Shadow Ops: Danger's Desire (Kindle Worlds Novella) (A Shadow Ops Novella Book 1)

by LS Silverii

  “Did we get the gig?”

  “Yeah, gotta get to 500 Canal Street by tonight. They said to check into this room and follow instructions until contacted.” They both thumbed through the ripped open envelope.

  “Shit, Hollywood, we still need to hump it back to the Jeep and get there by nineteen hundred hours. You know the way?” She lifted herself against his shoulder.

  “Not exactly, but I can try retracing my steps.” They began to move out together. Voodoo dug in her heels. “You really who they say you are?”

  “Who’s that?”

  “What that guy said you were.” Her finger twirled aside her head, eyes rolled.

  “Yeah, what the guy said.” He grinned expecting her to rush into his arms, overwhelmed by his heroic actions for their country.

  “This way, hero.” She walked away instead. Hollywood brushed his bruised ego off and kept pace as Voodoo coasted through the rugged marsh terrain.

  “No need to thank me for making that thousand yard shot that saved your life.” Hollywood tried to make conversation, but mostly understand her distant responses. He wasn’t sure she was even interested in him for anything other than last night’s sex.

  “It was your shot that scratched my freaking ear and broke my earring. Some SEAL sniper you are.” She called over her shoulder.

  “You’re welcome.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Winds gusted off the Mississippi River and blanketed Voodoo and Hollywood in a mist of muddy water and dust from the Task Force parking lot. They leaned against her Jeep while the other Task Force agents drove away.

  “Damn, Hollywood, you took an ass beating in that debriefing. Deserved it though—turning off the body wire system just to sweet talk me in private. What the hell’s so important to almost get us killed?” She soothed him with a shoulder rub. They swatted flies outside the warehouse—this wasn’t in Hollywood’s playbook.

  “Lawless your ex?” Hollywood scanned the parking lot. He wondered if the surveillance cameras had microphones—figured they did, or should. He shielded his mouth from that point forward.

  “That’s all you worried about? Shit, dude you like some love struck pup. We almost died today, and tonight we going to be these crazy bastard marionettes to do gosh knows what. All you want to know is if Lawless is my squeeze?” She rocked with feet apart in a defensive fighting stance, hands melded into hips.

  He should’ve been hurt, embarrassed, or pissed. No woman had admonished him like that since parochial school. Instead, his heart ached to understand her feelings and whether she felt for him the way he’d fallen for her.

  “I do wish you hadn’t told them about Pakistan.” Hollywood stepped close—secret agent spy close—he gawked around and over her head for counter-surveillance.

  “Paki what?” She dug the baby wipe from her jean pocket to finish cleaning her face. He already thought she was gorgeous.

  “Let’s keep what I did in the sandbox our little secret, okay?” He leaned in to kiss her on the ear he’d whispered into.

  “I ain’t dense, but what the fuck you talking about, Hollywood? What’s a sandbox got to do with anything?” A scrunched brow was pressed forward and she jerked her neck back in a swayed motion to emphasize the point. Only thing missing was the finger wag. Nope, now she wagged her finger across his face.

  “Voodoo, I was part of SEAL Team 6 that killed bin Laden. Everything was at the highest levels of secrecy. We operated in the shadows, and returned to not tell a soul about our involvement. Then, one of our own, JW Colt, betrayed his brothers for the almighty dollar. His movie told not only the story, but the training, the tactics, and worst of all—the people involved. Lives were lost because of his breach. Our families have gone into hiding in the WitSec program. And for what? JW Colt’s fucking greed.”

  “Even your family?” She brushed hair from over her eye.

  “My mother, brother, two sisters and their families are all under the protection of the US Marshal Service. And now they parade Colt around like a fucking hero. I’d put a bullet between his eyes if given the chance.” Hollywood’s fury was tempered by the wetness in his eyes as he considered his family’s sacrifices for his service.

  “I’m sorry for opening my mouth. Let me make it up to my hero.” Voodoo air-kissed him. “You remember how to find my condo don’t you?”

  * * *

  “Hi, hot shit, back for more?” Bonny snaked her face into the sliver of door opened to Hollywood.

  “I wish, but more work left to do. Voodoo back yet? She told me to meet her here.” His body told the story of the last three days. Nearly a full beard after less than a week’s worth of no shaving hid his innocent boyish looks. He’d used that appearance often to fade the heat and attract women. Far from innocent, he liked to think he was genuinely a kind-hearted person. Once carefree, his adrenaline fueled life or death-defying missions had hardened his spirit.

  “You mean you’re willing to pass up this?” Bonny grinned, but Hollywood focused beyond her and scanned for Voodoo.

  “Honey, if you knew the hell I went through today, you wouldn’t even ask.”

  “She’s not home yet. Is that what you’re afraid of?” Flirtatious temptations turned to taunting rejection.

  “No, Bonny, I just can’t. It would be disrespectful to Voodoo.”

  “Disrespectful? Because of last night’s toying around? What you thinking hero, y’all an item now? Fuck, she ain’t back from her boyfriend’s crib yet. Probably still sucking his dick. Kinda like she did yours.” She flipped a turn on her stiletto heel and swayed through the living room. “Your call hero, you can come in or stay out—but close the door either way. I don’t want to waste electricity while Krystal is out getting her fuck on.”

  Arid lips pursed as he watched her slink across the white tile floor. Hot anger pulsed through his body at her accusations—where in the hell was Voodoo anyway? If he was wasting his time chasing her, why not give Bonny a go? After all, they’d been only moments away from a threesome last night anyway—why would Voodoo care?

  “Bonny, why you all snazzied up?” Hollywood slipped into the condo without touching the door, but then eased it shut behind him. He watched a sly snarl slip across Bonny’s angular face in the mirrored wall across the living room.

  “You like?” Her long, graceful fingers feathered along the sequin gown. Her narrow hips and ass barely made a dent in the straight line of the silky dress, but that was her allure.

  “Yes, you are a beautiful woman, Bonny. Going somewhere?” He resisted his carnal habit to engage—it usually ended up with them both nude—followed by some strange excuse to bolt out afterward.

  “Rex’s carnival tableau, silly boy. Everyone that’s anyone will be there.” She spun to face him. Left hip and thigh jutted out—left fist buried into that hip for effect. It opened the split in her gown to expose shredded muscle beneath it. He sucked in a breath—she was tempting.

  “Well, I guess that tells me where I stand in this city.”

  “Want to be part of the action, Hollywood?” Her lowered voice caught his attention—his full attention.

  “How’s that, ma’am?” Fingers jabbed at his beard. The last time it had fully grown out was in Iraq. His hands swiped weary eyes to shake the temptations of abandoning his desire for Voodoo. He’d fallen for her, but be damned if she’d jerk him around by the collar like, as she’d said earlier—a love sick pup.

  “Let’s not play games. Fuck me and find out. I guarantee you’ll care nothing about the Mardi Gras once I’ve had my way with you.” She parted the gown’s slit a few inches to expose her smooth-shaven pussy lips. “Forget about that little girl, let her play with Lawless. You get a woman instead.” She backed into the bedroom until he lost sight of her.

  He glanced into the same wall-length mirror and saw the shell of a man. The brash, more-than-capable, military might who’d tracked down and taken out the most notorious mass murderer in the world just stood there—hunched by life’s
demands. He imagined himself attired in pristine ultra-white BUD/S graduation formal uniform.

  He tried to muster a flash of his patented smile, but fatigue and conflict weighed heavy upon his warrior’s soul. SEAL training had taught him to sustain the mission while others rang the bell to compromise integrity for temporary comfort. He wanted Krystal, and not just for sex. Maybe it was a one-way road—but he felt his heart breaking for the wanting of her.

  “Oh hero, don’t make your Bonny wait for you.” The ball gown came flying past the door’s threshold.

  Hollywood glared back into the wall mirror. His heels clicked together, shoulders back, chest out and chin parallel. He snapped a sharp edge-handed salute. He was willing to wait for the woman he’d come to love.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Hi, baby.” Krystal’s green eyes sparkled—she set a bag next to the coatrack and jumped into Hollywood’s arms. “Had to stop and pick up a few supplies. You know for later.” Her dimpled cheeks indented with a suggestive hint and wink. He glanced at the bag and saw the grocery store’s imprinted name. Anger at Bonny passed quickly as he dismissed her attempts to tempt him and disrespect her own roommate.

  “What’s with Bonny anyways?” He asked.

  “She’s special—a shift wife.” Voodoo replied.

  “What?” Hollywood blanked.

  “Fats—she’s his shift wife. You know, they’re together while he’s on duty. When he ain’t, he’s with his wife and family,” Voodoo whispered and then motioned for him to follow her into the bedroom.

  “That you, Laveau?” Bonny yelled.

  “Yeah, Bonny. You can put your dress back on. Fats will be here soon.” She set her straight.

  “I’ve never heard that term.”

  “Where you been, hero?”

  Hollywood stood over her and got lost in her eyes. He noticed she bit her lip as she smiled, but oh, those mesmerizing eyes told the story. Thoughts zipped, stirring his paranoia but he tried not to ask. His breath became labored—he had to know.

  “So are you Lawless Boudreaux’s shift wife?”

  She turned from his grip but said nothing. Voodoo fell onto her plush mattress—the unmade covers bounced around her feet and thighs. His heart hurt. It was stupid to show vulnerability to a woman. His policy was the best practice—never get attached. He sucked in the sweet aroma of fresh lilacs from a nightstand vase. He smiled, and extended his open hand.

  “I understand, Krystal.” His head hung low.

  “What is it that you think you understand, Dwight David Harriman?” She stuffed three pillows together and leaned back. The way her long one-sided strands of soft hair parted behind her ear drove him crazy. Her smile welcomed his positive response.

  “You and Lawless—I just pop into town and can’t expect you to drop everything for me. Officially, I’m here on a mission. Once it’s done, I’m out.” Hollywood’s voice rasped with bittersweet sorrow and honest concern. Honor was his creed.

  “Baby, come to Voodoo.” Her welcoming hands slid through the dimness. It would’ve been easy to jump in bed for another meaningless romp, but he felt for her, and she was taken. He hadn’t known that last night, but now that he did, there’d be no dishonoring a fellow brother in the service.

  “I’d love to more than anything, Laveau, but your heart belongs to another. I won’t interfere. I’ve thought of only you since we first met—but I care about you too much to just have sex without your heart engaged.” Hollywood felt uneasy with the words that fell from his mouth. They were foreign, usually spoken by others—not him. The discomfort felt good though, accompanied, as it was, by peace.

  She eased up, looked deep into his eyes and slipped her palms inside each of his. Hollywood’s chest filled with heaviness. He closed his eyes consuming the feeling of her touch. He hadn’t the heart to end the moment—love had come then vanished as intensely as he’d ever imagined an unfair fate could. His lips parted, but nothing was spoken.

  “It’s you, Hollywood. From the moment I first met you, until the time I booted your preppy ass at SWAT training, it was you. I was afraid you’d leave just like you did after that last mission, so I acted like a brat. Truth is, I don’t care, I’m going to open myself to you and trust whatever happens next.” She squeezed his palms. Her smooth dark skin and warm eyes framed a sweet smile.

  Hollywood exhaled at her confession. He’d overlook her avoidance of explaining the relationship with Lawless if she said it was in the past. He then inhaled the promise of a new life—a wonderful adventure with this beautiful woman. He leaned to kiss her, but her right index finger stopped him. Instead, Krystal slid to the bed’s edge. Her feet dangled from the pillow-top mattress as Hollywood’s thighs pressed hers apart. She slowly unhinged the button and fly to his pants. He lifted both arms while she stripped him of the plain cotton t-shirt.

  This brash Cajun diva lay back against the collection of overstuffed pillows and mangled sheets. She grinned as he came closer. Bent knees opened her to his intense erection. Unlike last night’s excitement fueled by decadence, tonight was an emotional connection. Hollywood entered her and rested his muscled torso upon her firm breasts. She sighed—he grinned.

  “This is nice.” He whispered in a low growl.

  “Just nice?”

  Her arms snugged around his hips to ride the slow motion of his solid torso. Both had survived one hell of a day—easy loving was what they wanted, what they desired. Hollywood pressed up on arms that trembled with the adrenaline transfer from angst to excitement. He stared into her face.

  “Krystal.”

  “Hollywood.”

  “I know it’s soon…”

  “I like you Dwight David Harriman.” She said laughing. “I beat you again.”

  “Fair enough.” They both experienced the swell of his erection. He grinned devilishly, “He likes you too.”

  “I can tell.” Her words slowed as her eyelids fluttered. Her breath came in short blasts, deep, warm pants. “I love him too. Yes, very much.” She pressed her hips up hard against him. Hollywood grimaced.

  “Sorry, baby.” She grunted with a half-laugh.

  “It’s okay, honey.” He surged back until his cock was deep inside her. He held that position. They both smiled at the sensation of his cock pulsing inside her warmth. Her jeweled clit piercing mashed between them heightened her responsiveness.

  “You okay, Krystal?”

  “You’ll break before I do, pretty boy.” She smashed both hands onto the cheeks of his ass. Hollywood gasped as he felt his cheeks part. He entered deeper still. Both surrendered speech, and instead delighted in the overwhelming sense of togetherness that dominated their pure sexual desire.

  “Tell me again how much you like me,” Hollywood said.

  “Plenty ’nough, Dwight Dave Harriman.” She stared directly into his eyes, yet her mouth slanted crooked and parted.

  “Maybe a little less formal next time.” He grinned, and then drew his cock back from her most inner well. She feigned a pouting frown.

  Hollywood began a slow stroke. She writhed as he slipped his dick’s swollen head just outside to push against the quivering lips of her pussy. The piercing teetered on the tight skin that stretched around his dick. She gasped at the loss of connection. Then he slowly re-entered her and meandered his entire body across hers until his cock was as fully deep as it had been before he retreated.

  Krystal arched her back until only her shoulders and ass touched the bed. The mane of hair whipped across her face and his chest. He loved the feeling of her entire body absorbed in the act of lovemaking. Mostly, he loved the eye contact.

  Hollywood continued to torment her with full exits and deep returns until her pussy’s soft walls moistened so that he was almost unable to feel being inside of her.

  “Oh, Hollywood. Hollywood.” She cranked her head further backward into the pillow—her eyes rolling, mouth gasping for air.

  “Tell me, baby.” He increased the intensity of his thrusts.
<
br />   “I love you, Hollywood. I loved you when I first saw you. I lo…”

  Hollywood growled like a beast devouring prey. Body jerked and contorted into a violent orchestration of pleasure and pain. His hips beat against hers. They writhed until absolute exhaustion overwhelmed them.

  Hollywood collapsed onto the side of her—their arms folded against each other. His toes softly clasped the side of her foot. Silent, they lay still listening to the beats of their hearts raging against their chests.

  “Nice work. But hero, your cell phone is going crazy again. This fucking RP must be psychic,” bitched Voodoo.

  Bonny stalked in the doorway. Back in her sequined lavender gown, she held the phone and refused to surrender it until Hollywood actually got out of bed to get it.

  What a bitch.

  CHAPTER 14

  Late afternoon light beamed through the window blinds. Voodoo’s bedroom was comfortable and a place Hollywood felt at home—except when Bonny barged in. He yanked a thin sheet over his nude waist and held the phone with his shoulder pressed against his ear.

  “Hi, Rose.”

  “Hollywood, back to tricks?” Billy called from the STR conference room’s speakerphone.

  “Not now, Billy. Gotta be somewhere soon.” He slipped his arm beneath Krystal’s head and smiled as she snuggled close against his relaxed frame.

  “Rose will be in soon, but I know you’ve got a check in at the Sheraton on Canal Street soon. Let’s get started with the declassified version.”

  “Sounds good, my brother.”

  “Why don’t you put me on speakerphone so your friend can hear. She’s involved too and the heavy breathing in my ear is driving me wild.” They shrugged and looked at each other’s naked bodies as if round two was possible.

  “Billy, this is Voodoo. Voodoo, Billy is second in command at STR. Former Delta and all-around office bad ass.”

  “Pleasure is mine, ma’am. Okay, time is wasting and this is going down fast. From what the FBI is picking up on their wires there are three teams of mixed gender assassins involved. Have y’all met the others?” Billy spoke quick, but confident and clear. “No, we’ve not a clue.” She spoke up, head craned forward toward the cell. Voodoo either didn’t comprehend the severity or was a cool customer under fire.