“Got an unsub approaching Black Sea.” This from Sam.
“Hestia?”
Jhett’s inquiry was unnecessary. She’d already gone to work with the cameras, captured an image of the new player and set the facial recognition program to work. “Analyzing,” she replied. Her fingers flew from one keyboard to another. She may long to be part of the action, but this was where Twyla excelled, working with computers. A name flashed on one screen and another began an immediate search for any known information on the subject. In less than ten seconds she had every piece of intelligence available on him.
She relayed the most significant facts. “Lev Mihailov, also Ivann Lazar. He’s a friend of Premier. Works in the factory.” Her wording let the five-man team know the person in question worked for the group they suspected held Hillman.
“Fuck,” Jhett broke in. “Come on home, Dodger. Your date is compromised.”
“I’m tangled, Hammer. Tell Mom I’ll be late.”
Twyla cringed. Mike couldn’t make a quick exit the way he’d come in. She redirected a satellite and had a thermal image displayed before he’d finished relaying the message.
“Negative, Dodger,” Twyla said while working her computers to find him a way out. Each of the team had GPS chips in the microscopic ear pieces and she had no trouble pinpointing him within the structure. She also had detailed blueprints of every building in the town at her fingertips. “Working on alternate departure.”
She directed him through the back of the building, and at the same time coordinated with a team member who was in a vehicle. Taking Dodger on a winding path through back alleys and pedestrian paths, she got him hooked up with the wheelman while issuing directions to the others, finding each a clear route back to their base location.
Adrenaline coursed through her veins and made Twyla jittery. She stood and shoved her chair out of the way. Her eyes scanned multiple camera angles and images from the satellite she’d commandeered. With an ease born of comfort in her abilities, she played the bank of computers, relaxing a bit more as each operative entered the apartment. True to form, Jhett was the last man in, making sure everyone else made it back safe before worrying about himself.
“Nice work, Twyla,” he acknowledged with a brief nod then launched right into a post-operative team meeting.
Her adrenaline rush spiked over what would seem to be insignificant to an outsider, but she knew to be a big deal. For Jhett to single her out for praise in front of everyone using her real name was a rare compliment from the hardened agent. A rare happening to be sure.
And now she was supposed to sit still for what would amount to hours of tedious analysis of every aspect of the short field op. Yeah right. She wanted to fuck. Rip off the T-shirt hugging Jhett’s fine chest tighter than a second skin and run her tongue over every ripple of muscle. His jeans had to go too. She had to get at the big bulge she lusted after. Wrap her fingers around his length, feel the blood pounding in his veins. Her pussy clenched and fluid drenched her panties.
The utter quiet in the room filtered through her consciousness before Twyla sensed several sets of eyes boring into her. She twisted around to meet Jhett’s cold gaze.
“Will you be joining us, Hestia?”
Oh great, that quick and they were back to the hated code name. While it may have been worded as a question, she knew it to be a demand. Yet her focus shifted once again to the guys. They were giving her funny looks. What the hell was up with that?
She took a deep breath to calm her out-of-control nerves and whimpered as rough cotton abraded her taut nipples. Taking stock of her body, Twyla realized her breasts and pussy were swollen. A trail of warmth spread from her face, down her neck and over her breasts. Shit, her skin felt flushed and sensitive with her arousal. And everyone in the room had detected her heightened state of excitement.
Blast it all! She detested being so easy to read.
“I…uh,” her gaze darted around the room, searching for an escape route. Too bad she didn’t have someone on the com to help her out of a jam. Her focus landed on the closed door down the hall and it may be the coward’s way out, but she took it. “Gotta use the head. Go ahead and start without me.”
Jhett cursed and someone laughed, but she ignored them all while making a hasty retreat. She had to have a few minutes alone to regroup.
Shifting in his seat, Jhett tried to rearrange his cock to relieve the pressure. Twyla had him tied up in knots and that could get them all killed. He had to push thoughts of fucking her to the back of his mind and get with the program.
“Women,” he griped then launched into analysis of the operation. They would spend hours picking apart every action and reaction to pinpoint weaknesses and improve performance. No matter what he did, his mind continued to wander.
Memories of their kiss, along with the way her soft curves fit against his hard angles, plagued his every waking thought. He was dying to get inside her sweet body. To have her under him, over him, bent over before him—how didn’t matter. When was a whole other issue. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold out until they made it stateside before drilling his cock as far between her legs as he could go.
Something one of the men said drew his attention. “What was that?”
“I said why don’t you just fuck her and get it out of your system. Then we can all catch a break from the sexual tension.”
His temper broke past his restraint. “Why don’t you get your fucking mind out of the gutter and in the game,” Jhett barked. Not a very smart move considering the man in question was a trained assassin.
“You’re the one putting all of us at risk, Hammer. Get your shit together before your problem becomes ours.” The others backed Dodger up with stern nods in agreement.
Jhett shot to his feet. Mike did the same, getting right up in his face. “Don’t do this, man. Take a walk.”
He cursed and scrubbed a hand over the stubble covering his chin. “I’m out of here. You handle the fucking post-op.” Mike was right. He had to get his shit together before it became a problem.
He stormed out of the shabby building and stomped down the alley. He may be on edge, but he wasn’t stupid. Jhett looked behind him, checking his six for a tail, and then took a circuitous route toward the center of town. Twilight dappled the dilapidated buildings in shades of orange and red and relieved a bit of the shabbiness. He had no true destination, just pounded the pavement to release his frustration.
The past reached out and grabbed hold of him, plummeting Jhett into the darkest recesses of hell.
A world of trouble bore down on Terry and breaking radio silence would only serve to compromise the rest of his team. Jhett had to do something. He couldn’t stand by and watch as his friend and colleague was captured, not to mention the fact she was his lover. Breaking from the shelter of his position, he raced down the hill without glancing back. A very narrow window of opportunity existed in which to save her and he wasn’t going to miss the chance.
All manner of hell broke loose at once and in the resulting chaos, he lost track of Terry Davis. The intense firefight drove him down a dark side street, separating him from the rest of the team. He’d taken a bullet to the left shoulder, which slowed him down and left a blood trail. And the enemy followed the trail. Jhett snaked his way from back street to alley and through several empty buildings, but there was no light to be found at the end of the tunnel when he turned into a dead end.
Outnumbered, he still put up a good fight until a second bullet grazed his temple. The force of the impact slammed him into a brick wall and knocked him out. When he came to, Jhett learned the true meaning of hell on earth.
When he managed to push the past back into its proper place, he sat in a strange bar. The woman seated almost in his lap, an obvious prostitute, whispered in his ear, detailing all the different ways she would fuck him. His hands were snaked around her hips, fingers digging into the generous curves of her ass.
He didn’t even remember entering the b
ar.
A roll between the sheets with his very willing companion might have helped him get over his obsession for Twyla, but his flaccid cock took no interest in the whore.
Maybe Mike’s idea held merit. Fuck Twyla. Get her out of his system so he could focus on the mission. If the sex was good, they could fuck like bunnies after they rescued the computer geek, when being distracted was no longer an issue.
Time to get out of Dodge. “Sorry, sweet cheeks, not tonight.”
He let her go and started to rise, but a firm hand pressed him back into the chair.
“Leaving so soon, Mr. Ramsey?”
Oh fuck. For someone here to know his real name was not good. The huge side of beef held him down as another man moved in his peripheral vision. The man dismissed the prostitute with a quick flip of the hand and settled into a chair across the table. When he moved closer, Jhett had no problem recognizing the man from his last mission in the Ukraine, Alexi Zelenko. He’d known the man only as Joe at the time, a code word for deep-cover agent. Their inside man on the operation. The bastard who had betrayed him. His nemesis.
When Jhett made no attempt to leave, the bodyguard moved to stand next to his employer. He saw only one way out of this situation. In his rush to get out of the apartment, he’d failed to remove the com device from his ear. A discreet tap of his finger activated the link.
“Joe,” he acknowledged with a nod. “Or should I call you Agent Zelenko now?”
After a few seconds delay the sultry tones of Twyla’s voice filled his head.
“Jhett? What’s going on? Where are you?” He detected the click of her fingers flying over the keyboard and prayed she was using the GPS chip to triangulate his position.
“Since we are old acquaintances, you may call me Alexi. It has been a long time. I’d thought you were dead, so imagine my surprise upon learning of your return. I had to see this miracle with my own eyes.”
Jhett’s dry laughter contained no real humor. “Rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated. Turns out I’m a bit too sinful for even Satan and the gates of hell refused to open. Didn’t matter that I had a first-class ticket and a front-row seat reserved.”
Zelenko’s hearty laughter skittered over his flesh and made Jhett itch to move, but he reined in the impulse. He sat ramrod straight, his attention divided between the snake and his hired gun.
“The team is on their way but it’s going to take several minutes to get them into position. Stall,” Twyla instructed.
Her voice did funny things to his insides and gave Jhett the determination to get out of this in one piece. When he did—not if—he intended to follow through on Mike’s idea and fuck her ten ways to Sunday. “Since you’ve chased away the entertainment, I can sit here all night.” He hoped Twyla read between the lines to the message intended for her.
“You always were such a…what is it the Americans call a hothead?” The bodyguard whispered something to him. “Ah yes. Thank you, Sergei. You are such a cowboy, my friend.”
“Friend? Come now, Alexi. I thought we were past all that bullshit. What do you want?”
“Hammer, that place is loaded for bear,” Twyla said. The rapid clicking noises of her working the computers filled his head. “Preliminary scan shows a virtual arsenal of heavy-weight artillery. There’s a large group of people held up in the southwest corner. The team is taking up positions outside, but you’re going to have to get out on your own.”
Zelenko tensed for a moment before relaxing back, confident he had Jhett under his thumb. “Let’s not rehash the past. I’d rather discuss what brings you to my homeland once again.”
“Can’t get enough of the local scenery. It’s such a beautiful spot for tourists, don’t you agree?”
Alexi leaned forward, hands grasping the edge of the table, posture menacing. “What I think is that you do not belong here and have overstayed your welcome.”
“Then I shall take my leave.” With a solicitous grin, Jhett rose. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, it’s getting late.”
Chapter Six
Twyla cursed and chewed on her lip. Her heart beat a frantic tattoo against her ribs and sweat trickled down her spine. Jhett had gotten himself into a bad situation and it was up to her to get him out. She tuned out communications between the team and talked him through the maze of corridors and traps.
Thankfully, the building had been wired with security cameras and hacking into their system was child’s play for her. Using their own technology against them, she blacked out their monitors and seized control of the building.
“Stop,” she ordered. “Two bogies moving in fast from the west. Three seconds ’til intercept.”
Jhett retraced his steps and concealed himself in a small alcove. She switched from one camera view to another as the two men glanced at the spot where he’d stood only moments ago and continued in the direction they’d been headed. When they were no longer a threat, she released a pent-up breath. “Okay, head north again then take the first hall to the east. Good. Now the next one to the north.”
She guided him into the empty kitchen and to a delivery door. “Ignore the wires. I’ve deactivated the alarm.” If he made it out of this mess alive, she was going to kill the stupid jerk. Twyla tasted blood but kept chewing on her ragged lip.
“Tank is one klick southeast of you.”
Her part in the rescue was far from over, but she breathed a bit easier once Tank radioed that he had Jhett in his sights. One of these days she’d have to ask about the source of their call signs. She kept wondering what they meant.
They made a mad dash through the underbelly of the city and back to the apartment. What the hell he’d been doing so far out by himself was one of the many questions she intended to ask after kicking his ass. Dodger brought up the rear as Homerun and Tank flanked him. They got within a klick of the apartment building and one by one, tapped off their com units.
“You shitheads,” she screamed in frustration. They were well aware of the fact she had not only the building but the surrounding two-block radius wired with cameras and had stopped just out of her range. She could still monitor their heat signatures on the satellite though.
Twyla cursed a blue streak as she watched the individual red splotches move closer together. “This isn’t the fucking playground. You’re fighting. I can’t believe you’re fighting now.” They wouldn’t be able to hear her, which gave her a measure of freedom to cut loose and let her own frustration out. “Dumb motherfuckers! I want to kick his ass…right before I fuck him senseless.”
She paced a narrow path before the monitors, never taking her eyes off the four red blobs. Her thoughts were too scattered to give the meditative techniques Danu had taught her a chance to work. Nothing would calm her down until she saw him with her own eyes.
The red smears on the screen stayed close together as they started moving again. When they came within range of her cameras, Twyla could only shake her head in amazement. The four men traded pats on the back and friendly punches to the biceps, each wearing a large grin. Then she zoomed in on their faces and gasped.
“Those morons!”
Red blotches marred their faces, some already beginning to look bruised. The boys had taken their playground mentality a step further by using their fists, on each other. And now she wanted to punch something. Twyla glanced at the solid wall but quickly changed her mind. She wanted to punch someone. Jhett’s name rode the top of her shit list.
Each toothy grin and good-humored slap stoked the fire raging through her from a low flicker to a roaring flame. Her gaze narrowed on the monitors as she considered the team and decided men were very simple. Get mad, throw a few punches then everything was hunky dory again. They didn’t stew over an issue or hold the emotions inside where they built it to disastrous proportions.
“Good idea, boys. I can do that.” She would follow their example and let it all out.
Her stomach roiled and muscles tensed until she focused her mind and energies. The
men were climbing the stairs as she took cleansing breaths. She shook out her hands at her side and forced her body to relax by drawing on her aikido lessons.
Her nostrils flared as the door banged open. “Honey, we’re home,” Tank teased.
Dodger must have seen something in her eyes. He was the first one through the door and came to an abrupt stop to give her a wary stare. The other guys didn’t notice he’d come to a halt and slammed into his back.
“Jeez, Dodger. What the hell are you…?” Tank’s voice trailed off as his gaze met hers. He cursed under his breath, “Oh shit!”
Jhett pushed his way around the other men. His gaze raked her body, taking in the furrowed forehead and narrowed eyes brimming with fire, along with the deceptive relaxation of her body. Long tendrils of hair had escaped her neat braid to frame her face. Twyla stood with her weight balanced on the balls of her feet, a battle-ready posture.
Damn if she didn’t look sexy as hell when mad.
Of course, he had to open his mouth and insert his foot. “What’s the matter with you?”
Dumbass. Why couldn’t he leave it alone? Why did he have to antagonize her?
“What’s the matter with me?”
On the surface her tone sounded calm, but underneath he detected the fierce rage simmering. This would not be pretty. She held up a hand and ticked off each point on her fingers. “Let’s see. You put the entire mission at risk. Blew your cover with some local talent. Put all the other guys in danger. Had a playground brawl in an unsecured area…” Her hands went to her hips and she glared at him. “Do I need to continue?”
Jesus. The heat of her passion washed over him and Jhett’s body responded by tightening. His cock swelled and demanded release from the confines of his jeans. And he knew right where his erection belonged, where he longed to be. Repeatedly.
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