I’m a billionaire, not a security expert, but even I know my all-American girlfriend taking me down in one smooth move and speaking Russian like a native is suspicious. The worst part? When we’re alone together I’m not sure I care...
“I owe you one."
I didn't realize when I said that to my Navy SEAL buddy he'd actually collect on the debt. Or that it would end with me standing at a ten thousand dollar a head fundraiser while there's a gun strapped to my leg ruining the line of my custom-made Italian suit.
But my issue isn't with that gun. Oh, no. It's my other weapon I can't control when I'm around the sexy-as-sin brunette. She might or might not be a spy. I don't seem to care which while I've got her against the wall with my hand fisted in her hair. So why can't I resist her? Good question.
Oh, and while I figure out if I've been sleeping with the enemy, I've also got to keep us both from being killed by a couple of gun-toting Russians. No problem.
