“Miss Carson?” a deep voice she hadn’t heard yet greeted her.
“Mr. Winston, I presume?”
“Yes. Well done this evening,” Gray continued. “I’d like to invite you to join these two ‘gentlemen’ at Remington Morgan’s ranch in Florida. He’s part of the Unit and a reasonably close location that can be secured. The situation just went public with that explosion though I doubt your involvement would be detected.”
“Of course, Mr. Winston. I need to let Barry know what’s going on though,” Jas injected seriously.
“I’ll take care of that, Miss Carson. We’ve met and he knows who I am. I’d like to talk to Barry anyway. It would be best if the film company acted as if they don’t know where you are. At this point, you’re believed dead by the people attempting to kill you. At least we hope you are. If there is no one pursuing you right now, we’ll be able to assume they didn’t plan for your escape and protecting that information might prove valuable. I’d like it to stay that way while we assess the situation.
“You try and get some rest if you can. It’s my understanding that you’ve been awake around twenty-four hours now. And please, call me Gray. It’s a rare honor to make your acquaintance.”
“Then you’d better call me Jas. People who call me Miss Carson are strangers. I take it you’ve been listening the last few hours.”
“Thank you, Jas. Blaster, turn left. It’s a faster route to the plane,” Gray instructed fast.
“Ten-four. What’s Jackson’s ETA to the jet?”
“I’m in, warming up,” Jackson responded. “Couldn’t locate any observers and loaded the bike with no problem. We might be out of this clean.”
“Good, I haven’t seen anything following but that doesn’t mean they’re not. Cover us when we get there,” Blaster instructed. He couldn’t quite believe it’d be that easy. Whoever had conceived that cabin scenario couldn’t be so arrogant as to think that one ambush would solve all his problems? Could he? Granted, Jas was exceptionally skilled in action. Her instincts were those of a natural predator.
That type of awareness couldn’t be taught or learned. A person possessed it naturally or they didn’t. It was a quality each one of the Unit men brought to the group. Gray had looked for it in the men he selected when forming his command. But few were truly aware of its power as the big Seminole knew it. He drew on hundreds of years of fighting knowledge passed down through his family. The modern military had no way of amassing that type of understanding and remaining politically correct.
Tense silence followed while Blaster navigated the narrow back road to the airfield. He pulled up as close to the plane as he could get and still have room for Jackson to lower the stairs. Everyone knew this would be the danger point if there were a sniper waiting in the night. They were open targets getting from truck to jet.
The stairs slowly descended and the door opened. A rifle muzzle gleamed darkly out of the cracked door as Jackson advertised his readiness to cover them.
“Blaster, bring the Mexican calling card,” Jackson reminded him softly. “We can’t leave it in the truck.”
“Roger,” Blaster agreed, and glanced at the toolbox in the truck bed, calculating the time it’d take him to grab the burlap sack and get around the body of the vehicle.
“Wait ’til I get to your side,” Blaster commanded softly.
“Fuck that, hillbilly boy. Two targets are more difficult than one,” Jas hissed at him, her hand already on the door. “You’d better catch up.” She was out and sprinting for the stairs.
Blaster swore and followed her damn ass, retrieving the little sack from the tool case as fast as possible. He really would have to spank that woman sometime. She sucked at following orders.
They both were in with no incident. Jackson had punched the button to withdraw the stairs as soon as Blaster’s foot hit the bottom one. The door was closing behind them as they burst through it. Jackson rose from his cover crouch and grinned at them. They made a frightful sight. Jas was liberally streaked with blood and dirt. Blaster wore it as well, though it was mostly where she’d touched him.
“Strap in. We’re out of here.” Jackson secured the door and strode into the cockpit to slide into the pilot’s seat.
Jas looked around at the posh jet as Jackson flipped on low interior lights. It was all leather and rich woods gleaming with the soft understated whisper of old money, class and impeccable taste. A space decorated to impress its occupants.
Glancing down at her crusty self, she laughed softly. “Someone is gonna be pissed.” She sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs and buckled the seat belt.
Blaster quickly placed the bag he carried in the wet bar’s freezer then sat across from her. “Several folks are pissed tonight, Sheena. Which one are you worried about?”
“Whoever has to clean this thing.” Her hand indicated her clothes then reached up to remove the headset, handing it casually to Blaster.
Blaster couldn’t smile. She sat across from him covered in a battle she’d almost not come out of. Her face was streaked with blood as were her clothes. She’d operated efficiently and ruthlessly, staying a precarious step ahead of losing her life. Far as he could tell from her service record, it was her first combat mission, though it obviously wasn’t the first time she’d struggled for her life. It damn well was gonna be the last time she did it alone.
“I’ll buy Gray a new chair,” Blaster replied grimly as he tossed both earpieces on a low table beside him.
Jas raised a brow at his surly response as the plane taxied out and took the runway. “We won. What’s the matter with you?”
“We got away. And in case you hadn’t noticed, the only good guy in real danger was my woman. Makes me fuckin’ cranky.”
The plane took off, climbing sharply to cruising altitude. “Twenty minutes and we’re there,” Jackson informed them from the cockpit.
“Your woman? You sure about that, Huckleberry?” Jas questioned softly. “I’m not all shiny and new, ya know. This woman is not a princess and never was. I’ve done things most men do not want to know their woman is capable of. I don’t expect anything, you never made any promises.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m damn sure about that, Sheena. Let me explain it to you.”
Blaster snapped his buckle off and leaned forward to flick her seat belt open. His hands slid under her ass in the chair and jerked her up to him as he shifted his weight back into his own chair. She landed on his lap with her legs draped over the armrests. Chest to chest, cock to pussy, he pulled her flush against him. “See how eloquent I am?” His mouth landed on her gasp and he dove into the hot little opening.
Jas moaned, her mouth sucking his tongue in. That lethal body of hers relaxed, pushing her center down on the pipe under his jeans. Blaster growled low in his throat.
He couldn’t pull her close enough, run his hands over enough of her. Her limber body didn’t seem to be protesting at the position as she initiated dragging herself up and down his cock. He let her have his desperation, his admiration, the frustration of being an observer as she met danger face-to-face. He gave it all to her. His entire body tried to consume her as he drove himself into her mouth.
He lifted his lips for a better position and she followed his mouth, growling at him in feral demand.
Son of a bitch! She captured his mouth again with a nasty little nip to his lip. Blood wet his mouth as she dove into him again. The tiny sting of pain and primal copper taste of blood spun him into overdrive. Heat raged through him and his cock swelled, furiously scraping against the confines of his jeans. His hand landed sharply on her ass in retaliation, driving her into him harder. A muffled snarl emerged from her throat though she didn’t break the kiss. His fingers dug into her hair to pull her mouth off him. Panting with open mouths, they glared at each other. Her body stilled as the two of them regarded each other in barely contained intensity.
He wasn’t the only one feeling the affects of nearly losing something they’d not
had time to experience yet. She met his animal emotions and matched them. Blaster wasn’t prepared for the primitive recognition of mate as it washed over him in a shocking wave of red-hazed possessiveness. His lips drew back in an unconscious grimace as it sliced him from heart to soul.
She was the one he’d not been looking for. The realization of exactly who she was to him shredded through his being in total disregard. It didn’t matter that he’d spent a lifetime unaware it was possible for someone to own his soul. Suddenly there she was in all her horrifying glory. Beautiful and deadly, possessor of the power to destroy him and he had no defenses. No control. No clue how to assimilate her into his world. What the hell was he supposed to do next!?
“Jesus Christ! Don’t kill each other!” Jackson snapped from the cockpit.
Blaster’s fingers relaxed and released her head. Jas slowly leaned forward to lick over his bleeding lip. The damp scrape of her tongue was more than he could handle and he had to have it again. Swooping down, he captured her mouth for a gentle, moaning mating.
“Stop already! What am I? Invisible?” Jackson glared at them. Their chairs were easily visible from the pilot’s seat with the cockpit door secured open as it was. “Jas, you need liquid besides his saliva. Your body is in overdrive and you don’t feel things like hunger or pain. I’m not talking because of the jerk you’re sitting on, I mean from combat.
“Blaster, have you bothered to check her for wounds?” Jackson asked as he picked up a bottle of water from his bag and threw it at them.
Blaster caught the water missile just before it hit her in the back. Jas pulled back from Blaster’s mouth to take the bottle of water.
Jackson tossed the other one. Blaster caught it. “You too, stud,” Jackson snapped, irritated with the earthy erotic energy wafting around them again.
Jas opened her bottle and tipped her head back, draining it. “Who died and made him Captain Health?” She tilted her head briefly at Jackson as Blaster drained his own bottle.
“He’s the medical officer,” Blaster informed her. “He always wants to know if you ate your peas or need stitches. Damn irritating sometimes.”
Blaster found Jackson’s interruption a relief. The sharp conversation between the three of them aborted the out-of-control panic he’d experienced. It’d probably saved him from some stupid display that he wouldn’t have been able to explain. Focusing on right now, right here, seemed a damn good idea as he attempted to shove the realization of who she was to him into a dark corner. Even though he scrambled to move away from the knowledge, it wasn’t working. One phrase slithered through his brain in a repeating loop. I am so damn screwed.
Jas chuckled. “I can see that. Is he always around when you’ve got a woman’s legs draped around your hips? Just want to know if this is some sort of package deal.”
“Hell no!” Both men snapped at once.
Jas twisted to look at Jackson’s long form as he checked the panels around the pilot’s chair continually. “Because I think I’d mind…eventually.”
Blaster grabbed her chin and swung it around to face him. “Focus, Sheena,” he commanded darkly. “I’ll be your Huckleberry, baby. Your options just got narrowed down to one. Don’t expect that to change in the near future.”
Jas smiled at his frown. She leaned forward and gently licked over Blaster’s lip where a bead of blood had gathered.
“Watch it.” Blaster sucked in a breath.
Jackson’s eyebrows went up as he glanced back again. “Blaster? You’re actually bleeding? Any other injuries?”
“Not yet,” Blaster growled, “but we have time.”
An insistent dinging noise came from the cockpit and Jackson straightened. “Jas? Injuries?” he asked impatiently as he flipped switches in efficient motions.
“Not yet,” she purred as Blaster dabbed his lip.
Jackson snorted in disgust then directed, “Get off him already. We’ll be landing soon and I’m not explaining killing you both in the plane.” Then under his breath, “God, give me a kitten. I don’t want to sleep with a gun under my pillow.”
Blaster lifted her and deposited her in the chair facing him. “I wanted to talk before we landed. Explain who’ll be there.”
Jas buckled in and leaned back closing her eyes. “Okay, Huckleberry. Who’s going to be there?”
“Jas, stay awake, baby. This is important. I don’t want you to get uncomfortable when you see the number of men who’ll be around.”
“I’m awake.” Her eyes opened lazily. “You and Jackson will be there. Why would I be uncomfortable?”
Blaster smiled to himself. That statement told him where her trust lay. He wasn’t crazy about Jackson being part of it, but that seemed to be the way when a Unit member found his woman. There was a second man who developed a strong protective relationship as well. Gray had his close friend Dave who’d actually had known Gray’s wife Prin longer than Gray had. Rem and Kathryn had Charlie who’d pretty much joined the family and guarded Rem’s twins as if he were a fucking Rottweiler.
However in this case, it might take two of them to protect the world from Jas instead of his needing the extra layer of protection for her. They’d not made much headway in that direction. So far the world had a hole in it and several bodies scattered around.
“Yeah, we’ll be there but also some of the Unit. When we land, it’ll be at the Morgan Ranch. Robert Morgan and his wife. Remington Morgan is their son. He’ll be there with his wife Kathryn. I’m betting Charlie is already on site. He guards the Morgan twins with a vengeance.”
“Hope this place is big,” Jas murmured.
The plane began to descend. “It’s big. The Morgan Ranch might be the biggest operation in Florida.”
Jas glanced around the extravagantly appointed cabin. “You boys seem to have done well.”
Blaster grinned. “It pays to be badder than the bad guys. I’m surprised you didn’t go into protection with an outfit like Blackwater. I know for a fact their operatives earn a pretty penny. Then again, you don’t exactly make peanuts, Miss Starlet.”
Jas snorted. “Not even close to this, hillbilly boy.”
The wheels touched down with barely a bump. “Wait for the movie to come out, angel face. Then tell me how poor you are,” Blaster scoffed.
Chapter Six
Robert and Remington Morgan casually leaned on the hood of the Escalade watching the Winston jet pull off the runway and park beside the hanger. They were both tall men though Rem was more heavily muscled than his father. Sleek, feline features were a look they shared. The elder Morgan’s face was a bit more lined with age, but his body showed few other signs of it. Shortly the plane door opened and three individuals emerged.
The late Central Florida night hosted a full moon flirting with dark, low-hanging clouds. Around them the air was thick with humidity. Elusive, murky reflections in the puddles on the pavement created patches of night that moved with the individuals crossing the runway in shadowy relief.
“Damn,” the elder Morgan murmured under his breath as the small group approached.
Three people strung out in a line glided toward them in long-limbed strides, a male flanking the woman on either side. Relatively comfortable on friendly ground, they didn’t bother closing jackets, indifferently revealing strapped-on weapons as they moved. Backlit by runway ground lights, an indefinable air of combat simmered off the group as if it were a dark cape swirling in their wake. The impression of danger grew to palpable proportions as they neared.
“Yeah,” Rem agreed with his father’s mostly unspoken comment as the trio approached.
The eye was naturally drawn to the woman. Her tall form was clad in leather from head to foot, though she wasn’t covered. She did have on a light silk jacket, but it was left open and billowing softly behind her as she moved. Her long muscled torso was left bare by the cropped lace-up vest and low-riding hip-huggers. Flat-heeled, knee-high boots added to her aura of deadly sexuality in a way that drew one in and deman
ded distance at the same time. The need for distance was further reinforced by the dark stains smeared across her body and clothing that could be blood or dirt in this light. Either way it was evident she’d seen action.
Even if the Morgans didn’t know anything about the events earlier this evening, she was the one in the trio who they’d be most wary of. The two men were alert, scanning their surroundings with battle awareness. She seemed boldly relaxed with danger. Either she trusted the men implicitly to alert to a threat or she didn’t feel there was a threat out there that she couldn’t beat. The confidence combined with her outfit created an edgy sexuality she carried with ease.
The men greeted each other with long-standing familiarity and introductions were made for Jas. The two Morgans seated in front, the Escalade was equipped with two more captain’s chairs and a comfortable bench seat behind those. The Cadillac ride was nearly silent luxury to the kitchen entrance of the sprawling ranch house. Jas appeared relaxed but Blaster was aware of her taking in every detail. The charming actress role was a damn good place for the huntress to hide, he realized.
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