by Alexis Grant
Only inches from his face, their eyes met as she slowly raised a shapely leg to hook it around his waist. Staring at him, huffing short bursts of warm, moist breath into his mouth, she rode his shaft through his pants, watching him slowly thumb her tight nipples, making them both crazy as she bore down harder like he was already inside her.
They both knew they were playing a dangerous game of chicken to see who would blink first. She lifted his shirt, tugging it free, and allowed her searing touch to fan out across his chest and nipples. The skin on skin contact was too much. He blinked and blinked hard, lifting her up by the tight globes of her ass while thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth.
But when they were halfway to the bedroom, walking blindly, her cell phone rang. They both froze. He set her down, breathing hard. Her eyes cast a warning that she never had to verbalize.
She answered on the fourth ring and made her voice sound sleepy. “Roberto?”
Anthony walked away toward the sofa and rubbed the nape of his neck. Frustration and jealousy made a dangerous cocktail in his bloodstream right now.
“I was asleep,” she crooned with a frown, mouthing “I’m sorry.”
He just silently nodded, groin throbbing, and wondered how in the hell he’d found himself playing the role of the secondary lover to a drug baron.
“Yeah … I miss you, too,” she said, rolling her eyes. Then her voice changed and her expression became pained. “Baby … I’m tired … yeah, I miss you, too, but I don’t feel like it right now. Come on, I’ll see you soon, right?”
Jealousy bristled the hair on the nape of Anthony’s neck, and yet this was a part of the mission. He forced chivalry into his eyes and nodded at her and then motioned to the door. She nodded and blew him a kiss, mouthing “thank you” and “I’m sorry.” He quietly collected his gun and slipped into the adjoining room and shut the door behind him with a soft click.
Of course a man as paranoid as Roberto Salazar would do a bed check on his woman. Made sense, who was he fooling? Not to mention, being away from her could be eased by some late-night phone sex. What red-blooded man in his right mind wouldn’t want to call Sage like that? But the entire situation just kicked his ass.
Anthony allowed the gun to dangle by his side for a moment, defeated. It didn’t help matters that the erection she’d left him with needed immediate attention. And as much as he hated who she was on the phone with, knowing that she was probably in the next room with her hand between her lovely legs was driving him insane.
The mental picture was vivid. If he trusted himself enough not to make a sound, which he didn’t, right now he was so far gone that if she asked him to, he’d get on his knees at the edge of her bed and taste her till she screamed whatever on her cell. Once she got that crazy bastard off her phone, he’d finish her off hard and long.
The fantasy made another wave of desire crawl through his heavy groin. He briefly closed his eyes as a shudder of want washed through him. Damn …
Anthony shook his head and banished the thought, then pushed off the wall, left his gun on the TV cabinet, and headed to the bathroom for a towel. A light, feminine tap at his door stopped him mid-step. He swallowed hard and then rushed over to open it. She was standing there, chewing her bottom lip, eyes troubled. The combination was so sexy that he forgot to breathe.
“I’m sorry. I got him off the phone as fast as I could … and I know—”
His kiss crushed her mouth, stopping the awkward apology. He didn’t want her to say another word. Whatever she’d had to say or do to get rid of Salazar was on a need-to-know basis, and he damned sure didn’t need to know right now.
The important point was, she’d come back for him. This wasn’t sloppy seconds in the least. The way he saw it, Salazar had interrupted them. He didn’t care whatever bullshit she had to say to their enemy to get him off her phone as quickly as she did. She came back for him.
Her hands covered his ass, pulling him against her, thanking him in friction for not damning her for just doing her job. Careful not to mark her skin, he spilled kisses down the side of her neck, paying homage to the goddess of mercy that she had returned. She rewarded him by stripping off her blouse and bra, leaving him so in awe that for a moment all he could do was stare as her breasts bounced from the royal blue fabric.
Pretty caramel nipples called his name, begging for his mouth with their taut pout. Her head tilted back, she breathed through her barely parted lips and moaned without censor as his tongue grazed her pebbled skin.
The sound told him she was still on fire and nothing that had happened on the phone had quenched her. Maybe she hadn’t cum for Salazar and had just gotten him off alone, making pretend like phone sex operators did while painting their nails … or maybe she’d just talked trash to the guy while really thinking of him. He hated to admit it, but it did make a small difference. An important one.
Slipping a hand deep into her pants confirmed his theory. Warm, wet, folds of swollen heat met his fingers as her grip tightened on his shoulders. Before he could shimmy her pants down, she bucked against his hand, locking it between their pelvises, holding him by the back of his shirt. Her breath said emergency; she needed release now and couldn’t wait. Her grimace and tempo was the meter for how close she was, edging him closer to insanity with her.
Suddenly she cried out against his chest, muffling the sound in his shirt. Her thighs crushed his palm as her cave sucked his fingers, rhythmically pumping more slickness down them. He wanted to replace them so badly, wished he could feel that same squeezing wet heat flow down his shaft.
Spent, she collapsed against him, her sweet pussy weeping into his hand, while her fingers quickly began unfastening his pants. He kissed the crown of her head, almost in tears himself as she released him. The second her hands captured him, an elongated moan bubbled up from his depths and his hips began to thrust without consulting his brain.
It had been so damned long, so unconnected and unfulfilling when he’d coupled with unknown women on the road. Then it was just about meeting a physical need, but this … this … oh, shit, this was going to take his mind.
“Tell me where they are?” she murmured hoarsely, rubbing him against her bare, hot belly.
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice raw and gasping, just needing her to make the pain stop. “I’m not sure of the target’s location.” At the moment, if she’d asked for the nuclear missile codes, he would have given them to her if he’d had them.
She stopped moving and kissed him hard, then drew back. “Condoms. You have condoms, right?”
He blinked twice, still breathing hard. “Damn…”
She smiled and petted his cheek. “You packed a semi with a full magazine, I bet, several pistols, explosives … but that key item wasn’t on the artillery list.”
He hung his head, resting his forehead against hers. She didn’t have to say it; she’d been with Salazar without protection.
But the thing he loved about her was that she didn’t make him say out loud what they both knew to be true. Her gentle stroke became tighter and harder, just like his breaths returned harder and stronger, matching his thrusts, matching his heartbeat. He gripped her shoulders, slickening her belly with his increased need until his entire body convulsed against her.
He leaned against her, half braced on the wall, half holding himself up. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples as he sucked in and released huge inhalations of air. Her soft kiss on his cheek let him know, again, that she understood and wasn’t upset. Her blouse was no doubt ruined, but her gentle strokes were calm and comforting now, as though to say, it was all right.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I…”
“Didn’t know any more than I did that this would happen.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I definitely wasn’t prepared.”
“In this case, I think that’s kind of sweet, actually. You brought me a gun and not a condom. Makes a girl feel appreciated and not taken for granted.”
H
e could feel her smile against his shoulder and the absurdity of their lives made him chuckle.
She looked up at him, seeming not quite sure what to do with her wet hands and soiled blouse. “You owe me one, Captain.”
“I’ll definitely replace the blouse,” he said, suddenly feeling the full sting of embarrassment. “And, uh, let me get you a towel.”
“Stand down, man,” she said sweetly, and then nipped his ear. She pulled back with a big smile. “I meant you owe me a full frontal offensive, full metal jacket … later … if you catch my drift.” She leaned into him and sent a sexy message into his ear, making his body stir again. “You can take the beach, the hill, or whatever you want, Captain Anthony Davis. Later. All right?”
“Roger that,” he murmured into her ear and then kissed her again. He wanted to wake up next to this woman—correction—he wanted to go get a twelve box of Magnums, return to the room, and make love to Sage Wagner until they both passed out, and then wake up next to her. But as she backed up and nodded toward the door with a mischievous, sexy grin, he knew their interlude was over for now.
“Would a soldier mind opening a door for a lady? We’d better get some shut-eye. Tomorrow, who knows what we’ll be facing.”
CHAPTER 9
She’d slept like the dead and woken up with a slight headache, but within a few moments of awareness, the prior night came flooding back to her, making her smile.
Thrusting herself out of bed, she saw no way to avoid the inevitable. Roberto would be back within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, and she had to steel herself for that eventuality. He hadn’t taken her sleepy rebuff very well, especially when she’d feigned nodding off in the midst of his crude attempt at phone sex. The process took some linguistic dexterity that the man didn’t own, not because he was unintelligent, but because he was unimaginative and, worse yet, selfish. So a megalomaniac wouldn’t know what kinds of imagery got a woman off. More important, he had never bothered to learn what got her off, and it was very obvious that he didn’t care.
Regardless, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t her lover, even if he was temporarily her problem. Salazar could tell the boys in prison to fuck him and suck him, because where he was going, he was going to have to use plenty of imagination to do his hard time.
She tightened the sash on the white, terry hotel robe she’d slept in as she crossed the room, and then froze when she saw two coffee cups. Bad move. Hurrying over to them, she quickly collected the mugs and rinsed them out, and returned one dry one to where it had been. Mistakes like that could cost lives. Damn. She had to get her head back in the game.
Checking her damp blouse in the bathroom, she used the hair dryer to finish the job on it, as well as on her bra, panties, and pants that she’d hand-washed in the sink the night before. Then she quickly stashed it in a hotel laundry bag and tagged it for housekeeping. At least half of her brain was still working.
Rushing back into the bedroom, she checked her cell phone again. Good. No news was good news.
* * *
He woke up with his body saluting him, thinking of Sage. He closed his eyes again for a moment once he’d glimpsed the tented sheet and then forced himself to sit up. Taking a whiz with an erection was a pain in the ass, and no matter what had happened last night, today he had to be sharp. Anything could go down at any minute.
His cell phone vibrating on the nightstand was exactly that something he’d been expecting. When he clicked answer, Lieutenant Hayes’s voice filled the line on this encrypted cell.
“Captain, we just got word that Agent Alvarez is going to do your introduction to Salazar today. All of his key North American distributors are going to meet up at a French Quarter gated mansion he owns in New Orleans later tonight. Agent Alvarez will be going by Rene Santiago, and he’ll stash cash, clothes, and a kitted-up BMW 735i for you at the Hotel Monteleone.”
“I copy. But what about the arms dealer?”
“Word is, some type of activity will be coming into one of Canada’s eastern ports two days from now, so until then Assad and Salazar will be joined at the hip. The details of that transaction are still unclear.”
“Roger that, Lieutenant.”
Anthony disconnected the call and got out of bed. He tapped on the adjoining door and was rewarded a few moments later by Sage’s radiant smile. She only had a robe on; he had slept in his boxers.
“Man … I wish I could stay and have breakfast with you … or have you for breakfast, but I’ve gotta go.”
Her smile slowly faded, but it never became desolate. “I wish we could, too, but hey.” She sighed and hugged herself. “So fill me in.”
She nodded and kissed him gently. “You be careful, Juan … all right?”
He nodded and caressed her face. “I’m coming back to you, Camille. Believe that.”
* * *
“I don’t like this at all, Roberto.” Hector looked at his brother as the maid set down breakfast before them. He waited until she was out of earshot and glanced around the French Quarter mansion that was their temporary compound in the city. “The Mexicans are coming across the border towns in the southwest … bold, like Colombians were back home. Killing entire police departments, wiping out ranches, and they will soon have a cartel here as strong as ours.”
“That’s why we have to move quickly. The old man doesn’t understand that the Mexican families are as hungry as ours used to be. That hunger is dangerous. He is insulated by all that he’s built in Colombia. Here in the US, free enterprise rules … and perhaps we are not as competitive as we used to be, sí?”
“But if we do this thing, we’ll no longer have Guzman’s guns at our backs as protection. They’ll be at our backs as a firing squad. That’s why we pay a little more to buy from him—it’s an insurance fee, if you think of it that way.”
“His insurance fee is not covering the daily expenses of having to protect our distributors in Los Angeles, Arizona, and Nevada!” Roberto said, slamming his fist on the table and making the fine china rattle. “Right now, the pressure is on our people to doubly arm themselves against Mexicans who hope to eat into our territory—and there’s the not-so-small issue of lower prices coming from Mexico driving down profits here in the US. Doing the deal with Assad is progress, globalization. Period.”
“Guzman will not see this as progress, brother. He will see this as betrayal. Then we will be fighting a war on two fronts and can fall, leaving the strongest members of the Mexican cartel to step right in and stand on our dead bodies.”
Roberto Salazar took a forceful bite of sausage from his fork. “You worry too much. It is done now, anyway. In a few days we will double our wealth and army of mercenaries. Then, we will be too strong for Guzman to outright challenge and we can negotiate to form a stronger, more mutually beneficial alliance the way wise businessmen do.”
Hector stared at his brother, who’d continued eating. “That’s just it—our men will be mercenaries. The Mexican alliances are made up of family … blood. Never forget the blood is stronger.”
Roberto set down his knife and fork very carefully and took up his napkin to wipe his mouth. With the speed of a cobra’s strike, he backhanded his brother, drawing blood when the huge diamond pinky ring he wore gashed Hector’s lip.
“Our family died throughout the wars … never forget the sacrifice. Colombians were all family once, too—and still betrayed one another, still stabbed each other in the back for power and money. Do not become weak with nostalgia, brother. Superstition and nostalgia keep men believing in ghosts and fairy tales. There is only one common denominator—cash. That is what is king!”
Roberto stood and pushed away from the table, staring down at his cowering brother. “Now is not the time for doubts. The time to speak freely and clearly was when this plan was being formed. Now at the eleventh hour, you have doubts?”
“No, brother … just cautions—things you should be aware of.”
Nodding, Roberto slowly sat and settled himself.
“Of all people, I cannot have you doubt me. You know how much I hate betrayal. Please do not break my heart, Hector.”
* * *
After the news she’d received from Anthony, she expected the call from Bruno to shortly follow it—and it did. She was to go with Bruno back to the compound, pack enough clothes for a week, and be ready to catch the private jet to New Orleans tomorrow.
Sage pulled her freshly shampooed hair up into a twist and clipped it, touched up her lip gloss, and strode out the front door. The valets would have her little red Merc, but she could pick that up when she got back from the gym. In her locker there she had another encrypted cell that she could use to call her boss, thus closing the intel loop.
Making sure she kept up appearances, she looked both ways before she entered the hall with her shopping bags and then hurried to the stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, she rushed to the seventh floor from the second floor, and then stopped to catch her breath when she reached the right level.
Bruno would be waiting for her in the lobby. He needed to see one of the elevators descend from the floor she was supposed to be on. Dashing down the hall once the coast was clear, she pressed the elevator button and waited, then got on when it opened.
Soon this would all be over, she told herself as the doors opened to the lobby. As expected, Bruno got up. The other security men stood up with him as she sashayed to the front desk and checked out.
“Thank you so much,” she said, waiting for the receipt. Turning to Bruno, she smiled at him as though she hadn’t a care in the world. “How’d you sleep?”
To her surprise, he smiled back. “Never better.”
She gave him a wink and that made him chuckle. “I’m going to put these in the trunk while I go to the gym across the street.” Before his smile could completely vanish in protest, she offered him a lovely compromise. “I cannot allow my ass to get fat. Roberto isn’t having it, and I didn’t do a thing yesterday. So why don’t you fellas have breakfast … if you feel like you must, one of you can walk me across the street, Geez Louise. But I’ll ask the valets to bring my car around so I can put all my shopping bags in the trunk, all right?”