Enforcer: Reckless Desires (Wolf Shifter Romance) (Alpha Protectors Book 4)

by Arran,Olivia

  But he wasn’t my type.

  There were several things that I drew the line at, kinda funny for a woman in my line of work, but a girl had to have principles, you know? And it wasn’t like I’d chosen to do this shit for a living. Hell, I’d rather be a kindergarten teacher or an accountant. Okay, maybe not kindergarten—the kids would run rings around me, but I digress. So, I had simple rules that allowed me to sleep like a baby at night.

  My first rule, no prostituting. No way in hell was I paying for information with my body. No, way. Yuk.

  Second rule, only bad guys. The Agency didn’t like this one, but when they’d tried to change my mind, after I survived two months in the hole without budging, they’d let it go. Turns out there were plenty of bad guys with contracts on their heads. Yippee.

  Third rule, chocolate. Had to have it, couldn’t live without my daily fix. Solid, liquid, whatever. I didn’t care.

  And, lastly, clean kills only. No messing around or playing with the targets. Respect them ‘cause they put food on the table.

  Dez likes to call me a crazy bitch for the last rule, but I’m pretty sure she says it with love.

  I felt a tap on my forehead, dragging me out of my thoughts.

  “Hey, there. Did you zone out?”

  I almost snorted, turning it into a simper. “Of course not!”

  “So, what do you think? You up for it?”

  Uh … I took a wild guess at what I’d missed. “Yes?”

  “Great! Meet me back here at closing, I promise you won’t regret it.”

  If I had planned on actually meeting him, the look behind his eyes would have had me running and screaming in the opposite direction. I was pretty sure his idea of a good time involved fists.

  My hand drifted to my side, caressing the feel of my knife through the leather. I’d like to see him try it.

  Pasting an appropriately interested smile on my face, I nodded. Time to go in for the kill, metaphorically speaking, of course. “Say, I wonder if you know Trevor? He said the next time I was in town I should look him up.”

  He frowned at me, ignoring the voices yelling for drinks. “Trevor?”

  “Yeah. Trevor Cunningham.”

  His face shut down. “Why are you asking about Trevor?”

  I widened my grin, my cheeks aching with the effort. “You know him then? He said to drop by if I needed to make a little extra cash. I’ve been working over in Europe for a bit—” I leaned forward, dropping my voice to a whisper, “—you know how they love American women over there, something different, right?” I winked at him, trailing a finger down my neck and fishing the small silver cross out from where it nestled in my cleavage. Letting it swing back and forth, I continued, “Thing is, work got a little, shall we say, hot over there so I decided to come home.”

  “I don’t know …” he said, but his eyes were still glued to my chest.

  I leaned back. “No worries. I’m sure someone else can—”

  “Okay,” he replied in a hurry, probably seeing his chance of a hook up disappearing in a puff of smoke. He scribbled something down on a napkin, glancing around before shoving it over to me. “You didn’t get this from me.”

  “Of course, thanks.” I reached for it, but he pinned it in place with a finger.

  He waggled an eyebrow, and I nearly burst out laughing at the eager look on his face. “How about a little taster? Something to tide me over until later?”

  Like this was my first day on the job? I nearly rolled my eyes. “Sure thing.” Sliding off the stool, I stretched up onto my tiptoes and leaned over the bar, my hand catching the cross as it swung between us.

  His eyes followed my hand, then bulged as my breasts threatened to break free of their leather cage. Not likely, given they are pretty much strapped in there, but feel free to dream.…

  With my free hand, I slid the napkin out from under his fingers and rocked back onto my heels.

  “See you later,” I called over my shoulder, letting the door slam behind me with a satisfying thud.

  Chapter Five

  Abel

  Work was easy. Uncomplicated. You did the job and then you got to go home. And repeat ad infinitum.

  So, I was doing the job, it was the going home bit I was worried about. I knew how it should play out: neutralize the target, then walk away. No collecting prizes; no hot, sweaty gymnastics with the woman of my dreams. Maybe a handshake, to show no hard feelings?

  I didn’t know if I could do that. One touch would lead to so much more, and then I’d have her naked and I’d be tasting her and stroking until her moans echoed in my ears.… My mind stuttered, unable to let go of the image that it had conjured.

  Yeah, better to slip away without a word.

  My mind was screaming coward as I made my way up the corridor, my feet sinking into the plush carpet. Counting down the numbers, I found the room I was looking for.

  Sliding my gun out, I screwed on the silencer, then knocked on the door.

  Nothing. No sound came from inside; no rustle of sheets or creak of footsteps heading my way. No one was home.

  Flicking out a claw, I slid my hand down between the door and its frame until I hit the lock. A little wiggling and I was in.

  A bedside lamp cast the room in a dull glow, revealing a neatly made bed and all the standard hotel fixtures, including the requisite desk and chair. Spying the complimentary chocolates on the pillows, I scooped them up and shoved them in my pocket, not wanting to question exactly who I was thinking of right now.

  Across the room was a door, presumably to the bathroom, another door opposite, probably an adjoining bedroom, and to the right was a closet.

  I eyed the bathroom with longing, but it wasn’t a good choice. If the target saw me, he could make a run for it. Better to come from behind. Resigning myself to cramming my large frame into the small, dusty space, I rolled back the door. Two suits hung off wooden hangers; one dark gray, the other charcoal black, both covered with the cheap plastic of the hotel laundry service. Shoving them to one side, I wedged myself into the gap, crouching down and rolling the door back across, leaving a sliver of a gap.

  Laying my gun across my knees, I let my head fall back against the wall. Now, the waiting. The bane of an assassin’s life.

  As my mind drifted, jet black hair and hazel eyes morphed into honey-gold hair and brown eyes. Frankie’s face altered, the sharpness softening until her jaw was rounded, the quirky grin she always had pursing into a frown of disapproval.

  The other woman looked back at me, knowledge in her eyes. She knew what I was thinking, what I wasn’t even admitting to myself, and she was judging me. I knew it. Just like I knew what she would say to me, if I asked. Can you really change, Abel?

  No. I couldn’t. I’d tried it once and look where that’d gotten me. Fuck changing.

  I fished in my shirt for the noose around my neck, the constant reminder of why I shouldn’t even try.

  My hand came up empty.

  I waited for the panic to come. Instead relief washed over me, bubbling up inside and boiling over. My head rocked forward, dangling between my legs as I sucked in a deep breath.

  Maybe I’m finally free.

  Chapter Six

  Frankie

  Having dumped the leather along with the silver cross for safe keeping, I felt as light as a bird. Not only could I breathe again, this maid’s uniform had nice roomy pockets, perfect for knives and chocolate. I was in heaven.

  Scraping my hair back into a high ponytail, I secured it with an elastic band, giving it an extra tug to ensure it bounced with appropriate vigor.

  627, 625, 624, 621. Bullseye. Parking my cart next to the door, I smoothed down my skirt and raised my hand to knock.

  “Can I help you?” a deep voice enquired.

  “No, I’m just—”

  “That’s my room.”

  “Oh!” I spun around, quickly dismissing the idea of offing him in the corridor.

  Trevor Cunningham raised his e
yebrows, indicating that I should move out of the way.

  “I’m sorry, Sir. I—”

  “Towels, right? I rang for them this afternoon, and you’re only bringing them now? That’s not good enough.”

  “Yes. Towels,” I agreed in a meek voice, rearranging my face into one of suitable chastisement.

  “That’s what you get when you allow foreigners to—”

  “I said, I’m sorry … asshole” I muttered under my breath. Oops. I resisted the urge to clamp a hand over my mouth, grabbing a stack of towels off my cart and giving him a broad smile with plenty of teeth.

  He blinked at me, probably trying to figure out if I’d really just sassed him, then slid his card into the lock and pushed the door open.

  Bustling through the narrow gap—ew, could he have stood any closer?—I dumped the towels on the bed.

  “Not there. Put them in the bathroom.” He didn’t close the door, walking over to the desk and shrugging off his jacket. Slinging it over the back of the chair, he flicked his fingers. “Bathroom.”

  Speaking to me like I was an idiot, or something.

  Then again, I hadn’t picked the towels up.

  Grumbling under my breath, I mounded the towels up and headed into the bathroom. Throwing them in the tub in a messy pile—he’s not going to be using them any time soon—I made my way back out into the bedroom and over to the door.

  “Here.” A one-dollar bill wafted in front of my nose.

  Cheapskate. Plucking it out of the air, I tucked it in my pocket.

  He turned away, dismissing me.

  I closed the door with a soft click and drew my knife.

  Sometimes I wished I had a gun, it would be a hell of a lot less messy. I’d tried it once, gone to a range and given it a go. Turns out guns scare the shit out of me. I’d nearly peed my pants firing off one shot, the shakes traveling up my arms as my heart threatened to burst out of my chest. There was something so final about a bullet, cold and brutal and deadly. At least when I used my knives I had to accept what I was doing and I felt accountable for my decisions.

  Inching forward, I mentally bolstered myself to deliver the killing blow.

  The closet door rolled open on silent runners, pulling my eyes from the target.

  Out strolled Abel.

  What the—?

  He winked at me, his arm raised and finger poised on the trigger.

  My target froze, his face stretched tight in a mask of fear. “What do you want?” He threw his hands into the air, eyes locked on Abel.

  Good old Trevor hadn’t noticed me. Maybe I could still … I inched forward another step, hugging the wall.

  “Not another step,” Abel growls in a low voice.

  “I—I’m not moving.”

  Abel sighed, as if Trevor was being particularly dense. “Not you. Her.” He flicked the gun in my direction, underlining his point.

  Trevor’s head turned, his eyes widening as he spotted me. Fucking great. “Asshole,” I muttered.

  Abel grinned. “All’s fair in—”

  “Nope. You’re an asshole.” But I couldn’t help but smile back at him. Gone was the grumpy bastard from earlier, the thought of winning obviously agreeing with him.

  “Uh … hey … if you’d both—”

  “Shut up,” both Abel and I snapped.

  Abel had his eyes still trained on the target, but he hadn’t taken the shot. Not yet.

  My stomach sank. I need to collect on this contract. So, I stalked forward, putting myself between Abel and Trevor. It was either the most brilliant thing I’d ever done, or the most hideously stupid.

  I didn’t care, I was desperate. Flicking my knife between my fingers, I withdrew the other half of the matching pair from my pocket and pointed it at Trevor, adding a little flick to let him know to stay put. “Come on, honeybun. I’ll make it fun if you let me win?” I purred at Abel, hating the desperation that tinged my voice.

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Move, Frankie.”

  “No.” Okay. Now I was being stubborn, but he wasn’t going to shoot me. He wouldn’t. I turned my back on Abel, giving Trevor my full attention. “I’ll make this quick.”

  “No. Please—” He fell to his knees, twisting his body away from me and shielding his face.

  Grabbing him by the hair, I dragged him back up with ease. I’d learned that little trick while I was still green and new to the job. People hated having their hair pulled. Probably because it goddamn hurt. Locking my arm around his neck, I pulled him against my chest to brace him for a clear shot to the heart. If I were lucky, it’d only take one.

  Like I said, I preferred clean kills.

  Cold metal pressed against my temple.

  My heart stuttered.

  Abel’s roar filled my ears, deafening me.

  A brick wall slammed into me, throwing me to the floor. A sharp crack echoed through the air.

  I shook my head, trying to get the ringing out of my ears. Two men grappled on the floor, what had to be Trevor’s snub nose revolver lying abandoned only inches away from me.

  A sickening crunch, then Abel climbed back up to his feet.

  I shook my head at him, but my insides were still quaking. “You can snap necks and you prefer to use a gun? What kind of werewolf are you?”

  “Shifter. And yes, I prefer guns. More control.” His voice was still low and growly, like he was struggling to get his animal side back under control. He scooped up his gun, shoving it in his back pocket.

  “I’d argue less. But, whatever.” I stared at Trevor sprawled out on the ground. He was definitely dead, his head at a funny angle to his body.

  Dammit.

  I slid the knives back into my pockets, sucking in slow, measured breaths designed to calm my churning stomach. I’d been counting on this job.… “Hey! Where’s the chocolate?” My mind latched onto the distraction gratefully; I could see the small indents on the pillows where they had been.

  A low growl filled the room.

  Abel stalked toward me, a determined glint swirling in the liquid gold of his eyes. “I won.”

  “You did.” Suddenly, I didn’t care about losing. Heat flared deep within me, answering his call.

  He stopped in front of me. His nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath. “I love how much you want me. No pretenses or lies. You smell like you taste, sweet and spicy, chocolate and chili.”

  “My moisturizer,” I blurted out, my breath catching in my throat.

  “I’m not talking about the taste of your skin.…” he murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Or your mouth …”

  “Oh. Oh!” Finally catching on, I was pretty sure that my ears turned red from the heat radiating off of them. My back hit the wall. Funny, I hadn’t noticed moving.

  His arms came up around me, trapping me. “No matter how much I try; I can’t forget your taste. It haunts my dreams; I wake with the memory of you on my tongue. Intoxicating. Taunting.” His hips pressed against mine, grinding the thick length of him against my core.

  “I’m … sorry?” I managed to gasp out. From the dark look on his face, I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered, turned on, or what.

  “I can’t say no. I should, but I can’t walk away from my prize.” He nipped the corner of my mouth with his teeth.

  Thank you, God! Because I was pretty sure that if he tried to walk away from me right now, I’d stab him. “Not here,” I managed to gasp out, my head rolling back to allow him access to my throat.

  He nibbled, his teeth nipping as his tongue swirled on my sensitive flesh.

  A low moan ripped its way out of my throat. Jumping up, I wrapped my legs around his waist and clung on.

  “Fuck …” he groaned, his hips thrusting up as his mouth claimed mine with a passion that bordered on savage.

  “Door,” I forced out between kisses.

  A soft click reached my ears, then we were in the next room. The door slammed like a thunderclap as he kicked it closed. My back hit the wall,
his hands sliding up my skirt and reaching around to cup my bare ass.

  Stubble scratched my chin as his mouth forced my lips to obey, his tongue lashing out and taking exactly what he wanted.

  He’d won the challenge. The prize was the same as always.

  He could do whatever he wanted … to me.

  Chapter Seven

  Frankie

  “Strip and bend over,” he growled, letting me slide from his arms until my feet hit the floor.

  I wobbled for a second—as I always did around him, caught between reality and fantasy—then, pulling myself together, I sauntered over to the middle of the bedroom. I could feel his eyes on me, eating away at my clothes. Swiveling on my toes, I faced him.

  He leaned back against the wall, his face set in a rigid mask of control, his gray eyes swirling with gold and locked on me.

  Pulling at my laces, I toed off my boots and kicked them out of the way. I tugged down the zipper on my borrowed uniform inch by inch, the fabric springing apart to reveal naked skin.

  He sucked in a breath as my breasts were revealed, his forearms cording where they were braced at his sides.

  My nipples stiffened, hardening into peaks as if crying out for his attention. Shrugging out of the dress, I let it skim my body to pool in a puddle of crumpled fabric at my feet, leaving me clad only in a skimpy thong. Air cooled my skin, but it wasn’t the cold that had goosebumps skittering over my body—it was the raw need heating his gaze.

  Not to mention the tenting going on in his jeans.

  I hooked my fingers into the sides of my panties. Once I had these off, he would be on me. This was the calm before the storm; the electricity could be felt in the air, but it was waiting for the perfect moment, gathering its strength for when it lashed out and conquered the earth.

  I had never felt more powerful, nor more vulnerable, than when I was with him like this.