Mighty Men with Weapons

by Mighty Men

  She nodded and unhooked his belt. Giving the strap a swift tug, she disposed of the leather quickly and released his zipper. Then she grabbed his soft shaft. To his surprise, never mind his horror, she laughed.

  “What’s wrong, Admiral? Still can’t get a stiff dick for the ladies?”

  His reputation, apparently widespread, irritated the hell out of him. Coughing, he tried to play it off while she stroked him. He didn’t harden to her satisfaction, and she eyed him curiously, like she expected an explanation.

  He owed her nothing.

  “I bet I know one or two men out in the field who could do the trick for you a little better than I can,” she taunted.

  He did, too. One of them once stood precisely where she now knelt, looking at him like he wanted to challenge his authority but never daring to cross the line.

  Nate Francisco made him hard that day. Damn hard.

  Realizing the memory brought with it consequences, Admiral Shoemaker stuffed his dick back in his pants about the time the swell became apparent.

  Grinning, Karen said, “That’s precisely what I thought, too, when I saw them. All three of them can ride me any day of the week.”

  Clearing his throat, he started to say something, but instead changed his direction. “You’re fired,” he bellowed, walking over to his desk.

  “On what grounds?” she retorted.

  “Trying to use sex to better your position, sexual harassment, or inability to deliver sufficient information to ensure a completed mission. Take your pick.”

  Karen seethed, and he could see the anger in her eyes. She wasn’t like the others after all.

  She hadn’t worked with his soft cock and tried to encourage him like the ones before her. She never dropped her mouth over the slight swell of his dick or tapped his balls like sucking his sack would make a difference.

  He was a gay man intrigued by testicles, not breasts. Karen Whitaker refused to waste her time trying to arouse him. He was beneath the effort, and her attitude left a sour taste in his mouth.

  Now, this operative wasn’t going down without a fight. When she stormed out and the door crashed against the wall behind her, he realized he made a grave error, and miscalculations were often costly mistakes he really couldn’t afford.

  * * * *

  “I need to speak with Nate Francisco,” the woman drawled.

  Nate recognized the voice immediately. She only spoke a few words at the airport, but the woman trying to conceal her true identity on the phone—for whatever reason—possessed an unforgettable Southern twang.

  “Who is this speaking?” he asked, eyeing Donovan and Colby. They waited for two days to receive their orders. Forty-eight hours of pure hell is what they endured, especially Nate. The testosterone levels were overkill, and the act of avoiding a confrontation with Colby, nearly impossible.

  Fortunately, Colby slept the first day away. The second he spent roaming the island trying to figure out who approached Donovan and Nate with an order to kill.

  “We’ve met.”

  “I know,” he said. “But without proper introductions. You never offered a name.”

  “You know what that means, I presume.”

  “You’re one of us, or at least you believe you are. Women have no business in our line of work.”

  Laughter filled the line.

  Nate thoughtfully considered hanging up since his tolerance for women ran low. Instead, he hit the speaker option and returned the phone to the cradle.

  Abruptly, the chuckling stopped. “Pick up the phone, Nate. I don’t want to talk to anyone in the room except you.”

  He snatched the phone again and walked toward the bedroom. “All right, I’m listening.”

  “Tomorrow morning at eight o’clock, you’ll go to the airport. You’ll board the morning junket to Mangaia. I’ll meet you at baggage claim. Pack light. It’s only a day trip and one I promise you’ll enjoy.”

  “I doubt it,” he grumbled.

  “Don’t worry, big boy. I know about the skeletons in your closet. I realize I don’t have the right body parts to keep you busy on the beach. But what I have to say will interest you.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “I know you will,” she said confidently. “And if you hear from the admiral, it’s in your best interest not to mention this phone conversation.”

  The line went dead. Nate hung up.

  “What was that about?” Donovan asked.

  Colby and Nate exchanged a glance. He knew something. God in heaven, help him. He could still read Colby Carrington like a daily paper.

  Colby sat on the edge of the sofa. “Let me guess. The caller was the pretty brunette the two of you met at the airport. Petite little thing with coal black eyes and a fiery temperament, big breasts and broad ass?”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about her,” Nate grumbled.

  “I heard her voice. It’s her,” Colby said.

  Nate respected that about Colby. Since the day they first met, Colby honed in on certain attributes, voice inflection and personality traits, as well as other things some operatives dismissed as unimportant but Nate believed often saved an ISO’s life.

  Nate started by him. “I’m meeting her in the morning. If the admiral contacts any of us, we’re not to mention her phone call.”

  Donovan raised his brow. “Admiral Shoemaker is in charge of this mission,” he reminded.

  Locking gazes with Colby, Nate said, “Call it a hunch. I’m meeting her. I want to see what’s on her mind. Maybe she’s the target. Maybe we are.”

  Nate was betting on the latter, and he also wagered on something else. The information he needed and wanted wouldn’t come cheap.

  Chapter Five

  They rode in a noisy as hell Brazilian twin-engine prop-jet aircraft. Nate left at eight o’clock and arrived at eight-forty. Only three passengers occupied seats on the plane. One of them, a woman, was dressed to the hilt. From her straw hat and wide rimmed sunglasses to her short, backless purple sundress and inappropriate spike heels, Nate knew her in an instant, even in disguise.

  Instead of acknowledging her presence by making light of her ridiculous need to go to extremes, he kept her in his focus for the duration of the trip—all of forty minutes—and allowed her to lead the way after landing on a crushed coral runway. A small shed, which would’ve better served as a couple of horse stalls, sported the sign—Mangaia Terminal. Nate already knew there wasn’t a baggage claim to speak of and little need to meet the woman anywhere since she traveled from Rarotonga on the same flight.

  The oldest island in the Pacific, Mangaia wouldn’t have been Nate’s first choice for a meeting place. Then again, he thought, as he grabbed Karen’s forearm, he never wanted this meeting at all.

  “Let go of me,” she said.

  “Not on your life,” he replied, rushing her into a nearby utility vehicle, called utes by the locals.

  Scrambling around, the woman continued to wiggle, trying her best to break free. Nate’s grip never changed.

  Once inside the ute, Nate tapped the driver on the shoulder, and he turned around. Grinning, Colby Carrington shifted in his seat and said, “I guess this is as good a place as any. What kind of information are we buying here today, Miss Whitaker?”

  Surprised, Karen took a quick intake of air and held her breath, glaring from one ISO to the other. Her lips formed a true pout, and she set her jaw, apparently determined to remain silent.

  They would soon help her with her deteriorating attitude. In her mind, and Nate never doubted the way she most likely felt, she assumed Nate had betrayed her.

  “Miss Whitaker,” Colby began. “I was a POW long enough to think about the things I wanted out of life and the things I didn’t. I had time to rehash mistakes and relive them again and again. When facing death on a daily basis, never mind the brutality of some life endings, a person has the opportunity to consider the wrongful steps he has made, just in case he has to walk down similar trails again.”
>
  “Why are you telling me this?” she snapped.

  “As a POW, I placed my faith in a system that couldn’t wait to let me down, something I’d hate to see you do. I trusted in the honor of good men and was raised to believe that most men were decent creatures. I’m not the same young man who once went off to war in hopes of defending my country. I’m a hard, egotistical male waiting for a bullet to take me, a knife to slice me or a bomb to destroy me.

  “I’m not a believer in friends. I’m a maker of enemies. You’re going to tell me about my latest one, and you’re going to do that before you view me as the worst enemy you’ve ever known.”

  Nate tugged her closer, wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulder and said with a nod, “Let’s take her on a little sightseeing tour, what do you say?”

  Grinning, Colby glanced in his rearview mirror. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  * * * *

  Karen took in the scenery. In truth, it was the only reason she chose Mangaia. The oldest island in The Cooks, Mangaia offered Karen a chance to experience true beauty one last time before her life came to an end and the final curtain call drew near. It had drawn closer and closer since the first day she’d been paired with Admiral Thomas Shoemaker.

  The ute stopped at the edge of a tiny trail not far from the small landing strip. Colby hopped out and quickly opened the back door. Holding out his hand, he said, “We’ll follow behind you.”

  Shivering when she placed her hand in his, she was shocked when he gently pulled her from the old cloth seat and helped her regain her balance until she found her footing in deep, bone white sand. Nate ignored the hand offered, and Colby chuckled.

  Karen knew their history. She also understood why they were all brought together, but specifically, she read the detailed files of Nate Francisco and Colby Carrington. They were once allies, dependent on one another for survival. Then, they became friends and lovers. Soon, they’d become bitter enemies.

  Stumbling down a red dirt path, Karen turned around and studied the men behind her. Both were exquisitely handsome with chiseled, masculine features and broad shoulders. Towering over her by several inches each, she dared to think of the possibilities, of what she’d give to have them both take her for carnal pleasures, erotic enjoyment.

  They walked about eighty steps and discovered a narrow beach and hidden lagoon at the mouth of the path. The view was breathtaking, and yet complete sorrow filled her heart the second she saw the ideal location in front of her.

  They planned to kill her.

  Nate said, “Turn around.”

  She faced him with honor, without fear and with few regrets. If they killed her without hearing what she came to tell them, then they’d suffer the consequences and reap what they’d chosen to sow.

  Colby nodded toward the sea. “This is a spectacular spot, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she agreed.

  “Nate always loved the beach.”

  Nate shot him a quick glance, and Karen studied Colby. Did he already know about the specific details of the mission? Had he used the meeting she arranged to gain the upper hand? Would he kill Nate Francisco right in front of her?

  Nate grimaced. “We’re not here to rekindle memories.”

  “Why are we here, Nate?” Colby asked, scorn in his expression, anger in his voice. The tables flipped, and Nate never flinched.

  Nate directed his response to Karen, seemingly unaware of Colby’s sudden change of demeanor. “I guess you have all the answers, don’t you?”

  Detecting uncertainty in Nate’s voice and the building instinct to survive in Colby’s, she said, “I don’t think I’m the enemy here.”

  Nate immediately switched his focus back to Colby. Both men drew weapons. Colby drew a gun and Nate a knife, something Colby would’ve most likely contemplated from the beginning.

  “What the fuck?” Nate screamed. Beads of sweat scattered across his brow.

  Colby never broke a sweat. Preparation and expectancy, something Karen realized Colby possessed, proved he held the advantage. Oh yes, without a doubt, Colby Carrington was fully aware of the mission at hand.

  “You know about the assignment,” Colby accused, never taking his eyes off of Nate.

  “I’m still waiting for orders just like you are,” Nate said.

  Colby’s veins pulsed with visible fury. “That’s bullshit and you know it!”

  Karen watched the men as they moved together a few steps, then broke away, placing a little distance between them. She took quick breaths, afraid the tiniest of sounds would ignite adrenaline or fuel tempers.

  “What are you trying to say? You think I know something about this tour that you don’t?”

  “Wake up, Nate,” Colby said, squeezing the gun still tighter with a locked aim. “You aren’t enlisted as a soldier anymore. Tours are a thing of the past. We’re on something else here, and you damn well know who your targets are.”

  “I feel like I’m on a fucking rollercoaster whenever I’m around you! What the hell are you suggesting?”

  Colby jerked. It was a slight but visible gesture and so quick Karen almost didn’t see his arm and jaw twitch with the involuntary movement. Nate was still able to get inside Colby’s head, just like their files read. Nate was an alpha male, and he dominated wherever he trod.

  Nate’s left eye twitched, and Colby’s brows raised. He pointed the gun then and aimed it at Nate’s head. Nate quickly moved the jagged edge to Colby’s throat. Karen backed completely away.

  “What the fuck is this about, Miss Whitaker?” Nate asked, out of the corner of his mouth.

  She didn’t say a word.

  “Whitaker!” Colby shouted. “Tell him!”

  “Tell me what, damn you!” Nate screamed, sweat beads bubbling at a steadier rate straight across his wrinkled brow.

  “Tell him what the mission entails.”

  Karen smiled, realizing with complete certainty then that she had, indeed, been right all along. Nate Francisco didn’t know why he was called upon for a special operation in the middle of the South Pacific.

  Colby Carrington, on the other hand, had been well prepared from the very beginning. His paranoia guided him into thinking and believing the worst.

  Nate pressed the tip of his blade against Colby’s throat, and Colby mashed the gun a little firmer against Nate’s head.

  “Damn it!” Nate released the knife with an angst-ridden cry, never flinching when the weapon fell to the white gritty ground.

  Shocked, Karen stared at him in disbelief. She saw defeat in his eyes, something she’d never witnessed in any of the operatives. Nate Francisco had one vulnerable soft spot, a true weakness—his name was Colby Carrington.

  Colby ground his molars until it sounded like he broke off a back tooth. Karen had seen bloodshed many times. She’d watched grown men, friends in fact, murder their partners in cold blood on an ordered hit. She’d witnessed fast kills, slow torture, and sudden death when least expected.

  No one was going to die here today. No one in the next few minutes or even the next hour, but someone would explain. When Colby dropped his weapon, too, and then grabbed her arm, she sensed that someone was her.

  Chapter Six

  Karen closed her eyes and listened to the soft swishing sound of the water. The hot temperatures made the ocean feel like a warm sea bath. Her knees made small indentions in the sand, and she reveled in the gritty grime of the grain-like texture as moist puddles formed around her. She felt like she was sinking in quicksand, and nature provided a constant reminder. The men in front of her were her only lifelines.

  “Sit down,” Nate said sharply.

  “What about my dress?”

  “It’s already ruined,” Colby promised, pointing to the tear she caused when she knelt down in the first place.

  Nate twirled his forefinger downward, insisting on her compliance.

  She sat on her bottom like an obedient dog ready to serve her master. Only, she wasn’t a Dom’s pet or an I
SO’s companion. Trained in firearms just like the men standing nearby, Karen was experienced behind the gun and could hurl a knife with the deadliest of operatives.

  “Start talking,” Colby ordered.

  That’s when she felt the grin spread across her lips. “Colby, if anyone has this mission figured out, it’s you. Maybe you should fill in the blanks for Nate.”

  Nate glanced over his shoulder. “What’s she talking about?”

  Colby addressed her. “You couldn’t possibly know what I suspect.”

  “Actually, I do,” she said. “You arrived here two days before Nate and Donovan. You checked everyone out and always returned to the cabana reserved in Nate’s name.”

  “Meaningless. I’m thorough. That’s all.”

  “Then,” she continued, drawing out the one syllable, “You watched as Donovan and Nate enjoyed an island dinner. You were tempted to take your shot, something you wouldn’t have done unless you were one hundred percent certain of your target. But you were, weren’t you, Colby? You suspected you were the hunter and the hunted, yet you still couldn’t take your shot, could you?”

  Nate shouted, “What the hell is she babbling about?”

  “Tell him,” she encouraged in a diabolical fashion, her tone changing at once. “Tell him how your finger twitched on the trigger. Explain how you tossed those field glasses to the wayside, picked up your weapon and loaded it. Tell him about the sights you adjusted and how you gripped your gun only to throw your weapon to the ground and ignore the signs. Everything was in place. The orders hand-written on the wall. You had a target. A mission to complete, but you chose to ignore the orders you hadn’t fully received. Why? Tell him why!”

  Colby charged forward and yanked her up. “What the hell are you talking about?” He shook her.

  “You’re the target, damn it! He’s the target. All of you, even Donovan, were sent here to destroy one another.” She leaned back and watched the way her revelation was received. Then she laughed, an absurd finish to the information she provided. “Ah, but you weren’t sure, were you?”