by Celia Kyle
Cole led them onward, pulling the yacht’s layout from memory as he led her down the hallways and stairs. There was no easy way to get to his destination, the path taking him up and down different levels until he reached his target. The whole while, Stella remained behind him, a curvy temptress that called to both man and beast.
They took one of the last turns, heading down the final hallway that would take them to their goal. Only to spy one of the staff heading in their direction.
Cole dove for a nearby doorway, shoving hard against the handle. The door swung open without protest. He pulled Stella after him, spinning her around until her back was flush with the closed door, and as for her front…He took advantage of the situation and left no distance between their bodies. Her lush body was snug with his once more, all of that softness cradling his hard body.
She somehow cradled his hardened soul as well. Some gentle part of her that managed to ease the tension and rough edges he’d formed over the years.
“Hello, again.” Cole spoke loudly, lips next to her ear so she could hear him above the cacophony. He drew in her scent, using the sweet tones to suppress the overwhelming stench of fuel and grease. The ship’s aromas permeated everything in the area, coating it all on a layer of the disgusting smell.
Five more minutes down here. Ten, tops.
Cole’s tiger was right on the edge of his control, the beast snatching power now and again. As for Stella…she was all woman. No hint of her jaguar in sight. The anger she carried came from her human half. And her human half was a little more than just pissed.
He listened to the action in the hallway, the staff member tromping by and his footsteps finally retreating fully. He eased back and kissed Stella on the nose. “Lovely conversation, but we have to move.”
“Cole…” She growled his name, and he had to suppress the full-body shudder that rose along his spine.
“Almost done.” He pulled her away from the panel and opened the door once more, carefully peering out. He looked both ways and forced his cat to diminish the sounds of the engines. That left him with their surroundings, and he took his time listening for others.
He found no one.
“C’mon.” Another pull and he was striding down the hallway, his destination fifteen feet away. Then ten. Then five. Then…
Why the hell did everyone lock their doors?
A rough yank on the door handle and slam of his body against the door had it wildly swinging open. Once more he dragged Stella along, releasing her after ensuring the door remained closed.
The ongoing rumble of the engines traveled through him, shaking him like a woman’s vibrator on high.
Only not as fun.
Cole delved into his pockets, pulling his toys of the trade free. He squatted and laid them out on the floor, separating the different pieces and organizing them for easy construction.
“So, what are we doing?” She crouched beside him.
He pointed at the three piles, beginning from left to right. “A, B, C. Mix A with B, and then form a small ball and press C onto it. Then we’ll take the—”
“What are you doing?” He frowned and stared at her. While he’d spoken, Stella had grabbed an item from each pile and done as he’d advised. Except once she had C stuck on the mixture, she’d kept poking and prodding her A/B.
She pressed her thumb to the ball and then turned it to face him. “A little man in a hat.”
Cole sighed and dropped his head forward. She’d added a face to the small explosive.
A. Face.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve got enough for thirty small explosives. Scatter them around the left half of the engine room. I’ll take the right.”
She didn’t reply, just reached for more and carefully created her small bombs. Grabbing a couple before leaving to perform her task. He mindlessly assembled his own, half of his attention on his task and the other half…on the jaguar shifter helping him.
Dammit, he wanted another taste. Another sip of her mouth and the feel of her skin beneath his palm. Next time he told her he wanted her, he’d make sure she knew it had nothing to do with the mission. It had everything to do with the softness of her skin and the sweetness of her lips.
Ev-er-y-thing.
Cole mirrored her actions, reading pipes and applying the explosives where they’d do the most damage. When all was said and done, he wanted this bitch to go boom in a big way.
Big.
It didn’t take long to finish their task. Hell, it had taken longer to get to the engine room than to plant the devices. So far he was calling this objective a win.
He drew Stella back to the door and peeked out before he pulled her into the hallway. She’d just closed it behind them when a familiar person turned the corner.
Fuck.
Cole didn’t have time to say anything. He whirled and wrapped his arms around Stella, his hands moving to her ass. “Wrap your legs around me.”
Thank fuck she didn’t even question him. She did as he asked without hesitation. The perfect partner. Partner on the job. Not in life or anything. Because…Yeah.
The moment her legs lifted, he had his mouth on hers. He delved into her mouth, reveling in the taste and feel of her lips and tongue. So sweet. So hot. He wanted all of her, and he didn’t think he’d ever get enough.
Ever.
He squeezed her ass and rocked his hips, pretending they weren’t about to get caught by one of the most evil humans on the planet. Instead, he acted as if he were wholly focused on the woman in his arms. He brought one hand to her chest, cupping her breast and kneading the plump mound. Her nipple hardened against his palm, proving her arousal.
He rocked his hips again, taking pleasure in the heat of her pussy. She whined and gasped in response, speaking against his mouth. “Cole…”
He couldn’t speak. Could only moan deep and continue teasing her—them.
Until the rushed, sensual passion he’d sparked was doused with cold water. Or rather, the sound of James Walters’s voice.
“What are you doing here?” James had to shout over the engine sounds, though Cole’s cat allowed him to easily hear.
The woman in his arms squeaked and stiffened, pushing against his shoulders while unlocking her legs from around his waist. He slowly lowered one leg and then the other, not fully releasing her until she stood on her own two feet. He took a small step back to give himself room to straighten his clothing and then turned to face the intruder.
“James, fancy running into you here.”
“What?” James yelled in response, one hand cupping his ear. “I can’t hear you.”
“I said…” Cole actually yelled the second time, loud enough for James to hear, and then he simply mouthed the rest of his sentence. He needed James to get them out of the staff area before the man saw what he’d done to the engine room’s handle.
It’d seen better days.
“Come with me! We’re going outside!” James spun on his heel and stomped past the other person who had accompanied him. Based on the man’s uniform, Cole identified him as security.
The security officer stared at Cole, his narrowed eyes speculative, and Cole just shrugged. He tucked his hands in his pockets and stepped forward, making it only a couple feet before he realized that Stella hadn’t followed. He went to her, grasped her wrist, and forced her to hook her arm through his. “Come along, sweet.” He wasn’t leaving her to suffer behind him. Wasn’t allowing the security personnel to frighten her in any way. He wasn’t sure what the guy had done, but her fear was enough for Cole to justify acting. “It seems James wants to have a chat.”
He led her onward, not stopping when they reached the end of the corridor and continued to retrace their steps. It seemed like it had taken forever to get to the engine room, yet it took no time at all to return to the public area. They stepped through the broken door they’d used such a short time ago and came face-to-face with James.
A very, very unhap
py James.
Which just made Cole smile.
Cole wrapped his arm around Stella’s shoulders, pulling her close. His tiger purred when she leaned in to him, palm lying over his heart. Sure, she was probably pissed about the games he’d played, but she still touched him.
“James.” Cole tipped his head toward the human. “What can I help you with?”
The guard stepped onto the deck and tugged the door closed, remaining in front of the entry with his arms crossed over his chest.
“My security”—James gestured at the guard—“was notified that there was an incursion in the staff areas.”
He quirked a brow. “And?”
The number one rule of outlaws—admit nothing.
“And when we go to investigate, we find you and your”—James looked Stella up and down—“friend. Once again in a restricted area.”
His face didn’t betray his feelings, but James’s scent told its own story. The human was disgusted. Because Cole and Stella had been caught where they didn’t belong? Or because he just didn’t like Stella? There was something else under there…Anger? Hate? No, that wasn’t quite right. This scent had a smoky hint of burning wood.
Suspicion.
The next question was—what did he suspect?
Cole squeezed Stella’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ve had friends in the past, James. Sometimes privacy is necessary.”
“With her kind?” James’s lip curled ever so slightly. Just a twitch, as if he attempted to hide his reaction.
The human could hide nothing from a shifter.
“And what ‘kind’ is that?” The wind whipped at them all, clothes flapping against their bodies and hair flowing on the breeze. The boat rocked, the occasional large wave making them shift with the uneven surface.
But Cole remained motionless, his body tense and his tiger waiting for the human to insult Stella. It felt extremely…proprietary when it came to the little jaguar shifter. Insulting her was unacceptable.
Instead of James responding, it was the security guard who’d brought James Walters to find them. “A shifter.”
Stella chuckled and shook her head as if that were the most ridiculous accusation ever. Cole was the only one who could feel her trembles and scent her fear.
Cole quirked a brow. “Really?” He looked to James. “We’re back to this? I thought you and I settled this question the other evening.”
“My employee assures me that Miss Moore is too strong to be purely human. I discounted his report because you and I had already spoken.” James stepped closer, his chin slightly raised so he could meet Cole’s stare. “Now I find you both in a restricted area in the engine room.”
“Near,” he corrected.
“What were you doing in the engine room?” James pretended he hadn’t heard Cole.
“Exactly what you saw. We were near the engine room and used the area for both privacy and the ‘benefits’ to be found.”
“Benefits?”
Cole grinned wide. He reverted to the uncaring playboy Walters expected while he internally cringed at what he was about to say. Stella deserved better, but they both had their parts to play. “The walls vibrate.”
Chapter Seventeen
Grant
The moon taunted Grant, tugging at his inner wolf. The beast wanted to drop to four paws and run across the sand. It wanted to play in the waves until it was exhausted and then fall into a dreamless sleep on the shore.
At least then he wouldn’t be thinking about her—blond hair, blue eyes, and five feet seven inches of fragile human female.
Lottie King.
He refused to admit that he’d been thinking about her all day. While Cole and Stella were risking their lives on a boat surrounded by Unified Humanity members, Grant had been hoping to hear Lottie’s voice through the tiger’s com.
He’d heard a little, at least. Just a few murmurs from the woman, and that’d soothed his wolf’s sharp edges. Long enough for him to design a modified subdermal com for himself. One that made Cole’s look like a play toy and enabled Grant to escape the bungalow for a little while without worrying he’d miss chatter from his teammate.
Between the modified software he’d installed on his computer and the upgraded com beneath the skin behind his ear, he was good to escape without worries.
All worries but one, anyway. Leaving his post to spend time with a woman—one tied intimately to Unified Humanity—stabbed him in the gut. Guilt ate at him, but it wasn’t so strong he turned back. His need to see her overrode his hesitation. His need to see her smile and revel in their mutual attraction. Her scent, her shy glances, and her teasing told him that she was drawn to him as much as he was lured by her.
Grant wondered where his loyalty had gone. When had he turned from a dedicated SHOC agent to whatever he was now?
Grant padded through the bungalow to the back door like the previous night. Only difference was that it was earlier, just past sunset, with night settling in for the next ten hours. He gripped the knob and turned it, anxious to see if Lottie had decided on another walk. Except his wolf pulled him back, mentally gripping Grant with its teeth to keep him from leaving.
The beast was good with going to see Lottie again, but Grant had to grab something first. Something he literally couldn’t live without.
But fuck, he hated the shit—hated that he needed it.
Unfortunately, the animal wasn’t letting him leave without bringing a dose along.
He wondered if the beast remembered what a dose did to his human half.
The wolf snorted. He’d been taking meds for his “condition” in one form or another for eighteen years. It remembered.
Unified Humanity had taken Grant as a young wolf and performed experiment after experiment on him—attempting to rid him of his inner beast. To “fix” him. Eventually, Grant had escaped, his wolf intact. Except, he hadn’t gotten free, had he? Not really. Even after leaving the UH lab behind, he was still forced to deal with the genetic changes the organization had forced on him. Each dose was a reminder of what he’d endured.
With a sigh, Grant snatched what he needed from his duffel, ignoring the animal’s smug chuff as he exited the home. Asshole.
He retraced his path from last night, taking his time as he walked along the coast. The waves ebbed and flowed, washing over his feet and cooling the heat in his blood. Anticipation warred with his dedication to his pack. Not a real werewolf pack, but the team was a pack of sorts. The only one a mutt like him deserved, anyway.
The wolf told him he was a dumbass, and Grant couldn’t exactly disagree. Which just annoyed the beast even more. He mentally shrugged. Not much he could do about that.
He followed the bend in the shore, his inner animal’s enhanced vision allowing him to see every detail of the world around him. Including the lone person standing at the edge of the cliffs.
The wind picked up, laying the person’s clothes flat against their—her—body. Her skirt waved and flapped in the breeze, the swirls of air catching her hair and making it dance. She was a lone stoic sentry on the cliff, and he wondered what she was thinking.
Not because of the mission. Just…because.
His mind should be all about the op, but it wasn’t, and that was some fucked-up shit right there. He knew it, but he couldn’t seem to make himself care.
Another gust brought a new wave of scents to him, the briny sea now tinged with the sweetness he associated with Lottie. He didn’t catch a hint of any others, so he continued his approach. He was practically on top of her before she finally noticed his arrival.
His movement must have caught her attention, and she jumped with a squeak, followed by a growling chuckle. “You scared the hell out of me!”
Her laugh smoothed something inside him, and he smiled. “Keep those eyes open, sunshine.” He reached up and brushed a tangle of strands from her face, tucking them behind her ear. “And then I wouldn’t.”
That single touch was enough to have his wolf straini
ng against its mental leash. When she shut down in front of him, unease and wariness suddenly emanating from her, the wolf fought even harder.
Grant snatched his hand back and tucked his fists in his pockets, restraining himself the only way he could without her thinking he was into something kinky. He was, but he also had a thing for willing women who didn’t stink of fear.
He took a step back, searching for anything out of place. There was no hint of disturbance in the trees and grasses, and the sand at the edge of the rocky cliffs held only their footprints. The pebbles and rocks marring the cliff looked exactly the same as last night. The one thing that hadn’t been there when they’d last met was the basket at Lottie’s feet.
He nudged it with his toe, causing the wicker basket to scrape against the rock. “You brought dinner? Did the rich guys not shell out for food on your field trip today?”
Lottie flicked her attention to the woven carrier and then refocused on him. She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Let’s not talk about today. It was…Never mind.” She sighed and shook her head. “I thought we could eat over on the sand.” His stomach growled, and she glanced at his midsection, quirking a brow. “Hungry, are we? I figured I could feed you since you’re saving me from”—she waved at the trees and the people beyond—“them.”
Grant ignored her jab at his grumbling stomach. Instead, he picked up the basket with one hand and then bent at the waist while he gestured toward the nearby sand with the other. “After you, milady.”
Lottie remained silent while she padded across the rocky ground. He kept his eyes on her, his stare drifting down the long line of her back to the dip at her waist and the roundness of her ass. He had to admit that the enemy was sexy as hell.
If she was the enemy. Something inside him said she wasn’t.
She didn’t stop until she reached a wide swath of sand, and he paused at her side, placing the basket down. She reached in and tugged out a blanket she’d dragged along. He helped her spread it out before joining her on the checkered fabric.