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dragged his gaze from her body to examine her face again and decided she didn’t look young enough to be a dancer—unless she was retired? Not that she was old, but it was usually the barely legal girls that danced and there was a mature look about her face that made him think she was probably closer to thirty than twenty.
    Not that that mattered one way or another, he thought, feeling anger begin to build in him. He couldn’t touch her—didn’t dare.
    Jesus he would like to, though! All over, several times.
    He was struggling to banish the image of burying himself hilt deep in her, watching her face go slack in the throes of ecstasy, when Hawk, who’d been standing over him, released a ragged breath that made her stir.
    Her eyes opened slowly. For several moments, she stared up at the two of them 12
    without comprehension and then her eyes grew so wide he could see the whites all the way around the irises—hazel, he mentally noted, not brown as he’d first thought.
    She sat up abruptly, but to his surprise and relief, she didn’t start screaming.
    “Nobody’s gonna hurt you, baby,” Hawk murmured in a voice that might have been soothing if it wasn’t so rough with desire.
    Mac flicked an annoyed look at him but finally decided she might not have noticed that the two of them were hanging over her with raging hard-ons, drooling.
    “Who are you?” she asked shakily.
    “I’m Staff Sergeant Cole MacIntyre, US Marines, Special Forces,” he replied, nudging his head at Hawk. “He’s Corporal Gabriel Hawkins.”
    Sylvie studied both men, trying to assimilate what they’d told her and make sense of it. “I don’t understand,” she said finally. “Is this … some sort of military exercise?”
    The two men exchanged a speaking glance.
    “Yeah,” Hawk responded.
    “No,” Mac said at almost the same instant and then glared at Hawk.
    Hawk glared back at him. “You tryin’ the scare the shit out of her?”
    Mac met Sylvie’s gaze. “That what you thought that was all about?”
    Sylvie swallowed with an effort. “It seemed like it might be a possibility,” she hedged.
    “But that isn’t what you thought.”
    It wasn’t, but she didn’t think she wanted to bring up what she’d thought. Maybe if she pretended they weren’t convicts they wouldn’t feel any need to do anything to her?
    “I won’t tell anybody anything—because I can’t, you know? I didn’t really see anything and I have a really bad memory for names and … uh … faces,” she said a little hopefully.
    Mac studied her sardonically. “Where do you suggest we drop you? We’re miles from the coast … any coast.”
    “Where are you taking me?” She held up her hand before either man could answer. “No! Don’t tell me. I don’t really want to know.”
    Mac studied her thoughtfully. “You want to get out of there?”
    Sylvie smiled at him a little weakly. “Not really,” she said, her chin wobbling noticeably.
    “Nobody’s gonna hurt you,” Hawk said again.
    She sent him a wide-eyed, disbelieving look.
    “We just want the boat and whatever supplies you’ve got.”
    She seemed to relax fractionally. “Take whatever you want. You can just drop me anywhere.”
    Mac scanned her length, lingering a lot longer than he’d intended. She was pale when he met her gaze again. “Lady, I think that’s just about the worst idea I’ve ever heard. We drop you off anywhere dressed like that and you’ll be damned lucky to get two feet without ….”
    She looked for several moments as if she was going to burst into tears. To Mac’s relief, she sucked it up. He felt like pure shit, though, seeing her eyes swimming with unshed tears—like he’d been pulling the wings off a butterfly.
    The look Hawk bent on him pissed him off.
    “You should get dressed,” he said gruffly. “I’m not trying to scare you, but we’ve 13
    got two squads on board and none of them have been within sniffing distance of a woman in six months—let