“Nah, she’s worried about you.”

“She’s a liability is what she is, telling you something as outrageous as that.” Carolina looks me up and down, and her mouth tightens. “No man takes me in hand. Remember that.”

I lean in even closer and brush a strand of hair from her ear, and as I do I bend my head until my lips are mere centimeters away from the gold cuff in her upper lobe. “Is that a challenge?” I whisper.

I’m playing with fire here. I don’t cross lines like this, not unless they’re enemy lines, and I don’t want Carolina to be my enemy. This could get me fired. That doesn’t really matter, not in the sense this work pays less than the contract work I could pick up immediately. I don’t need the money either way. I’m a wealthy enough man in my own right. Being able to enter closed off enemy societies and take out high-ranking target pays incredibly well.

“Oh my God.” Carolina jerks her head up and stares at me. “No. Of course not. Listen. Can we get back to your expenses and if you think your men can help my friend?”

I lean back, giving her space. I want her, but I’m not a creep. Right now, her signals are mixed, and I’m not sure if she wants me or is afraid of me, or even better—a heady mix of both.

“They can help for sure. It’s exactly the sort of job the company was set up for and one of the co-founders has a real thing apparently about helping damsels in distress. I imagine he’d make your friend a priority.”

“Don’t you have a thing about helping damsels in distress?”

Her question isn’t pointed. It doesn’t seem to be a jibe in any way. I consider it. “I suppose not, in the sense that I’ve learned never to underestimate women. I’ve come across women in combat who were much deadlier than their male counterparts.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. I can’t talk about shit in any depth, but let me just say when a woman is highly trained to kill, and determined, she can be a tenacious adversary, and an unseen one. Most people don’t think of women as killers. They underestimate them.”

“Not you?”

“I don’t underestimate women, no.”

She narrows her eyes. “Bullshit.”

Simon clears his throat and puts the radio on, the sound of soft music filling the car. Thank fuck. I don’t need him to hear me arguing with my assignment.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She laughs, and it’s genuine, as if she can’t believe how idiotic I am.