The Mercenary Read Online Free PDF Page A

wasn’t enough damn room in the den.
    Not for the two of them anyway.
    He could smell her. Female. Flowers. Innocence.
    Fuck it.
    He needed to be outside, under the open sky. He glanced at the window. Still snowing.
    Great. Just
    great. It suited his mood perfectly. Cold. Dark. Depressing. He felt trapped here in his house, his castle,
    withher. Marc wasn’t sure why, but he felt…besieged. As if the enemy had breached the walls of his
    sanctuary.
    Carrying the half-empty bottle and ignoring his moronic analogy—hell, she was all of five feet, five inches
    tall, and probably weighed in at under a hundred and twenty pounds—he moved back to the fireplace.
    Putting the bottle down on the table he crouched to toss in another log. He flicked her a glance as the
    new log burst into an explosion of sparks.
    “You want me to go and get him, is that it?” he asked mildly as he straightened.
    Not him. No way in hell. Butsomeone.
    T-FLAC HQ was a hop, skip and jump away from the ranch. One call, and he’d—
    they’d—have a
    team wheels up, and en route to Italy, and the island of Marezzo.
    “Of course. Would I be here if I wanted him to linger in that horrible country? You’re the only one who
    can bring him back.”
    “Lady, your brother was—”My best friend. A damn fine T-FLAC operative. One more fucking rock in
    this suitcase of guilt I’ve been lugging around.
    “Is.”
    That deceptively soft exterior held a will of steel. “If,” he continued without pause, “he was alive, I
    assure you, I’d know it.”I’ll know one way or the other before you wake up in the morning, he thought
    grimly. And it would probably be a good idea not to picture this woman sleepy-eyed and naked amidst
    crumpled sheets at this time.
    “Well he is, and you didn’t,” she countered reasonably. She rose, the coffee table between them. He’d
    never known a female over the age of thirteen who blushed as much as this one did. And the suit—the
    suit was too damn big. Too old-fashioned. Too—hell—everything was wrong with it.
    He’d never met a
    woman who was so clueless about how to dress flatteringly. It wasn’t a suit so much as a sack and for
    some inexplicable reason, it made him wonder what she was hiding under it.
    Her legs were long, and from what he could see of them, well shaped, with incredibly delicate ankles.
    Luckily he’d always been a breast man so her legs didn’t have much effect on him. Not much. Had any
    man seen her naked? Probably not.
    The lush mouth said come here, and the green eyes shouted go to hell.Please, he added with an inward
    smile. He stood his ground as she circumvented the coffee table between them.
    She tilted her head back to look up at him. Marc felt the shock of her small hand on his arm right
    through his thick sweater. He wanted to shake her off. But her touch was as light as a butterfly, and
    seductively gentle. She smelled like heaven.
    He needed to get a grip. Shake her off and make that call. The sooner the better.
    “They have him in Pescarna,” she said quietly, a tremor in her husky voice. “It’s a little fishing village on
    the southwest side of the island. He’s in really bad…” Her short nails dug into his arm through the wool,
    and she swallowed hard, her eyes suddenly swimming with tears. “They’ve hurt him.
    Badly. He—he
    didn’t even recognize me.”
    Her fingers tightened on his arm. “Please. Help me.”
    “No.” He was going to get help forAlex.
    For a moment there was silence as Tory stared up at him. “No? You’re saying no?
    Despite the fact that
    he’s your best friend and partner, you won’t go in and rescue him?” Her jaw ached with fury and
    frustration.
    Marc stepped away from her and leaned an elbow against the oak mantel, looking as relaxed as a cat.
    The silly diamond winked in his ear. She’d like to twist that lobe, as Grammy had done to her when
    she’d been naughty, until he stopped being so macho and actuallylistened to what