Trisha Telep (ed)

by The Mammoth Book of Special Ops Romance (epub)

  “Looks like you’re about to get your wish.”

  He followed her line of vision, eyes narrowing as they watched all the perpetrators, bar the leader, evacuate.

  “What’s he up to?” she muttered, scanning the screens to keep track of the leader’s movements as he strode across the outer office, grabbed hold of Forbes, and held the gun to his head.

  “Nothing the little shit doesn’t deserve,” Fox said, jamming his hands into his pockets as he stepped closer to the screens.

  “No one deserves a bullet in the brain.”

  Raising an eyebrow, he darted a quick glance her way. “You’re not going soft on me, are you?”

  “Hell, no.”

  She winced as the leader jabbed the gun barrel into Forbes’ head, the traitor stumbling, falling to his feet, before being kicked along. Straight into Fox’s office.

  “They can’t hear us?” she whispered, grateful when Fox shook his head and pointed to a tiny green button.

  “Only if I hit this. A way to communicate if needed.”

  “The bitch in here?”

  She stiffened as the leader’s booming voice filtered through the safe room’s intercom, took a slight step back despite the reinforced stainless wall separating her from a potential bullet.

  Forbes nodded, his snivelling whimper eliciting disgust as Fox swore, his finger hovering over the button but refraining from stabbing it.

  “Then where the hell is she, shit-head?”

  Forbes jerked a shaky thumb in their direction. “S-s-safe room.”

  As the leader stalked towards them, his face filling the screen, a flicker of recognition lit her conscience. She knew him, had crossed paths with him . . . but where?

  After several useless attempts at banging against the smooth steel door, he swivelled, strode back to tower over the cowering Forbes.

  “Open it.”

  “I c-can’t.”

  The leader smiled, a purely evil grin that raised the hackles on the back of her neck, as he levelled the muzzle against Forbes’ temple.

  “I said open it.”

  “Jeez,” Fox muttered, turning away before the inevitable shot came, harsh, distorted through the intercom.

  “Now who’s going soft?” she said, wanting to offer him support, knowing he wouldn’t take it.

  “Just can’t watch one of my SOGs cower like that. Goes against the grain, you know?”

  This time, when she laid a hand on his arm, he allowed it to linger. “Yeah, I know.”

  Kicking Forbes limp body, the leader turned in their direction again. “I know you can see me, Garcia. See that?” He toed Forbes’ head, what was left of it. “Your little lackey gave me all the information I needed. I know all about you and the second-rate hack team you run here.”

  Swinging the gun Forbes’ way, he fired off a few more rounds into the lifeless body, which jerked like an obscene marionette. “I’m going to systematically execute every one of your people unless you hand over that bitch now!”

  “Fox . . .” His name hovered on her lips, a pleading whisper. For help? For advice? For salvation?

  He held his hand up, not even looking at her. “I’ll handle this.”

  Punching at the green talk button, he growled, “Go to hell.”

  She flinched, waiting for another outburst of bullets to riddle Forbes. Instead, the leader grinned an ice-cold grin that sent a shiver of foreboding creeping along her skin.

  “A man of few words, Garcia. I like that.”

  Without warning, he angled the gun towards the interior glass windows of the office and fired at random, shattering every one, not caring who stood beyond them. In that second she knew, no matter what they did or said, this psychopath wouldn’t give a damn.

  He had his own agenda, had no value for life, believed he was God.

  They were screwed.

  Dropping the gun to his side, he leered at the camera. “Much like me. I prefer to let my actions speak louder than words.”

  He glanced at his watch, evil grin widening. “You have exactly five minutes left to hand over the bitch before this place blows.”

  To her surprise, Fox chuckled. “Amateur.”

  Sidling up to him, she peered at the screen. “You know something I don’t? Or does the thought of fireworks turn you on?”

  “You have no idea what turns me on.”

  He swung and grabbed her so fast she didn’t have time to react. Her, with her lightning reflexes and superior evasive skills. With all her training.

  “Are you nuts? We’re about to be blown to—”

  “It’s a bluff.”

  Fox jerked his head towards the screens without releasing his hold on her. “You think he’d be hanging around if this place was about to blow? No bloody way. He’s a redneck punk who has a grudge against you and thinks we’re stupid enough to fall for his tricks.”

  “He’s killed two of your people.”

  His expression sobered. “The guy’s a loose cannon. He has about five minutes before back-up uses the subterranean tunnels to storm this place.”

  “And there’s absolutely no way he could have the office wired?”

  Fox shook his head. “Nobody can get close to the outside perimeter. Only way he got weapons in here was through Forbes. As for explosives . . .”

  He glanced at the screen again, at the leader pacing his office with an angry scowl. “He’s still here. Even if he had smuggled explosives in, wired this area, he wouldn’t hang around.”

  It made sense, but she couldn’t shake the trickle of unease prickling her skin. “We should find out who he is, what he really wants.”

  “Last chance, Garcia.”

  Their attention snapped back to the screen in time to see the leader head for the door. “That bitch screwed up my Ebola plans. Not a chance in hell she’s tampering with the ricin.”

  “Jeez! That’s where I’ve seen him before.” She smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Ansel Aquino. Was on the fringe of the Ebola conspiracy. Nothing ever connected to him. No one talked. TAG assumed he was a bit player in the end, didn’t pay him much attention.”

  “Bit player?” Fox’s eyebrows shot heavenwards, his lips compressed in an unimpressed line.

  Not needing to defend herself to anyone, least of all this guy, she frowned. “Guess we both messed up, huh?”

  “Point taken.” He grunted, having the grace to look sheepish. “Heads are gonna roll over this, probably mine.”

  “These guys are good. Infiltration takes years of training.” She jerked her head towards the screen, at Forbes’ corpse. “They’re patient as well as crazy.”

  Her earlier unease spread, roiling up from her gut, upwards and outwards, as she registered the empty room on the screen. “You know your theory about Ansel sticking around if the place was wired to blow?”

  Fox followed her line of vision, nodded. “Yeah, I know. The bastard’s gone”

  “Which means . . .”

  “Either we’re about to meet our maker in a million pieces or back-up will be here in four minutes.”

  He tapped his watch, pulled a rueful face designed to make her smile. Pity she didn’t feel like laughing.

  “I don’t know about you, but if these are my last four minutes on earth, I’m going to make the most of it.”

  “By doing what?”

  “This.”

  He yanked her into his arms, crushed her mouth in a devastating kiss that caused more fallout than any potential explosion.

  With her hormones instantly hot-wired, she kissed him back, desperately, frantically, crazily, before the reality of the situation crashed in and she planted both palms against his rock-hard chest. He didn’t budge an inch.

  “Are you nuts? We can’t do this—”

  “You want to spend your last few moments on earth scared witless or having the best sex of your life?”

  “Cocky bastard,” she muttered, a quiver of excitement making her hands tremble, betraying her answ
er before she spoke.

  “Am I wrong?”

  He ran a fingertip across her bottom lip, not giving her a chance to speak. “As I remember from our last encounter, you’re qualified to judge.”

  “Jeez, you’re a—”

  He kissed away any potential protest. Any argument would’ve been a moot point anyway, as she couldn’t fault his fractured logic.

  If she had a few minutes to live, she’d be doing just that – living – not counting down the seconds to sayonara.

  “Stop thinking,” he murmured against her lips, tracing their contour with his tongue, nipping, nibbling, teasing her to join in the fun.

  “Make me.”

  He didn’t need to be asked twice, backing her up against the nearest wall, devouring her with his mouth.

  His hands roamed everywhere, eager, searching, frisking her better than any border patrol guard.

  “Damn you’re hot.”

  He groaned as she arched into him, pressing her pelvis into his groin, wanting to torture him as much as he was torturing her.

  “Right back at you,” she whispered in his ear, biting him, revelling in driving him wild as he tugged her panties down along with her trousers.

  “You know I’d take this slow if we had the time, right?”

  “Fast is good,” she bit out as his thumb zeroed in on her hot spot, circling her clitoris while his fingers delved into her wet heat, ripping a moan from deep within.

  Tension coiled as he picked up tempo, her muscles taut, expectant, stiffening as the wave of unbelievable bliss built, sweeping her closer to a mindless ecstasy she craved.

  “Oh yeah, Fox . . . now—”

  Her pleasure peaked, crescendoed, as she rode the crest before crashing over the other side, spent and sated as she sagged against the wall, her hands clutching his shirt for anchorage in a world suddenly tipped on its head.

  Surprised to find her eyes closed, she opened them, the sheer unbridled sexual intent in his burning gaze plucking an answering response deep within.

  The orgasm had been mind-blowing. She wanted more. Heck, she wanted it all. Now.

  “How many minutes we got left?”

  “Long enough.”

  His wicked grin notched up her anticipation as he grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket, yanked a foil packet out and fumbled with his belt buckle.

  “Let me.”

  She would’ve liked to tease him, to prolong the build-up, but they didn’t have the luxury of time. She deftly unbuckled him, making quick work of the button and zip, the back of her knuckles grazing his erection in the process and eliciting a low moan before he clamped down on her hand.

  “Two minutes and counting.”

  He sheathed himself in record time, hoisted her up and braced her against the wall, and, as she wrapped her legs around his waist, he drove into her with a ferocity that made her gasp.

  “Yeah, just like that,” she sighed, the tension building again as he slid in and out.

  Harder. Faster. The delicious friction of him filling her, thrilling her, had her clamping around him, wishing she could prolong the incredible satisfaction for ever.

  “Come for me,” he said, a millisecond before she did, her tightly wound tension exploding in a fireball of sensation, annihilating everything but this moment, with this man.

  His orgasm followed a moment later as he threw back his head, neck muscles rigid with rapture, his face twisted in a mask of sweet agony.

  “That was—”

  “Friggin’ amazing.”

  He had an annoying habit of finishing her sentences but she’d forgive him. This time.

  Allowing herself the luxury of touching him, she stroked his cheek, savouring the stubble prickling her palm, hoping she could convey her rampaging, rioting feelings with a simple caress.

  If she were to die in the next minute, she’d go happy.

  “Fox—”

  A sudden burst of gunfire drew their attention to the screen and they grabbed their clothes, redressing in a tangle of arms and legs.

  “Gunfire’s good, right?”

  She hopped around on one foot, trying to shove her toes into her trouser leg. He reached out, steadied her with a helping hand, his thoughtfulness scaring her more than the intimate contact they’d just had.

  “Yeah. Means the cavalry’s arrived.”

  She picked up an edge of the unsaid in his reserved tone.

  “Or?”

  “Or there’s dissention in the psycho ranks.”

  Finally fastening the snap on her trousers, she said optimistically, “I’m vying for the first option.”

  As if on cue, a SWAT team swarmed his office, looking like ravenous ants at a gourmet picnic.

  “Guess this means we live to fight another day.”

  Her voice held the slightest quiver, the impact of what they’d just faced, what they’d just done, finally hitting her.

  Understanding gleamed in his dark gaze as it roved her face. “You OK?”

  She nodded, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. She didn’t know what unnerved her more: the incredible sex, his surprising tenderness or how close she’d come to death yet again.

  “About what happened—”

  “Ssh . . .” She placed her hand over his mouth, not wanting to hear any trite lines, any false excuses. “Heat of the moment. Lost our heads. Let’s leave it at that.”

  He pressed her hand against his lips, placed a scorching kiss directly on her palm before curling her fingers over it.

  “You sure you want to leave it?” He slid an arm around her waist, tugged her closer. “We’re pretty good together.”

  Damn him for being right.

  Damn him for tempting her to feel. To feel anything other than the enforced emotional numbness she lived with every day.

  “Garcia, you in there?”

  Relieved, she jerked her head towards the console. “Duty calls.”

  He searched her eyes, looking for . . . what? A sign that she cared? Some flicker of emotion other than passion? He’d be searching a long time. She’d learned to mask emotion from an early age, had learned the hard way it didn’t pay to show weakness.

  “We’re not finished,” he murmured, brushing a soft, barely there kiss across her lips that reached down to her soul and tweaked, hard.

  “Yeah, we are.”

  Inhaling a sharp breath, she jabbed at the button to open the door, marshalling her defences, slipping her take-no-prisoners badass mask back in place.

  Yet as she stepped through the door, Fox’s hand resting lightly in the small of her back, she knew that what had occurred in the safe room had rattled her far more than any bio-weapon threat she’d faced.

  Fox nodded at the chief SWAT. “Place secured?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Casualties?”

  “All infiltrators taken down, sir.”

  “Their leader?”

  The chief nodded. “Affirmative, sir.”

  “Damn,” she muttered, a small part of her glad the world was rid of vermin like Ansel Aquino, a larger part annoyed as hell they wouldn’t get to interrogate him and discover how far-reaching this plot was.

  “Good work.”

  Fox slapped the SWAT chief on the back, led him away, their heads bent close as they exchanged info. Info she should be privy to, given the ricin threat.

  “Fox, can I have a word?”

  He held up a finger asking for a minute while she inwardly fumed. She wasn’t one of his subordinates, some lackey he could order around. Who the hell did he think he was?

  Taking several calming breaths, she deliberately turned her back on him, knowing her foul mood had little to do with him and everything to do with the jumble of dangerous emotions careening out of control within her.

  She should never have done him in the safe room.

  As his hand landed lightly on her shoulder, he spun her around, his gaze warm. Regret tore through her like shrapnel.

  Regret she’d le
t him get close even for a few minutes, regret she’d opened herself up to him a second time when she never, ever, went back for seconds, but most of all, regret she had to walk out the door and not look back.

  “What’s up?”

  Shrugging off his hand, she crossed her arms. “The ricin threat? Or have you forgotten?”

  “You think what happened between us in there—” he jerked his thumb at the safe room “—made me lose focus?” His eyes darkened to polished pewter, the scar beneath his mouth twitching. “As hot as you are, Coralee, I don’t ever lose sight of a target.”

  “Don’t call me that!” she snapped, more pissed off at her blush than his use of the name she hated in all its feminine glory.

  He scanned her face, his expression inscrutable. “Relax. Your mate Ansel had a mini hard drive on him. Techies are working on it now; we should have all ricin data in a few minutes. From the prelim reports, it looks like the threat is over. He ran the show, nothing happens without his say-so.”

  “Good.”

  She glanced at her watch, eager to get home, wash this day off her. “That means I’m not needed any more, so I’m outta here.”

  “You’re wrong.” He grabbed her hand before she could take a step. Despite her struggles to get free, he held fast. “You’re needed.”

  He didn’t have to say where or when.

  She read the intent in his eyes, the insatiable, irrational hunger that dragged a visceral response from deep down in her belly.

  “I have to go.”

  This time, when she wrenched free he released her. As she strutted to the door, he called out, “This isn’t the end.”

  Like hell.

  She slammed the door: on him, on the mistakes she’d made, on any possible future with a guy who undermined her better than her past.

  She could handle abuse, torture, retribution.

  She couldn’t handle feeling anything for him.

  Ever.

  But then the door creaked open and she stiffened.

  “Lee?”

  Determined not to break stride, she picked up the pace.

  “See you at my place tonight. Eight sharp.”

  A ready curse, telling Fox exactly where he could shove his cocky command, sprung to her lips.

  “We owe it to ourselves.”

  His low tone, the simple truth, reached deep down and tweaked her fortified heart, making her feel when she’d spent a lifetime trying to do anything but.