“Can you sense them?” Jon Reynell asked, bent in the brush, feeling slightly naked without his normal sniper camouflage suit on. He wanted a cigarette and a drink, but that wasn’t to be at the moment. It wasn’t the time or the place, not that much had stopped him as of late when it came to drinking. He wasn’t proud of how he’d taken to handling the passing of two of his best friends, Lance and Wilson, but he was coping the best he could. Besides, he was doing his job, going through the daily motions. What else could anyone ask for?
He stared out into the dense foliage, tapping into his supernatural vision but finding nothing out of the norm. The team captain, Lukian Vlakhusha, put a hand up and motioned for all present to stop and crouch. The remaining I-Ops—Jon, Thaddeus Green, and Geoffroi “Roi” Majors, who were only minus Eadan Daly on the mission—did as instructed.
Green, the team’s doctor and scientist, glanced at Jon and then toward Lukian. Even Green seemed slightly annoyed with their current mission. Jon still couldn’t believe they’d been forced to take the jet and head to South America again, only months after they’d last been there, all because three stubborn women refused to listen to reason.
He was very happy he wasn’t mated.
Women were nothing more than complications.
Jon let out a soft laugh. “Is it me or does anyone else find it funny we’re doing this when all we’re after is a bunch of women?”
Roi shushed him. “The women we’re after are lethal. Melanie took on an entire group of enemy hostiles with one weapon and lived to tell the tale.” Roi glanced at Green, who was mated to Melanie. “That’s something to tell the kids when they’re older… Hey, did you know Mommy can kick my ass?”
Jon tried not to laugh but failed. Roi was right. Melanie was fierce.
Shrugging, Roi motioned to Lukian. “Hell, Lukian’s wife is just as bad. Peren could so take us.”
Jon snorted, keeping his opinions on Roi’s wife to himself. Of the three women they were trying to locate, Missy, Roi’s mate, was the most dangerous. The sideways glance Roi cast in Jon’s direction said he knew as much.
“I, for one, am damn relieved they’re deadly. It means their chances of staying alive are all the better,” Lukian said, his voice low, his words clipped. “I can’t believe they took off on this fool’s mission alone. When I find them I’m going to—”
Green nodded, as did Roi. Green spoke, “We’re all going to wring their necks.”
“What the hell possessed them to lie to us?” Roi asked, letting out a low whistle. “Wilson is dead and gone. We’ve lost too many men this year, and I can’t believe the girls would put themselves at risk. Running through the jungle like crazed banshees won’t bring Wilson back, no matter how much we all wish that were the case. It’ll get someone killed and—”
“Three hormonal pregnant women should not be here period,” Green said, ever the one concerned with medical conditions.
Jon kept his thoughts to himself. While he was also concerned for the welfare of the three women, he was glad someone had picked up where he’d left off. He’d spent far longer in South America when Wilson had gone missing than any other teammate. He didn’t fault his brothers in arms. No. They’d done all they could to try to track down any leads on what had happened to Wilson’s body, but the trail had gone cold.
Each and every one of them had struggled to make sense of what had happened several months back, when they’d been ambushed by the enemy, outside of their campgrounds.
The women refused to admit Wilson was dead, and Jon wanted to believe with all his might that they were right. If they were, it would mean his best friend was still alive. But it would also mean the I-Ops had given up prematurely on one of their own, assuming the man dead.
Closing his eyes, Jon did what he often did when he was in stressful situations—he asked for a guiding hand from a higher power and from his mother who had passed long ago. When he opened his eyes, a nagging feeling started in the pit of his gut. He crept forward slowly, touching Roi’s shoulder. “Do you sense that?”
“Sense what?” Roi asked.
Jon stared around. “I’m not sure, but it’s something, or rather nothing.”
Roi cocked a brow. “Short on sense with that one, Jon.”
Lukian tipped his head, nodding. “He’s right. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Huh?” questioned Roi, appearing lost.
Green looked around. “You’re right. There is nothing.”
“Hello? Earth to anyone remaining who is sane?” Roi rubbed his temples. “You all would pick now to have a breakdown.”
Green huffed. “What Jon is pointing out is the absence of everything we should be sensing, hearing, noticing.”
Jon saw the realization flicker through Roi’s eyes as the man huffed. “Aha.”
“L.A.R.D?” Green prompted.
Lukian didn’t look pleased, but he inclined his head. “That would be my guess.”
“That’s why none of you can communicate telepathically with your mates,” Jon offered. He’d wondered why the men kept mentioning being unable to reach their women on the mental pathways the mated pairs shared.
They nodded.
“Shit,” Roi said. “This just went from bad to worse.”
Jon didn’t want to be the first to say it, but someone had to. “If L.A.R.D. is involved, Wilson could very well be alive but unable to contact us.”
Lukian glanced at him and sighed. “I want to believe too, Jon, but the odds of that are slim. You understand that, right?”
With a tiny nod, he looked out at the jungle, hope springing forth in the pit of his stomach for the first time in over two months.
*
“He’s got to be close, right?” Melanie asked, taking a seat on a downed log, her ankles killing her from the swelling.
Peren sat next to her, dropping her sack onto the ground with a thud. “You’d think. Hey, are you sure you sensed him around here and then the feeling just up and vanished?”
Missy stood near them, glancing around, ever vigilant. “I’m not picking up anything anymore, and that right there tells me we’re close.” She glanced at Melanie. “We’ll find Wilson.”
Melanie touched her stomach lightly. “But will he still be alive when we do?”
Peren tossed an arm around her. “No thinking negatively. We’ve come this far and done this much. I have to believe that in the end it wasn’t for nothing.”
Melanie sighed. “Green is going to kill me for this stunt. I just couldn’t walk away and live my life under the false assumption Wilson is dead.”
Peren and Missy exchanged knowing looks. It was Missy who broke the silence. “We should get moving. Before everything around us seemed to go still, I was sensing something new. My guess, our husbands. If we don’t want to find ourselves being dragged back to the States kicking and screaming, we need to hustle. Wilson needs us. Let’s go.”
With a nod, Melanie and Peren stood, ready to continue on their quest.
Chapter Seven
Wilson rubbed his raw wrists, hoping his natural healing ability would handle those too. The chains were made of silver, and thanks to his friend’s wife—Melanie— Wilson was no longer as deathly allergic to silver as he’d once been. Though it would take him longer to heal them than normal. Krauss’s men had taken great joy in learning that lead did still burn him. They shot him at least once a day, and it normally took Wilson the remainder of the day to heal the wound. Bizarrely enough, the moment Kim touched him, his body flared with heat and he felt it forcing the bullet out before healing over.
The second they’d first wheeled Kim into his cell two weeks ago, his body had reacted oddly to her. Her scent, a mix of citrus and flowers, had assailed him, making his cock harden to the point it was more painful than the torture Krauss’s men had taken to inflicting. He could still vividly remember staring at the long, silky, black strands of her hair as they cascaded over the side of the gurney, nearly touching the floor. Kim’s
creamy skin seemed flawless and her breathing was soft, barely there.
Each and every time one of Krauss’s goons came in to take her away, Wilson had tried to break free and tear their heads off. The fierce need to protect her was unlike anything he’d ever before experienced. It was raw. Seeing her tuck herself away from him now, afraid of him, stung.
Reaching out, Wilson cringed as his muscles ached from lack of use. “Kim, I won’t hurt you.”
“You’re not human,” she whispered, her voice so low that his supernatural hearing almost missed it.
“No. But neither are you if you’re here. Krauss has a hard-on for the paranormal. He thinks he can create a race of unstoppable super-soldiers and somehow manage to cheat death.”
She seemed to think about what he’d said for a bit. Her brow furrowed. “How did you heal the bullet wound?”
Sighing, Wilson pushed to his feet. His legs were shaky and gave out on him. As he crashed to the floor, Kim moved toward him with a speed no human possessed and did her best to ease him to his feet.
“Are you okay?”
His cock began to lengthen at an alarming rate. At six two, he wasn’t the tallest I-Op, but was tall all the same. Kim’s five-foot-eight frame fit nicely to him, seeming to mold against him. As her hand settled against his abs, he drew in a shaky breath. “I’m…fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
Because my dick is hard enough to hammer nails. All I want to do is sink to the floor and bury myself deep in you.
Kim’s green eyes widened and she lifted her hand off him quickly. For a second, Wilson thought she might have actually heard his thoughts, but that was absurd. It had taken decades for he and the other I-Ops to speak telepathically to one another. Even with them it required great effort and a close proximity. In theory, he’d be able to read his mate’s thoughts and she could read his, but Kim wasn’t his mate. She couldn’t be.
“Umm, no offense, Wil, but I think you should shower before me.” Kim laughed softly, and the sound moved through him, caressing him in places it shouldn’t.
The very fact she’d shortened his name to Wil would have normally pissed him off. But hearing her utter the nickname seemed to calm him. He smiled, genuinely amused for the first time in months. “I smell that bad, huh?”
She wrinkled her nose and he couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. “So, how do you want me to do this?”
She bit her lower lip. “What do you mean?”
“Should I strip naked now or do you want to—”
Pink splashed over her cheeks and upper neck, driving him mad with lust. “Umm, I’ll turn around.” She spun around so fast that her gown opened in the back, revealing an apple-shaped ass.
Wilson bit back a moan as he grabbed hold of his clothed cock just in time to lose control and come. Humiliated, he faced the shower nozzles and turned the cold water on full blast, not caring that he was still dressed. He stood there, freezing for several minutes until his dick finally decided to play dead. It didn’t help that Kim’s scent clung to the air around him.
A soft, sultry giggle sounded behind him. “I was going to ask if you wanted some soap but I think my first question should be if you’d like to take your clothes off.”
“Dammit,” he whispered as his cock flared to life with thoughts of Kim begging him to take his clothes off for other reasons. “Uh, yeah.” Peeling his wet, ripped T-shirt from his body, Wilson chucked it onto the floor next to him as he watched the dirty water run down the drain in the floor. He started to undo his pants and stopped when Kim tapped his shoulder.
“Soap.” She held a bar out to him.
“I really must smell bad.” He winked as he put his hand over hers to take the soap. The minute their skin touched, heat flared up his arm. Kim jerked her hand away from his, obviously feeling it too. Her emerald eyes widened a second before she backed away from him quickly. “Kim?”
“I’ll wait over there and then I’ll take my turn,” Kim said, a nervous note to her voice.
The very idea of Kim being naked and wet near him did little to help Wilson’s lust. He swallowed hard and focused on the wall. It didn’t help. He pulled his pants from his body. They were now water-soaked and still full of caked dirt, blood, and things he didn’t want to focus too hard on. As he bent to kick them away, his sore, unused muscles acted up. He groaned, wincing slightly.
“Here,” Kim said, suddenly close enough that water was splashing her as well as him. She took the soap from him and began working up lather. She touched his back lightly at first, scrubbing away the filth they’d left him in for months. It felt good to be touched, good to be cared for and tended to, especially with what he’d endured.
Wilson stood, frozen in place, his backside facing her, unsure what to do or say. He normally had a joke for about every occasion. He seemed to lack one for this. Never did he expect to be locked in a cell with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and then to be standing naked under a stream of water, being washed by her.
His cock twitched to life and he jerked, trying his best to shield it from her view. He suppressed a moan as Kim moved in behind him, rubbing his back as she washed it tenderly.
Yeah, just my luck to end up in a hellhole only to have an angel show up and give me her version of a sponge bath.
Kim let out a soft laugh. “Minus the sponge, of course.”
Wilson stiffened, positive he’d not said that out loud.
She moved to washing his stiff shoulders, pressing harder, causing the tension to ebb from them. She washed his upper arms and he couldn’t help but flex under the weight of her touch. It was such a man move that he almost groaned at the ridiculousness of it. Kim tugged lightly on him.
“Turn and rinse.”
He did and realized he was now facing her, completely nude. Since he was a shifter, he never really had issues with running around buck naked, but he also retained enough of his human side to be modest at the moment.
He watched as Kim’s green gaze remained locked on his face.
Maybe she doesn’t feel the same pull to me that I feel to her.
“Or maybe,” she worked lather up on her hands and moved in to wash his chest, “I’m just trying to be polite and not comment on how you look like you were carved from marble.”
Wilson suppressed a smile as he struggled with the fact Kim had indeed read his thoughts. “I’m just happy you picked marble and not carved from a block of cheese.”
“Block of cheese?” She scrubbed his chest, seeming to slow her pace as she washed his abs.
“Don’t…ask,” he bit out as his cock picked then to lengthen at an alarming rate. He’d only just ejaculated. How the hell could his cock be ready to go again?
Kim stepped toward him, seeming unconcerned that water was now covering her as well. She brought her soapy hands to his face and washed him so sweetly that Wilson could do little but close his eyes and savor her gentle touch. She backed away and he tipped his head, letting the water strike the back of his head and rinse the soap from his body.
Kim giggled and the sound went straight to his already excited groin. His cock twitched as he opened his eyes to find her being soaked by the spray of water. The thin hospital gown they’d put her in clung to her, showing off her glorious body. Her dark, rosy nipples showed through, and it took everything in Wilson not to reach out and yank her against him.
She had her eyes closed tight and a hand up, trying to deflect the soapy spray bouncing off him and hitting her in the face. He’d showered with women before. Hell, there wasn’t much he hadn’t done with a woman, but never had it been like this. For some reason, this was so much more intense than anything he’d experienced before.
Woman, what are you doing to me?
She laughed and peeked out from one eye. “I’m trying to wash the grime off you. Without wearing it all myself.” Her gaze dropped to his dick and she gulped, her eyes growing wide. “Umm, uh…” She th
rust the bar of soap out to him. “You should probably wash it, erm, him…umm…”
Closing his hand around hers, Wilson took the soap from her and inhaled her scent. It did little to alleviate his erection, but he couldn’t help himself. “I’ll wash him.”
She nodded weakly before turning and retrieving the shampoo, giving him a fabulous view of her bare backside in the process. He gritted his teeth, cleaning his cock and taking extra time to stroke it while his hands were lathered up.
Not helping here. Flashing that perfect ass at me is a little like shooting me yourself.
Kim stood fast, jerking the bottle of shampoo to her chest. She glanced back at him with something akin to pain in her green eyes. “I wasn’t thinking. I just—”
Cursing himself silently for forgetting she could read his thoughts, Wilson shook his head and offered a slight smile. He eyed the bottle of shampoo and her hair. Krauss was right; Kim did have beautiful hair. Hell, she had beautiful everything. “You wash mine and I’ll wash yours? Deal?”
She nodded and closed the distance between them. “Okay, but next time we take a shower together, I want candles, romantic music, and wine. Ooo, and bubbles. Understood?”
Wilson admired her ability to joke under pressure. Not many could. “Can I bring my rubber ducky?”
“But of course.” She poured a dollop of shampoo into her hands and moved close enough for Wilson to wrap his arms around her.
Unable to help himself. He did just that, wrapping his arms around her and holding her as if they were longtime lovers. Kim didn’t complain. No. She stepped closer, leaving his erection grinding against her lower abdomen. She washed his hair slowly, pulling on his head, forcing him to bend slightly so she could reach him completely. The entire event was more erotic, more intimate than anything he’d done before in his long life, yet the act was still innocent at its core.
Taking a deep breath, Wilson stepped backward slightly. He’d burst if he let things advance more. The small space between did little to help alleviate his desire. Kim came with him, closing the gap. He reached up and took hold of her wrists. “Kim.”
Strategic Vulnerability Page 4