by Alison Kent
What had her sister been thinking?
That sobered Allie. Callie would not have hired someone she neither trusted nor approved of, no matter what his skills were. Jason had somehow impressed her sister. Maybe when she was ready to forgive him for deceiving her, she’d ask him herself.
Allie thought about Callie lying in a hospital bed as a result of getting hit by a car that could have been driven by someone purposely trying to harm her sister. For some strange reason, all Allie could think about was the time when they’d run the three-legged race at a community festival. They had been way out in front, but Allie had tripped and fallen. Callie had forced her back up and they had ended up winning the race. Allie could never seem to follow through with anything, until she’d found design. Callie wouldn’t want her to quit, not when it was so important.
Allie rubbed at her thigh, which throbbed in tandem with where she’d been hit in the temple. She stripped out of her clothes, grabbed a towel and headed to the showers.
Once under the spray, all her emotions washed over her, emotions she hadn’t had an opportunity to absorb ever since this adventure started.
Her head turned toward a noise in the locker room. Had someone called her name? She turned off the water in the stall and opened the door to hear better.
“Allie?”
It was Drew’s voice. Had she taken too long in the shower? The water had felt so good.
“I’m in here.”
Drew walked in and her breath caught. It always did at the sight of him. He was wearing a deep red polo and a pair of tight, sexy jeans. His hair was damp and the five-o’clock stubble on his face only added a sense of danger to an already dangerous man.
Allie didn’t even have time to reach for a towel. He was there in front of her, pulling her against him, taking her mouth like a man who had been denied sustenance for too long.
She shuddered, a delightful, eager sensation as he maneuvered her up against the stall and closed the door behind them. His hand delved between her legs and pressed against her clit and she cried out into the heat of his mouth. She sucked in a stunned breath and moaned when he roughly stroked over her breasts and her nipples hardened into aching points. He squeezed and kneaded her flesh and delicately pinched her nipples between his fingers.
She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out in pleasure. He kept her spine locked against the wall, and clamped his hot, wet mouth over one rigid nipple, sucking while his other hand came up to fondle her other breast.
Swallowing a whimper, she closed her eyes and gripped his waist. His velvet-soft tongue licked and swirled and his teeth nibbled, sending waves of heat rolling through her. Long questing fingers grazed her belly, and he took a step back to give himself more room to release the snap on his jeans.
“I need you to touch me, Allie.”
“Take your shirt off, please.”
He pulled the fabric over his head and her hands came up against his powerful pectoral muscles. She flattened her palms and simply ran her hands over the hard sleekness of him.
He pinned her again, his hard chest against the points of her aching nipples. His hands framed the sides of her face, holding her still as his mouth took hers, open and hot. His silky tongue thrust deep and tangled with hers, and he crushed his chest to her breasts, the heat of his flesh branding her. Widening his stance so that his knees bracketed hers, he rolled his hips, grinding his rock-hard sex against the notch between her thighs.
She moaned into his mouth and flattened her hands on the wall behind her. He jerked at his jeans and pushed them down off his hips until he had them off and away.
Then he was kneeling in front of her, his mouth open, hot and wet on her belly, his tongue stroking over her hip, his teeth nipping her mound. Her sex pulsed, ached and throbbed for the touch of his tongue, the caress of his fingers, the long, heated thrust of his cock filling her. He splayed his hands on her bare legs, widening them and bit the sensitive inner flesh of her thighs, making her gasp and tremble. The stubble on his cheeks abraded her soft skin, adding to her heightening need.
His palms slid upward, and he delved his thumbs between the slick folds of her sex, separating her for the taking. She waited, her breath suspended in her lungs as he leaned forward and buried his tongue deep. He licked and circled her sex, pressing hard, retreating slowly, teasing her to the brink of her climax, only to let her orgasm ebb.
Her hands clenched in tight fists in her attempt to resist the frantic impulse to grab the back of his head and increase the pressure of his mouth, the friction of his tongue.
“Drew,” she said, and heard the desperation in her voice.
He looked up at her, his eyes dark and glittering with lust. “Tell me what you want, Allie.”
She lost her breath, the words trapped in her throat. He went back to tormenting her further, laving her, suckling her, but keeping her release just out of reach. The pleasure grew with every hot pass of his tongue, heat and tension building higher and stronger. Her head rested against the wall and her body arched into his ravenous mouth, striving for the peak that was so, so close.
He withdrew, and she whimpered at the loss of contact. “Tell me,” he ordered roughly, and licked her again. And again his tongue danced wickedly over her flesh, so skilled, warm and sleek.
Her frustration was so overwhelming, she sobbed and finally gave him what he demanded from her.
“Please,” she panted, barely able to speak, but knew the one word would not gain her what she yearned for. “Please make me come.”
A long, thick finger thrust inside her at the same time he closed his mouth over her clitoris and used the suctioning swirl of his tongue to draw her into a toe-curling, mind-bending, orgasm. A hoarse, ragged cry ripped from her throat as her climax crested and her entire body spasmed with the force of her release.
As soon as those internal ripples subsided and he stood, she went to her knees and took him directly into her mouth. He cried out and arched back at the suddenness of the pleasure. She moved her tongue around the broad, swollen head of his penis. His flesh was as hard as granite, textured like heated velvet and quivering with need.
She surrounded him with a silken caress of her tongue along the underside of his shaft.
She knew he was close to coming, she could taste the change in him, hot and salty, could feel the steady throb of the vein running along the underside of his cock, and his testicles were drawn up close to his body. A shudder rocked him, and she swirled her tongue over the engorged, sensitive tip, then closed her lips tightly over the crown and sucked, hard, pushing him higher, increasing his pleasure with each stroke of her mouth on his sex. He groaned, closed his eyes and pulled away from her.
His legs widened on either side of her as he lifted her up and onto his engorged cock.
She moaned straining toward him as much as her position would allow, eager to be filled by him.
He thrust into her and drove his hips up, the size and hot silken length of him stretching her as he impaled her to the hilt. She bit back a sharp cry, and he groaned and withdrew before plunging forward yet again, and again, moving against her.
He scraped his teeth along her shoulder, nipped at the side of her neck, and she whimpered as fiery, exquisite sensations spiraled down to her sex.
His face was taut with restraint, his unshaven jaw clenched, his expression a little savage. His hips pumped against hers, the muscles in his arms and down his back shifting and bunching beneath her roving hands each time he thrust deep.
A growl rolled up from his throat, and the length of him shuddered. He locked an arm around her waist, holding her still in ultimate control of her body, their movements and her pleasure.
He took her breast in his mouth and the skillful caress tore a low, ragged moan from her throat.
Her inner muscles clamped around him and she came in a long, shockingly intense orgasm.
He panted, sucking air into his lungs as he pushed into her higher, harder, deeper. Relentlessly. W
ith a low primitive growl he finally surrendered to his own climax. He tossed back his head, thrust into her one last time, hard and fast, then stiffened. Her name tumbled reverently from his lips as his scalding release sent him over the sharp edge of pleasure and straight into the realm of mindless physical sensation.
Allie tried to calm her breathing as Drew slipped out of her.
“That’s going to bruise,” he said, his breathing just a tad ragged from having her up against the shower wall.
“What?” she replied, dumbfounded at the sensations that still moved through her, paralyzing her brain.
“Where you got hit.”
She raised her hand to her face and felt her swollen cheekbone.
“I’m sorry,” he looked so serious and grave.
She winced when her fingers touched a sensitive part of the bruise. “I should have been more careful.”
“No, not about…I was talking about the sex. I was like a bulldozer.”
“Oh, that.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I like a man who knows what he wants.”
“They should never have brought you into this.”
He closed his eyes and turned his face away and her heart did a flip at the forlorn sound of his voice. She meant something to him, and she couldn’t seem to help the thumpity-thump her heart made.
“But I chose to be in it. I’m in it up to my eyeballs.”
“Beautiful eyes. Expressive eyes.” He kissed the corners of her eyes, her cheekbones, careful with the sore one, the tip of her nose and her mouth.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she murmured against his lips.
His pocket started ringing. Drew grabbed the jeans from the wet floor and pulled out his cell. “Miller.”
He spoke into the phone, his dark, intense eyes flowing over her face and body like a river of fire.
He listened for a few seconds then covered the receiver. “Get some clothes on or there’ll be a round two.”
“And that’s bad because?”
His face relaxed into a genuine smile and Allie melted. Round two sounded great to her. Just then her stomach rumbled. “Way to kill a mood, huh?”
“Makes my point exactly. We need to get out of here and get something to eat. We’re meeting the team.”
“I hope there’s not going to be any more sparring. I don’t think I can take it.”
“Only verbal,” he said.
He slapped her butt as she slid past him and she yelped.
“Watch out, Agent Miller,” she said. “I know self-defense and I’m not afraid to use it.”
“That’s what I’m banking on, honey.”
She walked away, sobering and sighing when her stomach rumbled again. A chill zipped across her wet skin as she grabbed up her towel. This was for real. She was going to face a very dangerous man tomorrow night. She was going to pretend to be a very dangerous woman with something very illegal to sell. Two of his teammates were skeptical about her abilities and one was overtly vocal about her misgivings. And then there was wild-card Jason. She had to wonder again what his stake was in it all. What had Callie done for him that had landed her sister in hot water? Someone wanted her sister dead.
And that someone could be hunting her tomorrow night.
7
THE SUN was just setting as they pulled up in front of Troppo.
“A dance bar?” Allie questioned. She didn’t know what to expect from a bunch of undercover operatives, but a dance bar hadn’t been it. She closed his car door and stood on the sidewalk, taking in the neon and the festive colors.
“Troppo’s owner is a friend of Thad Michaels. They served in the same unit. Leila likes to dance.” Drew shrugged. “It blows off steam for an upcoming mission. Leila can be wound tight sometimes.”
“No kidding. She’s got a thing for Jason.”
“She’ll cool down now that he’s proven himself.”
“No.” She gave him a pointed look. “A thing.”
That gave Drew pause. “Naw. Not Leila.”
Allie snorted. “Did you see the way she was looking at him when they were sparring and she kissed him?”
“No, I was watching Jason. He’s a master.”
“He was pretty impressive. I’ve never seen anyone move that fast.”
“I have.”
“Who?”
“Frost, but I think Jason might give him a run for his money.”
“Your team sure is interesting. A big tough Aussie, who is very much a marshmallow inside when it comes to women, a scary Irish dude who looks like an assassin, and a tightly wound jungle cat who, although small in stature, makes up for it with a tigress attitude.”
Drew pulled open the door and Allie looked up at him, thinking how handsome he was. His hair just drying, the dark ends curling up. She reached out and touched them, sliding her hands through the damp warmth.
“They’re all a bunch of international misfits, once on the wrong side of the law.” He leaned his face against the palm of her hand. “Michaels was Australian Special Forces who worked the black market and after he got out, he somehow got involved with saving the President’s life. I don’t know the whole story on that one,” he said when Allie opened her mouth to ask. “You’ll have to ask him. He’s worked freelance for the U.S. ever since. Frost’s former IRA, but gave up that cause to fight for the U.S. for his own reasons. Mendez was Colombian-born, but she has a Hawaiian mother. Leila was a Colombian narco-guerilla and after helping the DEA, she went freelance.”
“She’s extremely beautiful. Have you and she, ever…you know?” Allie felt a surge of jealousy like acid through her veins.
“Never, she’s a teammate. Unfortunately, I’m attracted to smart-mouthed, blond interior designers.” Drew arched a brow and grinned sharply.
She punched him in the arm. “Unfortunately? Who’s the smart mouth here?”
Large signs everywhere declared it was an open-mike night. A band was up on stage playing a very loud tune. People packed the place, but Allie saw Frost and Jason sitting at a table in the corner.
Allie and Drew made their way to the table. Jason and Frost both stood when she got there. Jason held the chair when she sat down. Somebody had taught them some manners in their misspent youths.
Leila and Thad came back to the table then and took seats, but Allie hardly noticed as Jason squatted near her chair and peered at her in the flashing light.
“You have a bruise on your face.”
“Don’t worry about it, Jason. It was an accident.” She put her hand on his arm and smiled at him. It was time to forgive him. He so needed it.
He blinked a couple of times and gave her a tentative smile back, unable to hide the relief he felt. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”
“Yes, you’re forgiven and thank you for protecting me.”
“I don’t consider that done until you and Callie are both safe.”
He meant it. She could tell by the tone of his voice and the unflinching steadiness of his gaze. The warmth of his caring settled inside her. “Callie will never be safe unless she gets out of the business she’s in, Jason.”
“I meant from the threat you both face. Fudo Miyagi.”
“What do you know about that threat, Jason?” Drew asked.
“I wasn’t sure before, but I am now. Miyagi is after Callie to regain face.”
“What went down?”
“I met Callie as Gina, of course, when I was in the yakuza. She was doing a large transaction with him as a way to strengthen her cover. I had no idea she was a government agent.”
“What did she do to humiliate Miyagi?” Drew asked.
“She ruined his reputation and rescued the woman he made his slave,” Jason replied, his eyes lowering, his mouth tightening.
“Buying and selling women.” Allie muttered, horrified that in this century such a thing was possible.
“It’s big money in the East. A lot of girls and women are kidnapped from their families in the Philippin
es, China, Vietnam, Korea and Japan.”
“Who’s the woman?” Leila asked, her exotic eyes caressing Jason’s face. His gaze was on the floor in front of him as he rose and sat down next to Allie. He just sat with his hands braced on the table, broad shoulders hunched, gaze fixed on a beer bottle in front of him. His expression was hard, closed and remote as if he had retreated to some dark place of solitude—or torment—within himself.
“She’s my sister.”
“That’s why you joined the yakuza. To save your sister.” Leila whispered as if only to herself.
“It was the only way I knew how. You have no idea how powerful they are. What they take they intend to keep, even if it’s an eighteen-year-old girl. Even if it’s against her will.”
Everyone around the table was silent. Leila got up abruptly and walked away. On the dance floor, she grabbed a man and they began to dance. Jason watched her, that hungry look in his eyes that Allie had seen while they were sparring.
“What did Callie want in return?” Frost asked.
“Information about the organization’s shipments. One in particular was a large shipment of handheld rocket-propelled grenades destined for Iraq. It was the real mission. She also made it a condition that I must leave the yakuza, which was easy for me to agree to as I only joined to rescue my sister. I didn’t think that it effectively limited my access to Miyagi. Callie told me that I wouldn’t want his blood on my hands. She was right. What he did to my sister was heinous and barbaric, but in the long run, there would have been no honor in taking his life.”
“She’s right, Jason,” Frost said. “Revenge isn’t a reason to kill someone. It gives you no peace.”
“There’s more,” Drew said.
“Aye,” Frost said. “Miyagi lost face, big-time.”
Jason nodded and said, “Saving face means maintaining a good image, often in spite of adverse circumstances. The night we hit Miyagi was devastating to him. He lost the rocket launchers he promised to his client and these are people you do not cross. I can’t imagine what he had to do to appease them. He lost his son’s life by trusting Gina. Losing a son is a big deal in Japan because so much was invested in him. He was slated to take over the business. He also lost my sister—a woman who had the audacity to escape from him. The fact that Gina is a woman, as well, is even worse. His reputation was damaged, and in the gun-running world, his reputation is all he has. The only way he can regain face is to kill Gina. Everyone respects that in the world I live in. If he doesn’t kill her, he’s done.”