Her Last Line of Defense Read Online Free PDF Page B

socks.”
    “I blister easily.”
    He gave her an incredulous look. “You kidding me? Bad feet in the jungle? What, you wanna get jungle rot or blood poisoning from a bad blister?”
    “They’re special socks,” she informed him.
    “Mon Dieu.” He shook his head. “Special socks. I’m beginning to sympathize with your father more and more, Claire.”
    It was the first time he’d used her first name, but she figured they’d moved past a certain formality when he’d run his hands near her breasts and stared at her nipples. She liked the way he said it in his French accent, the R at the end a little purring noise.
    She was too busy mooning over that to notice he’d moved on to the deepest corner of her bag. “Hey!”
    He had a fistful each of her bras and panties and was examining them with a clinical eye. Of course it wasn’t any of her delicate, lacy things she had a secret weakness for—these were industrial-strength white or gray cotton sports bras and panties.
    “Put those back, those are none of your business.” She grabbed for them, but of course he was too quick.
    “Everything about you is my business now, down to your underwear.” He stuffed them into the bag. “Glad to see you brought one hundred percent cotton. Prickly heat and fungal infections are no joke.”
    Claire winced but he had moved on to the hiking boots she’d left next to the door. He examined the specially vented sides designed to drain water and sweat, tested the soles’ flexibility and tugged on the laces. He stopped and examined one lace closely.
    “Is it getting frayed?” She hoped not. She had gone online and researched her boots, knowing her feet would be her weak point. These were supposed to be the best jungle-trekking boots made.
    Boudreaux unlaced one boot. She probably hadn’t laced it up to Green Beret requirements. He straightened, his face serious, the boot dangling from his hand. “What do you know about the plans your father has made for your training?”
    “Oh, um, he said we would all drive down to Parris Island tomorrow and get started. I’m not sure how far that is.”
    “It’s about two hundred and fifty miles. Ever been there?”
    She shook her head.
    “It’s the Marine Corps recruiting depot for the eastern United States. Big installation. The feds do their outdoor training there.” He eyed her closely. “Your father made reservations for the two of you to stay in the VIP quarters at night after you train with me during the day.”
    “So we would go out into the woods for the day and come back every night?” It sounded cushy to Claire, but not particularly effective.
    “You didn’t know about your hotel arrangements?”
    “I figured we’d pitch a couple of pup tents so I could learn how.”
    “Pup tents. Right.” He held up her boot. “Did you realize you have a tracking device here?”
    “A what?”
    “Somebody planted what looks like a GPS tracking device on the tongue of your boot. See this black disc? Your other boot doesn’t have it.”
    Claire stared at the plastic circle. “I barely noticed that—I thought it was an antitheft device from the store.”
    “It is. An antitheft device for you . Not your boot. Whoever planted this can log in to a GPS server and find exactly where your boot is, every minute of every day.”
    “Who would want to…” Claire’s question trailed away. Of course she knew who wanted to track her—her father. Good grief, she’d seen ads for things like this, but to find lost children who’d wandered away at the playground, not keep tabs on a grown adult. Then a worse thought hit her. Had her father put trackers in her car, her purse?
    She ran across the room and dumped her purse on the bed. “Check out my stuff. I need to know if I have any more electronic babysitters.”
    Boudreaux methodically examined every thing she normally carried with her. Claire blushed briefly when he found the little pouch that held her tampons and a couple condoms