He turned on the heel of his boot, lasering in on a shadowy corner sheathed by a partition. A woman? A silhouetted figure stood with a hand on a cocked hip, behind a screen. Long legs and a pony tail outlined in a magnificent shadow. Holy hell. Nothing about that belonged in this room.

This place was violence and atrocity. She was a gauzy reflection of soft edges and a smooth voice. Hell. He hadn’t even seen her, touched her. Yet. But that fact didn’t stop his gut from tightening and his eyes from popping. Nah, must have been all the adrenaline from snatching the terrorist not ten minutes before. But damn if he wasn’t wishing for coulda, woulda, shoulda met this girl someplace else.

Rocco swallowed against the boulder in this throat. “What I want has nothing to do with mission objective.”

The metallic clang of tools hitting the cement floor clattered from behind the partition. She let loose a swell of what was probably curses, in Spanish, then her sing-song called to him, still hidden behind the screen. “Ah, the American who plays by the rules. How interesting.”

Her cursing made him chuckle, and made him…interested. This whole place did. What the hell was she saying anyway? It was a rollercoaster of pissed-off words, complete with rolled Rs that nearly swayed over his senses. He wanted her to keep talking.

Another step closer and damn if he didn’t want to see her face, knowing it would do far more justice to the rockin’ silhouette painted behind the partition. “Says the Brit who speaks like a Spaniard.” And swears like a—

“I’m not British.”

What else could he learn about her in the next, oh, minute and a half he was expected to be here? Maybe she would keep talking. He’d jump through all kinds of hoops if that woman would let loose her accent again. Please, keep talking. “And I don’t play by the rules. But you—”

She laughed, and the sound slid over his body, winding down his spine. He took in a deep breath, embracing the sensation. The laugh was better than her words, and he wanted to make it happen again.

“Today.” She was back to work. “It looks like you do.”

“I came bearing a gift.” He looked to the man lying on the floor. “My mission objective is complete, and your invite comes just a little too late.” That and he’d left a team of men sitting outside. If he didn’t walk out soon, they’d make an appearance, guns pointed and on a search-and-destroy mission. Rocco not coming out was most definitely not on their itinerary.

“I see.”

No, you don’t. You can’t see anything, and I’m dying to see you.

It was just a voice. But hell. She was too… something. Rare. Offbeat. Familiar?