Faster than she'd ever seen anyone move, he brought the man to her left to his knees with a series of swift blows and showed no mercy when he snapped his neck ending his life. The gasp froze in her throat as the sight of the man she'd stabbed with her shoe crumpled into a heap.

Heated words left the killer's lips and the dead man was quickly dragged into the night. Her knees threatened to buckle. She'd never seen a man murdered and prayed she'd never see it again. Pulling her eyes from the disappearing corpse she stared at their leader. She managed to force one word from her lips.

"Why?"

"It is a weak man who cannot keep a hold on a woman, especially one that's bound and gagged. His death proved to the others failure is not tolerated."

He spun on his heels and marched into the room. Not sure whether from fear for her life or the man who nudged her in the side, she followed the supposed leader into the lighted room. If nothing else, it was warm and dry.

Mitch couldn't believe his eyes. The woman was incredibly beautiful and feisty. A black strappy stiletto caught and held his attention when they slid her from the back of the van. Sexy shot through his head for a millisecond before he shoved it from his thoughts. Missing a shoe didn't matter. Her legs were lean and sculpted from what he could see. Inch by slow inch, they cut the burlap sack revealing a beautiful woman. It reminded him of a magic trick.

The skillful placement of her stiletto amazed him and brought a smile to his lips. The woman had style. Dressed in a mid-thigh black evening dress, she handled her captors with grace and the finesse of a greased pig. They couldn't get a hand on her for a matter of minutes as she did an awkward bob and weave, eluding them in the pouring rain. He bet if she had on a matching set of shoes-or better yet, sneakers-they wouldn't have caught her.

He stiffened at the sight of her being tackled from behind. The pair slid for several feet until they stopped. It didn't faze her. She continued to fight for her freedom. He caught sight of the gun before she did and instinctively placed the man in his crosshairs. One wrong move and he'd drop him where he stood. They'd been instructed to bring her home alive and he planned to complete this mission. He couldn't help but snort heavily when she sat upright and shoved the gun out of her face. Either she was the bravest woman he'd ever seen or she was insane. At the moment, he couldn't decide which.

When she turned toward the open door, he followed her line of sight. Damn, he hissed under his breath. Kwan Sung-hee. The worst of the worst stood in the doorway of the building. Short, powerful, and deadly. Known for severe torture tactics and brute force. This wasn't good. Kim Jong-un employed one of the deadliest and most elusive mercenaries in the world.

Keeping the gun level, he never lost sight of her. Soaking wet and covered in mud, she managed to maintain an air of dignity and defiance. Even at such a distance, he sensed strength radiate off her. The only glitch, she wobbled for a split second when Kwan killed the man she'd spiked with her heel. Death was a given in his profession, but he knew it wasn't in hers.

The moment the door closed he lost sight of her. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. They had to get her out of there as quickly as possible before that monster turned her inside out. Three clicks of his tongue to the sensitive mic inside his highly specialized helmet and he got the information he needed. They were ready at his go. Armed with the latest weaponry, his band of Force Recon Marines were the top in their field. This wasn't the first hostage removal they'd completed.

Switching to thermal heat-sensing binoculars, he located and counted the enemy. The dead body lay in the back of the van as one drove it away. Two men patrolled the front of the building while another two guarded the back. He located the other two inside the building along with Kwan and Miss Summers. No, he chided himself. Never give the package a name. It turned the mission personal and that wasn't allowed. Shaking off his momentary lapse in Marine judgment, he relayed the info to his brothers.

Once he knew they each understood, they waited for the right moment to pounce undetected and recover the hostage. But for how long? How long would she survive should Kwan decide to interrogate her by way of one of his horrendous methods?

Moments later, the hostage was led to a room on the far back right corner of the building. Not surprisingly, they locked her in. What happened next stilled the air in his lungs. She undressed. Every ounce of moisture dried in his mouth. It wasn't right to watch, but he couldn't help it. From her movements, she entered a shower. Though he tried not to, his eyes glued to her actions for several long seconds before the dedicated Marine in him reminded him he had a job to do. Mitch swallowed hard as he readjusted his position to ease the sudden heaviness between his thighs. Never had he reacted to anyone as he did to her, especially while on duty.

The sound of a throat clearing whispered through the built-in headset of his helmet jerking him back to reality and let him know he wasn't the only one aware of her actions. Every man on this mission was equipped to the hilt with the latest computer enhanced gadgetry. They saw what he saw. Heat filtered up his spine. For a reason he couldn't explain, he didn't like that fact.

Mitch closed his eyes for a split second, took a deep breath and cleared his head. Think mission and nothing else. Extract package, return it safely to base, submit report and return to the field. That was the way of his world. It didn't include a woman. Not now, not ever.

Opening his eyes, he caught sight of the guard's movement. One remained at each door, while each of the other two rotated. While a man walked to the left and around to the front the other walked to the right and rounded to the back. Glancing at the time, he realized it happened at exactly fifteen minutes from when they'd taken their posts. Perfect. A smile tugged at his lips. If they did it again, it would be their downfall.

Within minutes his men were in place. They knew their jobs. Take down the guard they were assigned without making a sound or being seen. Not a problem. Exactly fifteen minutes passed and the guards rotated. The instant each turned the corner, they hit the ground with a silent thud. The men located at the front and back doors were silenced as well. Mitch wasted no time. He entered through the window of the room where she was held.

Looking into the open bathroom, he froze. She stood wrapped in a towel. Moisture glistened her skin. He knew the moment she spotted him. Her eyes widened and he reacted quickly. He couldn't let her scream.

Both legs trembled, but Allie refused to let her captor see her fear. He'd killed a man in cold blood. Would he do the same to her? Swallowing hard, she didn't doubt it. One, two, three she counted each step trying to calm her nerves. When he turned to face her, she stopped, tilted her chin and straightened her spine. Even though she leaned, wearing only one stiletto, she grappled for an ounce of dignity and hoped she portrayed a serene, calm, collected manner she truly didn't feel inside.

To level her gaze on his, she lowered her chin. At five-feet seven inches tall, she towered over him. Yep, she was right. He barely cleared five feet. In his case, height didn't matter. She'd witnessed his deadly capabilities first hand. Though heavily accented with an Asian flair, his English was well pronounced.

"Miss Summers, as long as you are here you will be considered my guest. I have taken it upon myself to make you as comfortable as possible. My men have been informed to protect you by any means."