Hit Hard. Amy J. Fetzer

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      “Yeah, who’s the babe, Outlaw?”

      Viva twisted to the pilot, poking her head between the seats. “Viva Fiori, hello. Thanks for the compliment, considering I know I don’t look my best, and do you have a real name? Coonass is terribly unattractive.”

      He grinned, his attention on flying. “Sebastian Fontenot, chéri, and how did you get mixed up in this?”

      “Because she’s damn stubborn and has no idea when to keep her yap shut,” Sam said.

      She sent Sam a bitter look. “I brought you backup and you’re complaining?”

      “I wouldn’t have needed backup if you didn’t fight the Thai mafia.”

      “Well, sure, but we won. We’re alive.”

      For how long? Sam knew one thing for sure. You could count on bad guys to hold a grudge. They’d given them several good reasons today. The diamond cut into his thigh and Sam pulled it from his pocket, handing it to Max. Then, finding the rag, he used it to pull the thin stick from the padded neck of his boot.

      “Good Lord, Sam, and you call me certifiable?” Viva said, staring at the tiny dart.

      “That’s too close to the skin for my comfort,” Max added.

      Sam explained where it came from. “Someone was shooting these off like wildfire. I pulled this one out of my hat before I went in the river.” Beecham reached for it. “Don’t touch the end. Poison. We need to find out what it is and who has this poison.”

      Beecham sniffed the tip. “That’s easy.”

      Sam frowned.

      “It’s local, ya pit. A mix of poisonous plants and the bones of the hao fai, fire cobra. Some venom. Jungle magic,” he added, carefully handing it back. “Formulas are secret, passed down through women. Sorta warns you not to piss off a Thai woman, eh? It’s usually ingested through food. Takes a couple hours, though.”

      Viva shook her head. “This was instant.”

      “Unusual.” Beecham fanned his fingers under the day’s growth of beard. “Refining it to kill on contact, well, that’s an art.”

      Sam met Beecham’s gaze. “Who’s capable of that?”

      He shrugged. “It’s tribal magic. Nothing a farang can find.” Gripping the straps, Beecham moved to Sebastian. “Set it down here, mate, I don’t want to be seen with you guys.”

      Sebastian laughed and lowered the chopper in a field. Beecham tossed off the headset and jumped out, walking away as if he’d just left a taxi. Sebastian removed the helmet and slid into the copilot’s seat.

      “Who’s going to fly this now?” she asked.

      Sam gave her a lazy smile, then climbed effortlessly into the cockpit. Helmeted and hooked to the console, he took the stick and lifted off.

      Viva leaned forward, poking her head between the seats again. “So what other talents are you hiding, Sam Wyatt?” He glanced, his expression driving a bolt of heat through her body. “Can I expect a demonstration?”

      Sam made a frustrated sound, and looked at the sky.

      “Sam can fly anything,” Max said, oblivious. “Fast.”

      To prove it, he made a sharp glide to the left, heading toward Bangkok. Beneath, the land grew dense with homes, spreading to high-rise buildings that defied physics. He gunned it, climbing higher, and glanced to the side. Viva was enthralled, smiling brightly.

      “This is so cool!” she said, rising up slightly for a better look.

      Then Sam dove, curling to the right and Sebastian grabbed on to a handle. “Jesus, Sam, you trying to kill us?”

      “Wuss,” Viva said, grinning.

      Sam lowered the chopper to a pad and she barely felt it touch down. He was good.

      “This is where you get off, Viva.”

      She blinked, looking hurt, and Sam pulled off the helmet and climbed out, then opened the side door, offering his hand. Viva glanced, then handed Max the headset.

      “Thrown out of another party,” she said tiredly. “Nice to meet you, Sebastian,” she said, then kissed Max’s cheek. “It’s been real.” She took Sam’s hand and hopped out.

      “That was my first chopper ride,” she said. “It’s a real turn-on.”

      He arched a brow.

      “Almost like foreplay.”

      Sam’s body instantly clenched. He didn’t say a word, talking would just get him in trouble with this woman.

      “You aren’t a criminal, are you?”

      Sam didn’t answer. But then, Viva didn’t expect a confession. He barely knew her and whatever he was doing here involved all the wrong people. The British intelligence guy was a real eye-opener.

      “We have to get off this pad.”

      “I won’t see you again, will I?” The words stuck in her throat.

      Sam stared down at her, memorizing her wild red hair, her lit-from-her-soul smile, and deep inside his chest he felt a tight, hard pain. Damn. “It’s for your own safety.”

      “I’m thinking it’s more for yours.”

      His lips quirked. He adored her honesty.

      Men in jumpsuits rushed out of the small building alongside the helo pad, shouting. Viva frowned at them, then Sam. “You weren’t supposed to land here.”

      “I wasn’t supposed to do a lot of things.”

      Viva wondered what it meant when he kissed her, and suddenly she wanted those incredible feelings again. Let’s be frank, she thought, he’s dark and dangerous, and you want to know this man inside out, slowly, in the most biblical sense. The thought made her insides lock while her heart slowly broke.

      “We gotta go.”

      “Who’s stopping you?”

      “You.”

      Her gaze ripped over him, hiding nothing of her emotions, and it felt like a claw raking his soul. She backed away a few steps, the chopper blades slowing.

      Viva drank him in one last time. The beat-up cowboy hat, the whip lashed at his waist. The pistol and big bowie knife—his long legs in worn jeans. She was going to have some really great fantasies about him, she thought. “Bye, Outlaw.”

      Sam motioned for her to keep moving. The officials of the pad were yelling and Viva spun, chewing them out. Sam wasn’t sure what she said, but they backed off.

      She looked at Sam, shrugged. “People need to just get over themselves sometimes.”

      “Take СКАЧАТЬ