Storm (Bad Boys of X-Ops #3)

by Rie Warren

  “What? What is it?” Sheer cold terror ran through my veins.

  I heard her swallow, and she raised her bleak face. “I’ve been raped before.”

  “What?” I sat frozen in blank shock.

  “I was raped.” Her voice became even smaller.

  “Who. Tell me who so I can fucking kill him.” My body sprung instantly tight, like someone pushed a fist into my stomach, twisting my innards.

  “Not him. Them. My squadron. I was the only woman.”

  My gorge rose in my throat. “What?”

  Blaize just shook her head, and another tear cascaded down her face. She wiped it, almost angrily, as if she couldn’t stand to show any weakness.

  I reached for her. Halted. Didn’t know if she wanted to be touched.

  “What happened, Blaize?” My voice barely registered.

  “It was a long time”—she halted, compressing her lips for a moment—“that’s a lie. Sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday.”

  The muscles in my throat worked convulsively, and my fists balled against my mouth, so hard I thought bones might break.

  She looked at me, her lips lifting in a sad smile. “I got therapy though.”

  “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  She shook her head. “I need to,” she whispered.

  “It was when I was in training. One night. Zero dark thirty. I thought I’d been woken for an exercise. They did that to us all the time. Someone covered my head. Bound my hands. I didn’t even know what was happening. Thought maybe it was some kind of serious interrogation drill.” Her buried emotions surfaced.

  She started shaking, her voice a thin thread of sound. “But then I smelled it . . . we were in the bathroom, in the barracks. The smell of bleach. The cold tile on my knees when they ripped off my clothes and shoved me down to the floor. I knew then. Knew it before the first cock was forced into my mouth. And there were so many. Couldn’t see them. Never saw their faces. Brutal. Just cocks and grunts and calling me military bitch and Army wannabe brat. Slapping me. Hitting me.”

  Blaize stopped.

  She slammed her eyes shut.

  I leaned over her, trying not to loom, not to scare her, but, Jesus, I needed to do something to help her.

  A small whimper escaped her throat, and her face just crumpled.

  “Raping me. My mouth. My vagina. My anus. Beating me. Forcing me to take it. Kept waking me up when I passed out from the pain. Urinating on me. Ejaculating on me. In me.” Her forehead puckered. “I didn’t submit, Storm. I went down fighting.” Her voice completely broke.

  “Jesus Christ.” I opened my arms, grabbing her to me. “C’mere.”

  The emotions. Fuck. I couldn’t control the emotions. I was shaking with her. I wanted to hit something. Kill someone. Rip their goddamn cocks off. Gut them like the fucking pigs they were.

  I shoved it all down. Forced it all down. I felt like puking, thinking about what those animals—her own team—had done to her.

  I contained everything, holding Blaize. Rocking her. Taking her tears onto my fingertips and brushing them away, but they kept falling and falling, one after the other.

  “I’m sorry. I am so goddamn sorry, Blaize.” I clenched her harder to me, almost relieved when she reached her arms around me and started crying loudly. Letting it all out.

  I sat with her, comforting her, wishing I’d known her back then so I could’ve taken the pain away. Could’ve battled for her.

  I murmured against her hair, over and over, anything to soothe her.

  She stilled eventually. She quieted down. She buried her face deeply against my neck.

  “I put in a complaint. It went into the round file. But I wouldn’t give up. They switched me to a different squadron, and I was not going to give up because of them, because of what they did to me.” Her voice shook again. She cleared her throat with a sound that was rough and tight. “That was when I met James Lawless.” Blaize let out a long jagged sigh. “He took care of me. Took me under his wing. Helped me get where I am.”

  “I’m a little less jealous of him now.” I gave a dry chuckle, trying to release some of my untapped fury even while the hot damp of my own tears filled my eyes, curdled my throat.

  I pecked the top of her head, and she peered up at me. Her lips quirked a little.

  “You never had to be jealous. Not of anyone, Storm.” She kissed me softly. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  Cradling the nape of her neck, stronger more powerful feelings almost overwhelmed me. “Cher. You won’t. I’m here. I got you now. No more fighting.”

  “There's always fighting. It's what we do.”

  “Not tonight.” My voice dropped. “Just you and me and what we want.”

  Her beautiful eyes shaded suddenly with something more primal than pain. “I want you.”

  I sucked in a breath of air, willing myself to go slow with her. “I wanna make love to you, Blaize, but only if you’re sure.”

  “Yes, Storm.” Leaning forward, she kissed my jaw. “Yes. Take away the badness. Give me something good. Something to hold onto.”

  Standing, I lifted her to her feet in front of me. I started undressing her, taking my time revealing her to my sight, my hands, my mouth and lips.

  She watched me throughout it all.

  I began to unclip her bra, and my fingers trembled.

  “I can do that.” She reached for the clasp.

  “Let me, please. You do everything.” Clasping her face in my hands, I drew her lips to mine. “You are everything.”

  Her warm mouth smiled against mine, and she moaned softly.

  When she was finally bare, I trailed my hands from her thighs to her hips, her waist to her shoulders to her face.

  “You’re everything to me.” Low and hoarse, the words rumbled from my chest.

  Her fingers found mine, and she twined our hands together. Her breasts rubbed against me, the tight nipples tantalizing against the hair on my chest.

  Bruises discolored the flesh of my torso, probably made a hell of a sight of my face, too, but I felt nothing but her, barely brushing against me.

  “You’re hurting,” she whispered.

  “Not that hurt.” Dipping at the knees, I kissed her with just our mouths and tongues touching.

  It was slow and sweet and just the beginning of something deep enough to make my entire body hum and thrum.

  Blaize drew slightly back. Her hands fell to my waist. The backs of her knuckles roamed in the lightest caress along my cock, achingly hard and thick.

  Her breath gusted across my pecs, and she leaned forward to suck one of the nipples hidden in the black fur between her lips.

  I groaned loudly. Grunted even louder when she latched onto the nub with her teeth, a feral grin stretching her lips.

  She’d already undressed me in the bathroom, but now those ministering touches turned into long delicious tugs as the heat of her palm encased my cock. She stroked me a few times, but when she started to crouch forward to suck my throbbing erection, I caught her up in my arms.

  “No. Not tonight.” I laid her in the center of the bed. “Just you and me.”

  “And everything?” Spreading her long legs, she welcomed me between them.

  “Always.” I hovered above, bracing my arms beside her head.

  She guided me to the precipice, where I almost entered her slick heat. I clasped her wrist, made her look at me, holding still.

  Waiting.

  Wanting.

  “Don’t you see it? I love you. I love you, Blaize.” I placed my lips against hers. “I’m in love with you.”

  Her breath caught, and the moment I slid into her, she arched her neck.

  Groaning, I grabbed her hands in mine, locking our fingers, our bodies, together.

  When she looked at me, so close to her, tears shone in her eyes.

  “Is this okay?” I stilled, sheathed completely in her depths.

  “Say it again. Please, Storm.�
� She drew my hand to her lips, and I powered in and out of her in long, languid strokes.

  “Love you, Blaize. Fuck, I love you, cher.”

  “Oh, God, Storm!” Her hot moan slid against my mouth.

  She thrust up to me, taking me completely, curling her legs around my slow-pumping hips.

  Her head tossed back, and she moaned in a trailing heated sound. “I love you too.”

  I shut my eyes. Dropped my head. Relinquished her hands to fold my body completely around hers. To protect. To love. To give her my strength where hers had been broken.

  The silence of our lovemaking was marked by the slide of skin against skin. The groan I expelled when she cupped my ass in her hands to pull me straight into her. The whimper hitched in her throat as she came apart beneath me, the sensual flow and ebb of her body waving around me.

  The faster thrusts. The smack of my hard body into her hot depths. The wetness sucking me to the very edge of control.

  The last pulse as I crushed Blaize to me. Held her tightly. Shouted her name. Hushed her name. Kissed her temple and her cheek and her lips, and lower, the place where her heart fluttered as if it had grown wings.

  A shuddering groan wracked my body, and everything else simply drifted away. The MC. The mission. The threats. The danger. The very real possibility we were on the verge of getting made by Venom.

  Edging to my side, I didn’t disengage from Blaize. Couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t want to leave the loving sanctuary of her body.

  She clung to me, sighed against me. She smiled at me before kissing my chest and my neck and my jaw.

  I cupped her whole head in my hand, looking at the long thick fingers threading through the feathery dark red-gold strands.

  “Like a mamou plant.” I sifted my strong fingers through the tendrils at her temples.

  “What?” She lifted drowsy eyes to mine.

  “There’s a plant that grows here. Flowers like a long red flute. The coral bean.” I pressed my lips against the top of her hair, breathing deeply of her scent. “Same color.”

  “You do seem to like red.” She rubbed her cheek against my chest.

  “And you seem to like black.” A low laugh thundered from me, turning into a yelp when she nipped at the shadowy hair, pulling it between her teeth.

  “I like you.”

  “You love me.” I traced the bridge of her nose with one finger.

  “I love you.” She sighed, a deeply satisfied sound.

  But the quiet moment could only last so long. With the sounds from the bar downstairs filtering up to us. With danger closing in around us, our lives at stake.

  I reached out to turn off the light beside the bed.

  “What now?” Blaize lay across me, her whisper gliding over my lips.

  “I talk to Slade to see if he’s in our corner before the big gig tomorrow night.”

  “I’m coming with you,” she stated.

  “Yeah. Not leaving you behind.” Kissing her, I rolled her beneath me. “Not leaving you. Ever.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Les Bon Temps Turned Bad

  THE NEXT DAY, TRYING to pretend shit was totally copacetic as usual was damn difficult after Venom had basically ordered Blaize to be raped, questioned my loyalty in front of the entire Legion, and loose-lipped my secret about Angel being my half brother.

  In the morning, I went for pastries like any other day. But Angel didn’t answer my pound-pound knock on his bedroom door even though I knew he was in there. That hurt like a bitch. And Blaize? I hadn’t left her curled asleep in the bed but with her gun snugged in her hand, wide awake and on guard.

  We’d gotten little rest during the night. I tried to tell Blaize I’d take watch, but she wouldn’t have it. ’Course not. She was still the boss lady in so many ways.

  She’d insisted on formulating a plan for the coming night’s drug drop/gun trade with Los Reyes de Guerra and the terrorists. The MC being our main objective, our focus would be on bringing Venom, Kouto, and Burn down as soon as the exchange took place, with Blood Legion caught bloody red-handed. The cartel and the hajis? That was for the next phase, provided we were lucky enough to live that long. Explosives would be involved. Grenades. And a fuckton of firepower, with Blaize creating the diversion and me taking the dudes into custody, preferably without killing them.

  “It could work. If I get Slade on board,” I’d said.

  “We.”

  “What?”

  “If we get Slade on board.”

  I’d agreed, before going at her. Throwing everything I felt, worried about, wanted, into Blaize. She was just as passionate. Powerful. Pulling me into her. Raking her hands down my back. Begging, screaming for more. And harder. And faster, longer. The feels between us changing raw fucking into hardcore lovemaking.

  The one bright spark in this whole FUBAR scenario was . . . love.

  I would’ve whistled between my teeth, but . . . leaving Blaize alone . . . that didn’t set right with me.

  I ambled away from the compound, making like it was any other day, knowing my gut-full of nerves was so wrecked it’d be near impossible to munch my way through the usual bag of beignets.

  I hit the bakery, got my normal order. Drank my coffee. Crumpled the paper bag in my hands. I aimlessly wandered deeper into New Orleans, remembering all the best moments I’d spent with Blaize. The time she’d threatened to put a bullet in me, so fired up and angry I totally believed she’d do it. The moment she kissed me, and I drank in her taste and liquid heat. Last night, when she said she loved me. Up above the September sun shone in the bright blue sky, a warm reminder of Blaize’s eyes.

  I texted her periodically. Nothing mission involved. Just messages from a man to his lady love.

  She replied in kind.

  I stayed away from Thunder Road longer than usual, trying to prove no fears, no worries, no threat to Venom.

  And that was my biggest mistake.

  Half a day later, I returned to home base, strolling down the block where Thunder Road Bar was located. My steps faltered for a second or two. My feelers went on immediate high alert. Something was seriously off. Totally wrong.

  First clue?

  The block was emptied of every single motorcycle that usually hugged the curbside in chrome and tailpipes.

  Second clue?

  The door of the bar stood wide open, and Solomon’s chair outside was empty.

  I barged inside, dropping the paper bag at my feet. “BLAIZE!”

  My shout echoed.

  Thunder Road was empty. Deserted.

  I turned in a wide circle, searching for any sign of life.

  No.

  More than deserted.

  They’d evac’d Legion headquarters right down to the bare bones.

  I leaped up the stairs, my Sig held in a steady hand in front of me.

  Creaking open each door once I hit the landing, I was blasted by the simple fact I’d been majorly motherfucking played.

  By the time I came to my room, I could barely breath through a tense-tight throat.

  Busting through the door, I hauled up short.

  I scanned the area, inventorying every detail:

  The mattress tossed halfway across the room.

  The balcony doors pulled wide open.

  Blaize’s guns and blades—scattered in one corner.

  Clothes strewn around.

  A new bullet hole plugged into the wall.

  A bloodstain spattered on the floor, crimson drops.

  I threw my head back, a shout howling out of me.

  In three strides I was on the landing. I jumped over the balustrade, landing in a jarring crouch, breathing heavily.

  Blaize is gone.

  But someone lurked. Their presence prickled like needles skittering along my neck.

  Spinning around, I almost shot a hole through Solomon.

  “Where are they?”

  “Don’ know. But they took your woman.”

  My eyes crushed closed. I br
eathed through flaring nostrils.

  “Was she alive?” I asked, my lungs barely filling with oxygen.

  “She hiss and fight and kick.” Sol shook his head, approaching me. “Venom smacked her.”

  I tightened my grip on the gun but lowered it to my side.

  “She din’t go easy, but she’s alive. I waited for you, Nash. She’s a good woman.”

  “I have to go.” I quickly catalogued my resources—the Sig Sauer in my hand, the KA-BAR in my boot. I’d need a hell of a lot more than those two weapons to rain the pain on Venom and the rest of Legion. “And you need to get out of here.”

  “Bon Dieu te benisse—”

  ****

  Sweat broke out on my skin, trickled down the center of my back. I’d grabbed my sawed-off from the bedroom, scanned the area one last time for any missing clues then stomped outside.

  Venom had to have known about Blaize and me for a while to mobilize the entire Legion lickety-fucking-split.

  Which meant he had a plan whereas I had fucking nada.

  Not anymore. Not with Blaize MIA. Abducted. Possibly dead.

  That line of thinking was gonna paralyze me.

  No chance to hook up with Slade, if he was coloring inside the shadow ops lines.

  I straddled my night train, roaring it to life. Taking the streets at Mach speed, I knuckled down.

  I’d told Blaize I wasn’t gonna leave her. Wouldn’t lose her.

  With a snarl on my face, I spun rubber on pavement when I screeched to an ear-shattering stop in front of our safe house. Throwing off my helmet, I pounded up the steps. Unlocked the door, barged through the rooms shouting Blaize’s name.

  A futile waste of energy.

  I knew she hadn’t been back without me.

  But some fucker sure had.

  The place had been tossed. Furniture turned over. Closets emptied. Debris everywhere.

  I had one last safety net. The guys. Walker. Justice. Bane.

  Doubted they could get to New Orleans in time to make a difference, but I needed to sound off. Needed a goddamn idea about how to get Blaize back. Safe. Alive.

  Intact.

  I hoped to hell Blaize’s and my hidden stash hadn’t been compromised. The rest of the wreckage meant nothing to me. But I needed weapons. I needed the cell phones.