Enemy Mine (The Base Branch Series Book 1)

by Megan Mitcham

  Sloan scrambled up the door, her heart forgoing all training and beating wildly, unsure whether this was the end for her and Kobi both. She should run, but the scene unfolding before her made it impossible to look away. Side-stepping, she shrank into the corner.

  Kobi’s gritted moan filled her ears and for some screwed up reason reminded her of her father’s pained cry before Devereaux’s men ended his life. Sloan blinked the memory away, unable to spare any brainpower for the side trip at the moment.

  Devereaux’s hand flexed and Sloan braced for the pow. But the senior’s voice rang out instead. “Do not a lay hand on this woman again. Don’t even look in her direction. She is mine. Everything is mine. You are nothing. A mangy dog, not suited for my table scraps. Know your place. Remember it or I will end you here and now.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kobi choked.

  After a weighted pause Devereaux spat, “Now, out of my sight, filth.”

  Sloan nearly vomited as Kobi hung his head like a good little slave and slunk away. No, she didn’t like him, didn’t feel sorry for him, but no man or woman should be made to feel inferior. No matter what.

  The master watched, gun in hand, until Kobi disappeared around the corner, and then turned his dark eyes on her. Sloan hoped the rage vibrating her entire body would be mistaken as fright, but right this second she didn’t much care.

  Absolutely nothing stood between her, Devereaux Kendrick, and the codes. They called to her from beneath his shirt and tie. She could snap his neck before he even realized he was in danger.

  So, what’s stopping you? Do it.

  He stalked closer, crowding her personal space.

  Sloan screamed at herself. Do it. Kill the man who took everything from you and so many others. But her hands hung leaden at her sides. They had no plan of escape or attack. If she got caught moving Devereaux’s body, she was unarmed. If she got shot or captured she’d lose the codes before she had a chance to use them. And most terrifying of all, if Baine got hurt trying to protect her she could never live with herself.

  No!

  A finger skittered across her collarbone. Sloan couldn’t stop the tremor of revulsion. “Oh, don’t fear me, beauty. Where Kobi wished to harm you, I only want to pleasure you. And have you pleasure me, of course.”

  His ruffly salt-and-pepper brows waggled. “You have both my son and my dog chasing your tail and I want to know what all the fuss is about. Plus, if anybody gets the goods around here, it’s me.”

  Her stomach curdled and churned.

  He heaved a sigh. The fermented air from his lungs billowed around her face. Sloan held her breath, unwilling to share even oxygen with this devil.

  “I can see we’ll have to wait for our encounter. You’re shaken up by that oaf.” His knuckles caressed her arm and he smiled down at her. “Wear something extra special for me at dinner. Tonight, I’m claiming what belongs to me.”

  28

  Baine tucked a Reeder at the small of his back the moment he heard the bedroom knob jangle. He shot from the bathroom, leaving behind a sea of weaponry, crossing the expanse on silent feet. By the time the door opened his body lay flat against the wall behind it. Ready for anything.

  Having disconnected the main camera in the room after Sloan left, nearly an hour ago, he wouldn’t be half surprised to see Kobi break in to fix his equipment. With the poor bastard’s ears and one eye inoperable, he didn’t know jack. That was likely enough to push him over the cliff of reason.

  Through the gap at the hinge a dark shadow blotted the light as the person moved into the room. The tinny sound of china on silver relaxed Baine’s stance as did the voice that accompanied it.

  “Lunch, sir.”

  Baine kicked the door with his foot. “Isn’t the help supposed to knock first? You almost got your dick shot off, mate.”

  Law turned. A crooked smile stretched his face as he ignored the deafening slam of the door and the edge in Baine’s tone. Law’s gaze catalogued Baine, then the rest of the room, before settling for a weighted second on the spot where he knew the tiny camera sat. He returned his emerald eyes to Baine, brows raised in question.

  “He’s deaf and partially blind. Stick to the left side of the room.”

  “Thank fuck.” Law unceremoniously deposited the tray on the nightstand and gnashed his head this way and that against the constraint of his black tie. “You can get your own damn tea…sir,” he added with an exaggerated bow.

  “I don’t give a shit about tea. Have you seen Sloan? In the hallway? On your way here?”

  Both his friend’s palms came up. “Take a breath, big guy. No, I didn’t see her. When was she supposed to be back?”

  Baine moved toward the bathroom, careful to stay out of the camera’s line of sight. He pulled Law along with a nod. “Didn’t set a time. Damn well should have. I don’t know if it’s been too long or if I’m just on edge because this shit’s about to get serious.”

  When they crossed the threshold of stone and granite Law groaned through his fat grin at the arsenal. “Is it Christmas? Because I’ve been very good this year.” He palmed an Enfield assault rifle, running his hand along the barrel as though it was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “It’s been too damn long.” Then he went bug eyed over a stack of C-4. “I know the perfect places for that.”

  “Good. We’ll talk about it when you bring back the wine and dessert you forgot in the kitchen. Take this. It should fit pretty well under your coat, not that I expect anyone to take time scrutinizing the help, except for the blond and redhead that came from Walters. And the only bulge they’d notice is the one in your pants.”

  Law tilted his head. “You checkin’ out my junk, McCord? I mean we’re pals and all, but—"

  “Shut up and put the blasted thing on,” Baine barked. While Law shrugged off his suit jacket and put on the tactical vest loaded with enough guns and ammo to add forty pounds to his frame, Baine pulled on his own. “I don’t give a fuck about wine or dessert, it’s your excuse. We’re going to find Sloan.”

  As if bidden by his words, the bedroom door flew open and Sloan marched in before either he or Law had time to take up a defensive position.

  Good thing she was friend, not foe.

  Baine watched her lock the door and stalk toward him. The elephant standing on Baine’s chest levered a foot onto solid ground. Thank God. She moved with such determined strength and grace he caught his jaw before it hit the ground. She was gorgeous. Upset. No, pissed. And was that a hand imprinted in red and light blue around her throat? The elephant collapsed on his lungs while the beast inside him raged, scraping and snarling to be released.

  He shoved Law out of the way and went to her, but her halting hands stopped him short not two feet outside the bathroom.

  What the hell is it with these two and the calm-down palms?

  Seeming to sense his agitation, she inhaled to speak, but stopped without a word. Her eyes widened at a spot behind him then looked toward the camera.

  “It’s disconnected. He can’t see this side of the room,” Baine said in as calm a voice as he could rally.

  She nodded, her tousled hair brushing her bare arms and the pink of her dress. “Another reason Kobi was pissed.”

  Baine’s teeth gritted and his fists clenched at the name. “He hurt you?”

  She smiled, but no joy brightened her face, which was drawn in tight lines of fury. “He tried. Your father stopped him. I thought he was going to kill Kobi.” Her fists clenched. “I don’t know what stopped him. The chance at continued humiliation at the guy’s expense, maybe. But I don’t have to worry about Kobi touching me again, unless he plans a coup to take power.”

  Sloan’s lower lip trembled and her eyes welled with tears. She jutted her chin and breathed deep. “Devereaux claimed me.”

  Someone ripped Baine’s bowels from his body and jump-roped with them. The pain her words wrought inside him were that acute. “What are you saying, Sloan. Did he...?”

  Her head r
ecoiled, rejecting even the thought of the act. “No.”

  He hadn’t realized he’d bowed his head until her cute sandaled feet met his leather shoes toe-to-toe. Sloan pulled his gaze up with the gentle cup of her hand.

  “He didn’t hurt me. Neither of them did.”

  Baine traced the brutal outline on her neck. “This bruise says otherwise.”

  “I’ve had worse.”

  “Sure know how to make a guy feel better,” he puffed.

  Those pretty lips of hers pursed. “Look at me. I’m whole. Totally pissed. And ready to rage.”

  Baine itched to pull her into his arms and cradle her there forever, but this wasn’t the time. So, he stepped aside and tried to sedate his primal furor. After a deep breath he gestured between the two. “Sloan. Law. Law. Sloan.”

  His friend crooked his head then straightened, giving Sloan a wink. “You’re a down-right scrapper. Knew it when you stepped off the plane, even before you tried to take Dev out with a butter knife.”

  “Yeah, not my best move, but I’d have gotten him,” Sloan said. She stepped into the bathroom, offering Law her hand. Baine didn’t miss her sigh of appreciation as she perused the weapons display.

  Law agreed. “You’d have taken the two guards and The Devil, but there were, and still are, fifteen other guards and Kobi to deal with. How about we coordinate our attack this time and get rid of these sons of bitches?”

  “Dog’s bollocks,” Baine mumbled.

  Sloan whipped her head around and squinted at him. Oh right. They spoke the same language, only not so much.

  “He thinks it’s a blasted great idea,” Law offered.

  He’d say it a million times over, if it always had this affect. Her shoulders shook and her little nostrils flared as she fought back giggles. With emotions running high his daft comment provided a break. A release she could deal with in front of them. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Did you say, ‘Dog’s bollocks’?” she laughed.

  Baine smiled. “Where I come from it’s a rather common saying.”

  “Common?” She quirked a brow.

  Law backed him up. “It’s common. In bars.”

  She nodded. “If you two say so. It’s a new one for me, but yes, I’m ready to plan. But I get Devereaux.” Finality sealed her words and her suddenly stern gaze swiveled from Law to Baine, daring them to challenge her.

  Baine found his hands on his hips and his spine straightened a degree more.

  Sloan’s eyes glinted golden. “Devereaux told me to wear something special for him tonight. He’ll bring me to his bedroom, which is attached to his office. I’ll wear my leather garter and double steels. They’re extra special.”

  Baine wanted his father. He wanted to see the chav’s face when he realized everything he’d killed for was being ripped from his fingers. Moreover, he didn’t want Sloan anywhere near that man, especially since he knew what the demon planned to do with her. But she, more than even him, deserved the closure.

  In a whisper of authority, Baine said, “Don’t kill Devereaux. Extract whatever kind of information from him, however you want to do it, but you can’t kill him.”

  Her jaw worked on that for a minute while Law’s brows arched. Apparently, neither agreed with him.

  Tough shit.

  29

  “You have no idea what you’re asking me to do.” Sloan’s voice didn’t pitch or rise, but the tremors shaking her body said she clung to her resolve with white knuckles.

  Baine ignored her and pulled the trashcan out from below the sink and dumped several errant tissues into the washbasin. He collected the C-4, detonators, and wire into the metal bin, placed the garbage on top and foisted it into Law’s hands. “You know where to put it. You’ve got the exterior guards. I’ll take Kobi and the interior mob. She’s got Devereaux. We move five minutes after Sloan and Devereaux leave the dining room.”

  Sloan barked. “Thirty.”

  “Ten,” Baine countered.

  Law stuffed one more pistol into the garbage can and headed for the door. “Move ten after they leave the dining room. Got it.” He turned back and touched his index finger to his brow. “You two be safe.”

  The angry lines that marred Sloan’s delicate features softened. “Thanks, Law. You be careful too.”

  His friend smiled, turned, and from the noise beyond, collected the tray and left the room.

  Sloan and Baine squared off, both silent and still before the metal click of the bedroom door-latch. Then Sloan snatched one of the Sigs from the counter, holding it out to him in an open palm.

  “In my mind, a part of it, I know I shouldn’t kill Devereaux. The line I’ve lived by is clear, and if I kill him I know I’d be crossing it in the most egregious manner.” Her head shook slowly back and forth. “But every time I clean a gun—which is a damn lot with what I do—when I wrack the chamber and pull the trigger, every time, it’s his face I see.”

  Baine placed his hand over the gun, holding hers around it while she continued.

  “I want to kill him. I want him to look into my face. To see realization smack him between the eyes when he understands a little girl, a monster of his own creation, is about to end his life.”

  A single tear brimmed over onto her cheek and she swiped at it with her free hand. “I want him to beg and plead like my mother did. I want to hear him scream like my father. Then I want to pull the trigger. To watch the gnarled life leave his pitiful body. And spit on him when he hits the floor.”

  The gun slid from her hand and Baine set it on the counter. He interlocked their fingers and cupped the nape of her neck. “I know you want to. Believe me, I do too. I’ve daydreamed about taking his life in a hundred thousand different ways. But we can’t become killers.”

  “I already am,” she snorted.

  He pulled her closer. “You know you’re not. You just said it yourself. You’ve killed out of duty. For the greater good. Never out of hatred. Sloan, if you kill him, you’ll hate yourself and be no better than he is.

  “I won’t let you do that to yourself. You have a future that doesn’t include Devereaux Kendrick, and as hard as it is for me to see right now, so do I. I won’t let him take that from you or me.”

  Sloan buried her face against his chest and screamed. The heat from her fury leaked through the vest and shirt, thawing the lump of ice around his heart. He loathed her pain, but knew her surrender now would hurt less than her regret later. Every muscle in her small frame contracted and the sound, though suppressed, rang in his ears like a screeching missile and devastating explosion.

  Baine wrapped her in his arms. “Let it out, love. Let it go, so you can be ready. Your time has come. I believe in you. I know you can do this. No one else. You.” He whispered the litany, finished and repeated it, doubting she could hear it over the din of her roar, hoping the entreaty took root in her heart and mind.

  Finally she sagged against him, spent. He caught her and eased them both to the floor. The cool wood cabinets braced his back while his legs stretched the territory, nearly butting the bathtub. Sloan curled into a ball on his lap, fisting his hand to her chest like a security blanket.

  Were he not already on the ground, she would have brought him to his knees. And not for the first time. Something about Sloan, Sia, humbled him. She stripped away all his walls. Every pretense of distance and protection. Leaving his soul bared. Leaving only one desire. One need.

  Her.

  When they were kids she’d brought him the first sense of peace he’d ever known and now she sent his body shooting in five different directions at once. Peace. Lust. Possessiveness. Devotion. Love. Each emotion wrestled for dominance in a cartoon cluster of chaos.

  He hugged her to him so tightly he feared he’d crack a rib, but she didn’t complain. She wound an arm around his neck and squeezed him just as fiercely.

  As they relaxed, only because they needed to breathe, Sloan warmed him with her expression. Her whiskey eyes softene
d and smile lines creased. He didn’t know what it meant, but it made his already goopy heart melt a bit more. She looked upon him as though he was the only thing in the world that mattered. Lord knew there wasn’t much he cared about outside the circle of his arms.

  The silk of her cheek glided over his palms as he framed her face. Unable to stop himself any longer, Baine lowered his head. His lips hovered over hers while he drank in her heat, breathed her air, soaked in the aura of the woman he loved. Then he grazed his lips over her parted mouth. He swallowed Sloan’s exhale and concentrated on her upper lip. His tongue licked the fine edge where rouge met caramel.

  Baine planned to savor her, take care and time to bring her from heartache to desire. Sloan, apparently, didn’t need time. While moving his seduction magic to her supple lower lip she attacked. Sloan threw her entire tiny, but surprisingly formidable, weight into the kiss, fusing their mouths together by force. Her hands weaved into the knit of his hair and latched on with bite.

  Sloan raised herself, straddling his lap in a graceful swing of her leg. Her knees hugged the outside of his thighs while he craned his neck to keep their gazes level. She stared down into his eyes, an unusual feeling for a six foot five man. But with the jolt of lusty steel it sent rushing to his cock, he could get used to it. Ardent lips coaxed his mouth open and Sloan’s tongue dipped into his warm depths.

  So used to dominating where bedroom activities were concerned, this bit of domination his woman displayed thrilled his pants straight down to his ankles. Sliding his hands from her full bottom to the front of his pants, Baine planned to show her how much he enjoyed her display. Before he reached his mark, however, he found his forearms pinned to the cabinets by her knees.

  “Control yourself, big guy. I’m running the show right now,” she whispered.

  “We sure do ask a lot from each other,” he near panted.

  “Mmm,” she moaned into his mouth.