Storm (Bad Boys of X-Ops #3)

by Rie Warren

  Bane?

  Had no clue how he spent his spare time other than setting me up for a fall. Didn’t want to know either.

  That Grumpy Cat shit had been funny during Walker and Jade’s crosswired op, though.

  Blaize didn’t need to know about that.

  “On my honeymoon, fuck off.” Walker answered first, blowing it all out in one breath.

  “Ditto that,” Justice agreed.

  “Brah, a honeymoon cannot last for two months. Get over that shit already,” I said.

  “You both make me sick. And ditto what Storm said.” Bane came on the line.

  The two of us laughed for a moment before remembering we were mortal enemies.

  Blaize stood in the center of the room, waving her hand impatiently to tell me to cut to the chase.

  I smiled genially at her.

  “So. Got this guy here in the Blood Legion. Seems to know a fucklot about how the system works. Goes by the roadname Slade. Looks like he wouldn’t mind shankin’ a dude in the back—”

  “With a shiv?” Walker asked.

  “Or, if was he was on the inside, a sharpened spork?” Bane colluded.

  “I like a shuriken myself.” Justice and his throwing stars.

  “Yeah. We know, Jus.” Triple reply from all of us.

  “I’ve never seen someone spork a person to death, Bane,” Walker commented.

  “A lot more common than—”

  “Bane? When the fuck’d you learn to use your words?” I asked.

  “When you left town with your death threats and your own pussy detail in tow.”

  Blaize’s atmospheric rage? Consider the entire undiscovered galaxy in play for nuclear detonation.

  I spread my fingers over her lips, shaking my head.

  Her eyelids peeled a little farther back.

  I’d already told her that shit was gonna freeze like that.

  “Let’s get back to this guy Slade, shall we?” I suggested.

  I heard Justice tapping quietly away. “Initiating hack protocols into CIA back channels.”

  “That’s some fancy foreplay talk, pretty boy. You use that cyber-nerd mouth on Tilly? Get her hot and all with it?” Walker was on a roll tonight.

  “Can’t help it if I have agile fingers. How’s Hawaii treating you and Jade?”

  Because I wanted to listen to their wonderful tales of married life while I was shacked up/not shacked up with the woman I wanted most.

  The woman who paced back and forth in front of me. Our boss lady. Growing more and more testy.

  She really should’ve masturbated earlier.

  Next time I’d give her the go-ahead.

  I raked my fingers through my hair, shrugging at her with a smile.

  “No Slade in the CIA system. Could be a deep-cover operative. No deniability.”

  “Hang on.” Walker murmured low in his throat, “Jade. Just a sec, mahasani. Ohhhh. Shit. Shit. No, this is important.”

  Blaize looked ready to punch something.

  Walker seemed to be in the middle of sexy times with Jade.

  Justice failed to get me any info.

  Bane? Still wanted to kill him dead.

  “You said Slade?” Walker came back online.

  “Yeah.”

  “Slade?”

  “You want me to spell it out, you fuck, or what? It’s five simple letters.”

  “I know a dude goes by that name. Killian Slade. Blue eyes. A few scars. Dark hair. Dark horse type.”

  “Sounds familiar.” I lit a smoke. “Go on, Tonto.”

  “Ex Force-Recon,” Walker added.

  Justice crowed loudly. “What? No fucking way! Sergeant Killian Slade?”

  Welcome to the circle jerk of my life.

  “Care to clue me in?” I passed the cigarette to Blaize without being told.

  “Close friend of one Captain Bo Maverick, now associated with Retribution MC in Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina, with our own Hunter. That Killian Slade. Seems entirely possible to me he’s also working the UC angle, because the man is not in the habit of running with thugs just for the fun of it.” Walker fell silent.

  I looked at Blaize. She passed the smoke back.

  “Seems we’ve figured out why this Slade dude tipped our radar then,” I said.

  “I can corroborate everything Walker said.” Justice was heard tapping on a keyboard again. “Can’t seem to nail him down to any particular agency, but I know him—not as well as Walker it appears. But yeah, the Marines. We have a connection there.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about the particulars too much.” Walker laughed. “Hell’s bells, the man works fast. Why, I was just in Jacksonville with him last spring.”

  “Jacksonville? What for?” I asked.

  “Uh. Remember? That little issue with a kidnapping, Bo’s lady, and the Iron Nails MC. But that was strictly personal biz, so no need to pass that intel onto Blaize,” he quickly backpedaled.

  Standing in front of me, one of Blaize’s fine red eyebrows arched high. “I’m standing right here, Walker,” she said, leaning toward the cell phone.

  “Shit,” he muttered.

  Bane, Justice, and I chuckled.

  “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Blaize sighed.

  “So we’re all on speakerphone?” he asked.

  “Yes, Walker.” I rolled my eyes, and Blaize hit my arm.

  “In that case. I got a question needs answering,” Mr. Wiseass started. “Storm, you seal the deal with—”

  After a quick fumble, I managed to switch off the speaker feature.

  Loudmouth asshole.

  Holding the phone muffled against my shoulder, I asked Blaize, “You mind if I have a private word?”

  “With my team?”

  “My team.” I stalked away from her, turned my back, hunched over the phone when I brought it back to my ear. “Cut the shit, dick-for-brains.”

  “So you haven’t fucked Blaize yet.” Justice helpfully pointed out.

  “Is that syphilis situation still getting in the way?” Walker ha-ha chuckled.

  “Problems pulling the trigger.” Fucking Bane.

  “Unlike you, couillon.”

  Having a four-way with Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbass was not the way I ever envisioned a fun frolicking foursome.

  “I do not have an STD. Never did.” I lowered my voice. “Leave Blaize out of this. None of your business. Never will be.”

  I waited out their final bout of off-color comments, biting my tongue, glancing back to watch Blaize glaring at me.

  Great. Getting it from both sides now.

  “Is there anything else of import you losers have to tell me?” I finally broke into their nonstop one-liners.

  Walker’s tone turned cool. “What about Baby Spy? You put the screws to Blaize about her yet?”

  “About how you think she sold you and Jade out?” I asked.

  “Yeah, exactly that,” he said, a sneer in his voice.

  “Brother, that trail is eight months old now. Probably dead. Definitely cold,” Justice joined in.

  “Well, no one else but you misfits, Blaize, and Kiki the Spy knew our locations all those times we almost got plugged full of bullet holes.”

  “No solid evidence,” Bane said.

  For once I agreed with him.

  “So I take it you haven’t asked Blaize about that yet then.” Walker went at it like a dog with a bone he wasn’t about to let go.

  “Correct.”

  “Why don’t you do that,” he advised.

  “Sure. In between the coke runs and juggling customer relations between a band of hopped-up road hogs, a Mexican cartel, and the newest terrorists in town. At the top of my priority list.”

  “Are you saying your mission is more important than mine was?” Walker grizzled out.

  I stared at the cell in my hand. “Nope. I’m saying this call is over. Go back to your honeymoon.”

  I was suddenly thrilled I could kill their comments with just one press
of my finger against the phone’s screen. And extra fucking happy they were incapable of contacting me on their own.

  Better yet?

  Blaize was here with me. And those absolute pains in my ass were not.

  Slipping past Blaize, who stared at me like she couldn’t believe I wasn’t gonna fall on my knees and beg her forgiveness for cutting her out of the phone call, I replaced the burner in its hidey-hole.

  I still had one surefire way to butter her up.

  When I returned to her, I leaned against the wall and crossed my booted feet. “So. You ready for our date?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Black Magic Woman

  BLAIZE’S BEAUTIFUL FACE LOST all its hostile edges when she looked at me. “Wait. I thought this was just a ploy to get us here so we could hunt for intel.”

  I lounged across from her, my thumbs hanging from the pockets of my jeans. “Nope.”

  “You’re really taking me out on a date?”

  “Yup.”

  “A real date.”

  “Affirmative.” I grinned at her, watching as a pretty pink blush tinted the skin of her cheeks.

  “Out of reach from the Blood Legion where we can be ourselves?”

  “Well, the Legion has long arms so you should probably still act like my hot-in-the-sack piece of tail.”

  Hell yeah.

  Whatever it took to keep Blaize hot and bothered for me.

  “In that case, I accept.” She smiled—a damn pretty sight. “And I’m going to wear something more me than biker bitch if that’s okay.”

  I rubbed my jaw. “You can wear whatever you want, cher.”

  Naked would be my vote if I could cast it right then.

  I wisely refrained from sharing my official opinion.

  She disappeared quickly, no doubt foraging through the bags we’d left here for safekeeping. I fully expected the woman to take a good solid hour to preen—I didn’t have much experience waiting for a chick to get ready for a date. But I did know the ladies tended to be high maintenance.

  Color me shocked and surprised—and goddamn speechless—when Blaize walked back into the living room not ten minutes later.

  Speechless because . . .

  Jesus.

  “You approve.” She sauntered toward me.

  If the boner in my pants had any say in the matter, it was straight-up one hundred percent yes.

  I rubbed a palm across my chest, nodding and taking her in. “You could say that.”

  She wore a dress. I decided right then and there I liked her in a dress even more than the vampish MC vixen clothes. It was a simple little floaty number that swished down her thighs and tightened enough to emphasize her small waist and amazing tits.

  Not one bit slutty. Feminine. Womanly. And a little bit too sexy to be innocent, especially when paired with the strappy high heels.

  I cleared my throat—more like a hard-formed grunt from my chest. “Want me to show you how much I approve?”

  Her eyes drifted from my face, down, down, down, only to stop dead center on my groin.

  “I can see how much you do already.”

  Ambling to her, I took the wrap she held in her hand and circled behind her. Sweeping her hair over one shoulder, I let my nose skim along the side of her neck.

  Blaize’s breath hitched with a light moan.

  I kissed her neck. Once. Twice. Three times. My tongue barely touching her flesh.

  After I settled the wrap over her arms, I sheathed her hair to her back so it hung loosely in feathery reds and golds.

  I squeezed her back against my body for one hot moment, connecting us from top to bottom. Then I stepped slightly away, smoothed my palm to her lower spine, and took my lady out on the town.

  Tonight I was gonna be a gentleman.

  Tomorrow?

  All bets were off.

  ****

  “Nash LaFontaine!”

  As soon as we walked into the juke joint, my name was called out from all corners of the compact room.

  The place—where music was played live and loud, food was served up home-cooked and piping hot—didn’t have a blinking sign out front. It definitely wasn’t on Bourbon Street, to be found with customer reviews on Yelp, or mentioned in any travel guide known to tourists.

  Simply known to locals as Jack’s Place, the wooden shanty was true blue, down south, Nawleans style.

  Jack’s Place was named after the original proprietress, a stunning Creole woman named Jacqueline. Her granddaughter, Simone, was in charge now.

  I lifted a hand in greeting to the folks who remembered me from the days before I’d taken my first stint with the CIA. Home away from home.

  Some of the old-timers came over, offering handshakes and hugs. I bumped fists with a few other folks, making my way with Blaize toward the bar.

  Simone lifted her head from rinsing glasses behind the long tin counter.

  If her grandmother had been a legendary looker, Simone didn’t fall far from the tree.

  “What dis been dragged into my place?” She grinned around a slim cheroot tucked into the corner of her mouth.

  “Simone.” I smiled until I felt like the dimples dug right into my cheeks.

  She rounded the bar. “Git on over here, boug.”

  Just the same. All luscious curves and dusky skin, and sass for a mouth on her.

  “You can’t hardly call me boy. I’m older than you, Simone.”

  She hugged me hard before leaning back in my arms. “Sho knew you’d be one hell of a handsome cracker when you grew all the way up.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” I bussed her cheek. “I see you’re still keeping the peace around here.”

  Her head lifted to the ceiling with her deep-throated laugh. “Peace? That what you call that there racket?” She thumbed her finger toward the stamp-sized stage. “Who’s the woman?”

  “Blaize, this is my old friend Simone. Simone . . . Blaize.” I did the intros, and the two of them looked each other over, sizing one another up.

  “Pleasure.” Blaize extended her hand.

  “Cho-co!” Simone shouted. “You caught one with manners. ’Bout damn time.” She shook Blaize’s hand heartily. “And a redhead. Mmm hmm. That’s just what you need. Keep you in line and on your toes.”

  Simone hipped her way back behind the bar and started laying out beers and shots. “Drinks,” she said. “Food a’comin’ right up. And the dancing starts later.” She winked.

  Turning with my beer in hand, I yelled out, “Lasser l’bon temps rouler!”

  The shouts came back roaring loud, and drinks were raised before being tossed back.

  The volume in the joint increased tenfold. I led Blaize through the crowd and located the last empty table in sight. I held out her chair, helped her sit, pushed her in.

  She looked at me like she was seeing a totally different man.

  I sat next to her, dragging my seat closer.

  I watched Blaize while she watched the scene.

  Customers ranged from Jacqueline’s descendants to white folk to old geezers to longtime residents of the area. Cajun. Haitian. Creole.

  “What do you think?” I pressed my lips close to her ear.

  “Way more lively than anyplace I’ve ever been to inside the Belt.”

  I folded my hand around hers, lacing our fingers together.

  She kissed me softly on the lips before turning her gaze aside.

  She seemed to be captivated.

  I was solely captivated by her.

  “You know you don’t need to kiss me now, right?” I twirled a tendril of her bright hair around one finger.

  “What if I want to?” she replied.

  I watched her profile, her smile never slipping. She started tapping her foot in time to the music.

  “No complaints about that.”

  No, sir. None at all.

  The live music almost lifted the roof from the rafters. Straight pickers on banjoes. Fiddlers sawing back and forth ac
ross their strings. The sax sending out sweet tunes. Hell, there was even a woman on a washboard tonight. Anyone could bring their instrument to Jack’s Place and hook up to the sound system.

  Rock-a-billy. Blues. Jazz. Zydeco.

  It all came together in one unique sound no recording label had ever heard of.

  Simone strode her way to our table with a platter full of food.

  My mouth started watering as soon as she shuffled the plates down.

  “Best durn crawdads and fried catfish this side of the Miss’ssippi. Greens too. Field peas and mo-lasses cornbread.” She hauled two beers from the pocket of her apron, hit the caps off on the edge of the table, and plunked them down along with silverware and a stack of napkins.

  “Don’t be messin’ up my tablecloth, now. I run a fine establishment.” She laughed all the way back to the bar.

  I chuckled, shaking my head. The tablecloth was that morning’s Times-Picayune spread out to catch any spills from hungry customers.

  After taking my first bite of catfish, I closed my eyes, sighing.

  I worked through the rest, trying to resemble a human being rather than a barbarian, but goddamn this was good eating.

  Blaize hardly made a comment, filling up beside me. Every so often she let out a soft moan as a new flavor hit her tastebuds.

  I liked her appetite. Liked that moan. Wanted to hear it when she swallowed my come.

  She finished, wiping her lips, drinking her beer.

  Eyeing me, she shoved her plate over.

  Don’t mind if I do.

  I ate what little she’d left, mopping up the rest of the juices with a final chunk of sweet cornbread.

  “Fuck.” I patted my belly.

  “You just pick them up everywhere, don’t you?” Blaize watched me over the lip of her bottle. “You’ve known Simone a long time?”

  “Since I was a teen. Used to go fishing together. That kind of thing.” I took a deep swallow of frosty cold beer.

  “Any other kind of thing?” She looked me straight in the eye.

  I snorted. “You wanna know if we used to fuck? Because if that’s the case I’m just gonna admit right now I like your jealous streak.”

  “Answer the damn question, Storm.”

  “Is that one of them orders you like to give me?” I lifted an eyebrow, tilting my chair back on two legs.

  “I want to know who my competition is.”