't thought about what she wanted-or what Asal needed. Her thoughts were running faster than she could keep up. "Well, no. Not a hotel necessarily..."

"Wait. What?" Jared dropped his fork. The clatter echoed like the chaos in her life. Loud and obnoxious. "Where did you think you and Asal might hang out?"

"I don't know. I hadn't thought about it until right now."

"And now you're thinking... what, Sugar?"

"Maybe she could come home with me." It was a whisper. A revelation. An oh-my-God moment when she realized something life-changing had just clicked. She cleared the cobwebs from her voice and narrowed her eyes, willing him to understand how strongly she felt. "I want her to come home with me."

"Do you have any idea what kind of paperwork and time commitment you're talking about? The red tape alone-"

"You're an ass. For a second, I thought you weren't a cold heartless bastard." A harsh laugh bubbled from deep within her chest, catching her off guard and reiterating her feelings. This would happen, with or without the great Jared Westin. "I need your help. I don't ask for help. Ever. Here's me, doing a first. Help."

"Sugar-"

"Jared. You're talking about an orphaned kid as though she was a package to be declared at customs. She's going to go to an Afghani orphanage. You get that? You know what that's like out here? Hundreds of kids, waiting for a lotto ticket. It never happens. So fuck you. She's coming home with me. You're the goddamn doer and fixer of everything. Master of the fuckin' universe. Fix this. Figure it out."

She slapped the table, and her hands stung. She hadn't realized that tears brimmed and were sliding down her cheeks. Needy and helpless, she was showing Jared... herself, not the faade she presented to the world. On display, she was vulnerable and wanting something she didn't know how to get. Asal, not Jared. Maybe both. "Screw this. I have to go."

Sugar had been a burden as a child, and it was awful. To feel unwanted... she shook her head, needing to escape from her thoughts, but she couldn't. An unwanted child in an unwanted marriage was hard enough in working class America. But to be an unwanted kid in a third world orphanage? Hell no. Not going to happen. Her mind catapulted through everything her mother and father had made her feel. Abandoned. Obnoxious. Useless. She could do better than they had. She could provide Asal something much better than an orphanage.

She shoved herself away from the table, not noticing Jared standing over her, and slammed into a brick wall of warm muscle. She wondered how long ago she had slipped into her memory daze.

He wrapped his arms around her and petted the back of her head. He was hugging her. Hugging. It made the tears fall faster, and she buried her face in his embrace.

"It's okay. You're fine," he soothed. The deep timbre of his voice didn't sound like the mechanical lines Titan recited to rescued victims. It sounded heartfelt. A new swell of tears fell.

"It's not." She sniffled. "Nothing's all right. Everything I want is just out of my reach."

He pulled back. How appropriate.

Then he palmed her hand, rubbing his other hand over her knuckles. "Sugar, we'll get it figured out. Let me grab you some clothes, and you can take my bed. Catch some z's, and it'll be okay."

He pulled her tight again. She should've leaned away. She needed to shield her heart. But she couldn't. Her muscles melted into his. He smelled amazing. All natural and male. A hint of gunpowder and coffee.

"Sugar?"

"Yes?"

"Every man in that club wanted you to look his way tonight. And I wanted to kill each one. I need you to know that. If Asal's that important to you, I'll figure it out. You believe me?"

"About which part?"

"Lord, woman. You drive me crazy." He tilted her chin up, wiping the tears away. "I don't like to see you cry. I don't want to see you upset, and I don't want some dickhead eyeball-fucking you."

She smiled, feeling, for the moment, cared for, and ignored the niggling temptation to run away. "I need a shower."

"No invite? Thought you lifted the embargo."

"I need to shower and get some clean clothes."

"An objective I can handle." Placing his palms on her cheeks, he held her gaze. "I'm glad you're here, and not because it's safe. I like you here with me."

He leaned over, brushing his lips over her bottom one, sucking it into his mouth and stealing her heart. Her eyes fell shut. For that second, she lived in the present, when neither of them had battles to fight. The soft slash of his probing tongue pushed her lips apart. She flexed her fingers into his shirt, clawing her nails against cloth-covered skin. Her heart raced, and arousal pulsed deep inside.

She fought for the kiss. His lips burned her alive. Soft and hard. Sensual and domineering. He walked her backward, until they collapsed against the wall. His teeth raked down her cheek, then her neck. A moan erupted past her lips as he devoured her skin, teasing her collarbone, tearing the strap of her tank.

"Sugar, baby, you deserve better than me. But I think we both want to see where this goes." He threaded his fingers into her hair. Twisting. Tugging. Teasing. His tongue continued its torture.

"Yes." The word sounded as aroused as she was. She was still covered in grease and smelled like an elevator shaft. "I really need a shower."

"I can't promise," he said, husky and low, "that I'll keep my hands off you tonight, but I will make sure you get enough rest to survive until we're home. Shower, and I'll be waiting for you."