Mission: Out of Control by Susan May Warren Page A

“Please?”
    Really? She thought he’d fall for that? He couldn’t help it—a chuckle escaped. “Wow, you’re good. I nearly bought that. But…uh…no. What kind of woman walks right into danger?” She opened her mouth but he held up his hand. “The kind who needs her head examined. Party’s over, honey. Don’t make me carry you out of here.”
    Her eyes widened at that. “Brody—please.”
    And right then, he was back in a hot, dusty desert, the dirt kicking up around Shelby as she said, “Brody—please!”
    No, no, no, he wasn’t going back there, wasn’t going to let some woman led by her emotions run into her own death and drag him along with her so she could die in his shaking arms. No, no, no.
    What was it with him attracting women who didn’tmind looking death in the eye and shaking their fists at it?
    â€œI’m not leaving,” she said, in a voice that might break another man.
    Not him. “If that’s how you want it.”
    He didn’t spare her dignity when he advanced on her, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. She slammed her fist into his spine, a solid blow that might have buckled him if he hadn’t been powering on sheer fury.
    He opened the bathroom door, let her kick, and then decided on prudence.
    Walking through the party with Vonya over his shoulder just might be a surefire way to end up in the tabloids.
    â€œPromise to come nicely.”
    â€œPut me down.”
    â€œVon—”
    She kicked again—wow, she was strong. Clearly she wasn’t going to cooperate.
    Fine.
    â€œMake a hole!” He charged out of the bathroom and then the bedroom, hand out, not caring who he banged into, not caring that she was beating his back as he went. Not caring about the stares he got, or even some laughter from those who recognized, well, probably her backside. Which, really, he apologized for inside, even if she’d never know it.
    He marched her past Damu, who looked up from the blonde he was dancing with and even came toward them. Brody held up a hand in warning and Damu’s eyes flashed.
    Brody guessed he had about ten seconds before this thing went south.
    He aimed straight for the door and blew right past the bouncer, who gave him a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
    Not that kind of party, dude. Brody wanted to put his fist into the guy’s face.
    He set Vonya down right outside the elevator, steadying her on those high heels. And proving that they’d advanced oh-so-far in their relationship, she reached back and let loose with a bone-jarring slap.
    And once again, as the elevator door opened, the paparazzi managed to catch it all in a blinding flash of white light.
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    In the stone-cold silence between them in the elevator, Ronie realized something had died.
    The only word she could put to it might be… friendship.
    She hated that she cared. That she’d actually looked forward to the morning macchiatos. The chocolate pastries. Seeing his dark eyes on her during rehearsal. Measuring. Protecting.
    She hated the fact that she liked it—all of it.
    For a second, seeing the anger in Brody’s eyes, her throat burned, and she’d wanted to rewind back to the moment when she opened the bathroom door and saw him standing there.
    Like he’d come after her. To rescue her. And in a crazy moment, she’d wanted to—
    â€œWhat were you thinking?” he said.
    She folded her arms and set her jaw. I was thinking about saving someone’s life, she wanted to say.
    â€œDid you not care that you might get, oh, I don’t know, killed?”
    â€œDamu wouldn’t hurt me. We’re friends.”
    â€œApparently you don’t know the meaning of the word.”
    Ouch. She nearly leaped through the doors as they opened. She stalked back to her room and knocked on the door.
    He inserted the key into the lock for her. She pushed through and