Storm (Bad Boys of X-Ops #3)

by Rie Warren

  Before he could get off the next shot, Kouto leaped front and center. He jumped over the bar and cranked the shotgun from Miller’s grip. With two strong motions, Kouto unleashed his mighty machete then sliced Miller’s arm clean through at the shoulder.

  Blood spurted from the gushing stump. Miller’s high shrieks caused an instant state of panic.

  I’d followed right behind Kouto to neutralize any cowboy moves Dewayne might think about pulling. “Is that what you call the hoodoo?”

  “Nope. That’s my machete.” He wiped the sharp blade on Miller’s shirtfront before dropping the screaming, bleeding, spasming cunt to the floor.

  He sneered at DeWayne who stood in open-mouthed shock. “See? Sergeant at arms. Now I got three of ’em.”

  Kouto shook the tattooed arm once before tossing across the bar.

  Then all hell broke loose in a shooting spree of bloodbath proportions.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Fugazi in the French Quarter

  WITH NO CHOICE BUT to kill or be killed, I joined the fray.

  Bullets screamed past me, but I preferred to do my killing up close and personal. A pump of the shotgun sent one skinhead cock-knocker flying with his guts spewing out. Another quick spin, and I nailed Asshole Number Two in the head.

  In the middle of bullets flying, knives flashing, I saw a glimpse of russet red hair.

  BLAIZE.

  Here!

  Worry gnawed at my stomach as I tried to keep my sights on her while fighting racist dumbfucks to the death.

  For my troubles I took a slash to the forearm before I knocked the bastard onto his back, standing over him with my boot splatted to his chest. I had just enough time to watch him piss his oil-stained jeans before I wasted him with one more stroke of my finger on my sawed-off.

  By the time I relocated Blaize, I almost swallowed my tongue.

  Being the only woman goddamn stupid enough to ignore MC orders and be present, she was surrounded.

  I kicked out at every motherfucker between her and me, calling Kouto to back me up. He took one look and started slashing a crimson path through the circle around her. Blaize took out the two hanging off her back like flying monkeys—one with her blade she punched up under his chin and into his spinal column, and the last unlucky fuckwad with her Walther point-blank at his chest wall.

  She was sweaty. Breathing hard. And I wanted to kick her ass, fuck her hard, or throw her across my lap for a spanking session.

  Didn’t get the chance because before I could say one warning word she focused behind me.

  I turned just in time to see Venom cornered and taking heat from all sides.

  I swung my gun, but Blaize’s fired first. She nailed all three of Venom’s assailants in one fucking fell swoop.

  Kouto hooted so loud he’d have deafened me, if it hadn’t been for Blaize’s shots so close to my ear.

  And that was that.

  Ringing silence—on account of my possibly punctured eardrum—hushed over us.

  Dead. The entire White Lair of losers.

  Venom holstered his gun, sauntering over. “Well, damn. Haven’t had that much fun since the old po-lice shootouts.”

  “You’re not worried about losing your pipeline?” Not to mention the mass casualties.

  “There’s always a vein to be tapped. Way I see it we got the cocaine and the cash. I say we leave this mess to the pit crew.”

  “The cops gonna be a problem?” I asked, ignoring Blaize because the way I wanted to deal with her was not a public matter.

  “Nah. You know I got a few hotshots in my pocket. And we’ll pass out some bricks and green to the neighbors. They’ll keep their mouths shut.” He walked outside, breathing in deep from the night air.

  “Next thing I know you’ll be running for Mayor.” I lit a smoke, getting ready to mount my bike, considering whether or not to let Blaize hoof it back to Thunder Road on her own.

  Damn troublemaking woman.

  “Now there’s an expansion idea right there.” Venom tugged a chain from around his neck, unscrewed the cap of the tiny bottle suspended from it, and shoved a little spoon of cocaine to his nostrils.

  After snorting it up hard, he peered at Blaize who’d materialized by my side. “Hoo-ee! I thought after that commotion in the bar earlier today she was aimin’ to take your head off!”

  “Lucky me she wasn’t,” I muttered through a clamped tight jaw.

  “Hell of a shot. How’d she get so good with a gun?”

  Blaize wisely kept her mouth shut.

  “We target practice.” I feigned a smile. Tried not to sneer. “Need a woman who has my back in all ways.”

  “Shar could take some lessons from her.” Shaking his head, Venom straddled his Harley.

  “How’d you get here?” I asked Blaize through gritted teeth.

  “I took a taxi since you seemed intent on leaving me locked up.”

  “Woman. You do not even want to talk to me right now.” Gripping her arm, I moved her toward my chopper. After passing her a helmet, I ordered, “Get on and shut up.”

  I stayed with the group for a few minutes before peeling off from the pack with a signal to Venom.

  As soon as they moved on, I gunned down the engine. Stepping off the bike, I hauled Blaize up to me.

  “You followed us?”

  “Obviously,” she spat out.

  Releasing her, I paced in a tight circle.

  I was barely holding my temper in check.

  “You wanna blow our cover?”

  “I wanted to be on hand to save your ass.” She shook her hair back, hitting me with a venomous glare of her own.

  “You know how many ops I’ve been on, Blaize. Without you keeping a goddamn eye on me. Have I turned up dead yet?” I dragged her face to mine, hashing out, “I knew you being on this mission was a fucking mistake that’d blow up in my face.”

  “Tell me how you really feel why don’t you?”

  “Well, I can’t rightly do that, can I? Because you’re my boss lady.”

  “A fact you seem willing to forget at strategic moments.” She clenched the collar of my leather in her fist. “And it certainly hasn’t stopped you from copping a feel whenever you want.”

  I barked a raw laugh. “And you certainly haven’t been complaining about that either!” My rage exploded all over, and I stepped away unless I got tempted to lay hands or lips on her again. “The only reason you’re still standing is because you saved Venom’s life.”

  “That’s right. I did. He’s the principal in this op.” Without a backward glance, she stalked to the motorcycle and stood waiting. “And I’m the one who’s still in charge here.”

  “You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, Mizz Cahmichael.”

  Throttling down my anger, I got us back to the MC without stopping the bike again, pulling Blaize over my lap, and striping her bare ass with my hand.

  When we walked up to the door, Solomon must’ve already heard the tale of my ballsy woman because his eyes twinkled and his white whiskers twitched as his glance skated between us. But he held his tongue.

  In fact, once inside the bar, I had the feeling everyone in the house wanted to laud Blaize for her bravery or razz me for my rogue woman. It’d probably turn into a classic battle of the sexes.

  But I was veep and I was running the show between Blaize and me.

  Before Blaize had a chance to make a beeline for the bar, or buddy up with Shar, I towed her toward the staircase, after I confiscated the gun from her.

  “Get your ass upstairs and wait for me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Taking Heat

  I HAD THE INSTINCT to train the gun on that ass when she impudently swished it back and forth while she sauntered toward our bedroom.

  Instead I tucked her weapon into my waistband then hit the bar for my own solution in a bottle.

  “Heard tell she went renegade on you, Storm.” Nikki.

  Had to know she woul
dn’t keep her trap shut for long if she could turn the screws on me.

  Probably had it coming. At least from her.

  “Oh, she shot that shit all up,” Angel crowed, not helping matters.

  I silenced him with one of my famous glares, the scarred black eyebrow raised high.

  He held up his hands and backed off. “Just sayin’, brah. Not sure I’d want that kind of Comanche babe in my bed.”

  “Fuck. Punk. You’d be lucky to land a lady of her caliber.” Slade familiarly slugged Angel on the shoulder.

  I wasn’t sure whether to like Slade or not.

  The man got under my skin.

  Probably because he was holding out, just like I was.

  “The only way I want a woman handling a gun the way Blaize did is if’n it’s the one in my pants.” Burn eased up beside me to down his own shot.

  At least I knew for a fact I didn’t like Burn. The man had serial killer tendencies. A natural-born sociopath.

  Venom held court in the middle of the room with Shar pouring his drinks from the bottle she’d retrieved from his office.

  “Way I see it”—he held out his arms in an expansive Messiah gesture—“the lady saved my skin.”

  Everyone cheered and pumped their fists to the air.

  Not me. I knew what was coming next.

  I took another long slow drink instead.

  “Be that as it may”—Venom tapped the grip of his gun—“Mamzelle Blaize shouldn’t have been present in the first place. Is she too wily for you to keep a leash on her, Storm?”

  “The leash I like to use is attached to a collar I usually reserve for the bedroom.”

  Hoots and hollers followed my matter-of-fact comment.

  I held up one finger, finished the last dregs of my drink, and snagged the bottle. “And I’m about to put it on her right now.”

  “Show that girl who’s boss!”

  If only they knew.

  “Give it to ’er, Storm!”

  The mood I’m in, she’s lucky I don’t hold with hitting women.

  I stalked through the room and stomped upstairs. The shouts railed louder, echoing after me, even following me through the bedroom door, which I slammed so goddamn hard the walls shook.

  On second thought.

  I glared at Blaize who stood smoking a cigarette at the open balcony, and lowered my shotgun from my shoulder.

  Her eyes widened, but she didn’t flinch.

  Pivoting from her, I swung open the door so it cracked against the wall again.

  I shouted down the stairwell, “Keep that fucking noise down ’less you want me to shoot some holes into you too!”

  Pumping a shell into the shotgun’s chamber, I fired off across the landing. Shot a fucking smoking hole right through the plaster wall.

  Sure hoped no one was on the other side. Because that’d mean a goddamn write-up from Blaize, and I just wasn’t in the mood for that shit.

  I shut up the hucksters downstairs, though.

  Time for a set-to with Blaize. Only this time I wasn’t gonna use my words. Just my body to bring her to heel.

  As soon as I kicked the door shut a second time, I set the shotgun down after emptying all the rounds. Likewise my KA-BAR, her gun I’d lifted earlier, and I was tempted to pat her down, too.

  Well, we’d get to the patting down in a moment.

  Blaize tossed her smoke outside, tossed her coppery hair, and strafed up to me. “I thought you were more than a PMC hack and a macho asshole!”

  “PMC hack? You’re calling me a fucking private military contractor now?” I got all up in her face. “Were you toking some reefer in your cigarette or is that just your best excuse for going off mission?”

  “T-Zone took you in when the CIA wrote you off,” she scathed.

  “And y’all think you were the ones doing me the favor? Baby, you’d need an extra hand to count the number of successful missions I’ve carried out for T-Z, and you goddamn know it.” I pushed her back with my huge muscled body pressing against her.

  I watched her swallow, but some seriously angry heat came off her.

  It only made her sexier to me.

  “You got no excuses for that off-op shit you pulled tonight, and you know that too. And you do not want to play this game with me tonight.” I began undressing.

  Shirt tossed. Boots thrown. Belt whipped out. Pants tugged down.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I stood in front of her—a foreboding, tall, dark shadow of fully fit and ready-to-fuck man. “Lose the clothes, Blaize, before I slice and dice them with my knife.”

  She sucked in a breath.

  “You and I both know it’s been building to this.” With my hand curled beneath her chin, I lifted her mouth until it brushed against mine. “If you don’t want to get fucked and fucked hard by me right now you better leave this room and run tail back to DC.”

  “I don’t back down from a challenge.”

  I laughed. “This ain’t a challenge. It’s sex. You and me. Clothes. Off. Now.”

  She undressed while I stood right up against her. Her breath hit me, her soft panting gusts of air. My eyes dipped lower when she skimmed the shirt from her shoulders. Her bra—lacy and creamy white—almost overflowed with her tits. I didn’t help her unclasp it but watched with hungry intensity when she hit the hook and it popped free.

  The straps dripped off her arms, and her puffy pink nipples rasped against the hair on my chest.

  I chugged in a lungful of air, balling my hands at my sides. My cock, thick and hard, wet the bare skin of her belly with a skein of precome.

  “The jeans now.” My voice was low, thunderous, chest-deep.

  She wiggled free, her breasts connecting with my abdomen, which clamped like I’d been hit by a hammer blow. Those soft swinging tits colliding against me made my head ratchet back. But I kept focus. Kept my gaze on her when she stood up.

  No Fucking Panties.

  Nude. Blaize. She was all golden skin and incredible eyes and glowing hair.

  And heat poured off her, firing through my veins.

  I stepped away, rubbing a hand across the thick black stubble on my chin. Taking her in. Filling my sights. Memorizing her.

  And that little pink pout of her pussy lips—shiny and slick already—below the narrow tangle of bronze-red curls.

  “Fuck, Blaize.”

  She held her shoulders back, placed her hands on her hips, and asked, “Do I pass muster, sir?”

  “Get on the bed. All fours.” A muscle at the back of my jaw ticked.

  Her nipples hardened with my harsh words, and I watched a trail of wetness weep between her legs.

  Fuuuuck me.

  I didn’t touch her. Not yet. But it was damn hard not to.

  I watched as her ass swayed, her hips switched back and forth, and she got into position in the middle of the bed.

  I was hugely hung, hugely hard, and really fucking angry. Blaize knew it, and she was ready for me.

  This mating dance was nearly over.

  But I didn’t let myself get close to her yet.

  Couldn’t.

  She needed to understand the new rules first.

  I almost trembled in my skin, walking around the bed, viewing her lush bod from every angle.

  My voice thickened from my throat and came out hoarse and husky as hell. “Fair warning. You’ll be screaming tonight. Not because I took a strap to your ass like everyone downstairs expects. But because I’m about to fuck you so good. And when you have a hard time walking and sitting down tomorrow? Won’t be because I punished you. But because I screwed you all night long, cher.” I prowled onto the bed behind her. “Understand?”

  In answer, Blaize drew herself up and cupped her tits. I straddled right behind her. For a moment. Running my hands over her body. Touching between her legs and pulling her back to me when her pelvis kicked forward. Sliding my palms up over the indent of her waist and holding her hands down to her sides. Lifting her breasts, massaging them, pal
ming both mounds and thumbing across her nipples.

  With my hand at the back of her neck, I slowly laid her down. Laid her out.

  There would be no romance. Not tonight. I needed to fuck. Rough, wild . . . But it wouldn’t be like any other time because it was Blaize Carmichael.

  Jesus Christ.

  I was going to stuff her full of my cock. Fuck her so many times she wouldn’t be able to walk. Fill her so full of my come it’d run down her thighs.

  “No condom?” I grunted out.

  “No condom.”

  I inhaled deeply through my nostrils, rolling my head on my neck.

  We both knew the score. We went through so many physical exams it was impossible not to be clean.

  “You’re on the—”

  “Yes,” Blaize breathed out gustily.

  Implant. Like most female operatives. This line of work was no place to start a family.

  I cupped her smooth belly, imagining it big with our child, almost wishing . . .

  Blaize Carmichael bareback on my cock.

  I blew out a rough curse.

  With my palms slipping all the way down her sinuous soft spine, I hauled up her ass.

  Blaize was racked and stacked . . . and already pushing her ass back for me. Little whimpers—sounds she couldn’t control—fell from her lips. Between her legs, her cunt parted, wept liquid, looked swollen hot.

  I ran my fingers up her slit then enfolded her with my entire hand front to back. Easing two long fingers inside, I almost came when her flesh fastened down on me and she moaned, pushing back for more.

  For me.

  “Cher, don’t even try to tell me you don’t need this kind of fucking.”

  Her lusty growl. Her bite on my jawline. “I’m waiting, Storm.”

  I knocked her knees wider. Aimed for her slick cunt. Drove deep in one endless long thrust.

  If the fuckers downstairs had kickstarted their revelry I didn’t hear it above our yells and shouts as I connected balls deep inside Blaize.

  Almost immediate orgasmic overload.

  Huge breath.

  Holding still.

  Clasped inside the tightest, the wettest, the softest delta.