by Melissa Jane
“Why are you doing this?” I whispered, my voice strained.
Ignoring my pleas, his tongue licked and sucked, and I shamelessly writhed beneath him. I was on fire inside and out. My mind screaming at me for a reprieve, my body begging for it to never stop.
He was indulging me.
Forging an electric connection between two perfect strangers.
His hands snaked their way to my waist, gripping tight and pulling me further against his demanding mouth. Despite my fatigue, I felt the build of yet another climax. I had only ever experienced this amount of pleasure with a handheld vibrator. But this man, the very person I knew nothing of, was coaxing them out of me with such ease it was frightening. My clit was pulsating and when he took it between his teeth and nibbled so slightly, I could take no more. Arching my back off the bed, my legs spread wide, hand restrained above, I came against his mouth, the roughness of his cheeks only enhancing the seemingly endless pleasure.
My cries were loud, husky, exhausted. My legs fell loosely to the side, seemingly now void of any muscle strength. My pussy was throbbing hard, sweat dripping down my breasts. When he entered me again, hard cock thrusting deep inside, it was a sensation unlike like no other. It felt too good, his demanding need for me was overwhelmingly satisfying.
When he pulled out and stood by the side of the bed, his cock still firm and ready, I wondered why he didn’t take the opportunity to finish. The perfect stranger zipped his jeans and licked his lips, all while holding my tired gaze. Leaning over the top of me he lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me deeply.
It was a kiss that spoke volumes like I was his but he was not mine.
His hands worked to remove the cuffs and gently he brought my heavy arms to my side. He kept his lips hovering just over mine when I spoke.
“Who are you?”
Something flickered in his mysterious eyes. “Someone you’ll wish you never met.”
Chapter 6
I woke in the same position the stranger left me in, every single muscle in my body aching. I had fallen asleep as he tenderly kissed my lips once again before leaving. I didn’t hear the door close, but as I lay there allowing sleep to take hold, his last few words taunted me from the darkness.
Someone you’ll wish you never met.
I stood under the warmth of the shower and let my body relax while my mind ran circles.
Why was this man in my life?
What did he want with me?
Why did he give me a night of pleasure without even satisfying himself?
And the scariest one of them all…
What did I have to fear from him?
Towel drying my hair, I saw the small blue light flashing on my cell indicating a text message. It was Alex from the IT department—it was an address for a place in Hell’s Kitchen.
Quickly dressing into something casual, I tied my long hair back and applied some gloss to my lips. Hooking my handbag around my neck, I made my way down the three flights of stairs to the ground floor, the tenderness between my legs, a beautiful, terrifying reminder of last night’s encounter.
Hailing a cab, I gave the address and as we weaved in and out of peak hour traffic, I steadied my nerves. I was operating solo, without backup, and with no real idea what I was getting into. An abandoned newspaper slid across the seat as we took a corner, its headline capturing my attention: NYC Federal Agent Slayed
My eyes prickled with tears as I continued to read.
“Agent Garcia killed with own service gun and house ransacked by intruders.”
The front page article said everything I expected and everything that wasn’t true. Despite the grief I felt for losing Garcia, a rage was bubbling inside me. The Agency was his family and now they were so easily turning their backs on him. The cab slowed to a stop outside an industrial warehouse on a quiet street. I had been too engrossed in the article to take notice of where in Hell’s Kitchen we actually were.
“You sure you wanna get out here?” The thick Italian accent sounded from the front. I paused, taking another look around the street and then back down to the front page of the newspaper.
“Yes, I’ll be fine.” I met his worried eyes in the rear view mirror.
“I can wait for you,” he suggested kindly, and I couldn’t help but think I should listen to his words of warning.
“That’s okay. I’m not sure how long I will be.”
“Good luck, Miss,” he said as I climbed out of the back seat. He took off slowly down the street and I exhaled heavily. I needed to control my nerves. Checking the address with the numbers on the display, I was relieved to be at the right location. Buzzing the intercom, I took a step back and waited. No response. Hitting 13 with the blank no name tag next to it, I tried again. When thirty seconds passed with still no response, I considered that he was either out or no longer living here. Refusing to quit, I dialed the number again and this time called his name.
“Evan Jacobs?” I waited, still with my finger hovering over the button. When a disgruntled voice sounded through the speaker, I jumped what felt like six feet.
“What do you want?”
Feeling a surge of relief, I looked into the lens of the small camera situated above the keypad. At least, if he could see me, he would know I wasn’t a threat.
“Mr. Jacobs?”
“Who’s asking?”
“My name is Nina Cross.”
There was a pause and I considered explaining our affiliation a little more, but before I could, the heavy metal door unlocked. Taking another cautious glance up and down the street, I saw no other human life. Braving it up the darkened stairwell, I walked two flights before finding number 13.
The door was already ajar when I tentatively pushed it open wide enough to walk through. Ahead in the living room sat the man I hoped could answer my questions. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, steepled fingers resting under his chin. His eyes locked on mine and all the fear and trepidation I felt quickly melted.
Unfortunately, that feeling didn’t last long.
He stood, reaching to his waistband and retrieving his Glock, which was now pointing straight at me.
Shit.
Taking a hasty step back, I collided with the door behind me.
“Take off your shirt,” he said in way of greeting.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard. You found me. I welcomed you into my home, now take off your shirt and turn all the way around.”
“I’m not wearing a wire. I’m off duty.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Shirt off and throw me the bag.” He pointed the gun toward my handbag. Tossing it to him, I watched as he poured the contents onto the couch before facing me with a look of annoyance.
“I won’t tell you again.”
Reaching the hem of my shirt, I pulled it up and over my head before turning all the way around. “Satisfied?”
“Not yet.”
I ignored his sexual jibe and hooked my arms back through the shirt sleeves and lowered it over my bra.
“What are you doing here, Nina?” He lowered his gun, but still held it tight. His shoulders had relaxed somewhat and I interpreted that as a good sign. “Have you joined the task force set to prove me guilty?”
“No,” I replied flatly. “You know why I’m here.”
He nodded toward the chair opposite him and I walked forward to claim it.
“You know as well as I do that it wasn’t a home invasion,” I began, hoping he would talk freely with me.
He watched, remaining silent as he leaned back, hooking one ankle over his knee.
“I know you are Garcia’s ex-partner,” I continued knowing he might need more encouragement. “I know you are suspended without pay due to your connections with a drug cartel, and I know that there’s still an open investigation against your name.”
“Well, it seems like you’re skilled at digging up people’s dirty laundry.”
Despite his patronizing tone, I persisted. “I want t
o know how much Garcia was involved in your cartel business and whether that was a contributing factor to his death.”
“Did you ever consider that maybe it’s safer to leave it classified as a home invasion rather than dig around? Possibly save yourself from digging your own grave?”
“No.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Are you going to help me or not?”
“I never said I was.”
“He was your partner! How can you be so apathetic about someone you had to trust your life with?”
He considered me for a while. “Do you value your own life?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Of course, I do.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“To get answers.” I couldn’t hide my frustration.
“Nina…” he sat forward, hands intertwining, “…you coming here to get your answers has now placed a target on your head.”
“What are you talking about?”
He pointed to the window.
“What about it?”
He stood and walked toward the back room before turning to see if I was following. “Come,” he instructed. Slowly rising, I followed him and stopped at the threshold seeing that it was his bedroom.
“For fuck’s sake. Are you an agent or a fucking pussy? Quit testing my patience.”
He stationed himself by the small window that overlooked a park framed by buildings. As I joined him, he pushed me to the side, shooting me a scowl.
“Try to remain unseen. This is the best vantage point. They can’t see us, but we can see them.”
“Who is they?”
I followed his gaze, his finger pointing in the same direction. Across from the park sat a navy blue van.
“Who is that?”
“Your colleagues. The same people I once considered friends.”
“It’s no secret they are still investigating you. We already discussed that.”
“Ms. Cross, you just don’t get it. You’re not technically off duty are you? Let me take a guess. Delacroix has instructed you to take time off until he orders you back. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations. You’ve now become a target.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You coming here today to talk with me has put a target on your head. Don’t think for one second that your colleagues are your friends. You see…” he glanced back out the window, “…they’re not the only ones here watching. Los Santos cartel are ruthless fuckers, but to their credit they’re supremely strategic.”
“Is that the cartel you’re working with?”
“What makes you think I work for a cartel?”
“Your profile.”
He raised his eyebrows in amusement.
“You mean the profile under lock and key?”
“Yes.”
“No,” he shook his head smiling at my assumption. “I’m not working for Los Santos.”
My phone buzzed from my back pocket. An annoyed Jacobs watched while I unlocked and read the message.
Alex: What have you done? Delacroix has ordered a lock on your profile. No chance to read it first.
“What the fuck?”
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t bullshit me,” he sounded irritated snatching the phone from my hand.
Jacobs’s cheeks puffed with his exhale as he read the message.
“What did I tell you? As soon as you got out of that cab and they ID’ed you, you became a target.”
“But I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Neither did Garcia and now he’s dead.”
“This whole thing is a mistake,” I said gathering my loose belongings off the couch and spilling them into my handbag. “I will just tell Delacroix I was conducting my own investigation. He won’t be happy, but at least, he’ll understand why I was here.”
Standing straight, I met Jacobs amused look.
“What’s so funny?”
“Your simplistic view of it all.”
“I don’t have—” I was cut off by the sound of my buzzing cell. Glancing at the screen, I saw the name and my heart sank.
“Let me guess,” he taunted. “Delacroix?”
“Yes.”
Unlocking the screen, I swallowed hard, realizing that perhaps Evan had been right after all.
Chief: Cross. Station, now! Bring all Federal items for surrender.
“He can’t do this! I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Sweetheart, you have just unwillingly entered into a war.”
***
“You are going to go about your life as normal. Do what Delacroix has said. Surrender everything and then get out quick smart. As soon as you do that, hit the road and get out of state. Did Garcia leave you any kind of message? Something of a warning?”
“Yes.”
“Go wide?”
“Yes, how do you know?”
“It’s a warning we shared between each other when shit went south. So why didn’t you heed the warning?”
“Because I didn’t feel under threat. Because they are claiming his death as a home invasion. That’s why.”
He sighed heavily and I got the feeling his patience was running thin. “When you finish with Delacroix… if he even lets you just walk out, get in your car and go wide. I’ll have someone shadow you for a while to ensure you are okay.”
“I don’t need anyone.”
His eyes shot to mine, all amusement from earlier dried up. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna need this shadow so consider it a gift from me to you.”
“How do I know Delacroix will let me just walk out?”
“He can’t pinpoint anything on you just yet. But you are making one crucial mistake.”
“And what’s that?”
“They’re not the only ones watching you now.”
“Can I ask a question?”
He nodded, gripping the door.
“Why are you not on the run?”
“They want something I have. They also know that I have some dangerous connections and they’re not willing to turn their golden city into a war zone.”
“So why do I have to run?”
“You can either vanish or become another home invasion headline like Garcia. To one party you are disposable. To the other, who has eyes on your back, you are their golden ticket.”
***
The cab ride home did little to quell my unease. My fingers wouldn’t stop trembling as I ran through everything Evan had said. My gut feeling had told me something was off from the very beginning and now it seemed, someone else shared my thoughts.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I stopped outside my apartment retreating a hasty step back. The door was open, and I knew without a doubt that it hadn’t been left like that. At least not by me.
I watched for any movement through the gap, my hand rummaging through my handbag for the Glock Evan had given me. He knew I’d need some form of defense if I were to surrender my service weapon. Unclicking the safety, I nudged the door open. It creaked, the noise cutting through the silence like a knife. My heart sank when I saw that my apartment now resembled that of Garcia’s. Whoever had paid me a visit while I was with Evan had turned the place upside down. The couch was ripped, cut open with a sharp knife. Drawers and cupboards were now empty, all their contents sprawled on the floor. Edging inside, my gun pointed in front, I scanned the remainder of the apartment to find it void of intruders. Releasing a strangled breath, my shoulders relaxed somewhat.
That was until I saw it.
The message spray painted on the wall above my bed was a warning.
Look behind you. The saints are watching.
None of this was making sense. I didn’t have anything that these people could want. I didn’t even know who these people were.
My galloping heart was causing me to become lightheaded. Taking a seat on the edge of the be
d, I considered the events of the last week.
Garcia had been brutally murdered, his loft upturned.
His final words had been a warning—Go wide.
The perfect stranger had made sudden and regular appearances in my life, including the charity ball, Garcia’s funeral and of course in my apartment. He’d let himself in even though there was no forced entry.
I stupidly caved to his advances.
He too gave me warnings, his concerning who to trust.
The next morning my apartment was broken into and trashed. A warning written on the wall.
Evan told me I should have listened to Garcia and have gone wide.
He’s planted a seed of doubt in my head about my co-workers.
Alex tells me my profile has been locked—reason unknown.
I needed answers.
I needed to know more about Los Santos cartel.
I needed to find out who the stranger was and what connection he had to all this.
And most of all, I needed to know why these men were now after me.
Chapter 7
My Glock was gone. The service weapon I was due to surrender was nowhere to be seen, the drawer it was stationed in now splintered and broken on the floor.
“Shit. Shit. Shit!”
Dialing 911, I introduced myself before calling in the break and enter. I would need it on file now that a government issued weapon was in the wrong hands.
I hung up and waited while contemplating what the hell was happening. I was on the back foot. Whoever was playing this game was moving me around like I was just some chess piece to them. I should have listened to Garcia. Whatever was transpiring didn’t involve me, but somehow I’d landed in deep and now my life was being threatened.
A knock came at the door and I jumped, lost in thought.
“Ma’am,” the officer greeted. What looked to be a worn and tired face had sparked to life knowing he was investigating the property of an agent. No doubt it would serve as station gossip.