The number of dead submissives was currently five but he feared that count would rise before they caught this bastard. The feds had been called in after the fourth homicide—or at least they thought it was the fourth. The first two alleged victims were never found, but it was assumed they’d met a similar fate. After the third victim disappeared, the killer started leaving them where their mutilated bodies could be found. The Tampa FBI’s Special Agent in Charge, Frank Stonewall, had butted heads on several occasions with Trident and Carter. While the spy hadn’t met Special Agent Colt Parrish yet, he’d already heard about how he’d been assigned to the Tampa office from Quantico with one goal in mind—find the BDSM killer.
Movement caught his eye, and he glanced up to see Mic strolling toward him with her hands tucked in her sweatshirt’s pockets and concern on her face. Neither of them said a word as she climbed up and sat next to him on the table top. Leaning back on her arms, she tilted her face toward the sky. “It’s about time we had a sunny day. It’s been rainy or overcast for the past five days and tomorrow we’re expecting more shitty weather, although it’s better than snow.”
“See what happens when I come to visit?” he asked with a grin. “I bring the sunshine with me.”
Mic snorted. “Yeah, right. Along with a lot of fucking problems.”
“Sorry.” He mimicked her position and stared off at nothing in particular.
“Don’t be. I’m sorry about your agents.” He gave her sympathy a curt nod but wasn’t sure if she saw it as she continued. “I wish we could head back to the states with you to cover your six. Any idea who’s behind this or what you’re going to do next?”
Carter sighed. “No clue who’s behind it, but I’ve got a few things to check out in D.C. At least, it’s a start.” Silence descended between them again until he couldn’t take it anymore. He kept his gaze on some clouds in the distance. “Say it.”
“What?”
“Whatever’s on the tip of that pretty little tongue of yours, sweetheart.”
She paused. “What’s the deal with you and Jordyn—yours not mine? I already know what the deal is between you and Chris.”
He didn’t answer right away. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he honestly didn’t know what to say. He should be concentrating on trying to find out who the fuck wanted them dead, but the situation with Jordyn was starting to eat him alive. It had gone on far too long and he had no idea what he’d done wrong. “I can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but, do you mind talking to her, Mic? I mean, shit. I trained her. Things were fine. There was sexual tension there from the start, but we didn’t act on it until months later when things got hot and heavy after a mission. She’s hated me ever since and I have no fucking idea why.”
“Maybe you didn’t rock her world, stud.” Her snark made him chuckle and relax a little as she bumped her shoulder against his. “Although I doubt that. If you fuck the way you kiss, I’m sure rocking her world wasn’t the problem. So, what did you say or do that was out of line? Did you pull the Dom card and freak her out?”
He shook his head. “Oddly, I didn’t. Not really, I mean. I didn’t tie her up and spank her, if that’s what you’re asking, but I did use the psychological ropes.” He knew Mic understood the lifestyle a little better now than when she’d first discovered he was a Dom. While not into the BDSM scene herself, Mic had been curious since Ian and his team were also into it. When they’d worked the first mission Steel and Trident had been on together years ago, Ian and Carter had teased her about her personality being perfect for a Domme. They’d told her they’d be more than happy to show her how to dominate a submissive if she wanted to learn. She had passed on their offer, but had still researched it a little after the mission and occasionally asked them a few questions about it.
“So you told her what to do, and she obeyed you.” He nodded in agreement and Mic tilted her head toward him. “You want me to take her out for a mani/pedi and a few Cosmos to see if she’ll spill her guts?
True laughter burst from his chest for the first time all day. Mic doesn’t do mani/pedis or Cosmos any more than 1 do. And neither does Jordyn . . . or does she? His apprentice’s missions required her to blend into many social settings, so she had to make sure her appearance fit at all times. Now that he thought about it—
“That was a fucking joke, Carter,” Mic said, interrupting his thoughts. “Girlie chats aren’t my thing, and I don’t think they’re your woman’s thing either. But I’ll take her over to the range and maybe we can bond over a few boxes of ammo.” She paused. “So, did you ever think six years ago, when we had that conversation at the airport, that either of us were going to find ‘the one’?”
“Nope. Did you?”
“Nope. But I think I’m glad we were wrong.”
He wished he could say the same.
* * *
Jordyn followed Mic to the outdoor shooting range. The woman’s invite had been unexpected—so had the change of warmer clothing—but Jordyn had accepted both, curiosity filling her. She’d seen Mic and Carter sitting on the picnic bench a half hour ago and felt the same pangs of jealousy as she did when the two had greeted each other with a hug earlier. And all that did was annoy her. She didn’t want to be jealous of any woman over Carter.
Mic stopped at a small shack next to the shooting range which was backdropped by a small, manmade hill. It was the perfect setup as there was no need to worry about stray bullets hitting something beyond the targets—not that either one of them would miss. Jordyn may have just met Mic, but she knew the petite blonde was kick-ass without a doubt. The scar down her cheek made Jordyn curious to know how it was acquired, especially with Ian’s reaction to seeing it, but it wasn’t her place to ask. Whatever had happened, it’d been fairly recent.
Like Jordyn, despite Mic’s size, she looked like she could handle herself in most situations. But unlike Jordyn, she had a team to back her up if need be. The Deimos spy was on her own. Yeah, if an assignment required more than one operative, she’d have at least one partner, but for most of her assignments she flew solo by the seat of her pants.
Opening up the door to the shack, Mic pulled out two paper targets with the blackened shape of a man’s head and torso on them, a staple gun, and eye and ear protection. She placed them on a shelf nailed to the outside wall. Jordyn set down her sniper rifle bag and began pulling the individual parts out, putting it together.
“So, how long have you known Carter?” Mic asked after she’d ducked back into the shed and returned with a box of ammo for each of them—.308 rounds for Jordyn’s Remington and 9mm for her own Heckler & Koch MP5.
Jordyn arched a brow. While it wasn’t a totally unexpected question, she’d anticipated a little chitchat before they got on the topic of Carter. “You mean you don’t already know? I find that hard to believe, as close as you two seem.”
Shrugging, Mic began to load her magazine. “All I know is you’ve known him longer than I have.”
“And how long is that?”
“Turning the inquisition around won’t get you out of answering my question.”
Placing her rifle down on the shelf, with the chamber empty and the filled magazine next to it, Jordyn picked up the paper targets and began walking the half mile to the wooden boards they would attach them to. Mic grabbed the staple gun and followed.
“All right, Mic. How ’bout we do it this way? I answer your questions and you answer mine.”
“Fair enough. I asked first, so . . .”
“Eight years. He trained me when I came to Deimos. You?”
Since they were close in height, they had the same stride walking across the grassy field of the range. A light wind blew, bringing the scents of fall with it. “Over six. Technically seven, although that first year had been over the phone lines. I worked Army Intelligence in Iraq. Carter was the one who recommended me for interrogation training.”
“Seriously? I’ve only taken part in torturing a target a few times, but
I’m sure you got the same response I did when you first walked into the room.”
“What? That ‘check out this tiny piece of ass’ look?”
Jordyn snorted. “Yup. It goes right along with that ‘this isn’t going to hurt at all’ look.”
They both laughed and Jordyn felt herself start to relax. She held the paper targets against the wood while Mic stapled them. Once they were up, the women started the trek back to the shed.
“So, did you and Carter ever . . . um . . .” Jordyn’s question died in her throat. She was curious as hell, but now that the words were almost completely out, she wished she could take them back. Another thought floated through her mind—was Mic aware Carter’s apparent penchant for abusing women? Jordyn doubted it. Mic didn’t seem like the type of woman who would let that bit of knowledge slide.
Mic studied her, and Jordyn wondered what she saw—a rival or something else? After a good twenty seconds went by, the blonde woman finally said, “No, we never did. Could have, the attraction was there, but . . . I don’t know. I think we both knew it would’ve screwed up the friendship we’d already built—and that was more important than a quick fuck or two. Carter was the first person who ever saw through me—which pissed me off and scared the crap out of me at the same time. He means a lot to me, but not the way you’re asking. I can’t explain it, but until the day I die, I’ll have his six and he’ll have mine, but we’ll never have each other’s hearts. And damn, I’m sounding like an actual fucking girl here and that’s so not me. Anyway, the short answer to your question is no, we never had sex. Kissed a few times for the cover, but that’s it.” There was a long pause. “So . . . what about you? Did you two ever . . . you know—do the nasty?”
The obvious question was asked in such a way that Jordyn wondered if the other woman already knew the answer. For the first time in her adult life, she found herself opening her mouth for a girl talk that wasn’t part of a cover. Why, she didn’t know. She wanted nothing to do with Carter—at least that was what her mind kept trying to tell her heart. “Yeah . . . once. Years ago.”
Stopping five yards away from the shed, Mic crossed her arms and glared at Jordyn. “And . . . don’t leave me hanging, Jordyn—I don’t know how to do this fucking girlie chat thing any better than you do. And yes, it’s obvious, but only to someone as experienced, or inexperienced as it were, as me. But come on, I’ve seen his bare ass—totally drool-worthy. So, give me details.”
“What? We did it.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It was fine. Story over.”
Mic’s eyes narrowed, and it was clear she knew Jordyn was lying through her teeth. “Look—I don’t know what your problem is with Carter, but I can tell you he’s one of the most loyal, caring, protective men I’ve ever met in my life, and he’s hung up on you—big time. You’ve managed to do something no other woman has done, to my knowledge. You’ve tied that asshole up in knots. Either sit down, talk it out with him, then fuck like rabbits, or when this shit with Deimos is over, let him go and walk away. He deserves someone to love, just like everyone else in this Godforsaken world. If that’s not you, tell him and get out of his life for good. Don’t make me fucking throw down with you. I’m starting to like you, so it would really fucking suck if we had to fight over him—with our training and backgrounds, it’d be bloody as hell. I’ll always have Carter’s six no matter what or who it involves. Got it?”
Without waiting for an answer, Mic strode over to the shed and took out two waterproof blankets so they could lay on the ground without getting wet or dirty. They dropped down and adjusted their ear and eye protection, then got to work eliminating the paper bad guys. While Jordyn had dead-on accuracy—her shots were an ultra-tight grouping in the heart—Mic wasn’t far behind, her cluster a little looser but still kill shots.
Half a box of ammo each later, the women left their empty weapons on the blankets and removed their protective gear. Standing, they turned to the two men who’d walked up behind them a few minutes earlier. Both women had known they were there, and since Mic had ignored them, so had Jordyn.
Mic gestured to the men, who, judging by their well-built physiques, were the missing members of her team. “Samuel Jones and Jerimiah Flynn, this is Jordyn Alvarez, and yes, we already know that’s going to be a pain in the ass with Chris and her in the same room. Jordyn works with Carter, who is here as well. Ian and a few of the Trident boys tagged along, too.”
“Damn, we go to town, and the fucking party starts without us,” Flynn snarked. He then bowed at the waist in Jordyn’s direction with a sweeping gesture of his arm. A playful grin spread across his face and his eyes lit up. "If you'd like a tour of the castle, princess, I'm your prince."
“Fucking Flynn,” Jones growled and rolled his eyes before smiling at her. “It’s nice to meet you, Jordyn. Please ignore this idiot—he was raised in a barn.” He glanced at Mic. “Something we need to know about?”
Mic nodded. “Yeah, go inside and they’ll fill you in. We’re going to clean up here and then we’ll be right behind you.”
While the women started walking across the field to retrieve their targets, Jordyn could feel Flynn’s eyes on her ass before he turned and caught up to his teammate heading toward the house. “Does he always flirt like that?”
Inspecting her target closer, Mic gave her a quick glance. “Who, Flynn? Yeah, he can be an asshole, but I couldn’t ask for a better team and that includes him. Feel free to put him in his place, in fact, please do—I could use the entertainment.”
The woman’s anger and wistfulness weren’t hard to miss, and she wouldn’t look Jordyn in the eye. “Carter mentioned you can’t go back to the states, but he didn’t give me all the details. That sucks.”
Mic shrugged and ripped her target down. “Yup, it does. Even more so now that he has a target on his back and we can’t cover his six.” She turned on her heel as Jordyn took down her own target. “So that means you’ll have to watch it for me . . . and God help you if you fail.”
Chapter 7
Seven years ago . . .
They’d switched vehicles twice after losing their tails. Spare clothes had been waiting for them in the first car, a Mercedes, and in the middle of nowhere, they’d changed from their formal clothes into more comfortable jeans and T-shirts. A half hour later, the Mercedes was ditched for a nondescript Volkswagen. Another hour had passed before they reached their destination at 10:00 p.m. local time.
Carter steered the car down the dirt road that led to the home of a Deimos contact who was waiting for them. The man was former CIA—which was an oxymoron. Like the US Marines, once CIA, always CIA. If you weren’t, you were probably six feet under somewhere. His cover in Malaysia was that he was an ex-pat turned information dealer. However, the information he tended to sell was stuff the CIA wanted leaked out in the first place.
The light glowing from inside the far right window of the farmhouse was their signal that all was well—if it had been out, they would have hightailed it to another location with a different contact. Carter slowed the car down to a stop, fifty yards away from the structure. Flipping the vehicle’s headlights on and off in old Morse Code, he let their contact know it was them.
The light in the window, switched on and off in response, signaling them to approach. While Jordyn had never used this location before, Carter had and knew exactly where he was going. They wouldn’t be going into the main house, but instead, to a small apartment in a barn not far past it. There, they would be safe until morning, when they’d head for a private airport and a jet that would be waiting for them there.
Pulling the car into the wide open doors of the barn, Carter killed the engine, hopped out, and shut the sliding door. Locking it, he then armed the alarm system as Jordyn retrieved her duffel bag and left the rear car door open for Carter to grab his. These were their go-bags, carrying clothes, weapons, money, throwaway phones, passports in various aliases, and anything else they would need if they had to run.
Hanging his
bag on his shoulder by the strap, Carter shut the car door and led Jordyn to the one-room apartment on the other side of the barn. It was on the first floor with no windows, not that it mattered. The security system had cameras all around the property along with trip alarms. Dropping his bag, Carter flipped a few switches on a computer console setup on one wall and several images appeared on the monitor. If anyone infiltrated the inconspicuous farm, the occupants would know it. He pointed to a wall on the other side of the room. “Behind that picture is a switch to open an escape door. It’ll dump us about a half mile away in another barn. A car is there if needed.”
Jordyn set her bag down on a table and looked around. There was a couch, TV, kitchenette, bathroom, dining table for two, and the computer desk. Sparse, yet comfortable looking. “The Hilton it’s not, but you know me, I love all the James Bond stuff, Taylor.”
“Nope, not Taylor.” Grinning, he strode toward the bathroom, in need of the toilet. “Give me a sec.”
When he returned moments later, it was to see Jordyn’s luscious ass as she was bent over, checking out the camera feeds. And just like that, his desire and lust were back with a vengeance. It was suddenly hot in the room, and he pulled his T-shirt up and off, tossing it onto the couch. With the adrenaline of the chase still coursing through his body, he stepped behind her and grabbed her hips, pulling her flush against his groin. She straightened and reached back to clasp her arms around his neck, then rubbed her ass against his growing erection. Sparks shot through him as he leaned down to lick her ear and then murmured, “We have unfinished business to attend to, love.”
Jordyn arched her back, thrusting her breasts forward. Her breathing hitched as he brought his hands up to cup and massage each heavy orb. “Business or pleasure?”
The question caused him to chuckle as he nuzzled her neck and played with her tits. “Which do you prefer?”
He plucked her nipples through her shirt. She hadn’t been wearing a bra under her evening dress and hadn’t changed into one. Good, because it was one less thing he needed to rip off her body. A moan escaped her as her body brushed against his. “Pleasure . . . definitely pleasure.”
Absolving His Sins: Trident Security Book 7 Page 6