Deadly Aim (Bad Karma Special Ops Book 2)

by Tracy Brody

  He fought to restrain the desire overpowering him. While he wanted to be inside her so bad he could hardly catch his breath, he didn’t want to rush it now. He wanted to touch her. Taste her. Make sure he left her with no regrets.

  His tongue swept into her warm mouth, and the kiss they shared was fierce and possessive. His hands roamed, relishing the freedom to touch and explore. He filled one palm with the soft flesh of her breast, squeezing and gently pinching her nipple. She moaned his name, increasing his need. His left hand cupped her bottom, holding her firmly to him.

  Her nails raked across his shoulders and his back, down to his butt. His muscles constricted, and a strangled groan mixed with his breath.

  “Hurry.”

  The lone whispered word was a symphony to his ears.

  Oh, yeah. So close to paradise. He shifted, lowering his head and running his tongue over her breast, suckling and savoring her reaction. Her arm curved around his head, her fingertips running through his hair, encouraging him with the pressure. He moved to her other breast, lavishing it with equal attention. Her hips rose and pressed against his chest.

  “Please, Mack.” She pulled on his arms, dragging him upward when he was about to go lower. But …

  He propped up on one elbow and reached for the condoms in the nightstand. Using his teeth to hold them, he tore one from the strip.

  “Three, huh?” Her sultry voice was a definite turn-on.

  “I’m an optimist.”

  Rolling to his back, he tried not to lose control when she kissed his nipple as he worked to get the condom on. His mission accomplished, he flipped her to her back and reclaimed her mouth. He kissed her thoroughly, taunting them both with slow strokes of his body. Then, poised above her, he waited for her to open her eyes and look back at him.

  She sighed blissfully when he entered her. He eased in, then out at first. Her arms tightened around him as he increased the rhythm and depth of his thrusts. She let out the most delicious moans, raising her hips to meet his, again and again, as he went harder and deeper, taking him right to the edge.

  Her cries came more rapidly and loudly as he got lost inside her. Sharp nails dug into his flesh, giving exquisite pain, as she shattered, her body shuddering and tightening once, twice, then a third time. He thrust deeper inside, and his own release came with the intensity of a shock wave. Another long cry of pleasure escaped her, then she pressed hot kisses to his neck and cheek.

  “Sorry. I couldn’t—hold out any longer. Promise me—we’ll do this again,” she said between ragged breaths.

  “Can you give me ten minutes?” He’d love to help her make up for lost time.

  The only sound was their still-labored breathing as Kristie lay beside Mack. The gentle waves of bliss ebbed, leaving her feeling as though she was floating in the ocean—her body and limbs weighted as the endorphin rush faded. Admiring his profile triggered ripples of lust to surge through her again.

  She eased onto her side, reaching her hand up to stroke his chest. He gripped her hand when her fingers circled his nipple.

  “That tickles.” He kissed her knuckle, settling their joined hands on his solid chest.

  She froze, her heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught. Eric had been ticklish there after they’d made love, too. Almost as quickly as the memory constricted her lungs, it released, allowing her to breathe normally. Eric was gone, and he was never coming back. Being with Mack didn’t mean she had stopped loving Eric. Or that she’d forgotten what they’d shared.

  He wanted her to move on. She didn’t have to live in the past anymore. The stab of guilt faded as she lay naked with Mack, wanting to make love with him again. And again.

  She traced a finger over the scar on his cheek, then trailed it across his smooth skin—mmm, he’d shaved for her—to that sexy freckle on his bottom lip. He caught her fingertip between his teeth and held it. His tongue swirled around her finger, his eyes telegraphing clear messages.

  He slid his hand under her side, and with firm pressure on the small of her back, rolled her on top of him.

  “Mmm,” was all she managed to say as Mack pushed his hips off the bed, his arousal distracting her. Was ten minutes up? Because he was making her crazy with need. She reached down between them. His eyes closed, and his head lolled back as she stroked him. He was smooth and hard and eager.

  The low growl that emitted from deep in his throat ramped up her desire another notch. Burying her face in his neck, she kissed him, her nose rubbing his chin. She inhaled the spicy scent of his shave cream, the male scent of his body, and the smoky smell of … Smoke?

  She reared her head back and sniffed the air.

  “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, running his hand up her back and tangling his fingers in her hair. Tugging her back to him.

  “Do you smell something burning?”

  “Burn—Oh, shit! The rolls!” He rolled her off him and leaped from the bed.

  She chuckled at the sight of his lily-white butt dashing from the room. The clatter of metal hitting the stovetop was followed by mild profanities. When she heard a door open, she abandoned her plan to wait for him to return and scooted off the bed.

  After slipping into her panties, she retrieved his boxers with their Jack Daniel motif from the floor and rolled her eyes. How Mack. When she spotted the back door propped open to clear the air, she picked up his shirt and pulled it on.

  He noticed her after he removed the potatoes from the oven, setting the crusted dish on the cutting board. “Sorry. The rolls are, well, toast.” He nodded to the trash can. “And I don’t know if we can salvage these. At least there’s steaks and salad.”

  He bit his lower lip while his gaze roamed over her bare legs and the shirt that hung to her thighs. “Though it’ll take a few minutes to start the grill.” He stepped toward her. “Then I have to cook the steaks. Seven minutes on one side. Then flip.” He gripped her hips, pinning her against the counter. “Seven minutes on the other. That’s a lot of interruptions.” His voice was husky. He batted the door closed before he lifted her to sit on the countertop, his hands sliding up her thighs.

  She wanted him inside her again. Now. She draped her arms over his shoulders and scooted her bottom forward until her crotch pressed against his waist.

  “We could skip the steaks. We have the salads and leftover pizza from last night.”

  Staring into his mesmerizing blue eyes, she nodded. “I wasn’t in the mood for steak anyway.”

  She took in his amazing biceps and forearms, the sparse hair and faint freckles on his hard-muscled chest. The way he made her feel like the most desirable woman on the planet melted her defenses.

  If only he weren’t Special Forces through to his core … Still, she couldn’t resist him, kissing him, tasting him as his lips parted and welcomed her tongue. After two years—years—without sex, Mack had stoked her fire, and she needed to kiss him, with her legs wrapped around his waist, and experience the soul-shattering sensations of climaxing with him again.

  “Do you have whipped cream?”

  “What?” he sputtered and coughed.

  She downplayed it with a shrug, even though her skin heated, and she imagined she must be a blotchy shade of red.

  His face lit up. “Don’t think so. Might have chocolate syrup, though.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Let me check the fridge. Stay right here.”

  Good lord, she’d really suggested dirty sex. It hadn’t fazed him, either. The heat from her cheeks traveled low, making her muscles constrict in anticipation at the thoughts of where he might start.

  With no self-consciousness about being naked, he made his way around the kitchen island.

  When Mack’s phone vibrated on the adjacent counter, she jolted. He halted, and his smile disappeared into a grim line. She eyed the phone warily. What were the chances this would be a good interruption? Slim to none. She kept her perch on the counter, praying it would stop or be a telemarketing call or a wrong number.

  M
ack muttered a profanity as he checked the caller ID. “I have to take this.” He punched the button, then raised the phone to his ear. “Hanlon.”

  Her own mood plummeted, watching his head hang, then his shoulders sag. He pinched the bridge of his nose while he listened.

  “When? Roger that.” Once he hung up, he pounded his fist into his bare thigh and cursed under his breath.

  Kristie slid off the counter and wound her way over to him. “Let me guess. They need you to go save the world?”

  “Not the whole world, but the team’s going out.”

  She tried to silence the voice that immediately whispered he might not come back. “I see.”

  He wore a guarded expression as if he expected her to get angry. Not like she was thrilled, but after their mission in Colombia had given her an up-close glimpse of what they did, she couldn’t beg him to stay. They needed the whole team. He couldn’t control being called out on a mission any more than she could. She wrapped a leg around his and pressed against his chest, running one hand up his bicep to his neck.

  “I planned to give you an encore performance and hoped for a standing ovation …”

  Oh, lordy. “How long do we have?” This would stop any negative thoughts from taking hold.

  He peered past her at the clock on the microwave. “Wheels up in thirty-two minutes. Twelve minutes tops before I need to be on the road. Missed a few calls while we were, uh, otherwise engaged.”

  Talk about short call. This would take some getting used to. Twelve minutes. And he needed to get dressed, grab his kit bag, probably pack some clothes … She dragged his face down for another deep kiss.

  Pounding on the front door made her jump back, and Mack startled.

  “Ray!” They laughed in unison.

  “Be right back.”

  “Um, Mack.” She plucked his boxers from the kitchen chair, wadded them up, and threw them at him.

  He stepped into the boxers while Ray banged again.

  She hid in the kitchen when Mack went to the door. She picked up the package of steaks on the counter and put them in the freezer. As she put the wine in the fridge, she overheard Mack telling Ray he’d called in, assuring him he’d be ready to go in time.

  “You, uh, you might want to put on a shirt and pants before you show up. Sorry for the interruption, Kristie.” Ray’s amused voice resonated clear into the kitchen.

  Though Ray was smart enough to know what they were up to, she wasn’t going to say hello wearing Mack’s shirt. Where was her shirt anyway? She found it on the countertop. Since she still needed her bra and pants, she waited until hearing the door close before emerging. Oh, awesome. Her pants were on the floor behind Mack. As if they needed to be more obvious. She gathered up her sandals and pants and met Mack’s sorrowful gaze. Ten minutes left.

  He slid an arm around her waist. “I am so freakin’ glad you weren’t hungry.” He hugged her to his chest as they laughed. “I’ll make this up to you,” he promised.

  Twenty-Five

  Two Apache helicopters flew low across the highway as Kristie drove toward the airfield. Even though she’d been flying several years and saw a variety of aircraft daily, the magic never dulled. She had the coolest job ever. She’d miss it when she couldn’t fly anymore, but hopefully, that would be years down the road since there wasn’t a mandatory retirement age for aviators.

  The past few days with Mack being gone, she missed him more than she’d expected. She snatched up her phone at every incoming text or call, and each time it wasn’t him, the resulting implosion sucked away the adrenaline hit of hope. He couldn’t contact her, she got that, and had no idea when he’d be back.

  It was too soon to make long-term and life-changing decisions, especially considering they weren’t exactly a couple. They’d made love one time. Though if he hadn’t been called out when he had …

  The Apaches disappeared, leaving her with two equally strong desires: flying and family. Currently, a forbidden relationship stood between them. A relationship that would more likely cost her one of those things than bridge them together. Yet, she couldn’t walk away and leave herself full of what-ifs.

  She adjusted the rearview mirror. Don’t do anything stupid, Donovan, she warned the eyes staring back in the mirror. Eyes that looked less empty than they had a few weeks ago. She sighed, then shifted the mirror back into position.

  Wait. She looked again. The truck behind her blocked her view, but she swore a black SUV had pulled out onto the highway from the cross street. No need to panic. There were dozens of SUVs on the road. Sheehan should be at work since maintenance worked an eight-to-four schedule. She could be wrong on that. Though he wouldn’t know her schedule nor that she was flying nights this week. Could he have found out somehow?

  Calm down. She didn’t know if it was Sheehan, and he had made himself scarce after her confrontation. It could be anyone, and they hadn’t done anything to indicate they were following her. She took the off-ramp for the airfield, keeping an eye on the mirror. Both the truck and SUV exited, too. Great. She needed to quit being overdramatic and get a look at the driver. Which she couldn’t do with the truck between them.

  Coming to the intersection with Honeycutt Drive, she straddled the line between turn lanes. When the truck went to the right, she drifted left. The SUV took a few moments to commit to the right lane, maintaining a good distance behind the truck.

  She shifted in her seat to get a visual, but with the tint of the windshield, she could only make out the hand resting atop the steering wheel. Tanned skin disappeared under a camouflaged sleeve. The truck next to her made the turn, and she waited for the SUV to pull up. It didn’t move. A chill raced up her arms. Come on.

  She put her hand around the gearshift, ready to back up if necessary to get a look, when another car came up the off-ramp, forcing the SUV to move into her line of sight. Instead of Sheehan’s blond hair and ruddy cheeks over pale skin, the driver had a darker complexion with shaggy black hair. There was a second soldier in the SUV, who wasn’t Sheehan, either. A bit older than the driver, he looked straight at her and nodded before they turned.

  Feeling somewhat relieved, she turned left. After the Hwy 210 underpass, she swung around to head toward the airfield. Coming to the intersection again, a black SUV passed her on the other side of the median. She couldn’t see the driver, but the manufacturer’s emblem on the front grille was the same. Was it the same SUV and they U-turned as well? Or a different one? Damn, she should have tried to get a look at the license plate.

  Had her paranoia kicked into overdrive? Put her in an aircraft, and she was fearless. It didn’t hurt that her bird was armed with a .50 cal machine gun or mini-gun capable of firing four thousand rounds per minute. But those men were U.S. soldiers. Surely, Sheehan wouldn’t get buddies to follow her. They were supposed to be on her side. She’d do a flyover of the area around the airfield after takeoff and before landing. If she didn’t see an SUV hanging around, then she’d know it was her imagination running wild.

  “You want to come in?” Ray offered as Mack retrieved his bags from the back of Ray’s SUV.

  Tempting, but Kristie’s car wasn’t in the driveway. “Naw. I better get some sleep.” He’d call her. He owed her dinner, at the least, after running out for this mission. But not tonight.

  He dragged himself across the street. Once inside his quiet house, he said a prayer for the young boy they’d found in the terrorist training camp the team took out. The idea of a suicide bomber using the toddler to deflect attention before they … He shuddered, and it took several deep breaths to let his anger abate.

  The whole mission reminded him of how much he took for granted. He longed to hold Darcy and Amber in his arms and tell them he loved them and would protect them at all costs.

  After he dumped his dirty clothes in the washing machine, he peered through the blinds. No sign of Kristie’s car yet. He called and got her voicemail. “Hey. Don’t know if you’re flying tonight. Thought I’d check in a
nd let you know we’re back. I’m gonna hit the rack. Talk to you soon.”

  He wouldn’t mind waking up with her, but he wasn’t sure she’d want to be around him right now. Missions like this didn’t make him good company. A shower would cleanse his body, but it wouldn’t wash away the melancholy—or the doubt hiding in the dark recesses of his mind. He went to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. He twisted off the cap and downed it in a few long gulps, hoping to clear his mind so he could sleep. He tossed the bottle in the recycling bin and went to the bathroom.

  In the mirror, he studied his reflection. Did he look different? Older and harder after this mission? The memory of holding the crying toddler on the flight back to base left him disengaged. He assumed the boy would be sent to a local orphanage. How much better would that be? He rubbed his forehead to relieve the pain from the dull headache, then downed a couple of aspirin before heading to bed.

  Mack woke to the morning light that streamed through the cracks in the blinds. His stiff muscles ached, and his shoulder popped when he stretched. A glance at the clock showed he’d managed to sleep nearly ten hours. The time zone changes and previous lack of sleep still drugged his body and mind.

  Part of him wanted to hide out for a day or two to process everything. But while the coffee brewed, he realized what—who—he wanted more than solitude.

  Several hours later, when Kristie pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot, Mack stayed put, leaning against his truck. After she parked, she made her way to him. She’d hesitated when he asked her to meet him for lunch, agreeing after he suggested a small, out-of-the-way location where they’d unlikely run into anyone they knew.

  He attempted to smile. Without a word, she came to him, slipped her arms around him, and rested her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and held tight, drawing comfort from the contact.