"Tell me this is not your idea of talking dirty," she said, and he smiled.

With one hand he pulled her wrists over her head and with the other retrieved the rope from the table. "The Lasso of Truth, babe," he whispered in her ear and made her shiver as he looped it around her wrists.

"Well," Lucy said, but she didn't resist, biting her lip instead. He tied a loose knot, then tossed the other end over the curtain rod, looping it over the tie-back by the window frame.

Lucy said, "You know, there is a bed and it's-"

He tugged on the lasso ever so slightly, and Lucy sucked in her breath as her arms were drawn tighter. He lowered his head, still holding one end of the lasso, and kissed her in the hollow of her throat.

"Oh, God," she said and grabbed on to the curtain, bunching it above her head where the rope held her hands.

"You can trust me," he said. "I will never hurt you, I will never betray you, and I will always get you where you need to go."

He tied off the rope on the curtain tie-back and then loosened her belt, and her robe parted as he slid his tongue lower, tracing the inner curve of her right breast. Her body tightened under his hands as he lightly nibbled and kissed her nipple, and he felt her tremble against him, making little noises in the back of her throat. Then he went down to his knees and lowered his head and made her gasp again, and she tasted fresh and clean as he went between her legs, his hands sliding around her hips to grasp her ass tightly, not allowing her to move.

He tuned in to her breathing, soft and rapid, his tongue tasting her, moving inside her as her breaths changed to shallow sobs. After several minutes, she breathed, "Oh, God, stop," and he ignored her, focusing on what he felt from her, not what he heard, the rhythm of her gasps, the quiver of her muscles. Then he felt her tense and shudder, crying out as she jerked hard against him, and the rod broke, and the curtain tumbled down, covering both of them as she collapsed and he caught her.

He laughed, her body hot on top of his, the thick curtain covering both of them. She was breathing hard, and he rolled her to one side and held her in his arms, resting his head against her long, powerful thighs, catching his breath, too.

"Wow," Lucy said and he laughed again.

Then he threw the curtain off and the late afternoon light cast a glow over her, magic, as she pulled the blindfold off and smiled at him, drowsy with satisfaction. He got to his feet, pulling her up warm into his arms. He tugged her toward the bed and tripped over the Lasso of Truth so that they tumbled onto the mattress in a heap with him on top.

Wilder began laughing again and pulled the lasso from her wrists, leaving traces of gold paint there, markings he'd put on her, but she caught it before he could toss it away, propping herself up on her elbows under him, her mouth almost on his, her eyes half closed and dark.

"Lasso of Truth, Captain Wilder?" she said, her voice soft with heat. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Wilder said with a smile.

"We'll see about that," she said and rolled so that he was under her, reaching for his wrists.

And then he forgot the CIA, Finnegan, the Russian mob, and everything else on earth but Lucy.

Chapter 17

Three hours later, Wilder woke up, tangled in warm bedclothes and a warmer Lucy. He didn't want to move. Ever. If he could just stay there forever, he'd give anything. He looked down at Lucy, her head resting on his chest, her breathing slow and steady, with the slightest hint of a snore now and then, which made him smile.

This trust thing. It was good. And the distant future, that was looking pretty good, too.

But the clock on the side of the bed was ticking. The sun was going down and shooting would begin soon-film shooting only, hopefully. He thought about rousing Lucy, but he didn't want to. She was so sweet when she was asleep. So soft.

So not busting his chops for making her risk the lives of people she cared about to shill for the CIA.

Well, hell, that was his duty. That's what he did, he answered the call of duty.

Lucy stirred next to him, nestling closer.

Maybe it was time for duty to shut the fuck up.

Of course, Crawford hadn't ordered him to do anything. He'd planted the bug. That should be enough. But Wilder did not trust Finnegan and Nash. Or Crawford, for that matter. And the duty that was calling now was to the woman he had his arms wrapped around, whose head rested on his chest. He had to cover her, protect her from Murphy, that little fucking Irish gremlin that was going to screw things up because Finnegan and Nash were shifty, double-crossing bastards, both of them.

Her cell phone rang, breaking the warm silence with its ugly sound.

Lucy stirred and then sat up as the phone rang again, yawning, the covers falling off so that she was naked to the waist. Exquisite.

"What?" she said, still groggy.

God, you're beautiful.

She frowned at him, still half asleep, and fumbled for her phone. "'Hello?" Then she pulled it away from her ear. "Stop shouting." She listened again, frowning harder, waking up. "No. I did not cancel the cargo net."

Wilder froze.

"Nash, the only thing I want to cancel is the shoot. I did not call the rental place and cancel your damn net. Now leave me alone." She punched the button to turn the phone off and then dropped it on the bedside table. "He's just getting crazier and crazier."

"What happened?"

Lucy shrugged, which was nice of her since she was topless. "Some woman called and canceled the cargo net. He thought it was me."

"Karen." Wilder got out of bed and went over to his pile of clothes and weapons and began to gear up, knowing that Murphy had just shown up, all flags flying.

Lucy looked bereft. "Where are you going?"

Wilder was strapping on his protective vest, securing the Velcro fasteners. "Finnegan. I've got to shake him. Squeeze him."

"What are you talking about?"

"Karen canceled the cargo net because she isn't going to need it. She should have just left it on the rental, but pilots are anal like that."

"What does that have to do with Finncgan?"

"The only reason she wouldn't need the cargo net is because she's going to have room in the helicopter for whatever she's bringing in. And the only reason she'd have room in the helicopter is because she's not going to have people in it."

Lucy blinked, still not getting it. "She's going alone?"

"She's going with Finnegan and cutting the rest of them out. Doc, Nash, God knows who else."

Lucy swallowed. "That's why Nash is so furious. He's being double-crossed."

"Yep." He finished securing the Velcro. "So I've got to find Finnegan and squeeze him before Nash does."

" 'Squeeze him'?"

"Put the fear in him."

Lucy was frowning. " 'The fear'? What fear?"

Wilder finished securing the Velcro. "That it's one thing to double-cross Nash, but if he messes with you, he messes with me. And then he is done."

"Oh." She nodded, a little wide-eyed. "So you've done this before."

Wilder considered the question. "Yes. But only for my team."

She nodded again and then tried to look unconcerned. "So I'm on your team now?"

"It's our team now, Lucy. You and me." He put the Glock in place. The ankle knife. His belt. He had to go to the cache and get the MP-5-He picked the tracker off the table and turned it on and then looked at her.

She was sitting frozen on the bed, cross-legged and half naked like some goddess, and she was looking at him with her heart in her eyes. "Our team," she said, her voice strange, and swallowed again. "Good." She swung her fist in front of her. "Go us." Then she bit her lip. "So where are you going without me?"