Walker (Bad Boys of X-Ops #1)

by Rie Warren

  “I can make it happen for real,” Jade threatened.

  Ignoring Miss The Spy, Justice stowed away his tablet and hunched forward, answering my question. “Because. Danger. It’s why we all signed up for the job.”

  Amazingly, we landed at McGuire AFB in New Jersey without heads cracked, stomach contents spilled, or new hostiles on the horizon. That we knew of, anyway.

  Justice commandeered the stripped down, black Jeep waiting for our arrival while Bane and Storm returned the borrowed cargo plane from whence it came.

  What a joyride that would be with just the two of them who couldn’t wait to destroy one another given half the chance.

  The darkened streets of New York City slickened with late winter sleet that dinged off the soft-top roof of the Jeep. We weren’t on a freakin’ sightseeing tour, yet Madge wiped a forearm against her misted window and practically plastered her nose against it. Evening had settled in, but tall buildings, bustling sidewalks, and brilliantly lit billboards overshadowed the sky.

  I wasn’t a big fan of big cities. But I guess I could understand the allure.

  Hell, give me a horse and a tent, a rifle and the woods, and I’d be a happy man. Almost. I concentrated on Jade who sat beside Madge. She looked worried. Not the usual balls-out babe or the soft woman in my arms from last night.

  As Justice navigated toward Manhattan, I watched the lights illuminate Jade’s downturned face. I could understand her concern. She’d placed her and Madge’s lives in my care, and so far I’d made a mess of everything. Not my usual MO.

  The showy, glittery, and ooh ahh fancy disappeared behind us as Justice took us down one alleyway then another, throwing us deeper and deeper into darkness.

  Hell’s Kitchen may have been on an urban upswing, but from the outside Justice’s so-called safe place looked much, much worse for wear.

  The background wail of sirens. The scraps of litter in the street. A line of dumpsters good for hiding the dismembered body parts of a corpse without being detected above the stench of three-day-old trash.

  A punked-out little hellhole to hole up in Hell’s Kitchen. Nice.

  Justice led us inside the warehouse and ushered us into a cold, metal, meat-packing-sized elevator. Another great way to get rid of bodies.

  I approved.

  We made it to the top floor of the midrise building, and the elevator door rattled open.

  Justice stepped out, beckoning us to follow. “This floor is the living area. I own the rest, but it’s empty. You’ve got free rein as long as you need it.”

  Color me fucking impressed.

  From the exterior, I’d expected a squatter’s haven, but the inside was downright palatial. Well, as palatial as a dark ops hacker could get. I ambled around, taking in the lay of the land. The space was open, large, pretty damn decent.

  Justice pointed out the kitchen area, the main room that dominated most of the space, and the bathroom, which wasn’t too shabby at all. One bedroom, too, and a screened-off corner outfitted with another bed.

  Sweet.

  I was particularly interested in the bank of computer monitors and the security screens that lined nearly one entire wall in the main area.

  Scratching his chin, Justice squinted at me. “Yeah. You can have access to my babies. What the fuck. We haven’t been able to get anywhere with the intel so far. Knock yourself out.”

  Righteous.

  I popped my knuckles and eyed the high-tech equipment with something close to hope we might get out of this mess after all.

  “Dedicated Internet. Got us hooked up to a satellite circling somewhere up there in the atmosphere. Ain’t nobody tracking my shit down.” Justice dug his fingers into his pockets.

  “Damn. Nice digs.” I almost got teary-eyed with gratitude.

  Not.

  “Yeah. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bomb the place to dust.”

  I looked from Justice to Jade and back again. “Why the hell does everyone think I’m gonna go all crazy train with the boom-boom?”

  “Because we can see it in your eyes,” Jade tartly replied.

  Huh. Only thing I planned on going crazy on was her rockin’ body with my cock buried deep inside.

  I glared at the woman until Justice dragged my attention back to him.

  “So, here’s the control pad.” He palmed a slim silver tablet-sized rectangle that came to life when he swept his thumb across the interface.

  “For your apartment? I need one of these things.”

  “I have one of those for each of my homes.” Madge’s eyelashes fluttered down, and she smiled serenely. “I can use it to alert the guards as well.”

  Always trying to one-up us. I rolled my eyes. “And now you’ve got two guards. The best of the best, babe.”

  All three of them stared at me like I’d lost my fool mind—which I clearly had—and Jade mouthed, “Babe?”

  Shrugging, I turned to Justice. “You got Albert and the Batmobile stashed somewhere here, too?”

  “You’re such a fucking throwback.”

  “And you’re a fuckin’ pretty boy. But you got some cool shit so I forgive you for that. Now, gimme the thing.” I snatched the swanky control pad, tempted to press all the little buttons at once just to watch his head explode.

  What? I needed something to explode.

  “It works the alarm, the door and window locks, and the steel shutters.”

  Steel shutters? Every operative’s wet dream.

  I pressed the appropriate button, and they started clanking down all through the warehouse in tandem.

  I was totally getting some of those for the homestead. Assuming I survived this latest hell.

  Slipping the tablet into my pocket, I glanced meaningfully at Justice. “You’re not gonna stay, are you?”

  “With you and your concubines?” He snorted. “Not likely.”

  Out of nowhere, Madge hauled back and kicked him in the shin. “I am not a concubine.”

  “Ow!” Justice hopped on one leg, rubbing the other.

  “Big bad man cannot take a little pain?”

  Damn. I liked it when Madge got her snark on.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hell’s Kitchen, and a Whole Lotta Bitchin’

  SINCE I REALLY DIDN’T trust the women on their own, and I didn’t really want to listen to the bitchfest if I tied them up again, I took them with me for an on-foot recon of the area. Also, I’d checked Justice’s food supplies. No bueno.

  His fridge and cupboards looked like something you’d find in a frat house kitchen mixed with shit picked up at the nearest 7-Eleven.

  At least we blended in with the multicultural atmosphere. One bonus to being in the heart of a big city. The streets were busy with pedestrians of every ethnicity, their breath steaming in cold puffs as they talked in a disjointed mishmash of languages. It may have been the beginning of spring down south, but winter maintained its toehold up here.

  We stayed well away from Times Square and the Theatre District, keeping our heads down, maintaining our vigilance. We just had to hope everyone who was after us didn’t locate us again until after we figured out this FUBAR sitch and decided once and for all what to do with Madge.

  Loading up on groceries, I kept one eye on the women and one on the surrounds at all times. Our excursion was made much less dicey than it could’ve been, since Jade was an expert at picking out the most elusive threats.

  Then there was Madge. Who wanted to pop into every open shop from one side of the road to the other, pawing through trinkets like she was just out for the day browsing in the Souk el-Ahad bazaar in Beirut.

  “This isn’t sightseeing. It’s surveillance,” I gritted out.

  “I need some souvenirs for when I return home.” She sniffed. Imperiously.

  That regal shit was in her genes whether she was a recognized princess or not.

  “If you return home.” I reminded her.

  I noticed Jade’s nose twitch when we passed a foodtruck doling out Ko
rean short rib tacos.

  Hustling to buy her a couple of tacos topped with slaw, I enjoyed the way she ate them with relish—and ignored the way Madge watched with a slight smile and a twinkle in her black, black eyes.

  Back at Justice’s loft, we made a slapdash dinner, washed it down with electrolytes to make sure we were good and replenished in the event of a midnight raid, and prepared for bed.

  Madge took the bedroom. I set the alarms and closed the shutters with a press of the sleek buttons on the control pad. Jade and I couldn’t stop staring at each other as we prepared for some shut-eye in the corner of the screened-off studio where a large California King bed looked as inviting as fuck for nothing short of a long night of fucking.

  Naked. Together. Again.

  We crashed together, our movements raw and rhythmic. There were no words, just wet, sloppy sounds. Low grunts and soft moans. Another night of no fucking, but a lot of inappropriate touching and indecent kissing. Hands and fingers, mouths and tongues. Jesus, Jade’s tongue.

  This case of goddamn blue balls was gonna go down in history, never mind the case against Majedah Chehab. My dick remained so hard all night long I could’ve used it as a battering ram to blast through the warehouse’s two-inch thick steel doors.

  Daylight arrived too soon, once again dropping a wall between Jade and me.

  Breakfast was silent. She did that superior British thing, glowering.

  I scowled.

  Madge probably hated on both of us, wondering how the fuck she’d been saddled with a pair of seriously sexually frustrated enemies/not enemies.

  Whatever.

  The moment Justice’s mega computer station lit up at the touch of a button from his righteous control pad, I got in my happy place. I had a strict order of things I liked:

  Fighting

  C-4

  Fucking

  Big guns

  Hacking

  Fucking some more

  After several hours, it all seemed goddamn pointless. Even if we got the info that cleared Madge’s name . . . what then? The whole world was out to get her and, by extension, get Jade and me, too.

  During the Internet trawl, one of my phones went off. I hit the receive button without even looking.

  Big. Fucking. Mistake.

  “Where the fuck are you?” True to her name, Blaize blazed out without even a how-do.

  “Hello to you too.” I wheeled around in my chair, internally swallowing my groan.

  Fuckit. Fuckit. Fuckit.

  “Do not be coy with me, Walker.”

  “I don’t even know the meaning of the word,” I haggled back, cringing.

  Jade stared at me. Madge, too.

  My boss lady, I mouthed at the two of them.

  Jade’s eyes widened into saucers.

  I grimaced at her, holding the cell away from my ear while Blaize bashed me about breach of protocol and traitorous activities and failed mission goals.

  The woman probably had a twelve-step guide imprinted on her brain with goddamn mission goals and operation objectives. She probably checked off each bullet point when we debriefed.

  “These . . . these shenanigans end now.” Blaize’s voice lowered into a forced-calm/slightly rabid tone. “You. Turn. Majedah Chehab. OVER. NOW!”

  Fucking hell. Blaize wasn’t just pissed. She was foaming-at-the-mouth furious.

  “Can’t do that.”

  Coitus interruptus? Call interrupted would’ve been welcome right about then.

  “You can’t?” she asked.

  “Won’t,” I clarified. “But I tell you what. We’re in New York City. Stateside. And when I get this shit sorted, I’ll hand the target over to the proper authorities.”

  “Is that supposed to be some kind of consolation, Walker? You are notorious for going off the reservation”—if only she knew—“and running roughshod. That stops now.”

  “I’ll be in touch, Miss Carmichael.”

  She was still ranting when I shut down my phone and crushed it underfoot.

  I wondered how many more problems I could add to the growing list. Now I had Blaize hot on my tail.

  I brought my knuckles to my mouth, staring at the wall behind the computers.

  “What is it, Walker?” Jade asked.

  The first words she’d said to me all day and it was already late afternoon.

  What it was was: I was having second thoughts about this entire mission, and Jade was perceptive enough to figure that out in an instant.

  She shook her head with finality. “No. No way.”

  “You heard that yell-fest I just endured, Jade.”

  But suddenly the idea of turning in Madge made me feel a hell of a lot more like a traitor than not completing my kill orders on her ever had.

  I pushed up with my palms on the long table. “I don’t know what else I can do.”

  When I locked my eyes on Jade she shot up in front of me. “You promised! You just told your boss you wouldn’t do it. You swore we wouldn’t stop until we discovered the truth when you took us with you!”

  “I don’t think either one of us had a choice in the matter.”

  “I would’ve survived. I’d have gotten us out.”

  “How?” I folded my arms over my chest.

  She deflated, and I hated seeing her lose her fighting spirit so much another pulse of anger coursed through me. I needed to unburden it, not on Jade.

  Spinning on Madge who’d sat silent witness to everything, I towered over her.

  “And you. You’re too fucking calm for your own good,” I snarled.

  “Losing my cool isn’t going to help convince you of my innocence.”

  Goddammit. Why does she have to be so freakin’ reasonable?

  I deflated, too, and plopped into a chair. I sat there, rubbing a finger back and forth beneath my lips.

  I propped both elbows on the table. “You really expect me to believe the dossier I got on Madge was a totally engineered decoy?”

  “You’ve spent three days with her, Walker. What do you think?”

  For the first time since joining T-Zone, I didn’t know what to think.

  Frustration lit Jade up. “They’re protecting Qasim’s interests. They’re making Majedah his scapegoat!”

  “I can name dates, leaders, locations.” Madge touched my arm. “I can provide the information, but it won’t matter. Qasim can just as easily implicate me, as he already has. He set it up perfectly.”

  “So, what you’re saying is we just need a full-blown confession from your husband in front of witnesses? Is that all?” A rough-edged laugh escaped my throat.

  So fucking easy. Riiiiight.

  “Urethra!” Madge shouted.

  I covered my crotch with my hands. Whaaaat?

  Jade chuckled. “I think what Majedah means is eureka?”

  “Oh. Is this where I say my bad?” Madge looked at Jade.

  “Okay,” I said. “No more daytime TV for you, Madge. And definitely no reality TV. Jeeesus.”

  Bad enough we’d watched CNN where Madge was being fingered as the biggest baddy since Saddam Insane. Having fled Beirut directly after the Liban explosion, she looked more and more guilty of everything she’d been accused of.

  Getting back down to business, I did as Madge asked. I verified the details she supplied. Everything checked out. But it wasn’t concrete evidence in her favor. I had no one besides Jade to corroborate her innocence. And that just wasn’t going to fucking fly.

  On the other hand, I knew Madge now, and I wasn’t half bad at reading people. I believed her. I wasn’t so soulless yet I could hand her over without giving a fair fight for her first.

  I nodded with my jaw clenched. “Fine. We’ll keep going. Together.”

  I cranked my neck. I stood and stretched my arms, popping muscles all over my torso and back. I walked around and returned to stand just behind Jade who continued working away.

  Time was running out. We’d already had our mission almost derailed on two occasion
s—once in Beirut, yesterday in Mt. Pleasant. It wouldn’t be smart to stay in one place for more than a few days without a solid plan ready to put into action.

  The pressure was on, and goddamn, did I feel it in my bones. One in particular. My cock had spent the day reminding me of its presence with an insistent throb. Meanwhile, Jade, aside from our harsh words and wary agreement, had sat next to me hacking, cracking, and virtually ignoring me.

  It was a shame I was so skilled at multitasking. I could scan codes and find wormholes into databases all the while aware of Jade’s mouthwatering scent. Her tight body I knew on an intimate level but not the most intimate one. Her lush lips that pouted every time she hit a brick wall while probing the interwebz.

  The air fucking crackled with insane tension the longer I stood there, staring at the back of Jade’s neck bared by her pulled-up hair.

  It went without saying we didn’t have Facebook accounts, we weren’t on Instagram, we didn’t have social media hookups, and we for damn sure didn’t post selfies despite Storm’s self-proclaimed seflie stick trick in the Sikorsky four days ago.

  We had little to occupy our thoughts, hands, or time as we waited.

  Jade and I were used to being in action.

  She pushed back her wireless keyboard with a sigh before rolling her chair around.

  I jumped back before she could run over my toes.

  Her cheeks were flushed, lending a pink hint to her golden skin. Her eyes sparkled. Her hair was swept in a bun, two chopstick-style things shoved through the magenta-black mass to keep it in place. For all I knew they could be slim daggers honed to a fine edge that she wielded with an icepick grip. And she was just waiting for my back to be turned.

  “What, Walker?” She reached up, letting her long, glorious hair cascade over her shoulders, down her back. She set the possibly lethal, carved-ivory instruments on the console. “I can smell your distrust every time you look at me.”

  “I think that’s lust,” Madge commented with a hint of mischief.

  Ignore.

  I took two steps, leaning toward Jade. “What I can’t understand is why your people haven’t reached out to you yet.”

  She wheeled her chair sideways, out of my reach. “Simple protocol. Go silent and stay untraceable when in trouble.”