“You don’t, not really,” he replies, looking around. “But I suppose, it’s not much different from this. You get dropped in a location you know nothing about except the basics. You get told to survive and take out a target. You go home.” He scowls and shakes his head. “I’ve been out for barely four months and then this shit happens. It’s like the big man upstairs is laughing at me.”

I glance at him. “You still believe in the big man?” Personally, I stopped believing the moment I became an adult and saw the realities of the world around me. Kind of hard to believe when you see all the pain. Besides, me and God, we don’t exactly get along.

He shrugs and looks away. “I don’t have an answer to that.”

“Fair enough.”

We walk in silence for a few minutes more, traipsing through the jungle like we’re in Indiana Jones. At least he had boots that fit. These ones are starting to rub the wrong way. I’ll have to adjust the stuffed socks soon or suffer blisters. What I wouldn’t give for my dance bag right about now. At least it had tools for such things in there. Now, I feel defenseless.

“How did they get you?” I ask with a sigh. “Did they chloroform you, too?”

Creed snorts. “Nah, they just bashed me on the back of the head.” He looks at me with a frown. “They chloroformed you?” At my nod, he shakes his head. “I don’t understand the motivation for bringing you here. The others, me, I understand, but unless you’re secretly an assassin or something, it doesn’t make sense.”

I laugh but it lacks actual amusement. It’s as dry as my eyes with yesterday’s mascara. “No assassin here. Just an exotic dancer who got drugged and taken. I almost wish I had some secret hidden up my sleeve. Give them a run for their money. Bastards.”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, his mind clearly somewhere else, before he glances down at me and asks, “So, you dance?”

I roll my eyes. I knew it was coming. Even if I hadn’t just admitted it, most of the men had seen the heels I’d come in on and left behind back at the air strip. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.

“Yeah, I dance,” I confirm. “It’s good money most nights. Single-handedly paid my way through college with it.”

His brows raise. “You get your degree?”

“I’ve got three of them actually.” I shrug. “I did a double major in business and economics. Then I went back and got another one in philosophy for shits and giggles.”

Creed whistles. “Damn, woman. I underestimated you. Business, economics, and philosophy. Sounds like you know your shit.”

“Most underestimate me,” I shrug. “I consider it a strength.”