WAR: Opposition: (WAR Book 3) by Vanessa Kier Page B

human being if I let the rebels capture you.”
    “But—”
    He shook his head. “You will not pay for what the rebels have done. Not only that, you should not give out your cards to people here, as the rebels could use the cards to identify you.” He reached for the broom in the corner, but Kirra beat him to it.
    “At least let me help with this,” she insisted.
    He shrugged, then grabbed a rag from behind the bar and began to mop up the spilled liquid. Kirra set about sweeping the shards of glass into a big pile in the middle of the room.
    “There will be other rebels searching this area for you,” the bartender warned as he wrung out the rag into the sink. “Where will you go next?”
    “Yeah, where?” The American stood in the doorway, scowling at her. His right hand held a pistol along his thigh with the casualness of someone who considered the weapon an extension of his body. He stood in that balanced way of trained fighters, reminding her of her brother and Thabo.
    In the light from the two lanterns not destroyed by the rebels, she noticed that his eyes were a wary, hazel brown and his hair was indeed a dark blond. She judged him to stand at close to six feet. Under other circumstances, she might have considered him sexy, but blood trickled from a cut on his cheekbone and guilt hummed through her veins. Dammit, she didn’t want anyone getting hurt because of her.
    “There’s nothing of interest to a foreigner down this way,” the American pointed out. “Even the surfers are too afraid of the rebels to try their luck on the waves. So why the hell did you show up here, tonight?”
    Kirra’s temper flared, but she quickly sucked back her anger. This man had deadly allies. Who knew how he’d react if she antagonized him? So she said, as meekly as she could, “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to lead the rebels into the bar. I already told Mr.—” She glanced over at the bartender.
    “Komi Adebayor.”
    Kirra nodded at him. “I already told Mr. Adebayor that I thought I was out of sight when I turned down this way. I’ve offered to pay for the damages, so I don’t see what business it is of yours why I’m here or where I’m going. As soon as I’m done helping Mr. Adebayor clean up, I’ll be on my way.” According to her paper map, this town was the last one in the country. If she’d stayed on the road there would have been no other shelter between here and the border one hundred kilometers away. She’d hoped to find a room for the night, but since the rebels were hot on her trail again, she guessed she’d be spending another night on the beach. Assuming she could find a suitable hiding place.
    The American’s scowl deepened and he shot a glance at her feet. “You were limping as you came down the road. How far do you think you’re going to get tonight?”
    Not far, which was why the beach was her only option. But there was no way she was trusting this man with that information. So she shrugged, walked over to the other side of the room, and resumed sweeping up the glass.
    “See?” The American swept his arm out. “Limping.”
    Damn him, her limp wasn’t that bad. She’d put on her takkies once she’d left the beach, but it had been years since she’d spent that much time climbing barefoot over rocks and the bottoms of her feet were bruised and cut. Still, she wasn’t dragging her leg or anything. She raised her chin. “I’m trying to avoid broken glass.”
    “Oh, for Christ’s sake.” The American snatched the broom out of her hands. “Let me do that.”
    She grabbed it back and grit out, “I am fully capable of sweeping the floor. This was my fault. So I will help clean up.” Despite his ferocious scowl, the American didn’t try to take back the broom. When he didn’t make any threatening moves, she dared to point at the overturned furniture. “Why don’t you set the tables and chairs to rights?” The man certainly appeared fit enough to handle much heavier weight than