Strike Force

by Beth Rhodes

  Silence.

  Through the fog, down the incline, his team rushed toward him, a young, vivid, seeing Hawk waving him to turn around and run. Waving him back, waving and opening his mouth in a silent command.

  The ground shook beneath him, and he turned as the guys reached him, but legs like concrete weights moved too slowly.

  The chatter of the automatic rifle ripped the silence and pain sliced through his back—

  “Malcolm!”

  Malcolm shot up off the pillow, stopping short of head-butting Marie, who reared back. He kicked at the covers strapping his legs down. It seemed like an eternity to get loose. Finally, his feet were on the floor, and his head was clearing. “Fuck.”

  “You okay?”

  “Fine.” His short answer wasn’t fair to her, but he needed a minute. He gripped the edge of the bed. It had been a long time since a nightmare had cut his sleep short. Checking his watch, he found it was only four in the morning. “Sorry to wake you.”

  She stood, arms crossed over her stomach, and bit her lip. “It’s okay.”

  An edge of humiliation cut into his pride. He got up, feeling the ick of the night sweats that came with revisiting his past.

  “Can I do anything for you?” Her sweet, husky voice sent a completely different feeling through his internal organs. He was obviously a glutton for punishment. He couldn’t help—or his body couldn’t help—being fucking attracted to lying, thieving women.

  He stared at her as his world stopped tilting and the air conditioning cooled his skin.

  But, words aside, she was different. He’d seen it during the mission overseas, as she’d kept her head during those tense moments and even put her life on the line for the team. He wouldn’t forget, ever. And maybe it was enough.

  He shook his head, not liking the direction of those thoughts. “Gonna take a quick shower. Go back to sleep.” Her worried look had him stopping in front of her. “I’m fine. Really. The dreams are few and far between these days. It must be the new environment, the attack yesterday, Dimitru…” He shrugged. “Fucking something.”

  Marie nodded, and her hand came out to touch him, but he stepped back, making the moment awkward. “I’m sorry. I just really need to shower.” And not touch you right now or I might explode.

  The small bathroom held the toilet and shower, the space outside the door had the double-sink and counter space. Grabbing a towel and tossing it over the rack on the wall, he ran the water until it was scalding, shed his clothes, and stood under the spray. He squeezed his eyes as the rush of adrenaline faded. When his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, he braced them against the wall and let the water sluice down his back.

  The last nightmare had been before their trip to the Middle East. Always the same scene. Sometimes a different gun. Sometimes, he’d only hear the report of a single shot, like it had been that day at headquarters when Cortez had ordered his men to take out Hawk Elite.

  He’d thought the dreams were gone for good.

  He’d gotten into a routine at work. He was stronger than he’d been even before being shot. With Emily on the team, he was getting more practice at the range and could shoot a group dead center.

  This assignment with Marie was a test. He’d bet his next paycheck on it.

  Stacy Hawkins worried. Hawk didn’t worry; he merely demanded the best.

  Malcolm was at his best.

  He wasn’t going to let Marie’s ulterior motives keep him from proving it.

  “Malcolm.” Marie knocked hesitantly on the door before opening it. “You okay?”

  This time he couldn’t bite her head off. He picked up the wrapped bar of soap and opened it. “Almost done. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  With the washcloth, he quickly lathered up and then rinsed off. He shut off the water and reached for a towel. He squeezed his hair through it then dried off before wrapping the towel around his waist. When he came out of the bathroom, Marie was sitting on the sink with her legs crossed, her elbows on her knees.

  She stopped him with a look. “You don’t have to be ashamed of what I’m sure is a fairly normal consequence of trauma.”

  “I’m not ashamed.” He took a chance—no, he took a risk, seeing her like this, so incredibly open and waiting, and he set his hands down, one on each side of her. “I’m sorry I woke you. Worried you.”

  “You didn’t—you don’t, Malcolm.” She lifted a hand and tangled her fingers through his wet hair. “But you make me want to touch you.”

  “Why?” he asked, a little flabbergasted.

  “You’ve been alone your whole life.” Her hand came down and rested over his heart. “So have I, but I remember what it’s like…”

  He almost laughed. “You have good ol’ Uncle Bert.”

  She stiffened. “I had my parents—”

  “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He leaned back and placed his hands on her knees. “Are we going down this road, Marie?” he asked. “Because if I fucking touch you, there might be no stopping—”

  Her eyes were wide with shock. “I…I didn’t— We work together. You don’t even like me.”

  “I don’t trust you,” he said pointedly, raising a finger to her nose.

  “So having sex with you would be…” She didn’t finish, leaving it open-ended.

  He had to think as his heart began to pound. “Probably the stupidest thing you ever did,” he finally admitted.

  “Not what I expected you to say,” she said quietly.

  “I don’t make commitments, Marie. You have to know, if you want to go down the road to sex, this isn’t about any kind of stupid romance.” He had to force the words out. But he wouldn’t make a promise to her, especially not her. Felt too much like lying to a friend.

  He wanted to avoid pitfalls, but he wanted her more.

  He saw the uncertainty in her eyes…

  And then he saw more, making him lean in and take her mouth with no reservations, because she wanted him too. No pity, no regrets, no promises.

  Chapter Eight

  Marie reached for him, pulling him closer and digging her fingers into the taut flesh of his shoulders. Her mouth took his, thrilling in the taste of him.

  She didn’t care about promises.

  She’d wanted Malcolm since the moment she’d seen him on that street in Germany.

  At his worst, he made her so mad she wanted to fuck him. At his best, he aroused her so well she wanted to fuck him. Every time she saw him, she wanted him.

  Now she would finally get him. Once, because after tomorrow, he would be out of her life.

  Forever.

  She scooted to the edge of the counter, circled her legs at his middle, and dug her heels into his rear. He grasped her hips and pulled her tightly against him. His hands did away with her shirt and found her breasts, cupping her, palming her, and rolling her nipples.

  A moan escaped, and her pulse rocketed through her, making her ache and need and want. She tilted her head back, offering her neck, wishing he would take her hard and fast. But he took his time and nibbled at the pulse pounding in her neck. Her breath came in short pants. “Malcolm,” she hummed, and he chuckled as his bite worked down, down, down to her collarbone and over to her shoulder.

  Tugging on his towel, she held her breath as it fell to the floor.

  His breath came in hard as he watched her, staring at him, a smile playing at his mouth. And it was like he could see right through her. He measured her. She was sure he found her wanting. But this was for fun. A way to kill time. The sparks between them defined. He lifted a hand to frame her face.

  “Don’t go chicken on me now, Malcolm,” Marie whispered, willing him to curb any thoughts about stopping. Inside, there was a gentleman, a thinker.

  She could actually love a man like him.

  Shoving the thought aside, she scooted forward and off the counter. He lifted her until her feet hung above the floor and bumped into his shins as he walked backward. His lips were so soft against her, trailing her jaw and dow
n her neck.

  Malcolm laid her carefully on the bed and grinned as he took her shorts and pulled them down her hips and off her legs. Then his hands rode the length of her legs back up. Heat scattered her thoughts and sent all worry for tomorrow straight out the door.

  He erased the anxiety of meeting Dimitru, the fear of fighting their attacker, and the good sense to cut things off before she had a moment she would never be able to forget. She explored him with her hands.

  He hid his build, hid the rewards of hitting the gym every week in a flannel shirt and an unassuming messenger bag. She wanted to stop and study his tattoos, but the rush of her arousal flowed through her, demanding attention.

  She rolled him, straddling his waist. His eyes glittered with approval. She leaned into him, and he sucked her nipple as she reached for her bag from the floor next to the bed.

  His mouth teased her, creating the throb of orgasm low in her abdomen.

  In her hands, his rigid flesh pulsed. She gave it a squeeze, and he moaned, making her grin and look into his eyes.

  He was still watching her. His eyes never left her. She was the object of his lust, his arousal. It burned her from the inside out. She needed him inside her. Right. Now.

  After rolling the condom down his length, she rose to her knees. His hand found her center, tested and teased…shortening her breath with every stroke of his fingers. “Malcolm—”

  He thrust into her with a moan of approval. He gripped her hips, pushed her to her back, and angled her so that with each press of his hips, another shock of the coming orgasm rippled through her. She moved, matching each thrust.

  “Now, now, now…” The world ground to a halt as ecstasy robbed her of thought, sending tremors through every muscle and bone and nerve in her body.

  Malcolm’s release shook her and he clutched at her hips until he collapsed on top of her. In the aftermath, she wrapped her legs around his middle, but it wasn’t long before sleep obliterated her consciousness.

  His warm body and his hand tangled in her hair had the funniest way of making her thoughts drift to the forbidden—long term, commitment, love. Things she’d promised herself long ago would not be worth investing in, because losing was just too damn hard.

  ***

  He’d been having sex since he was sixteen.

  This should have been no big deal.

  But he’d cleaned up and returned to bed with a very funny feeling inside him.

  It probably had to do with Marie also being an employee of Hawk Elite. He usually avoided office relationships. Too sticky when things got awkward, which they always did. Because they always ended.

  He always ended them.

  So, what was this feeling of regret filling his conscience?

  When he lay back down and folded his arm under his head, Marie automatically moved closer in her orgasm-induced sleep. God, she’d been so vibrant, so alive. Not exactly giving. He’d seen the secrets in her eyes. Expected them, really, but in the last moment before she’d been rocked by completion…

  She’d said his name.

  And he was thinking he’d never hear his name on her lips again without thinking of her release or of his own.

  Was going to be a bit tricky, if he wasn’t careful.

  Wide awake now, though, he eased out of bed and opened his computer. He tugged his boxers on and sat at the swivel chair. Another glance over his shoulder showed her fast asleep, so he reopened the browser, where he started the search on Albert Bălan. There wasn’t a lot, but he found the usual bits—homes, credit reports, previous addresses. He’d gone to school at NYU in the mid-seventies. He had one sister: Marie’s mother.

  Marie’s grandparents had also died early in the fifties, a house fire.

  He clicked through, looking for a connection to the Dimitru family. Digging, digging.

  Half an hour later, after abandoning the Bălan search for a Dimitru-focused one, he found something. In the late 1800s, a Dimitru married a Bălan.

  Behind him, Marie moved against the sheets, and he looked over, stopping when he saw she had one slim leg outside of the covers and her smooth, naked rear enjoying the cool air. It wasn’t an invitation. He wasn’t so crude to think it, but it sure was an enticing view.

  He closed the laptop, filing his find away for later, stopped at his dopp kit for a condom, and returned to the bed they were sharing—for tonight. He covered himself and slid into bed behind her.

  Malcolm ran a hand down her exposed thigh and then back up to the curve of her hip, and he brushed his fingers into the soft, trim curls at her center. She moaned in approval as she pressed her rear back into his hardening dick.

  He kissed her shoulder, soft, warm skin, which he breathed against, taking in the essence of her and letting that spicy scent drive his desire. And he groaned, bringing her fully awake. She lifted her leg, and he brought his between hers. When her knee rested against his, and she relaxed in his arms, he worked her clit, dipping his fingers into her wet heat and circling her small bud of nerves. Every change in her body vibrated against him, drew another line of desire straight over his heart.

  He ignored the sentiment, focused on her, and gave until she panted in his arms. Then he tilted her forward enough to slip in from behind. His mind exploded as the feeling took over his body. The tight grip she had on him, the sight of her…a perfect arch in her back.

  And then, without warning, she reached between her legs with those cool, agile hands and stroked him, and he rocketed into oblivion.

  ***

  He woke to her sharp fingernails on his scalp. The clock next to him read five a.m.; he’d slept the night through, tangled up with Marie Feur. His face had somehow gotten mashed to her breast, which was perfectly fine with him at the moment. She was petite but perky and an incredible turn-on. There was a small ache in his shoulder where it ground into the mattress, and his arm was tingling and asleep under him.

  “That was good,” he said. He wouldn’t apologize for the best sex he’d ever had.

  She laughed quietly, those fingers still moving in his hair. “I knew it was going to be explosive, but I agree. It was better than good.” A slight hesitation in her voice had him looking into her face.

  She was so damn beautiful. Wide mouth, high cheekbones, and those smart hazel eyes, which were rarely calm, rarely settled. But they were now. He’d never seen her with so little agitation. He wanted to wrap his entire body around her, hug her, and never let go—

  He was in so much trouble.

  “Don’t think too much. We both went into this knowing. How sex between us goes doesn’t change the outcome.” There was a note of pity, as if she expected him to change things up, want her more, beg her to stay.

  No. The odds hadn’t changed.

  He playfully bit at her nipple, sucked it in and up to the roof of his mouth, and felt her entire body respond, arching into his. “I could fuck you all day long and not want to ever stop. And I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be opposed to some kind of arrangement after the weekend is over.” Then he smacked her rear. “But today, we work. Fun and games are over, my little thief.”

  She pouted as she stretched. “You could stay with me at my uncle’s for a few days. Make this a real vacation. Get it out of our system—so to speak—before we return to Raleigh.”

  He lifted a brow. Who was begging now? “Maybe I will.”

  He dressed quickly in the same jeans he had on yesterday and pulled a new t-shirt over his head. Marie dressed as well; every move she made registered in his peripheral vision. She donned skintight jeans today, instead of her usual skirt, and a pair of black flats.

  She looked a lot like what she was: a cat burglar…an acquirer of things.

  In his almost grungy apparel, he wondered what Hawk could have been thinking, pairing them up to meet with this client. Usually, Malcolm would travel with John. John would wear the suit and the smile. He’d be the awkward sidekick. The smart-as-shit, awkward sidekick.

  He sat on the bed
to tie his boots.

  Within an hour, they were ready to go. Malcolm called down to the front desk for a cab. He hefted his gear over his shoulder and picked up the key cards. Holding the door for her, he found his hand reaching for the small of her back as she passed by. They both looked both ways before heading toward the elevators.

  Having her at his side wasn’t the worst thing. She was attentive and knew how to watch her six as well as his. No matter what her deal was with Dimitru, the rest of this job should be done before noon. Then he’d decide if sticking around was a good idea.

  He leaned back on the elevator wall as they descended and took a good, long look at her ass in those jeans. He liked the feel of her rear in his hands. Perhaps sticking around was a no-brainer.

  Like she’d said, get it out of their system.

  Because they were both on the same page—neither of them were relationship material.

  “You’re making me nervous,” she said as they crossed the lobby.

  He glanced her way, but kept going and caught a cab on the curb to take them to Dimitru’s estate. Marie threw their stuff in the trunk, and he had to appreciate how she took initiative.

  He held the back door open for her. “Ready?” he said, smiling for the first time—with no reservations—as he thought of exactly how she’d looked this morning in bed.

  She stopped and stared into his face with narrowed eyes.

  He suppressed the urge to squirm, realizing maybe his thoughts were inappropriate for them as coworkers.

  “You’re picturing me naked.” Her brow rose, her lips twitched, and she pinched his side. “Turnabout’s fair play,” she said slyly before crouching by him and taking a seat.

  He groaned, his smile turning to a grin as he rolled his eyes. “Well, fuck.”

  Chapter Nine

  She watched him, noting every step he took as they entered the Dimitru home, accessed his security room, and then ran the tests on the system. There was a panel of button thingies, almost like a computer, with a screen sitting on top. He wired the old security cameras into his system as well, which was only a matter of moving the wires around.