Her Man Flint
by
Jerri Drennen
Copyright © 2011 by Jerri Drennen
Formerly published with Triskelion Publishing
All rights reserved
***
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any existing means without written permission from Jerri Drennen.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Chapter One
Flint Morgan skirted the ledge above the deep, rocky ravine when a bullet whined by, narrowly missing his head. With apprehension, he scanned the gully for the shooter while another round of the projectiles zipped so close air rushed into his ear. While sidestepping the next, a jagged rock in his path tore through the leg of his jeans and cut his calf.
The smell of rain inundated his senses. He hoped a deluge would come along to wash away the marksmen trying to turn his body into Swiss cheese.
“Damn you, Adriana Kent.” Why had she lied to him about the surveillance on the Hartford compound? Now he’d probably die and be buried in this hellhole, all because of a decision he'd make that had ended their relationship six months earlier.
Talk about a woman scorned. Clearly she’d rather see him dead then living without her.
Okay, so that was flattering, in a way, but even for Adriana, this was pushing it.
Pop...Pop echoed around the canyon. Then a sharp, searing pain sliced through Flint's side. The impact sent him hurtling over the edge of the embankment into the gorge, loose dirt and gravel following him down. When he hit bottom, he landed hard on a rock, and as he heaved in a breath, his mouth filled with dust.
Yeah, this is going to be a great day.
For a minute or two Flint lay on his back, gasping for air. His side felt as if it were being attacked by a swarm of killer bees, and he seriously questioned whether his streak of luck had finally ended. Boots crunching gravel from above forced him to react.
Fighting the pain, he rolled to his knees and shaded his eyes from the sun’s glare. He glanced at the top of the ledge and caught a glimpse of a gunman pointing a .45 at his head. Survival instincts kicked in and he scrambled to his feet, plastering himself against the wall of the embankment.
Another shot rang out, the slug bouncing off a rock, missing him by inches.
Shit! Think of something or you’re gonna die.
He attempted to climb the rocky wall to face his attacker, but lost his footing and slipped down the incline, losing his weapon.
On his hands and knees, he moved his palms over the dry earth, trying to locate his Glock in the rubble.
Where the hell is it?
Time for plan B.
His heels dug into the dirt as he searched for cover. His wound throbbed like a bitch and blood now soaked his shirt.
A gun blasted again. Then silence.
Had it hit him? Was he dead?
Why hadn’t he felt the blow?
Wait. His side still hurt. If he'd said goodbye to this world, would he still feel pain?
“Are you going to lie there all day, or are we going to get the hell out of Dodge?”
The voice was unmistakable. “Adriana,” he growled.
“What? Were you expecting Lindsey ‘Silicone’ Warren, perhaps?” Adriana popped her head out from behind the huge rock in front of him for a brief second, glared, then ducked behind the boulder again. “Sorry to disappoint you, but that woman wouldn’t break a fake nail to save your arrogant ass.”
“Cute.” Flint eased up and clutched his side, putting pressure on the wound in hopes of easing the flow of blood between his fingers.
“You think she’d care one way or the other if you made it out of here alive?” Adriana continued. “Who do you think set you up anyway?”
“You did,” Flint tossed her way.
She jumped up again, her eyes spitting fire. “The hell I did. I stopped by Billy’s this morning. He asked me what I wanted when I called you yesterday.” With a seriousness Flint had never seen before, she shook her blonde head, her glare boring into him. “I never called you. He told me you were headed out here, and I knew you were in big trouble. Did you know your precious Lindsey dated Hartford?”
“What?” Flint’s mouth slacked in astonishment.
“Yeah, they were a hot item last summer.” Her gaze turned ice cold. “Apparently the relationship never ended. Why would you think I’d set you up anyway? Believe it or not, I did care for you at one time.”
Adriana abruptly looked up and aimed her rifle, firing at a man who’d popped his head over the ledge, then cursed like a sailor when she missed the mark. “Move your ass. I’m not going to be your back forever.”
She fired again, this time smiling with satisfaction when the man clutched at his shoulder.
“One down.”
Flint scrambled over to the boulder she used as a shield and pulled himself behind it, moving in close to her. Instantly, her womanly scent filled the air around him, a perfume he remembered all too well—a sweet, flowery fragrance with just a hint of musk. The stuff had always done strange things to his libido. Today was no exception. Even in danger and wounded, he found it difficult to ignore her wonderful essence. Hell, her in general.
“Why’d you come, Dray?” He slid to the ground, his back against the rock while he wiped sweat from his brow onto his shirtsleeve.
He glanced back at her with curiosity. Today, her long, ash-blonde hair was pulled away from her face, her perfect ivory complexion smudged with dirt that no way detracted from her beauty. Her attention was on their surroundings—no doubt trying to figure the best way to get them out of the mess he’d gotten them into.
He watched her intently, shocked to realize he’d missed her. “Why’d you save me?”
She turned to face him. “We’re partners. Isn’t that what partners do?”
“But what about—”
“Forget it. So our personal relationship didn’t work out—that doesn’t mean our professional association at the department can’t continue.”
Adriana turned away and fired again, this time at a man who’d started down the ravine after them. Her shot was off again.
Intense pain cut through Flint’s side as he shifted his body. “I owe you one.”
She returned her attention to him and grinned. “Do I get to choose payment?”
Before he could answer, she turned to the leather-clad man who was moving again. Taking aim, she fired, hitting the goon in the leg. The blast sent the assailant firing wildly in the air before tumbling down into the gorge.
“That’s two.” Her triumphant smile said she was pleased with herself.
“We were discussing payment. What’d you have in mind?” Flint’s grin turned to a grimace when another wave of pain sliced through him.
Adriana’s frown deepened as she studied the area. “Let’s get out of this alive, and then we’ll talk.” She pointed to his side. “How bad is it? You think you can run?”
Despite the blood soaking his shirt, he knew he could scramble if need be. “It’s nothing. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Let’s go.” Adriana raced for the next boulder about twenty feet away, Flint hot on her heels. On the way, she tried to sidestep sagebrush in her path, but instead hit it head-on and stumbled, rolling to the rocky ground and landed hard on her back.
Flint dove on top her as a barrage of bullets flew over them.
“Man, they really want you dead. Could you get off me?” She scowled and tried to push him away, her breath coming in quick, uneven gasps.
Flint stared at her flu
shed face, painfully aware of the soft yet firm breasts beneath him. Emotions he’d thought long dead stirred him to distraction.
“I’m sure the same thought crossed your mind a time or two.” He studied her face for a reaction, then lifted himself from her.
A hint of amusement danced in her eyes. “No, not dead. Castrated maybe.”
As she rose in preparation to run again, her meaning sunk in and caused Flint’s groin to twitch. “Oh, that hurt.”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the ground as another bullet buzzed past them.
“Yes, I imagine it would for someone who thought with his dick instead of his brain.”
Flint couldn’t help but smile. She had such a foul, sexy mouth. He reached over and laced his fingers through a loose strand of hair, caressing its soft, silky texture. “Have I ever told you, Dray, that you have the prettiest blonde hair?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact you have. It was right around the time you were trying to get in my pants.” She glanced around. “We don’t have time for reminiscing, Flint. If you hadn’t noticed, people are trying to kill us.”
“Right. Well, it is nice,” he mumbled under his breath.
Adriana wiggled away and sat up. “Flatter me later.”
He chuckled, then grimaced when his amusement garnered him a kick in the shin.
Another round flew by and ricocheted off a nearby rock, sending them scurrying further behind the boulder protecting them, and reminded Flint that they weren’t forgotten by their attackers.
Hunching over her, he asked, “Where’s your car?”
“Over there.” Adriana pointed to a large formation and almost lost a finger when another slug zipped past.
She gasped and clutched at her hand, her eyes narrowing on him.
“Are you hurt?” Flint reached for her fingers, but she pulled away.
“If I lose even a hair on my head, Flint Morgan, you’ll pay.”
Like a snake, she slithered toward the large rock where her car was hidden. A well-timed storm cloud crossed over the sun and cast a shadow over the ravine, giving them the opportunity to make their move to the larger formation.
Flint crawled behind Adriana. He couldn’t help but admire her perfectly rounded bottom, clad in a pair of tan khakis. She really did have the best looking rear-end he’d ever seen in his life.
“Did I ask you to save my ass?” he asked, his mind now consumed by hers, rather than what he should be worried about—getting them out of this mess alive.
“No, but I couldn’t help but recall yours, and I didn’t want to see it get shot off. Now crawl faster before my ass is the one that ends up with lead in it.”
He smiled again. The women definitely had wit.
They made their way to a pile of enormous boulders, just a few feet from Adriana’s red Porsche when Flint heard the faint thrum of a helicopter in the distance.
Adriana cursed. “Who the hell’s coming now—guerilla fighters? What if they’re not the good guys, Flint? What are we going to do?”
“Just keep moving. We’ll do whatever we have to. You got any guns in your car?”
“Yeah, two. No extra ammo, though. Only what’s loaded in my Glock and .45.”
The chopper flew overhead and circled the compound before fanning out into what was clearly a search maneuver.
“Can you see any markings on the craft?” Flint squinted, trying to make out anything that would give him some idea whether it was friend or foe.
Her green eyes widened and in a soft voice she said, “I don’t think we’re going to make it out of here alive, Flint. I need to tell you something.”
“Oh? What’s that?” he asked, his attention still on the helicopter above them.
“I wanted you to know—”
“I think it’s Billy,” he interrupted, waving his hands to draw the pilot’s attention.
The craft flew over them once, then landed in an open field a short distance away.
“Run.” Flint grasped her arm and pulled her toward the aircraft, using a zigzag pattern to dodge stray bullets, while fighting the rush of intense whirlwind caused by the propeller blades.
When they reached the chopper, he shoved Adriana inside and jumped in behind her.
Instantly, they took off, hovering just long enough for them to see three men aiming their weapons up in the air.
“Get us the hell out of here, Billy. Before they shoot us down.” The ping of a bullet hit the side of the chopper and pounded home the importance of Flint’s words.
“Right away, boss. Glad to see you’re alive. I thought I was going to have to take you out in a body bag.”
The chopper pivoted forward and left the compound.
“You might have had to if Adriana hadn’t come along. Say Dray”…Flint glanced at the blood clotting on his shirt, then looked up to meet her gaze. “What were you trying to tell me back there?”
Adriana shook her head. “Nothing. It wasn’t important.”
She turned to stare out the window, leaving Flint to wonder what seemed so dire just seconds ago, yet now that they were safely on their way home, turned into nothing?
Chapter Two
Adriana had just stepped out of the shower when her cell chirped. She grabbed a towel from the rack above the toilet and rushed into her bedroom to answer the phone.
In a good mood and feeling playful, she said, “Hello, I’m not decent right now, but if you happen to be in the area, you’re welcome to come over and get indecent as well.” She wouldn’t normally be so brazen, but only a select few had her cell phone number.
“I have a visual on that,” Flint said. “But I’ll have to take a rain check. I’m flying to Washington D.C. for a meeting with Senator Driskel in the morning.”
“Flint! What do you want? I thought you were someone else.”
“Oh, who’s that?”
Adriana tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder and reached for the bottle of lavender-scented lotion off her vanity. She squeezed a generous amount onto her hand and rubbed it over her damp legs.
A smile curled her lips. “Why? Are you jealous?”
“No.” His tone was abrupt. “Why would I be jealous? It’s not like we’re dating any longer.”
Her temper flared. “Right! Get to your point, Flint?”
She dropped onto the edge of her bed, angry with him for reminding her that she had been immature enough to fall for him. He’d never loved her—had no idea what the emotion was.
“Not in a good mood today, are we.” The sarcasm in his tone irritated her further.
“My mood was fine until I heard your voice. Now what do you want. My date will be here any minute.”
“Really? Who’s the lucky guy?”
“No one you know. Now, I’ve gotta go.” Flint Tiberius Morgan was the only person who made her feel vulnerable. Not even her father brought out that insecurity, a man who had overshadowed everyone he’d come into contact with.
“I know a lot of people, Dray. Try me?”
Adriana’s patience shattered. “I’ve tried you, and frankly I can do better.”
“Okay, that hurt. I see you’re having one of those monthly thingy’s so I’ll get right to the point. You still have a key to my apartment, right?”
Here it comes. She could just imagine what he was about to ask. “Yes. Why?”
“Will you feed my fish while I’m in Washington?”
“You called to ask if I’d feed your fish?” Why didn’t this surprise her? The man had real balls, especially after the way he screwed her over.
“Don’t you have a sleazy girlfriend you could ask? If not, you must be slipping.” Adriana could imagine his reaction to the jib as she slathered lotion over her free arm and shoulder.
“I should’ve known better than to think we could be friends again. Forget I asked, I’ll get Billy to do it.”
An unexpected twinge of guilt made her breath catch in her chest. What was he trying to do? Didn’t he know that
her heart still ached from what he’d done?
On the other hand, maybe it was for the best—for them to become friends again. After all, they were partners at the Department of National Security and had to work closely together. Being on friendlier terms would definitely make it easier on them both.
She sighed. “I’ll feed your damn fish, okay?”
“Thanks, Dray. You know where I keep the food. I’ll be back on Friday. Have a good time tonight.”
“Oh you can count on it.”
Adriana slapped her phone shut and dumped it on the bed.
He’d done it again. Managed to talk her into doing something for him that went above and beyond the call? He sure as hell knew how to play her like a game of Simon Says.
“Damn it.” She spiked the bottle in her hand onto the bed and watched it bounce to the floor, slinging lotion onto the wall. “Double damn it.” There she went again, letting him rule her world.
Would you feed my fish? Pick up my dry cleaning, would you? Call and make an appointment with Adolfo for me. She’d done all those things for the arrogant cad and a million others, and all she’d gotten for her trouble was the boot when he’d moved on to his latest conquest, a woman named Lindsey Warren, a slut who’d used him as a pawn to retrieve information for her boyfriend. Said boyfriend, Ryan Hartford, just happened to be on DNS’s top ten list of men to bring down. A man capable of anything, one who’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Clearly now, that was Flint’s head on a stick.
She snorted at the idea.
Hartford hated her partner enough to send his own girlfriend to seduce Flint and set him up for the kill.
Could Adriana blame Hartford for wanting to take Flint down? The thought had crossed her mind a time or two since finding him in bed with the red-haired bitch.
Drunk or not.
Adriana shook her head in disgust. How could Flint have been so stupid? Had the woman’s beauty been such a distraction that he couldn’t see through his alcoholic-induced haze?
It didn’t matter either way. There was no excuse for bad judgment.
Her Man Flint Page 1