He became more fascinated with her each passing day. Every day he watched her, he became more addicted not in a desiring way, but out of curiosity, the same addiction that she held for him. She did not know exactly what he thought of her, nor did he know exactly what she thought of him (but he could safely assume that she was afraid of him.) Her name was as legendary as his own, at least in his eyes she epitomized power, intelligence, and outright daring, in a slightly less dark manner than himself. He wondered if he had the same respectful fear of her as she had for him, but since he had never been able to pry into her mind unlike so many others whose thoughts hed been able to read like a book he could never answer that question for sure.
There was an air of strength around her. The way she walked as she moved around the base, upright, her slender frame held proud and tall, her deep hazel eyes locking confidently on the eyes of anyone who looked toward her, in an Im not afraid of you way. The way she commanded her troops, even full flights of all men. She was unafraid. She was a bitch when she had to be.
She was pretty too.
That was the last thing on his mind. The first thing was how he was going to get around his orders. Damned brass had ordered him to kill her to kill her, for Gods sake, and bring back her poor broken body to become one of the most dangerous, most volatile killing machines on the face of the earth.
He wanted her, but not in the piggish, sexual way that most guys did. He wanted someone to protect, someone to actually love him instead of fear him. The only one ever to do so had left him for America seven years ago. He winced as he thought about it - that had been a terrible loss for him, to put it very lightly. He missed his Kid, his Cookie Demon. God only knew where she was now.
He knew he was compensating for his loss by imagining Sarah Hawker as "his" - his one to protect. He knew she hated - or just feared - him with a passion. He didn't care, either.
Ya gotta have dreams.