Trevor Reese: His Protective Love

by Mallory Monroe

  It was so intense that Carly came yet another time.

  Trevor managed to smile when he saw her having yet another orgasm. Whatever he was putting on her, he thought, it was working to perfection. No woman ever ate up his dick the way Carly did. It made him feel ten feet tall that the one woman he loved on this planet was the one woman he knew how to please the best. And Trevor knew, although he’d never verbalize it, that he’d pleased in a mighty way every woman he’d ever been with.

  But as was always the case in their lives, duty called. He hadn’t even pulled out of her before his cell phone was ringing.

  He let out a loud will they ever leave us the fuck alone! sigh, and pulled out his cell phone. Carly was still coming down from her last orgasm to answer him.

  When he looked at the Caller ID, and saw who it was on the other end, he sighed again, and slowly pulled his still hard and very red dick out of Carly.

  Carly felt a sense of loss when Trevor pulled out of her, but she knew he would have remained where he was had it not been urgent.

  “Who is it?” she asked, as she began getting herself together too.

  Trevor snatched a couple of paper towels off of the holder to wipe his very wet dick. “A guy I know at the Agency,” he said.

  Although he said it almost casually, those words mortified Carly. “Oh, no, Trevor,” she said, “not another assignment!”

  “He’s no station chief,” Trevor said. Station chiefs and above were the only ones who could assign a case to him. “Billy, hey,” he said as he answered the call.

  And then he listened. Carly watched him as he listened. She watched his face go from an interested look to an angry look.

  “When?” he asked the caller on the other end. He listened again. “Do you know who?” he asked.

  Carly could tell he was unsatisfied with what he was hearing.

  “What about where?” he asked. Then he nodded. “Okay. Yeah, I will, thanks, Bill.” Then he ended the call. Then she saw that flash of anger and he threw his phone onto the counter top.

  Her heart was already heavy. Something was wrong. “What is it?” she asked him. “Trouble?”

  Trevor exhaled and ran his hand through hair he had just combed, rendering it a mess again. Then he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Gotdammit!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The door to the Montreal nightclub swept open with a wide sweep, casting the outdoor daylight across the darkness inside. The club’s owner, Hammer Reese, walked in shaking his shoulders like a man glad to be out of the wet. He shut the door behind him with a heavy slam and then knocked the last of the rain off of his suit coat sleeves. Then he began stomping his boots to knock the sludge off of them too.

  His club manager glanced over at him from his seat at the bar counter, and then went back to surveying the inventory sheets laid out in front of him. “You’re in early.”

  “It’s nasty out there. Fucking weatherman said sixty-three degrees today, maybe even some sun.”

  The manager laughed. “You still listen to that prick? I stopped listening to all weathermen in 1973. They just guess that shit.”

  Hammer walked over to the bar unbuttoning his suitcoat. “What does it look like for tonight?”

  “With weather like this, we’ll be lucky if we get our usual crowd.”

  “And last night?”

  “Same. Usual crowd showed up. People don’t mind going clubbing in bad weather. This is Canada. They can handle bad weather. But it’s deplorable out there. And the band we hired sucks too. I mean major fail. Playing fucking country and western music when I repeatedly told their asses not to play that shit. They certainly won’t be packing’em in.”

  “Sunshine! Sunshine! My kingdom for sunshine!” Hammer said loudly in his play on a line from Shakespeare’s Richard the Third, and then began heading for the back. “I’ll be in my office.”

  “Hugo had to replace another sous chef,” the manager said quickly as Hammer began walking away.

  Hammer glanced back at him, but didn’t stop walking. “Why? What was the problem this time?”

  “Hugo. Hugo’s always the problem. But I still have to fire any assistant he can’t work with. He’s the star chef, he keeps reminding me. And he’s right. The customers love that shit he serves. He’s got us by the balls, Boss.”

  “Send him to my office,” Hammer said. “I’ll show his arrogant ass what balls look like.”

  The manager laughed. “Yes, sir!” he said, and returned to his inventory sheets.

  Hammer headed down the back hall wondering why he kept torturing himself in the nightclub business. He was the former director of the CIA forced out for what was deemed “questionable” tactics, but was still forced to handle cases for them even though he would prefer to be permanently out of service, and this was how he spent his leisure time? This was how he was supposed to be relaxing? Worrying about obnoxious chefs and crowd sizes? Fucking unbelievable, he thought, as he unlocked his office door and made his way inside.

  But as soon as he walked in and closed the door, he was grabbed from behind and rushed violently across the room until he was slammed into his desk bent over. His hands were already placed in the air in surrender when he realized a gun was pressed against his head.

  But despite his compromised situation, he was still angry as hell. “Who the fuck is this?” he was yelling. “Who the fuck is this?!”

  “I told you to keep your slimy hands off of him,” the voice said behind him.

  When he realized it was his brother, he relaxed. But Trevor didn’t. “Didn’t I tell you to keep your hands off of my son?”

  “Alright, settle down, Trev.”

  “I told your ass to leave him alone!”

  “And I did leave him alone. It wasn’t me,” Hammer insisted. “Now will you let me up so I can explain? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  There was a pause, and then Trevor finally withdrew his gun and took his hand off of his older brother.

  Hammer stood back up, turned around to face Trevor, and hunched his shoulders to reposition his suit.

  “And how are you, brother? Is this what we’re doing to each other now? Pointing guns at each other’s heads?” Hammer angrily pushed Trevor away from him and then walked around to his desk.

  When he got behind the desk, he looked at his brother. “I heard what happened in Little Rock. I thought you’d be home by now.”

  Trevor had been home for a couple days since that Little Rock fiasco, but he didn’t fly all the way to Canada to talk about Little Rock. He was there about Amari. Little Rock was a distant memory to Trevor now. “Did they deploy him?” he asked Hammer.

  Hammer hesitated, and then nodded. “Yes.”

  Trevor’s anger reignited now that it was confirmed. “And you let them?”

  “No, I didn’t let them, Trev! I didn’t know shit about it. I know what your order was. Amari was out of the game. No longer could he be used or you will no longer allow them to use you. You’d die first. And you’re their ace, you know they aren’t giving you up.”

  “But they deployed him anyway?”

  “A young African man who speaks fluent Arabic? Some hot shot station chief who didn’t understand who Amari belonged to knew they needed a man like him for the job, who could ease in and out without that much suspicion. They picked him up and ordered him there before he could probably notify you, and before I got notification.”

  “But why didn’t you stop it when you found out, Hammer? Or you could have called me so I could stop that shit.”

  “I would have stopped it had I known it was happening. By the time I found out, it was already too late. He was in the city. He already had our target primed. There was no pulling back.”

  Trevor ran his hands through his already ruffled hair. “Who gave the order?”

  “A station chief in charge of the North African sector.”

  “I want him fired.”

  “Consider it done,” Hammer said.

  Trev
or wasn’t surprised by his quick reply. Hammer had that kind of authority. “Where did he send him?” Trevor asked.

  “Kabul. To ice some Moroccan General in town for some festival.” Then he smiled. “And he took care of it. He did some damn good work.”

  “He took care of it,” Trevor said, shaking his head. “My son is a trained assassin for the CIA and you’re talking like he’s a boy scout doing good work for little old ladies!”

  “He’s following in your footsteps. You’re the best, he wants to be the best. You should be proud.”

  “Proud?” Trevor couldn’t believe he said that. “And I guess your ass will be proud when Hannibal grows up and follow in your footsteps, too, eh?” Hannibal was Hannibal “JoJo” Reese, Hammer’s young son he had with Amelia Sinatra. “What do you say about that, Hammer? Will that be a proud moment for you?”

  Hammer’s smile was gone. It was as if he’d never even considered that his son could get caught up in what Hammer did for a living too. All the terrible orders he had to give. All the carnage and destruction he had to see. “That won’t be happening,” he said bluntly.

  “No, it won’t,” said Trevor. “Because you’ve got a brother who’ll look out for your son and make sure it doesn’t happen. My son doesn’t get that kind of cover from my brother!”

  Then Trevor exhaled. Lashing out at Hammer wasn’t going to change a thing. “You said he handled it.”

  Hammer nodded. Both men seemed more than ready to move on from the touchy subject of their messy past. “Yes,” he said.

  “Where is he now? Is he safe? Is he still in Kabul?”

  “No. And yes, he’s safe. He’s on his way back to the States. He may already be back.”

  Trevor nodded. Then he looked at his brother with a searing look. “You caused him to get involved in the CIA and all of that shit to begin with. You’d better make sure this is his last assignment. Because if it isn’t, I swear Hammer I’ll track you down like a dog and kill your ass. My son WILL NOT follow in my footsteps!”

  Trevor stared at his brother a moment longer, and then walked out of the door. He nearly ran right smack into Hugo the Chef as Hugo made his way down the hall toward Hammer’s office.

  Hugo, perturbed, stepped aside. “Just run me over, why don’t you?” he said in a sarcastic tone.

  When Trevor looked at him with his trademark icy look, Hugo backed against the wall. “Do whatever you want to me,” he said in defeat. But Trevor kept walking. Hugo sighed relief.

  But as Hammer stood in his office and watched his brother leave, he had a swell of emotion. Because his brother was right. Trevor was a good man, who could have been the only person to ever do their family proud.

  But he saw Trevor’s skills early on and recruited him to follow in his footsteps. He never dreamed what terrible steps they would be. And then he found himself being forced to recruit Trevor’s son, a son, at that time, Trevor had been forced to give up.

  He kept his promise to his brother. He did not sanction nor did he know about Amari’s assignment. But Trevor seemed to forget that he was no longer director. He ran a special black ops division that, if anything were to go wrong, the CIA would deny any knowledge of. His role with the organization was not what it used to be.

  But he knew his brother.

  Trevor still, deep down, thought Hammer could walk on water. Hammer used to be his hero when Hammer knew it was always the other way around.

  The real hero, because he still had a heart of gold despite what they made him do, was Trevor.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Carly was in her office on the fifth floor of TRM eating a cannoli and reading over the vetting report that she requested on a potential hire. She hadn’t had time for breakfast because of early morning meetings, and lunch had past her by too. She grabbed the pastry from one of their shops downstairs after one of those meetings. She knew Trevor would be pissed if he knew. He had to constantly remind her to stop eating so unhealthily. But when he wasn’t in town, everything fell on her young shoulders. Everybody looked to her, as his righthand person, as a partner in the firm, as the COO, whenever something went wrong.

  She could handle it, but only if she gave it her all. Preparing and eating healthy meals wasn’t in the bargain too.

  “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

  Her face was so buried in her computer screen that she didn’t even realize that Bridgette Collier, the assistant who was her right hand, had even entered her office. “Not yet,” she replied to Bridgette without looking away from that vetting report. “Did you finish those contract revisions yet?”

  Bridgette, a tall white woman nearly twice Carly’s age, sat a stack of contracts on her desk. “Done,” she said.

  Carly looked at her, ready to smile. “All of them?”

  Bridgette curbed her enthusiasm. “All but two.”

  “Bridge! I need all of them.”

  “And I’ll finish them all I promise.”

  “Trevor wants every one of them on his desk before he gets back. I’m the one he’ll cuss out if he doesn’t have them on his desk first thing tomorrow morning, and you know it. I’ll be the one he blames.” Then Carly frowned. “I gave you that assignment three days ago, Bridge. What’s with you lately?”

  “I know I’ve slowed down,” Bridgette said, “but I promise you I’ll have them on his desk tomorrow morning. I promise.”

  But Carly was shaking her head. “No,” she said. “By close of business today, I want every contract uploaded for me to review, and hard copies on Trevor’s desk before you leave this building today. You know I don’t like that last minute stuff, Bridgette. You know that!”

  “I know, Car. And I’ll get it done. I’ve got me a new man and you know how that goes.”

  Carly understood how a new relationship could be all-consuming, and she was happy for Bridgette to have found someone. But business was still business. “Just don’t let the euphoria cause me to have to let you go.”

  Bridgette was offended by that comment, as hard as she worked, but a lot of Trevor’s hardness was beginning to rub off on Carly. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, and was about to leave. But then she turned back. “Oh, and speaking of which, I heard some great news today.”

  But Carly was staring, once again, at her computer screen. She’d just pulled up the criminal records check page and, to her surprise, her potential hire had a rap sheet.

  “Carly?”

  Carly finally looked up. “Yes?” She took another bite out of her cannoli.

  When Bridgette saw her bite that pasty, she forgot what she was about to say and shook her head. “You know Mr. Reese is going to rip into you if he knew that’s all you ate all day.”

  “I know that’s not what you wanted to ask me,” Carly said.

  “I just heard something wonderful.”

  “Yeah? What did you hear?”

  “I heard you might be looking to fire another obnoxious department head, who shall remain nameless, just like you got rid of that detestable Abe Edison. Is that true?”

  Other than with Trevor, Carly wasn’t about to discuss her personnel decisions with anybody in that building before she made them herself. “Who in the world would tell you something like that?” she asked Bridge.

  “No secret has ever been told around here that I don’t find out about. The question isn’t who told me. The question relates to the truth of the gossip. Is it true?”

  It wasn’t, but Carly wasn’t going there at all. “None of your business,” she said. “Get back to work.”

  Bridgette laughed. She liked Carly. She was tough as nails. Nobody, not even a seasoned pro like Bridgette, was rolling her. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, and began to head out.

  But then Bridgette realized something else, and turned back around again. “I declare I thought you said you were leaving at three.”

  “I am leaving at three.”

  “You are? But it’s already twenty after, Car,” Bridgette said.

  Ca
rly, stunned, looked down at the time on her computer screen. And then she jumped up. “Are you kidding me?”

  “I knew you told me three,” Bridgette said.

  Carly closed her laptop, unplugged it, and then stuffed it into her briefcase. Then she grabbed her briefcase and her cannoli and began hurrying from around her desk. “Upload those contracts to me,” she said as she hurried, “and finish those other two.”

  “I will,” Bridgette said.

  “And have all of them on Trevor’s desk TODAY!”

  “I will,” Bridgette said, although she didn’t know how she was going to get it done. But Carly was right: Mr. Reese would have a fit if each and every one of those contracts weren’t ready for his signature by the time he got back. “And you’re welcomed,” she added in a playful, snarky way. Her way of reminding Carly that if it wasn’t for her, she’d be running even later.

  Carly knew it too. “Thanks, child,” she said with a smile of her own as she hurried out of the office.

  Bridgette smiled, too, as she walked out and closed Carly’s office door behind her. In her opinion Trevor Reese acted as if he was going to hook up with some female with all of his supposed business trips out of town every few days it seemed. Bridgette was there when he was doing just that: he had different women in so many different states. She was afraid he was doing the same thing to Carly, a woman he didn’t deserve. He was a ho before he met and married Carly, why wouldn’t he still be one, Bridgette and all of those other females at TRM often whispered around. A ho, they believed, never changed his ho-ish ways.

  What Bridgette thought of Trevor was of no consequence to Carly because she knew why he left town so abruptly earlier. He was on his way back, was all she knew, and she was hurrying to get to the airfield to meet his plane.

  She was running so fast, in fact, that she skidded to the elevator and pressed the button repeatedly. Because Trevor Reese Marketing was so massive, their elevators were notoriously slow. She had access to Trevor’s private elevator, only she and he had that access, but that elevator was all the way around the corridor. She needed to get going now!