by Sam Crescent
He frowned at her then gave her a smile that had her pussy contracting. Fuck, he had the cutest smile.
“I’ve not had anyone else since you, either. I can’t believe you kept the letter,” he admitted.
“Why? All girls keep love letters.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
“No. I want you to fuck me here on this sofa and then we’ll get out of here.” She began moving on his lap, his cock hard and firm, her pussy wet from their orgasms.
She was ready for more.
Terri held him while he changed their position. He placed her on her back and made slow, long love to her, loving every inch of her body in the small space. She wrapped her legs around his waist and gave herself over to his capable and expert hands.
As they rested afterwards, the pains of the last few months became insignificant against the immense pleasure to be had in their future. Not only the sex but being in his company. She was so happy. Every time she’d felt down or got hit with depression, she’d thought of this day to get her through. The training was almost brutal at times, and she’d taken out his letter and reread his words. By paying for her house and making sure she had money, Bishop had felt he was taking care of her. It wasn’t enough, so she’d contacted Huntington and had stood up against him, looking after their future interests.
She recalled when she’d met Huntington the day after losing Bishop. He’d circled her where she’d stood. Stared at her, hair a mess and her clothes all over the place. He’d taken his gun out of his pocket and pointed it at her head. She’d looked down the barrel and hadn’t felt afraid. The shock at her lack of fear had concerned her.
“Do you have any idea the trouble you could be causing?” he’d asked.
“Do I look like I give a fuck?” Fallan had pressed her head harder against the gun.
“You’ll be looking down the barrel of a gun one day and someone will shoot you and torture you for information. Do you want to live that life?”
She’d reached up to hold the gun still, making certain it remained there. “Either kill me or fucking train me because I swear to God I’d be more use to you alive than six feet under.”
Against all of his better judgements—so he’d said—Huntington had personally trained her. Everything she knew had come from him. Terri had been born…and she would make sure Bishop never ever found out about that incident.
She kissed him on the lips and let him take her to heaven again. The past would remain firmly there and she only needed to worry about a future. With Bishop. How bad could it be?
Epilogue
Bishop, now codename Knight—he’d have to have a word with Huntington about him always choosing chessboard pieces—hunched in the darkness behind a waist-height wall opposite the target building. Terri, going by the name of Ginny for this mission, sat back on her haunches beside him. He couldn’t get over how she looked so damn comfortable, as though them launching over the wall in around fifteen minutes would be par for the course. As though storming into the warehouse and possibly killing everyone inside was as boring as working in Asda.
She grinned at him, her smile a flash of light in the gloom, and he smiled back. They’d been working towards this moment for two months, getting along very well as an agent duo, their home life not interfering with work. It was like they had switches in their heads, and, as soon as they returned home, what they did for a living ceased to exist. Just as well. Taking their work home with them didn’t really appeal. Knight wanted to spend their spare time getting to know each other better, not talking shop.
They’d both sold their homes, pooling money to buy a trendy top-floor apartment by the Thames. While on downtime they dwelled there as any ordinary couple, only using the hideout flats, houses or cottages when working. They’d revisited the basement a couple of weeks ago, switching off the cameras and having a damn good time, bringing back a thousand memories neither of them had thought they’d ever relive.
It was all in the past now. He wasn’t letting her go anywhere without him.
“Two people inside,” she said quietly.
“As far as we know.” He didn’t think there was a possibility of more, but he wanted Ginny on her toes. If she was always on her guard she’d remain safe.
“I bloody doubt there’s more,” she said. “We’ve been watching for hours. And I know exactly what you’re doing.”
“What?” He lifted his night-vision binoculars and gave the warehouse another once-over.
“Making sure I don’t get too cocky. No need, Mr Knight. I’m well aware there could be more people inside from before we started today’s surveillance.” She nudged him in the ribs. “I’m not some china doll who might break.”
“You are to me.” He moved the binoculars from side to side, seeing nothing but an empty parking lot outside the warehouse and a faint light shining through one of the far-left windows. Then he focused them on her, with her hair pulled back in a low ponytail, a beanie hat jammed low on her brow. Her skin was a mint green colour, giving the impression she was ill.
She sighed. “So seeing me in action, seeing I can shoot someone without batting an eyelid, hasn’t convinced you I can take care of myself?” She reached out and covered the lenses with one hand.
He shrugged, aware she might not even have seen it, and lowered the binoculars. “It’s not like that. I know you can handle yourself, this job, it’s just that… There’s a part of me that wants to keep you safe, treat you like a princess. Part of me wishes you weren’t even here now. That you were at home, resting on the sofa or taking a long hot bath, waiting for me to come home and fuck you senseless.”
“I know, but that’s just tough. I am here. I’m not going anywhere. Except into that warehouse with my gun raised and taking out anyone who appears to be a threat.”
“They’re no threat, just some whackos storing illegal firearms.”
“So run that by me again. How can two men with illegal firearms not be a threat?” She laughed quietly, but not unkindly.
He smiled and stared across the deserted road again. “Point taken.”
“That’s not true.”
“What do you mean?” He frowned, wondering what the hell she’d meant. At times she was a puzzle, saying things he didn’t understand, for reasons he didn’t understand until she decided to make them clear. He’d swear she enjoyed tormenting him, seeing him try to work it out.
“The point hasn’t been taken.”
“How do you know? If I say the point’s been taken, it’s been taken. You can’t say it hasn’t been because you’re not me and you don’t know how I feel.”
“I get what you’re saying, but it hasn’t been taken, Knight.”
He sighed, really not wanting to get into a debate with her right now.
“Not where I want it to be, anyway,” she said.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Agent Fields?” He glanced her way, catching another flashing smile. He leaned closer to see her better, just making out a glint in her eye and the suggestion of her trying to hold in laughter.
“Your point, my rear end.” She widened her eyes suggestively and licked her lips.
“Ah, I see. That point. God, you’re a frustrating woman at times. You knew I’d think you meant the other point.”
She laughed quietly. “It passes the time, messing about like that.”
“So,” he said, “you think we’ve known each other long enough for me to go there now, do you?”
“I think so.”
“You only think?”
“All right, I know so.”
“Right,” he said, holding up a finger to let her know he had information coming through his earpiece.
He nodded twice and peered over the wall, noting a large, dark vehicle hugging the kerb then turning into the parking lot and stopping. Three people emerged—the buyers they’d been waiting for—and he held his breath until the warehouse occupants came outside.
Knight and Ginny observed in silenc
e as a lengthy exchange of money and weapons took place. They seemed to be haggling over the price, and the guns were examined extensively before all five people nodded and shook hands. The buyers climbed back into the car after stowing their purchases in the boot and drove away, followed shortly by another agent’s car.
The sellers disappeared back into the building, laughing and joking.
“Ready?” he asked Ginny, his heart beating fast and adrenaline racing through him.
“Yep.”
He vaulted over the wall and sped across the road, hearing Ginny’s footsteps behind him. They made it to the doors the sellers had gone through, him leaning against the wall on one side, Ginny the other. Damned if he’d ever get used to her doing this job.
Counting to ten, he withdrew his gun and glanced across at his lover.
“In and out, as quickly as we can,” he instructed.
Ginny nodded.
“And then, when we get home, Miss Fields, your arse is mine.”
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
Shades of Grey
Natalie Dae and Sam Crescent
Excerpt
Chapter One
Travis stood on the edge of Sarah French’s ranch and sniffed the air. Shit, he could smell her sexy-as-fuck scent from here, would recognise it anywhere. In his wolf form, despite the night cloaking him, he risked being spotted or shot, but hell…what he’d heard earlier had spurred him into visiting her now.
Seemed local asshole Clark James was intent on making Sarah his woman tonight, regardless of whether she wanted him or not.
That wasn’t an option.
Travis narrowed his eyes, cocking his head to listen for hunters. They roamed this area freely all year round, even though they shouldn’t be on Sarah’s damn property.
A lone woman’s requests were easy to ignore.
Bastards.
He looked up at the moon, the big silver ball obscured by thick grey clouds pregnant with rain. He reckoned there’d be a downpour before the hour was up, maybe a storm tagging along for the ride. The autumn weather had been all kinds of crazy lately—warm one minute, teeming with rain the next. The different aromas the rain threw up messed with his sense of smell, obscuring those he would have caught with no trouble at all in the dryer seasons.
Dangerous.
Deeming it safe, he loped across the grassy field surrounding her white house, keeping his eyes keen to any movement in the shadows. A line of trees stood to his right, their trunks like thick bodies topped with an abundance of hair. The leaves hadn’t fallen yet, and in the daytime they were a riot of reds, yellows, browns and oranges. Wouldn’t be long and those branches would be laid bare, skeletal arms and fingers stretching into the winter sky.
He’d wanted to make love to Sarah beneath them for the longest time. Since last summer when he’d first rolled into town looking for work. He’d found it, right here on her ranch, and, hell, he’d found the woman of his damn dreams as well.
He reached the picket fence separating her house from the fields and paused. Sniffed again. All he smelt was her.
Good.
He slunk low and crawled under the fence and, on the other side, scoped the area again. You couldn’t be too careful around these parts. One wrong turn and you were fucked. Those hunters, Clark James and his cronies, didn’t give a shit what they killed. Travis had heard tales of them killing a man once, some hiker kid who had wandered into the mountains at the back of Sarah’s place. Denial had come quickly, as though they’d got their stories straight before news had hit the town of a dead body on the banks of Gordon’s Creek, but Travis had known better. Had known by the glint in Clark’s eyes that something was amiss, had been able to tell by the scent of blood coming off him in waves. Yeah, he might have washed it off, but it had still lingered. A wolf could smell it—no problem.
Baring his teeth, Travis padded towards Sarah’s house, heading for the French doors to her living room. He’d keep out of sight, wouldn’t want to frighten her, but he had to see if Clark was there. He couldn’t smell the man, but Travis wanted to check just the same.
He stared through the glass, seeing Sarah curled up on the blue velour sofa, legs tucked beneath her, a book on her lap. A baby-pink nightgown covered most of her body from his view, and he was glad of that. Wouldn’t feel right watching her if she was exposed, unaware he was out here. He was no stalker, no freak.
The fire to the right of her blazed—long licks of yellow and orange flame that pranced frenetically. What he wouldn’t give to be in there with her right now. She was beautiful, no doubt about it, the kind of woman every man wanted. Trouble was, most single men around here did want her, hanging around the way they did, asking if she needed help with this or that. Apart from Travis and a couple of others, Sarah only employed married men. A sure-fire way of keeping safe, she’d said. He’d asked why she’d taken him on to groom the horses and give them exercise.
“You’re different.”
And that was all he’d got out of her.
It churned Travis’ guts when he thought about one of the other men touching her. Made him see red every time. So why hadn’t he told her how he felt? Why did he stand on the sidelines, just being her friend and employee? Simple. Because what woman would believe he could shift into a wolf? What woman in her right mind could accept that? Sarah was level-headed, strong and independent, saw things in black and white. Anything grey didn’t figure with her. It was a frustrating trait, one that had led to many heated discussions between them, ending up with him walking away allowing her to believe she was right and he was wrong.
But with Clark fucking James, he wouldn’t be swayed. That man was bad to the marrow. Travis would just have to make sure Sarah saw it, that was all.
She shifted in her seat, flicking over a page in her book. He wondered what she was reading this time. Maybe one of those horror novels she enjoyed so much, or a thriller, perhaps. He should have known she wasn’t the romance type. No hearts and flowers for this girl. She liked it as real as it could get, true crime being her favourite read, so she’d said.
Her long hair, black as a crow’s wing, fell forward, shining from the light of the fire. She tucked the wayward strands behind her ear and brought one hand to her mouth, sucking a thumb tip or biting a nail, he wasn’t sure which. He wondered what that hair would feel like running through his fingers, whether the folds of her cunt would be just as soft—or softer. If he wasn’t a wolf he’d be hard right now, battling away an erection that threatened to expose how he felt about her. So far, when in her presence, he’d managed to walk away if his cock sprang to life, or to hide it beneath his plaid shirt fronts. Even taking his Stetson off and holding it casually in front—the action looking as natural as breathing, belying the real reason behind it.
A few splatters of rain slapped his pelt, one plopping on the end of his snout. That was all he fucking needed. Yeah, he’d known it was going to rain at some point, but he’d hoped it would be later once he’d seen Clark off. Now the rain would mess with his sense of smell, and if a wind picked up he was in the shit and then some. Frustrated, he growled low in his throat, the hair on his neck standing upright.
Something wasn’t right.
He cocked his head again, straining hard, wanting to pick up on whatever had made those neck hairs react. Sniffing did nothing, bringing only a damp-earth stench along with a harder dash of rain. Nothing sounded untoward—no footsteps, no shuffles, no—
Breathing. He heard breathing, all right, and it wasn’t his own.
“Well, look what we have here,” Clark said, voice smarmy. “A goddamn wolf prowling the property.”
Travis spun to face the man, retracting his lips and growling louder.
“You don’t scare me none,” Clark said, his smile creamy from the light in Sarah’s living room. Strands of short dark hair lay flat on his head. “Not when I got me a gun here.”
The urge to smack the shit out of Clark gripped Travis, but h
e couldn’t shift, didn’t have the time. Besides, if he shifted, the story of him being a wolf would be around the town by dawn, and fighting Clark naked wasn’t high on Travis’ list.
He stared at Clark, eyeing the small pistol hooked into the man’s waistband. If he was quick, he could knock Clark down before he even had time to draw. Decision made, he lunged, all four paws smacking Clark in his shirt-fronted chest. Travis sailed through the air with him before hitting the ground with a dull thud. The rain fell harder, running into Travis’ eyes, and he shook his head, blinking to get clearer sight. Beneath him, Clark pushed against Travis’ chest with one hand, his other frantically searching for his gun.
Travis wasn’t taking any chances. He dipped his head quickly, sinking his teeth into Clark’s ear. He wanted to rip that fucker off but held back. All he needed to do was make the man leave, get him off this land until he figured out how best to keep Sarah safe. Her being raped if she declined Clark’s offer of being her man just wasn’t in the cards, no matter how much Clark had laughed about it earlier. God, that son of a bitch needed taking down a peg or ten.
Travis bit harder, pleased to hear Clark wailing as he smacked at Travis’ snout with both hands. Scooting his back end around, Travis sat on Clark’s gun and applied a little more pressure to his ear.
“Get the hell off me!” Clark yelled, the sound of the rain drowning out his voice. “You fucking bastard of an animal. Get off!”
Travis released his ear and went for one of his hands instead. He bit, teeth sinking into the flesh. Blood flooded his tongue. Clark’s primordial howl almost matched Travis’ when he had a mind to cry out at the moon. If this situation wasn’t so serious, Travis would have laughed.
“Jesus damn Christ!” Clark said, his breaths heavy pants.
Travis let go and stepped back, snarling and snapping his teeth.