Dark Hearts (Part 4) (The Bleeding Love Series)

by Storm, Franca

  He shakes me then. “They were our only opportunity to draw Cartwright out into the open. That’s why I set it all up. If you’d killed them, that would’ve all gone to hell. Plus, you’re not field-ready, so let’s not even pretend you could’ve actually killed them. You can’t pull the fucking trigger. So, you would’ve attempted it, failed and exposed our plan to them and everything would’ve fallen apart.”

  I shake my head. “Cartwright would’ve got what he wanted. It would’ve been over. And it already went to hell. You called and told me it did.”

  “Wrong!” he yells. “He would’ve turned all his attention to you. You crossed him, Alana! He won’t stop until he makes you pay for that. And me as well.”

  I take a moment to take his words in. I sigh and tell him, “You still should’ve brought me in on it.”

  “Why? Your involvement would’ve been nothing but destructive. You forget how long I’ve been watching over you, Alana. So many fucking years. I know you. I know how you operate. I know your triggers. I even know how you think. Plus, I never wanted you to have to hear that fucker’s name again, let alone, have to work with him on an op.” He releases my left arm and his hand comes up and cups the side of my face. “I never wanted anyone to hurt you again, Alana. I know you see it as a betrayal, but I was honestly just protecting you. And I believe you know that, deep down. You are my fucking world. I’ll always do whatever it takes to protect you, baby. And I’m sorry the way I went about it this time upset you. But I’d do it again if I had to. The method doesn’t matter to me, just the end result. Keeping you safe. Keeping our baby safe.”

  His hand slides down to my belly and he rubs it gently, his eyes flickering with emotion.

  It has me softening with sentiment too. His sweet, soft touch. The look in his eyes that lets me know he’s on board with this. He wants this baby. He’s happy.

  But I can’t just let what he did slide. It’s not a path I want us to start down.

  “Damon, I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “You’re suffocating me. Too overprotective. You know I’m not that kind of woman. I can’t accept it.”

  “You don’t get it, Alana.”

  “Get what?”

  “You do it to me, too.”

  “What?”

  “Why were you looking for my field equipment stash?”

  Before I can get a word out, he answers for me.

  “You were planning to go after Cartwright without me. To put yourself in the firing line, so the rest of us didn’t have to.”

  “Why would I do that when I’m furious at you for what you did?”

  He presses me back into the wall again. “Because you love me. And that’s what you do when you love someone. You protect them in any way you can. So, this isn’t some misogynistic thing like you’re assuming. It’s because I love you. Do. You. Understand. Me?”

  “Damon, I won’t just—”

  “You can try to push me away as much as you want. But I’ll still be standing here. You. Our baby. You’re my family and the only fucking things I’ve ever given a damn about. Everything and everyone has always been expendable to me. That’s how people like us survive. You know that. But now. Now, Alana, there’s you.” He kisses my lips softly. “And I’m not letting you go. Fight me all you want, but I’m not backing down. I love you.”

  I can’t speak.

  His words and the conviction in his voice is all cutting into me. He knows just what to say to get through to me. He knows me. He’s the only man who can break down any wall I build around me. And I’d done just that when I’d found out about him going behind my back and keeping such an awful secret from me. I’d tried to put up another wall.

  But I understand why he did it.

  He did it to protect me and to protect us. He went out of his way and risked so much. I know he even stepped back into this world he’d retired from long ago just for me. He’d walked back into hell. A place full of past demons he’d thought he’d turned his back on for good.

  “We’re going to work through this the way we do best, Alana.”

  Before I know what’s happening, he’s dropping to his knees in front of me.

  He carefully pops the fly of my pants and eases down the zipper. He tugs them slowly down my legs.

  “Damon, what are you—?”

  I’m silenced by his tongue suddenly licking along the edge of my panties. Next, he trails it up the other side. And then his teeth are tugging them roughly down past my thighs.

  He grips my ass hard and jerks me towards his mouth.

  “Ah! Shit!” I scream out, as he thrusts his tongue inside me without any warning.

  His tight grip is the only thing stopping me from collapsing into a puddle on the floor.

  I moan out as he fucks me slow and deep.

  Firm, deliciously erotic strokes.

  I claw at the wall behind me as he builds me up into a state of unadulterated bliss.

  “Mmm, baby,” he says, pulling back. “I love the taste of your sweet pussy. So greedy and desperate to suck me in, to have more and more of me.”

  “Damon, wait. We need to talk about the handover fail. We have to—”

  His mouth smothers my pussy lips and he does what he’s so incredibly talented at—driving me out of my mind—as he licks, sucks and nips me.

  “But…Damon—”

  “Shh,” he says, just before assaulting my clit with rapid fire licks.

  I tug at his hair and shriek as ecstasy rips through me, making my entire body shudder.

  “Yes! Fuck, Damon! Yes! Ah! Don’t stop! Don’t fucking stop!”

  He chuckles against my pussy, the vibrations of his voice just adding to my sex-crazed state. I’m almost delirious with pleasure. I can’t control myself. I dig my nails into his scalp.

  He grunts and, the next thing I know, he’s pulling back and commanding, “Hook your legs over my shoulders.”

  Like hell, I’m gonna argue with anything he says right now. Whatever he wants.

  I do it and he helps me.

  I gasp in surprise as he stands up, lifting me and supporting my weight with my thighs hooked over his shoulders. He slams me against the wall and buries his mouth in my pussy.

  “Damon! Ah!”

  He thrusts his tongue deep inside me. He draws it out slowly, slathering my sensitive clit with my own juices and his saliva, before plunging in deep again.

  It feels incredible.

  He does it over and over again until I’m a quaking mess and completely out of my mind.

  “Come! Now,” he commands in that sexy dominant voice of his that I’ve come to love more than I ever thought I would.

  His lips close over my clit and he sucks hard. Brutally hard.

  The bite of pain has me completely snapping and my orgasm rips through me.

  He doesn’t stop sucking. He just keeps pushing me, driving me higher and higher.

  “Good girl,” he says, after I’ve started to come down.

  He lifts me off his shoulders and then sweeps me up into his arms.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Bedroom. I need to sink my cock into your sweet pussy,” he answers, as he walks us over to his bedroom on the other side of the office.

  “Don’t we need to—?”

  “Alana, relax. We have some time. Let’s make it count.”

  “Is this your idea of make-up sex?”

  He laughs. “It’s my idea of everything sex. It’s I’m-sorry sex, you’re-mine-so-don’t-push-me-away sex, we’re-having-a-baby-and-I’m-so-fucking-excited sex, and, yes, it’s also I-love-you sex.”

  That has me laughing. “I like that.”

  “Good,” he says, kicking the bedroom door open. “Because it’s about to get wild, baby. You think you can handle that?”

  “You’ve met your match.”

  “Mmm…yes. I know, I have, Alana. Damn straight.”

  Chapter 6

  ~Damon~

 
As soon as Dean steps into my office, I see Alana drop her shoulder.

  A split second later, her fist comes at him, plowing brutally hard into the side of his face. Jesus Christ. That was a hell of a hit. The guy used to be a boxer and he’s stumbling back from the power she just threw his way. That’s how strong and skilled she is.

  He takes a second to find his feet and then spits out a mouthful of blood onto the floor of my office. Lovely. He wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and then, being the arrogant prick he is, still has the balls to smirk at her.

  “Missed you, too, gorgeous.”

  Her eyes narrow at him. “You’re lucky I’m not going for your dick.”

  His eyes flash. I know why. He’s picked up on the unintentional innuendo in her words. His gaze darts to me and I see him strain with effort to stop himself from running with the sexual subtext. He manages it. Instead, he asks her, “All right. Fuck. We good now?”

  “Say the words,” she demands.

  He shifts his weight and shakes his head. “Alana.”

  “I mean it. Say them.”

  He looks over her shoulder at Mark who’s sitting on the arm of one of my couches with his arms folded across his chest, watching with amusement.

  Dean eyes me then. He looks really uncomfortable. I’d wager that this is the first time he’s ever had to really apologize to anyone. But, despite how much he really doesn’t want to, I know he will. For her.

  He pinches the bridge of his nose and then cocks his head to the side and grits out, “I’m…sorry.”

  She doesn’t say anything for several moments. She just stares him down, drawing it out to make him as uncomfortable as possible. I don’t fucking blame her. He kidnapped her and tied her to a damn motel room bed.

  He knows her well and just waits, well aware that pushing it will just lead to a world of pain, a hell of a lot worse than the hit she just delivered that’s going to result in a pretty impressive black eye shortly.

  I’m not going to lie. Seeing her throw down like that has my dick hard as fucking steel. What a turn on. Christ. I never thought I’d get off on being with a woman so powerful. I’ve always gone with the weak, submissive type of woman my entire life. But, hell, now I know what I was missing all these years, because nothing can compare to this. To her. To me and her when we come together. We’ve come a long way, from me wanting complete control and her unwilling to give that up, to the perfect balance we have today.

  “All right,” she finally says, stepping back.

  “Apology accepted?” he asks.

  “For now. I’ll find a way for you to make it up to me properly.”

  He winks at her. “I can think of a few, gorgeous.”

  And there it is. I knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it in for long. He realizes it almost immediately and tells me, “Ingrained in me.”

  “Clearly,” I bite back.

  Mark pushes off the couch and walks over and leans against the front of my desk beside me. “I never thought I’d see the day when you two could be in the same room together without exchanging insults, or coming to blows.”

  “Just a truce for the greater good,” Dean tells him. “It was you who sent Alana my way, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A heads up would’ve been nice.”

  “I thought you were always several steps ahead of everyone,” Mark retorts.

  Dean studies him for a moment. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot about your crush on Alana. You don’t like me, cuz she used to be mine.”

  Alana looks my way and I see the worry in her eyes. She thinks I’m going to lose it.

  But I’m not.

  This is actually the first time Dean’s really referred to the relationship between him and her in the past tense. It’s a subtle change, but it signifies a lot to a man like me who can read between the lines. It means he wasn’t bullshitting me with our conversation back at The Cellar. He really is stepping aside.

  “Are you two done?” Alana hisses, clearly the one who’s about to lose it, more than any of the rest of us.

  “I am,” Dean says. “Mark?”

  He glares at him for a moment, but then says, “Yeah. I’m good.”

  “Damon?” she asks me.

  I wink at her and decide this is my opportunity to shut the whole thing down. We need to get down to business and put the rest of this bullshit to bed. And that’s why I answer, “Baby, I spent the last two hours almost fucking you through my bed. So, yeah, I’m more than good.”

  Mark blushes and looks down at his boots.

  Dean shifts his weight and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Argh,” he mutters.

  And Alana shakes her head.

  I slide off my desk and tell them, “All right. Let’s get down to business.”

  “I have the location,” Dean announces.

  “And the source? What’s his status?”

  He crosses to me and pulls his phone from his leather jacket pocket. He scrolls through it for a few seconds and then hands it to me.

  Fuck me.

  It’s a photo of the source. Ivan. And it’s fucking brutal.

  Dean didn’t shoot him.

  I can’t help grimacing as I take in the sight of the headless corpse of Ivan sprawled out on the floor of that hellhole. “Shit,” I choke out.

  “Had to make sure this time, Damon. It was the most efficient way.”

  I hand him back the phone and he pockets it.

  He’s fucking brutal. I mean, I’ve done my research on him over the years, but…seeing it is a hell of a lot different than reading about it.

  It takes me a moment to realize that Alana and Mark are staring at us with confusion.

  “Who was the source?” Alana asks.

  “An old enemy,” I answer.

  “Who?” she presses.

  I draw in a breath. “Alana, I need to leave it like that.”

  Her eyes flash with realization and she murmurs, “He hurt you?”

  “Yes,” is all I can manage. That shit is getting dealt with once and for all, the proper way. Therapy and all that jazz. But not now. First, we need to end Cartwright. That’s our chief priority.

  “Okay. So let’s work out the specifics to take Cartwright out,” Mark says, thankfully moving things along.

  “I’ll take point,” Alana says.

  “Like fuck, you will,” Dean tells her.

  “Excuse me?”

  He points to her belly. “You’re pregnant.”

  “And?”

  “And it’s a risk,” I tell her.

  “Exactly what I’d been saying,” Mark says.

  “You’re staying here with me,” Dean tells her. “Damon and Mark will do recon. You can help me prep for the actual mission.”

  “Agreed,” I say.

  To my surprise, Alana doesn’t actually argue this time. She doesn’t say a word. She just watches us with her arms folded.

  That has me suspicious, right off the bat. “Alana?” I question.

  She rubs her belly. “I’m not actually feeling too good. It comes in unpredictable waves. It’s probably best that I’m not in the field.”

  All three of us study her for a few moments. We’re all looking for the same thing. Any sign that she’s playing us. She’s already made her feelings about being included in this mission to take Cartwright, Forest and Sam out, very fucking clear. So, her backing down now is more than a little surprising and out of character for her.

  The three of us are good at what we do. We can spot a lie from anyone a mile off. If we couldn’t, we wouldn’t have survived the fucked up world of death-dealing that we live in for as long as we have.

  But there’s nothing.

  Mark and Dean both eye me in surprise. I’m giving it right back to them, too, because I’m not seeing a thing from her to indicate that she’s messing with us here.

  “All right,” I finally say.

  She nods and then tells me, “Be careful.”

  “Pro
mise,” I tell her. I turn to Mark and tell him, “Come with me. Let’s suit up.”

  My pulse quickens as I realize how close we are now. We know where Cartwright is and he has no fucking idea that we do. That means we finally have the upper hand.

  It’s almost over.

  Chapter 7

  ~Alana~

  Fucking idiots.

  They had no idea.

  Of course, I was lying to their faces.

  There is no way in hell I’m sitting this one out. No one benches me!

  Do they really think I’m about to let the three of them walk into the belly of the beast without me there with them? Okay, I may not be able to kill any more. But I am still the best hand-to-hand fighter. It’s not even a statement of arrogance. It’s absolute fact.

  They’re kidding themselves if they think they won’t need that. They’ve got one cold-blooded, merciless killer. Dean. But he’s not a sniper. He’s not as good as Damon. He can’t touch him in that respect. The thing is, Damon has issues killing as well, so how the hell is he gonna pull that off? Is he gonna inflict a bunch of damage shots? It doesn’t make sense. Their goal is to kill the targets. And Mark…he shouldn’t even be in the field at all. I saw that look in his eyes after he killed during the condo invasion. His issues aren’t behind him. Hell, when are issues like that ever truly left behind in the past? He’s a risk in the field. A good sniper and second to Damon, but a sniper who can’t kill? Fucking hell. It’s a mess.

  So, of course I’m going along.

  They’re going to need the backup.

  “Alana?” Dean calls to me.

  I look up to see he’s standing in front of me, the other side of Damon’s desk.

  He’d left to get a bottle of whiskey from the bar, because Damon was all out in here. I’d been so absorbed in my thoughts and the task at hand, that I hadn’t even noticed him walking back in.

  He chugs directly from the bottle and then eyes the equipment covering Damon’s desk in front of me. Handguns, magazines, tactical clothing, vests, radio communication devices and all the tech they’re going to need.

  “How’s it going?”

  I lean back in Damon’s comfortable leather chair and tell him, “All ready. Everything’s here. You’re good to go.”