The Hero and the Hacktivist

by Pippa Grant

  The lights flicker and go out, and every muscle in my body tenses.

  Even my toe muscles and my hair muscles.

  “What the hell?” a hockey dude says.

  “Chase, did you forget to pay your electric bill again?” Zeus hollers.

  “Where’s Eloise?” Willow shrieks.

  “Get back from the windows,” Sia orders.

  There’s a rustle of movement, and it’s easy to make out four of the hockey guys heading toward the front window.

  “I said get away from the windows,” Sia shrieks. “Eloise?”

  “I’m here,” I say.

  Something oofs. Something else says gah.

  And something grabs me by the arm. “Come on,” Parker hisses. “We’re getting you out of—ulp!”

  Something big and bulky picks her up and moves her, and I bolt up swinging. “Put my friend down, asshole!”

  My arm arches. Hard.

  Except it doesn’t connect with anything because suddenly I’m dangling by my toes, because whoever—whatever—this thing is, it’s strong and I think Zeus is down and I have no idea where the security guys are and the only hope I have is to bite some ankles and scream at the top of my lungs.

  But I can’t do both at once, especially while I’m hanging upside down and being carried toward the basement, where I’ll undoubtedly meet my doom.

  “Parker! Find my computer and hit the escape button six times!” I yell.

  I’m suddenly dangling three feet higher off the ground.

  The lights flicker back on, and I try to swipe at the guy’s nutsack, except I know that chest.

  And that massive crotchodile.

  I lift my eyes, which is really hard when I’m upside down, and there’s the Ass of Glory.

  Rhett.

  Giving me the don’t even think about it eyeball threat.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I shriek.

  “What does hitting the escape button six times do?”

  Nothing, but he doesn’t know that. “I asked you first, asshole.”

  “Whoa, Parker, slow down.” I hear a scuffle, and I realize Knox has tackled Parker.

  Zeus is tied to a red leather chair built for a much smaller man. Pigpen’s holding back Willow’s stepbrother.

  The rest of the hockey dudes are gaping at us, like they’re waiting for instructions.

  Except Ares.

  He’s holding Chase and Sia by their belt loops so they can’t tackle Rhett either.

  “Listen to the SEAL,” he says to me.

  The rest of the hockey players relax. One snaps a picture of Zeus.

  And Rhett carries me to the basement.

  Upside-down.

  Turned around so I can’t rack him in the family jewels.

  “What the hell do you want?” I grouch.

  “My best friend back.”

  “He’s upstairs.”

  “She’s right fucking here.”

  I look around the basement when he deposits me, head-first, on my second couch of the evening, and my gaze lands on the life-size Sia on the wall. “I didn’t know you and Sia were tight.”

  “I didn’t go after Dirk Lemonson.” He squats in front of me, jaw set mulishly, his stubble thick and his hair long enough to be uneven. Pretty sure he hasn’t showered in at least two days—not that I’d mind if I were to let myself fall for the lie that he’s attractive again—and his black T-shirt is rumpled despite being almost plastic-wrapped to his body.

  And he’s alive.

  Alive, and breathing, and close enough to touch.

  Preferably with a two-by-four to the side of the head.

  “You gave me up to the police!” I shriek. I try to make a point by shooting off the couch indignantly, but I trip over his knee.

  He catches me.

  Of course he does.

  And his touch immediately shuts down all of my indignation and anger because all the fear is gone suddenly too.

  The fear that he was gone. That he was going after Dirk Lemonson without enough resources or information.

  That he wouldn’t ever come back.

  “You okay?” he asks while he helps me to my butt.

  “No, I’m not okay.” I slug him in the chest. He doesn’t move, because he’s some kind of SEAL rock. “You left. You turned me over to the cops and you left.”

  Dammit, those little bastards most people call tears are threatening to clog up my nose and my throat again.

  “You were hacking a satellite,” he points out.

  “Says who?”

  He gives me the silent SEAL interrogation with those intense hazel eyes and that no-bullshit chin tilt.

  “You can’t prove anything.” I jerk my arm away and immediately wish I wasn’t petty because I miss him touching me.

  “And you knew where he lived,” Rhett points out.

  “So?”

  “So don’t tell me you weren’t planning on hopping on Craigslist to hire a bunch of mercenaries to attack with you leading the charge on top of a stick unicorn.”

  He gets me.

  The man gets me. “If I was going to do something like that, it’d be in a dinosaur costume, because that’s more my speed.”

  I twist and flop to the ground.

  He growls out a frustrated grunt, and I’m pretty sure he wishes his hair was longer so he could pull it out. “He was into human trafficking, Eloise. And running a sweatshop in his fucking backyard. Contracting with assholes ten times scarier than he is. Pigpen and me—we didn’t have the resources to take him down ourselves. I spent the last three days alternately getting my ass chewed and working with the FBI to set up an operation to shut him down. Which he is now, by the way. Locked up and being charged with more shit than you can begin to imagine. So you can sit there and be pissed at me, or you can say thank you for knowing who to call to keep you from getting yourself killed or worse.”

  I give brief consideration to being pissed at the patronizing you needed me to take care of you because you’re a mess message, except he’s not wrong.

  Without intervention, I would’ve gone after the shithead who was sending goons after me. And I would’ve fucked up sixteen bazillion different parts of my plan, because I can do anything in cyberspace, but I’m a mess who can’t even get off a couch without tripping in person.

  “You still left,” I whisper.

  “And I came back.”

  He did. And my heart’s trying to pound out of my chest to reach for him, even though he makes me mad, because he came back. “No one ever comes back.”

  “Eloise—”

  “No one,” I repeat. “Did you hit your head or something? Are you delirious from lack of sleep? Did you get your brain addled by aliens? Is this some secret government plot to find out how I hacked into their satellites?”

  His smile’s growing warmer and sexier with every syllable I utter. “I fucking missed you.”

  “That was indigestion from too many Twizzlers.”

  I’m sitting with my back against a couch that Sia and Chase have most likely banged on at least a dozen times, with my legs splayed, my deodorant failing, and my worst attitude on full display. If this doesn’t scream warning, warning, she will not become less crazy if you continue to express interest in her, I don’t know what does.

  “I missed that quick mouth,” he says as if he intends to charm my pants off.

  “Go have your General or whoever yell at you some, and you’ll get the same effect.”

  “Admiral,” he corrects, “and I’ve never wanted to strip any of my admirals down and suck on their nipples until they’re panting my name.”

  “Too bad for all of you.” Dammit, now my body’s jumping on Team Rhett and betraying me too. My nipples are tightening and my happy spot is asking if it’s playtime yet. “You could’ve been soulmates.”

  “Eloise.”

  “Don’t say my name like that if you don’t mean it.” Gah, now I sound all pathetic and whiny.

  “I’
m not leaving again.”

  “And don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  He grips my chin, steady but gentle enough that I could break free with less force than I put into breathing. “I didn’t go into the Navy because I wanted to be a fucking hero. I went into the Navy because if I didn’t, I knew I’d end up in jail sooner or later, and I couldn’t do that to my Ma.”

  I suck in a surprised breath. Although I don’t know why I’m surprised. Maybe not at the news. Maybe more that he trusts me enough with his story.

  “I’m the middle kid. The one right in the middle. Parker was the goody-two-shoes, Gavin was the responsible oldest son, and I was the troublemaker. Jack and Brooks didn’t get away with shit, because I’d already gone there, did that. And I had one hell of a fun time doing it. I get it, Eloise. I get the chaos. I like the chaos. But I like you more. I like being with you more. I want to be with you more.”

  “I am chaos.”

  “Yeah, I like that too.”

  I don’t realize how little he smiles until he hits me with the full force of a million-megawatt warrior smile. It’s one of those smiles that makes the world a brighter place. It should come with a warning label. It’s like a secret weapon. You think you’re getting big mean military man machine, and then his lips go forty-five degrees up, and boom.

  Nuclear smile.

  My ovaries are toast.

  They’re smoking.

  Which explains the heat radiating to my juice box.

  “Can I take you out for ice cream?” he asks. “I know this place that has Twizzler ice—”

  I don’t let him finish before I tackle him with a full-body kiss.

  Yes, a full-body kiss. It’s like a regular kiss, except I’m trying to suck all of him into my body by wrapping my arms and legs around him and pulling as hard as I can to meld us into one being.

  And not just in the biblically connected sense.

  “Don’t—” I nip at his lips “—ever—” and then at his ear “—leave—” his chin, because I love good stubble “—again.”

  “Fuck, Eloise, I missed you,” he groans while he thrusts his hands under my shirt and cups my tits.

  I almost tell him to shut up, that no one ever misses me, except it feels so damn good to be wanted. And not just to be wanted, but to be wanted because of who I am. Flaws and quirks and outrageousness and all.

  “I missed you too,” I confess while I tug at his shirt.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he says on a gasp when I pinch his nipples.

  “Where?” I moan while he licks my neck.

  “My parents’ place.”

  I freeze and pull back.

  He ducks his head, but again, I’m so short, he can’t hide the smile.

  Or the deep belly chuckle that makes his stiff willy rub my happy button.

  Fuck, the man gives good chuckle too.

  “Your face,” he chortles.

  He got me. And he’s going to pay.

  Preferably in bed. When he’s sleeping. I have icy feet all the time. This is going to be fun.

  “Agreed,” I say. “Your parents’ place. How are we getting there? Scuba diving through the sewer systems?”

  “I’m game if you are.”

  “Fuck on a fish stick, I am so in love with you.”

  Every time I think he can’t get hotter, he smiles bigger or his eyes get warmer or he just touches me in all the right spots. “I know.”

  He loves me. I can see it in his eyes. Plus, he came back.

  But he’s going to torture me and drag out telling me.

  I’m good with this. “Good. Now bang me until my pussy begs for mercy. Unless you’re not man enough…?”

  I’m suddenly flat on my back beside my drum kit, and my clothes are missing.

  The man is good.

  “I love you, Eloise,” he whispers against my nipple, which he’s teasing with his tongue. “And I’m going to prove it to you every fucking day for the rest of my life.”

  He doesn’t stop at worshipping my nipples with his tongue.

  He gets my love muffin too. And if licking me and sucking me and teasing me until I come so hard that I scream his name is his way of showing me he loves me, I’m okay with this.

  Especially since licking him and sucking him and teasing him until he comes so hard he screams my name is just as fun.

  I don’t have any idea what we’ll do tomorrow, but I don’t really care.

  Because for the first time in my life, I actually believe in forever.

  34

  Rhett

  There’s too much light in this room, and someone is singing.

  Badly.

  I crack a lid open and take stock of where I’m at. I don’t usually sleep this hard.

  The alarm clock next to the king-sized bed tells me it’s 10 AM.

  I don’t usually sleep this late either.

  The white sheets are tangled around my legs, and I can’t see Eloise, but that’s unmistakably her voice wailing some Bro Code tune at the top of her lungs in the bathroom. Sounds like the shower’s running.

  Which means she’s naked.

  And making noise.

  Unholy noise.

  I grin to myself. She’s trying to wake me up.

  And half the hotel, by the sounds of it.

  I roll out of bed and pad across the plush carpet to the fancy-ass bathroom, because I’m stiff as the marble sink and if I don’t shush her, we’re going to get kicked out.

  She’s behind the glass half-wall in the zero-entry shower beside the whirlpool, shampooing her hair, arms up, nipples perky, breasts full and round. The curve of her ass catches my eye next, because somehow I missed the Chinese symbols in the hollow of her cheek. Her eyes are closed while she sings, but her lips curve up like she knows I’m here.

  I step into the shower with her without saying a word, and she moves her soapy hands from her hair to my straining dick. “Morning, sunshine,” she says in that throaty voice that makes my nuts throb.

  Her blue eyes pop open, sheer mischief dancing in them, and for the first time in my life, I’m smiling before I’ve had breakfast.

  There’s a glob of soap bubbles on her forehead and another on her shoulder, plus the bubbles dripping down to her breasts. I cover the last bubbles and rub them into her skin under her collarbone. “You shower loud,” I tell her.

  “You snore,” she counters.

  “Look who’s talking.”

  She strokes my cock, and I go cross-eyed in the misty spray off the shower.

  “I can live with you snoring,” she informs me, “but only if you make it up to me every morning by banging me in the shower.”

  “Deal.”

  She hooks one hand behind my neck and pulls me into the spray for a kiss while she squeezes my dick. Her skin’s so slick and hot, and I can’t get enough. I stroke her back, her ass, her hips, swallowing her little moans, until she tries to hook one leg around my hips.

  I lift her, still kissing her, my cock so hard it’s in danger of being permanently stuck at full salute. She wraps her legs tight, pushes up, and lines her entrance with my tip.

  “Fuck, Eloise,” I gasp as she slides down my length.

  “You fill me so full,” she moans.

  “So tight—”

  “So hard—”

  She pumps up and down, hot and frantic and unsteady, while I grip her ass and try to stay on my feet, which is getting tougher with every glide of her slick pussy down my dick, because she’s squeezing me so tight and riding me so intense I can’t hold back much longer.

  “Did you grow another three inches?” That throaty voice, and that ego boost to my dick, is so close to sending me over the edge.

  “I fucking love your pussy,” I grunt out.

  She flings her soapy head back under the water with a moan while her walls clamp around me, and I’m lost.

  I follow her over the edge, my release pumping through me so fast and furious, I swear it’s coming fr
om my toes. My fingers are numb. Every pulse of my cock is a hard burst of pure glory answered by her pussy’s clench of her own orgasm.

  Her legs squeeze to the breaking point, and I hold her as close as I can get her. She’s riding my nuts, and everything about being this close to her, to being together, is so fucking amazing that my chest might burst.

  “I love you,” I gasp as I turn us to hold her against the glass tile wall, because my knees are going to give out.

  She buries her face in my shoulder as her body slumps. “I love you,” she whispers.

  We wash each other until the water runs cold, and then I carry her back to bed and warm her up all over again while she praises my triple dick and tells me she’ll pay me to be her sex slave for the rest of her life.

  That’s my Eloise.

  She’s unexpected. She’s chaos. She’s fun.

  And she’s mine.

  Epilogue

  Rhett

  Wanna know the worst thing about watching Eloise and the band play on Saturday nights?

  It’s not that I have to watch my sister in skimpy T-shirts. Or that Eloise and her sexy ass are hidden behind that drum set. Or even that I always have to wear the band T-shirts.

  It’s that I’m too far away from her on this side of the juice bar.

  And my brothers love to give me shit about it.

  “How many more minutes until they’re done now?” Brooks asks.

  I’ve quit hitting him, probably because I like to save my energy for banging Eloise. “Seventeen,” I answer.

  “If you two are doing it in the men’s room again after the show, put a sock on the door this time,” Jack says.

  “The bathroom’s ours tonight,” Chase interrupts. “You got it last time.”

  “I don’t know why I keep coming back here,” Gavin mutters.

  “Because you like seeing Mr. Badass whipped by love,” Knox suggests.

  Okay, fine.

  I don’t mind getting shit.

  It means they love me and they’re happy for me in their own way, even if they don’t totally understand. Although, I think Brooks does.

  He keeps grinning and muttering something about finally finding my better half.

  Ma’s happy too, since I turned in my paperwork to get out of the Navy.