Trisha Telep (ed)

by The Mammoth Book of Special Ops Romance (epub)

  “A friggin’ nightmare.” He dragged a hand through his hair, a habit he’d tried to conquer and failed. Another thing that pissed him off. He hated failing. At anything. “So what you’re telling me is if we don’t stop these psychos, we’ve got mass casualties on our hands?”

  She nodded, her expression grim. “Ricin’s a potent toxin, a phytotox-albumin protein derived from castor beans.”

  He screwed up his nose, remembering his mum trying to shove spoonfuls of horrific castor oil down his throat when he had pneumonia as a kid. “Always knew that castor oil shit was lethal.”

  The corners of her mouth twitched. “Ricin’s a waste mash from producing castor oil. It’s created relatively easily and inexpensively.”

  “This just gets better and better.”

  She paused, gnawed on her bottom lip, a strangely vulnerable gesture, which ratcheted up his concern further.

  If the bad guys had kick-ass Coralee worried, he should be worried too.

  “Tell me the rest.”

  As if coming to a decision, she squared her shoulders, nodded. “Ricin isn’t an ideal bio-weapon but due to the fact it’s widely available and easily produced . . .” She shrugged, not needing to elaborate.

  He understood the threat they all faced, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention as a shiver of foreboding crept along his spine. “If we don’t manage to stop these bastards, what symptoms do we look for?”

  Fear, potent and insidious, shimmered in her eyes before she blinked, effectively shutting down any sign of emotion. “Fever, coughing and gastrointestinal problems are likely to be the first symptoms. Ingested, ricin causes stomach irritation, gastroenteritis, bloody diarrhoea and vomiting, followed by vascular collapse and death.”

  His loud expletive didn’t elicit a reaction as she continued. “There’s no treatment or prophylaxis. The good news? If exposure isn’t fatal within three to five days, the victim will usually recover.”

  “Ain’t that just peachy. So if you don’t bleed out your ass—” he bit down on the rest of his crassness and she frowned “—you might stand a chance?”

  “The other good news? Because it’s a large protein it isn’t easily absorbed across the skin so dermal exposure isn’t a problem.”

  “Meaning if you’re contaminated and I touch you, I’m safe?”

  This time, he definitely didn’t imagine the flash of hunger in her greedy gaze, the hint of hope he’d actually do it.

  He reached for her, trailed a fingertip down her forearm, lingered on the back of her hand before slipping underneath, tracing her pulse point in slow, languorous circles, savouring the rampant pounding which indicated she was as turned on as him.

  She endured his caress for a moment before spinning away, turning her back on him. “That’s right. Any other questions?”

  Her voice, so steady and sure moments ago, held a subtle quiver in undertone that urged him to push her, to get her to admit the spark between them needed little to ignite.

  “Just one.”

  Propping his butt on the desk, crossing his ankles, he waited for her to turn back to face him, knowing she would, with curiosity eating away at her.

  She didn’t disappoint, swivelling back to face him, but not before he’d copped a very nice eyeful of the sensational butt he remembered grabbing during their lone memorable encounter.

  “Spit it out.”

  “When all this is over, want to get together again?”

  Lee clenched her hands, welcoming the bite of pain as her fingers dug into her palms, the faint sting from her bitten nails a distraction from the urge to plant both palms squarely in the middle of Fox’s chest and shove, hard.

  The guy hadn’t changed a bit. Still insufferable, still cocky, still too damn much.

  She knew he’d bait her the instant she’d landed this assignment, knew he’d taunt her with references to that one crazy momentary lapse in reason three years ago.

  She’d wiped that memory, eradicated it along with every other insane impulse she’d ever followed through with.

  Hooking up with Fox had been dumb.

  Rating their mind-blowing encounter as the best sex of her life was dumber.

  Here, now, with him radiating that potent masculinity she responded to on a visceral level – the dumbest.

  She could handle men. Good ones, bad ones, she kicked their collective asses and enjoyed it.

  But there was something about Fox . . . something about the way he looked at her, as if he could see down to her soul. That scared her more than all the terrorists in the world.

  “We need to concentrate on the assignment.”

  His confident grin didn’t slip. “And later?”

  Eye-balling him, she said, “I walk out of here and everyone’s happy.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  He ducked forwards quickly, his whisper in the vicinity of her ear catching her off guard, as much as the fact she let him get that close.

  The door to his office flung open and they leaped apart like two rabid dogs doused with a hose, his expression instantly shuttered as he glared at some guy in an ill-fitting suit.

  “Sorry to interrupt, boss.”

  “What’s up, Forbes?”

  “Intel update just in suggests threat escalating.”

  Fox’s eyes narrowed. “Suggests? What the hell is that? Do we have anything definite?”

  Forbes stiffened and for a second Lee could’ve sworn she glimpsed malevolence behind his guarded gaze, resentment in his thin lips.

  “I’ll email the latest report through right now.”

  “You do that.”

  Fox’s dismissive nod would’ve annoyed the crap out of her so she could only imagine what it did for a resentful subordinate.

  “Wound a bit tight?”

  “Him or me?”

  He dropped into his chair, swung the screen on his laptop into view, waving to the seat opposite.

  She obliged, but only because her feet were aching from the new boots she was wearing in. “Your lackey’s a little stressed.”

  “New guy,” he said, his eyes riveted to the screen.

  She admired that about him, his dedication, his ability to switch off to everything other than the task at hand.

  She was the same. Except around him.

  For some insane reason, he was the only guy she’d ever worked with, defence force or otherwise, who could rattle her. It bugged the hell out of her and she handled it the only way she knew how.

  By busting his ass.

  “You planning on sharing any of that intel, hotshot?”

  His gaze swung her way, amusement warring with concentration. “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  He crooked his finger, the corners of his mouth curving into a sexy smile that jump-started every starving hormone in her neglected body.

  He wasn’t handsome, not in the technical sense. Nose broken too many times, eyes a muddy mix of greyish hazel, jagged scar extending from the corner of his mouth to his chin. The scar should’ve detracted. Instead, it enhanced the potent ruggedness he wore like a badge of honour.

  Ignoring his beckoning, she deliberately sat back, raised an eyebrow, pretending his flirtation didn’t excite her, that she didn’t give a damn about his response.

  “On whether you . . .”

  His head snapped up at the sound of a high-pitched wail, disbelief slashing a frown before he leaped from his chair, vaulted the desk and grabbed her out of the chair before she could say “What the f—?”

  “Safe room. Now!”

  The urgency underlying his deadly calm tone chilled her blood more than the threat sending them into hiding.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Just move!”

  A burst of gunfire had them dropping to the floor and crawling commando across the office at a cracking pace.

  She should’ve been scared. Instead, the crack of gunfire sent a shot of adrenaline so potent, so addictive through her,
she responded by rote. She was trained for this, had faced worse than some nut infiltrating police headquarters. Her only regret? This whole thing would be over before she had a chance to kick some sicko ass.

  They’d almost made it to the safe room when an eerie silence descended and Fox held up a hand, calling a halt.

  Before she could blink he’d changed direction, slithering across the floor towards the window, half raising himself to take a peek while she shook her head and made a slicing action across her throat.

  Yeah, like he’d listen to her, the testosterone-fuelled fool.

  Shimmying on her belly, she joined him, earning a withering glare. She blew him a kiss. He frowned but couldn’t hide the gleam of admiration in those silver eyes.

  So the hotshot liked a bit of sass? Like she didn’t know that already. When they’d hooked up, the wordplay had been just as exciting as the foreplay. As for the sex . . . when she squirmed on the floor this time, it had little to do with getting closer to scope out the target and everything to do with a scorching memory that heated her cheeks. And she never blushed.

  Signalling her to stay down, he slowly pushed into a half-crouch, peeked over the window ledge and promptly dropped flat to his belly again, his face ashen.

  She raised an eyebrow, asking a silent “what?”

  Before he could respond, she got her answer.

  “Get that useless bitch Keaton out here before we blow this slut’s brains out.”

  Her right hand automatically reached for her weapon, clenching in fury. The bitch label she could handle. Calling her useless was just plain untrue and well below the belt.

  “You’ve got three seconds.”

  Un-holstering her weapon, she crawled towards the window, ignoring Fox’s vigorous shake of the head.

  “Safe room, now!” he mouthed, as the booming, arsenic-laced voice screamed, “You want another death on your conscience, bitch? Fine.”

  Her gaze darted towards the door. Three seconds wasn’t terribly long to fling it open and pop the psycho holding some poor woman hostage, and that’s without the advantage of casing the scene first.

  “One.”

  She edged closer to the door.

  “Two.”

  Her hand hovered on the knob, twisting slowly.

  “Three.”

  But before she could wrench the door open, two things happened simultaneously.

  A gun blast roared in her ears as Fox tackled her to the ground and dragged her towards the safe room like she weighed nothing.

  “You think they won’t do the same to you the second you step out there?” he hissed, bundling her into the safe room and hitting the electronic button to seal the door.

  As the door clicked shut, she leaped to her feet and grabbed hold of his shirt, hauling him to within an inch of her face. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  She recognized her mistake a second too late. Having him this close, his shirt bunched in her fists, touching him, was asking for trouble.

  “Saving your sweet ass.”

  With a smile dripping pure sin, one hand snaked around and cupped her butt, caressing the curve before squeezing gently.

  She should’ve reared back, given him a swift knee in the jewels for his trouble but the instant he stroked her, the latent heat within her exploded.

  Without pausing to think or rationalize, she slammed her mouth against his.

  There was nothing remotely tender about the kiss, just a hungry melding of ravenous souls feeding an unrelenting, driving urge to get lost in the moment.

  Tongues duelled in a battle of wills, but in this game, she didn’t care who won. Breaking the rules, gaining the upper hand, all meant nothing with his talented mouth playing havoc, stoking her inner fire, driving her wild with need.

  Desperate for more, she clung to him, angled her head for better access, moaned, shocked at how fast he’d pushed her to the point of no return.

  As she ground her pelvis into his, he broke the kiss, his breath ragged, his eyes unfocused.

  Mortified, she shoved him away, ran a shaky hand across her face, taking valuable seconds to compose herself.

  When she was certain her voice wouldn’t shake, she schooled her face into an impassive mask, met his gaze. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “You’re the one who kissed me.”

  “Not that.”

  She folded her arms, paced the claustrophobic space, silently cursing her lapse in judgment, her lack of concentration.

  They wouldn’t be in this safe room unless the situation was serious and not knowing what the hell was going on didn’t sit well with her. And the madder she got, the more likely she’d do something stupid again; like wrap her legs around the sexy SOG commander with the power to drive her wild with a touch.

  “How the hell did some lunatic breach SOG security let alone bring weapons into the joint? And who was the poor woman who got killed because of me?” She stopped pacing, fixed him with a death glare. “And what the hell were you thinking dragging me in here to hide like a mangy dog when we should be out there busting asses?”

  Sorrow wiped the smugness off his face as he ran a hand over the back of his neck. “We couldn’t have done anything to save her. There’s a team out there, six from a brief head count. The ringleader had Senior Constable Lina Bader in a headlock with a gun locked on her temple, the rest of the goons had M4A5 Carbines pointed at the other staff. Get the picture?”

  Yeah, she got it.

  If she’d opened the door in an attempt to save the life of that woman, she would’ve suffered the same fate.

  Not that she was afraid of death. She’d faced it several times now, stared it in the evil eye, won.

  But the injustice of Snr Constable Bader dying because of her, trading her life for hers, would eat away at her for many a lonely night yet.

  “What I want to know is what they want with you?”

  “How the hell should I know?” she snarled, racking her brains for a clue, any clue.

  He pinned her with a searching stare that would’ve had subordinates squirming. She eyeballed him back, not giving an inch, a small part of her aching for that senior constable, a larger part of her mad as hell.

  “You’ve got no idea?”

  Muttering a pithy curse, she swung away, glared at the steel door. “If I made a list of every freak that had it in for me, it’d circle the Australian coastline, twice.”

  “Same here.”

  She heard an edge in his voice, as if he were holding something back. She slammed a useless fist against the door, winced at the pain, then turned back to face him.

  “You’re not telling me everything.”

  Wariness clouded his eyes as he compressed his lips.

  “Come on, Fox, spit it out. We’re in this together.”

  She only just caught his muttered “worse luc”’ as he hit a button on the key console, bringing up a plethora of screens depicting different areas of the SOG offices.

  “See that?” He jabbed a finger at the top right screen and she squinted, scrutinizing the scene.

  “Some suit dragging the body away.”

  “Not a suit. That’s Forbes.”

  Her eyes widened as realization hit. “He’s your leak?”

  Malevolence turned his eyes brittle blue. “I saw him alongside the perps. He must’ve let those bastards in.”

  Fox blamed himself.

  She could see it in every tense line creasing the corners of his eyes, bracketing his tight-lipped mouth, in the rigid neck muscles. And though it was none of her business, she wanted to offer him some small comfort.

  Laying a hand on his forearm, she said, “It’s not your fault.”

  Pain flickered in those steely slate depths before he masked it with rage, shrugged off her hand. “Wrong. I vet all my personnel, so damn right it’s my fault.”

  She could’ve offered false platitudes, more trite apologies, but it wouldn’t help. She’d been in a similar position
on the front lines once, had a major she’d personally trained go AWOL after botching a big offensive. He got two soldiers killed in the process.

  Though there hadn’t been a thing she could do at the time, she’d beaten herself up over it for months afterwards until she’d realized her own career was suffering.

  Fox couldn’t change what had happened but she could help him manage the outcome.

  “So what’s the plan?”

  With his eyes riveted to the screens, he said, “We wait.”

  Patience, as well as humility and backing off from a fight, wasn’t one of her virtues. She’d learned the hard way that it paid to be on the offensive, to have one up on your enemy before they jumped you. And while being locked away in a safe room looked like the bad guys had the upper hand right now, she intended on switching the positions real fast.

  “Got a better plan?”

  He tore his gaze from the screen, let it roam her body at will, a long, slow, leisurely perusal that left a tingling trail as if he’d physically touched her.

  She didn’t move, didn’t flinch. She’d been trained well. But she seethed on the inside with a terrifyingly potent cocktail of lust and hormones and blinding need.

  “They want you. They’re not getting you. So we wait to hear their other demands.”

  “What if there aren’t any? What if I’m it?”

  “Then screw them.”

  She shivered at the resolute set to his jaw, glad one of them was convinced.

  Hostage situations were a pain in the ass and being in the middle of one – being the prime target – annoyed the crap out of her. As if she wasn’t having a shitty enough day.

  “You cold?”

  She shook her head, cursing he saw her reaction.

  “Scared?”

  His voice dropped to a low murmur that caressed her nerve endings, smoother than silk, soothing. For a second she contemplated what it would be like to give in to the alien impulse to fling herself into his arms and blot out everything else.

  “Cretins like that don’t scare me.” She jerked her thumb at the screens, her attention snagged by the leader waving his gun around. “You have sound on this thing?”

  He shook his head. “Only if they come into my office.”