Reclaiming Izabel (Special Forces: Operation Alpha)

by Victoria Paige

  “Oh, God!” Her back arching, his tongue jolted every nerve ending in her body. She struggled to silence her moan. Izabel stared at the door straight ahead, then at the dark head moving between her legs. The sight was too erotic, she failed to find reason and she surrendered to the addictive licks of his tongue.

  “Drake … stop … we’re …” She convulsed as her orgasm closed in, and when he sucked her clit, her head fell back and her limbs quaked as he continued to deliver the most exquisite pleasure.

  A loud moan escaped her, but she didn’t care anymore. Her release pulsed on forever, enslaving her in a web of the sweetest torture. Her legs barely stopped trembling when Drake lowered her limbs. She braced on her elbows, heard a zipper before she saw his erection, and then she was hauled off the table like a rag doll.

  Her legs wrapped around his waist, her back hit the wall as he drove into her.

  All she could do was cling to him as he rammed into her again and again. The delicious friction delivered by the thick slide of his cock wrenched another orgasm from her as Drake grunted with each thrust. With one final drive, he planted himself deep, shoved his face into the curve of her neck, and released into her. Her core throbbed and clamped around his girth and he groaned.

  As their shudders left them and their breathing evened out, Drake pressed into her one more time before he withdrew and lowered her to the floor.

  “We … we …” she stuttered, trying to wrap her mind with what just happened.

  “Fucked in your office?” He supplied. There was not one iota of remorse on his face. In its stead was pure male satisfaction.

  “I can’t believe we did that,” she whispered as she stared stupidly at the cum dripping down her legs. She didn’t even notice that Drake had walked away and returned with tissues. He knelt in front of her and began to wipe her legs.

  “Every time you sit behind your desk you’ll think of me with my face smashed against your pussy, eating and licking every bit of you.” He reached between her legs and pushed his fingers inside her.

  Both of them groaned. Drake’s eyes hooded. “Fuck, baby, this is so sexy.” He continued sliding his fingers in and out of her.

  She gripped his wrist as she half-heartedly tried to pull his fingers away, but what he was doing felt so good. “Drake, you need to stop.”

  He removed his fingers, righted her skirt, and stood. Towering above her, he glanced around her office like a beast that had satisfactorily marked its territory. “I feel better about leaving you here with that son of a bitch on the same floor.”

  “Your inner caveman has gone into overdrive,” she muttered. Drake had always been crazy possessive, but this was taking it to a whole new level.

  He tilted her chin up. “Baby, I’d say this was pretty tame. I saw red when I saw his hands on you. It was either bloodshed or nailing you against the wall. Take your pick.”

  “Don’t be crude.”

  His lips twisted derisively. “Maybe I’ve changed. Past three years stripped me to my most basic needs. The only thing that kept me human was you and I’m not losing you. Got me?”

  “Kyle never stood a chance,” she said honestly.

  Drake’s eyes softened and a heart-stopping grin broke through his face and she felt giddy.

  She loved him still.

  “Walk with me.” Drake linked their fingers and, together, they headed to the door. “I wanna assure your assistant you’re okay.”

  She glanced at him questioningly.

  “You weren’t exactly quiet, Iza.” He smirked.

  Her cheeks flamed as he opened the door. Cindy couldn’t meet their eyes and her cheeks were red too.

  “Uhm, Marcus wants to see you … uhm … after you’re done …,” her PA told Drake, “…talking to your wife.”

  “Thanks, Cindy.” Drake grinned charmingly at her blond assistant before kissing Izabel on her cheek then brushing his mouth by her ear. “I’m keeping your panties.”

  Izabel’s eyes widened as she remembered her pantiless state. He touched the tip of her nose fondly, winked at her, and turned to head back to the elevators.

  “Ohmigod,” Cindy fanned herself. “That was hot.”

  Izabel cupped one side of her cheek in embarrassment. “Were we loud?”

  “Well … you were.” Her assistant laughed and waggled her brows. “You looked thoroughly fucked.”

  “Drake can be such a Neanderthal.”

  “I was Team Kyle, but woman, I’m Team Drake now. Your husband is fine.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “He is.”

  “Do I have to call the cleaning department to sanitize your office?”

  Izabel rolled her eyes. “Get back to work, Lake.”

  Her assistant’s hearty laughter followed her back into the office.

  Chapter 16

  “Drake’s here.”

  Cindy’s voice came over the intercom just as her husband strode into her office. It had been over week since she returned to work—more than a week that she and Drake decided to make things work between them. So far, despite the intrusiveness of the press and the Solace project in full throttle, both of them managed to spend quality time together working on their marriage. They had their joint session with Gina the night before and, today, he was taking her out for lunch … just because.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes ….” She bit her lip as she re-read her email to the Solace Foundation chairperson. Satisfied that it looked okay, she clicked send.

  Izabel pushed back in her rolling chair and got up. Tossing her glasses on the table, she smiled at her husband who walked over and gave her a lingering kiss.

  “You look a bit frazzled,” Drake murmured.

  “Tired,” she quipped. “Someone kept me awake this morning.”

  He shot her a roguish grin as his hand slid to the small of her back. “Can’t get enough of you, baby.”

  Drake admitted to Doc G that since his return, he had trouble keeping away from Izabel, which explained their frequent lunch dates. One day, he even followed her to the Solace project site and Marcus actually had to warn him about interfering in their work.

  But Izabel felt the same. The hours away from Drake were difficult. If it weren’t for her responsibility for this new development, she’d be all for an idyllic getaway, a place where it’d be just the two of them, reconnecting and making up for lost time. Izabel smiled … it’d be one hell of a long vacation.

  Cindy wasn’t at her desk when they exited her office.

  “The press seem to have thinned out,” Izabel remarked when nary a reporter was in sight when they left the building.

  “They’re always after the next new story.” Drake shrugged as they navigated the steps from the building to the sidewalk.

  Her husband took her hand and they walked side-by-side. She glanced up at him. “Admit it, pal, you glared down another reporter or threatened them with bodily harm.”

  “Me?” Drake chuckled. “Now where did you get that idea?”

  “I was there, remember? That ‘I know six ways to kill you and make it look like an accident’ threat to that XNN reporter?”

  “He bumped into you on purpose,” Drake growled.

  Izabel reminded herself to pick her battles with him. Drake would be forever overprotective. It was embedded in his DNA. The interest of the general press was fading, though there were investigative journalists who continued to hound them. It also helped that the whereabouts of Drake for the past three years was deemed classified and that, in itself, discouraged most reporters.

  Drake tensed beside her and she looked up.

  Kyle stood motionless by the corner of the building, staring at them with a cold impassive face. An expression she’d never seen on him before.

  It gave her chills.

  Two nights later, Izabel had to work late. One of their clients wanted to move the location of some cabinets in their kitchen and they had to re-work the house plans to accommodate the request. Becau
se the client was paying good money to have this done on time and one of her architects on the team was out sick, Izabel took on the changes herself.

  She’d been so engrossed in her work she forgot the time and next she looked at her phone it was eight in the evening. Cindy had left two hours earlier; the same time she shot off a text to Drake informing her of her late night.

  Picking up her phone she typed a message: “Almost done. You can pick me up soon. :)”

  Instantly, bubbles appeared on her screen. “There in 20.”

  Izabel smiled at the briefness of her husband’s text. He wasn’t one for cute emojis either.

  When she walked into the drafting room, the printer had finished inking her changes. She rolled up the plans and stuffed them in a circular tube. On her way to the shipping department, she ran into Gordy who was her personal bodyguard assigned by Marcus.

  “I’m going to the shipping department.” The section was located in the basement and closed at midnight. It would be good to have the plans on their courier’s schedule so the contractor and cabinet maker would have their hands on them before noon the next day.

  “I’ll go with you, ma’am.”

  Izabel gave him a pained smile. It felt weird being followed around in a building she’d deemed safe, but it was the only way Drake would agree to leave her side.

  “My husband is picking me up.” She checked her phone and saw a text from Drake saying he was stuck in traffic. That meant she could drop off the plans, return for her purse, and maybe spend the extra time to do something productive. Sighing, she slipped her phone to the back pocket of her jeans.

  The elevator doors opened and three men in maintenance coveralls stood there. Something about them didn’t add up because their eyes zeroed in on Izabel in recognition. Gordy tensed and was already reaching behind him.

  Everything happened quickly.

  The man carrying the large toolkit swung and struck Gordy on the chin with the object, just as her bodyguard unholstered his gun.

  Izabel screamed.

  The newcomers cursed and one reached for her. She smashed the hard edge of the shipping tube on his face and heard a crunch.

  “Run!” Gordy shouted as he recovered and tried to stop the attackers from going after her, but they were too close. Rough arms caught her around the waist and lifted her, but she fought like a wildcat and reached behind her, grabbed and twisted what she could—ears, hair, skin.

  “Dammit! Stun her.” A voice roared.

  The man she hit with the shipping tube came at her with a stunner but she wasn’t going to make it easy. Drake taught her self-defense skills long ago. She pushed back against the guy holding her, raised both feet and kicked Shipping Tube man, sending him flying.

  Izabel was released and spun around. Pain exploded on the side of her face, and she saw stars. “Coop, goddammit, boss said not to hurt her.”

  “Too late,” Coop snarled. Izabel’s ribs protested as she was thrown over someone’s shoulder. Gordy was on the floor, groaning with blood pouring from his side.

  They shot him. She hadn’t even heard gunfire.

  She clawed at Coop’s back still trying to fight back, but lightning jolted every muscle of her body, hitting her with unbearable pain until her vision dimmed.

  Chapter 17

  Traffic on Interstate 64 was a clusterfuck. He was going to end up an hour late picking up Izabel. He checked his messages. She hadn’t responded to his last text that he’d sent fifteen minutes earlier.

  Drake typed off another one. “Iza?”

  Five minutes passed and he was beginning to get concerned. He mounted the phone on a dock and hit call.

  Her phone rang until it went to voicemail.

  He tried to call her bodyguard Gordy, but that also went to voicemail.

  A tendril of fear licked at his consciousness. Viktor mentioned in their briefing that five private military contractors had personally met with Exetron CEO Mitchell three days before. There was nothing unusual with the meeting because Mitchell hired PMCs all the time, especially for their oil refinery companies in Africa.

  Just when he was about to swipe call again, his phone rang.

  Harrelson calling.

  Dread burned in his gut like battery acid. “Maddox.”

  “They got her.”

  Crushing fear weighed heavy on his lungs, but he couldn’t afford to lose his shit now. With dead calm, he replied, “Be there in ten.”

  The exit was about a quarter of a mile away. Drake surveyed the sea of red taillights in front of him. “Fuck this.” He yanked the steering wheel and pulled to the right lane, barely missing a collision with an RV. Angry blasts from car horns slid off his consciousness as he shifted into SEAL mode. Despite all his training, his fingers shook as he brought up the BloodTrak App. It was a small measure of relief when he saw the blip of Izabel’s signal. The bastards were skirting the interstate and heading west.

  Glancing ahead, he ascertained the road shoulder was free. He could go after her and go in guns blazing to rescue her. Or he could take seven minutes to get to Marcus, get the info he needed with what they were up against, and touch base with Viktor to see if the AGS boss was aware and had already formed a plan.

  Without another thought, he wrenched the SUV into the emergency lane on the verge of the interstate and sped past stopped traffic.

  Just when he reached the turn of the exit, a siren sounded behind him, but he wasn’t stopping, even for a cop.

  He had one mission in mind: Get Izabel back.

  Two police cruisers screeched behind him as he made a sharp turn on the street leading to Izabel’s building. He slammed to a stop beside a sedan, careful not to block any emergency vehicles already parked. He spotted Marcus accompanying a gurney down the steps.

  Ignoring the shouts from the cops at his flank, he sprinted toward Harrelson.

  “Looks like you brought the cavalry,” Marcus muttered.

  Drake recognized Gordy. “How is he?”

  “He’s lost a lot of blood,” his friend said grimly.

  “Did he say anything about Izabel?”

  “No.”

  Someone tapped his shoulder. Drake spun around and glared at the cop who was interrupting his conversation with Marcus.

  “You’re that SEAL,” the man gulped. He had a pasty white skin with freckles and looked like he just graduated from the academy.

  “Yeah. Sorry about the chase, but I’ve got shit going down.”

  “Sir, are you aware it’s a felony to—” Freckle Face started, glancing at the other three cops who had given chase to Drake’s car, but were now fidgeting nervously.

  “My wife’s been kidnapped,” Drake growled.

  The cop’s eyes widened as he struggled to find the words too say. “You can report it—”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Drake exploded as he threw up his hands. All four police officers drew their firearms.

  “Holster your guns, dammit!” Marcus bellowed, stepping in front of Drake, he drew Freckle Face aside and explained the situation in rapid-fire speech.

  Meanwhile, Drake checked his phone and saw a missed call from Viktor. He thumbed the number.

  “They’re on 460, heading to Richmond,” Viktor said. “Guardians are tracking.”

  “Mitchell’s men?”

  “Confirmed.”

  “You have a plan?” Drake gestured to Marcus that he was leaving and strode past the officers who gave him a wide berth.

  “Not quite. Harrelson with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bring him along.”

  “His man was shot.”

  “I’m aware. But he’d want in on this.”

  “Don’t think he’s ready.

  “And you’re too close to the situation.”

  “I’m not standing down,” Drake snarled.

  “I’ve made my point,” Viktor clipped and ended the call.

  “You’re going after her.” Marcus approached, stopped, and stared at
Drake across the hood of his SUV.

  “Guardians have a twenty on the vehicle.” Drake paused. “Viktor wants you on the op.”

  Marcus’s brows drew together. “But you don’t.”

  “I can’t risk Izabel,” Drake admitted.

  “My wife and sons,” Marcus gritted through his teeth. “I’ve already let them down. Give me this chance, Lieutenant.”

  The men stared at each other for long seconds … seconds they had no business wasting. Drake exhaled in resignation. “Come on.”

  Marcus’s eyes flared with the fire of the operator he once was. “Let me get a man on Gordy.”

  Her whole body ached.

  Izabel sat in a chair in a poorly lit room, the bulb of an ancient lamp flickering faultily in one corner. Her restraints bit into her skin, arms pulled back painfully behind her, each fraction of movement was agony. The muscles of her neck screamed with the added tension.

  And yet she refused to give the tall, lanky man before her the satisfaction.

  Lawrence Mitchell wore slacks and a dress shirt. He had a head of white hair with a distinct widow’s peak. He had the sort of tan that wasn’t from long hours under the sun but from a bottle or a tanning bed. Unkempt black brows slashed over his eyes. He reminded her of a James Bond villain. He flashed her an even white smile. Izabel thought that all he needed was gold teeth.

  “Let’s do this again, Mrs. Maddox, and my men will ease your restraints.”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  “Tsk. Tsk. Such language from a beautiful woman like you.”

  He was sitting in an opposite chair with no table between them. His legs were crossed nonchalantly with hands linked in front of his knees. “Your husband. Where was he for the past three years? Who was he working for and who financed it?”

  “He hasn’t told me anything.”

  “And yet, you were not surprised to see me.”

  Izabel could have kicked herself for making that mistake. She had Googled Lawrence Mitchell after she heard Drake and the guys talk about him. She wanted to know everything about the person responsible for the death of so many brave men. She flattened her lips stubbornly.