Stranger Mine: a Base Branch novel

by Megan Mitcham

“You sure about that?” He rubbed his knuckles across the stubble sprouting on his chin.

  “Yeah.”

  “All right. How many in each car? Best guess.”

  “Two up front. Three in the backseat. If things are running hot with another cartel, they’ll ride two in the hatch. ”

  “That’s twenty-one armed men, plus how many in the bus?”

  “Just the driver.”

  “Seriously?”

  “They’re hauling thirty girls into the middle of nowhere, most of whom aren’t a day over seventeen, surrounded by men ready to fuck them or shoot them. The guys don’t exactly have to worry about an uprising of unarmed, terrified women.”

  “Point taken.” His sun-bleached locks ruffled with his nod. “So, I’ll re-wire the garage to blow on one detonator, rig the front entrance on another, and I’ll take the bus driver and lead car.”

  “But Gabrone…is in the tail car,” she stuttered.

  “And you want him dead, right?”

  He offered up a palm and one shoulder shrug.

  “Yes,” she conceded.

  “Nothing like a couple of globs of C-4 to do the job.”

  “Fine, but do you think you can take, what, eight guys by yourself? Why not blow them to smithereens too?”

  “Too close to the bus, the people we’re trying to protect.”

  A chill nearly frosted the hairs on Piper’s arm. She’d worked hostage situations before, but as a beat cop. Her only responsibility had been keeping the onlookers from interfering. And now she was responsible for taking out two carloads of bad guys and the well-being of so many scared and confused girls. What if it all went wrong? What if they all died because of her? What if Ryan bled out on the dusty ground?

  “Hey?”

  His gaze roamed her arms, which she chaffed with the ineffective cups of her palms. He stepped around the bar, wrapped his hot fingers around her uninjured wrist, and tugged her close. Against her better judgment, Piper allowed him to envelope her in his heat.

  Yesterday his gear provided an adequate barrier against body contact. Today the heated cotton and ridges of his muscles glided under her hands. She wrapped them around his taut middle while he encased her in the power of his arms. His palm cupped her nape, drawing her face into the crook of his neck, into the crack house of his intoxicating scent. The ecstasy of it had her fingers gripping the cliffs of his lower lats and her lids fluttering.

  “If I didn’t think we could do this, I’d have carried you, kicking and screaming to extraction.”

  “I know we can,” she whispered. “I just worry what it’ll cost. Risking my life is one thing. Risking yours—”

  One second, she stared at the smooth contours of skin over the edge of his traps, admired the fine golden hairs on his nape. The next, his gaze burned her a second before his open mouth collided with hers. Wet silk glided over her lips in steady pressure. He swallowed her gasp and morphed it into a rumble. It vibrated the muscle under her hands.

  His palm snaked up her neck and grabbed the base of her braid. With a steady tug, Piper’s head gave over in a backward lull. Every ounce of preservation fled. Desire replaced fear. Curiosity replaced concern. Her shoulders sighed her relief, lazing with abandon.

  Ryan supported her in his sure grip and laved at her mouth with eager pulls. His tongue teased the corner of her thin lips. More than almost anything, she wanted him inside her in every way. But she didn’t dare move. Didn’t care to move. Contrary to every sexual experience of her life, Piper let a man lead. And screw it all, with him kissing like he did, she’d follow him just about anywhere.

  “Give me your tongue, Piper.”

  “What?”

  She tried to meet his gaze, but with her neck exposed and his grip on her hair she could only see a semi-circle of devastating blue eyes.

  “If you want me to release you, all you have to say is bronce.”

  Piper clamped her lips together, forbidding the word to escape.

  “Good.” His tongue lapped at her top lip. “Now, give me your tongue.”

  The organ inside her mouth toyed with her teeth, willing her mouth to open. Still her lips remained sealed. Why did he want her tongue? If she poked out her tongue, wouldn’t she look like a grade-school idiot?

  Ryan placed a sweet kiss on her chin and stepped back. Just like that, the spell shattered into a million pieces and rained on her head. The high of letting go snapped back like a gigantic rubber band. And that bitch stung. His face set in neutral. Not happy. Not sad. Not callous. Just even.

  “You got out of your head for a moment. That’s more than I ever expected.” The idea of a smile swept over his face, tugging at his lips. Too quickly it fled. “Don’t worry about me. Do. Not. You worry about detonating the garage and porch, and not getting shot. Let’s get to work.”

  12

  It took all day to set the ambush. Yet, it had taken nearly no words at all. He counted two during his world famous enchiladas. And her, “Thank you,” had been perfunctory. Nothing special. No wonder he couldn’t find a woman to please him in and out of the bedroom. What he found attractive out of the bedroom—strong will and bravery—contradicted, and therefore precluded, his desires inside.

  Despite that thought, there had been a moment that morning when Piper had become lighter than air in his arms. When she loosened her death grip on ultimate control and gave over to pleasure. Pitiful though it may be, it was the sweetest gift he’d ever received.

  Ryan knocked on her bedroom door, not waiting for her to come to him. It would never really happen anyway. When she opened the door he had to clear his throat to speak.

  “Just want to make sure you have the first aid kit.”

  Piper had scrubbed off the layers of dust that powdered their bodies like human beignets. Her ultra long hair sat atop her head, hidden by the tallest towel turban he’d ever seen. Thankfully more than terrycloth covered her middle. Though, the T-shirt and boxers weren’t much better coverage. Especially without a bra. He focused on the fresh gauze covering her wrist and not her tiny, pebbled peaks.

  “I took care of it already,” she said, “I didn’t want you…”

  When he held a palm up she trailed off. “I get it. You didn’t want me touching you. You can take care of yourself. You don’t need me or anyone else to help.” Yep, he got that loud and clear. Ryan touched two fingers to his gritty brow before turning to go.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Good night, Piper. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  What was it about this woman that turned him into a flat-out ass? He’d never pushed a woman to tears. Never spoken his mind. He smiled and did as told. At work and at home. The only place he let his dominance rein was on a mission or in a club.

  Why?

  Ryan rubbed the ache at his chest, ducked in the hallway bathroom, and closed the door. He propped his M4 next to the shower stall, put the satphone on the sink, turned the spray on as hot and as high as it would go, and then stripped. Stepping under the spray, hope bubbled. Maybe the water would boil away his thoughts. Too bad his brain didn’t shut down. Sleep didn’t quiet the constant hum. No chance a shower would.

  Why?

  He could blame his parents like any good kid would. His mother’s crying was the equivalent to drowning puppies. Atrocious and heart rending. His father’s absentee parenting and over the moon expectations for his only son sucked a big one. But. Piper was right. Guilt ate him from the center of his heart to the tips of his toes.

  For so long he’d been a walking, talking, smiling corpse. Because nobody saw through the looks he inherited from his mother and the charm he learned from his father. Was it penance for his sins? He hadn’t wanted anyone to see his pain. Didn’t want anyone to pity him. Couldn’t stand letting anyone down. Not when he was the only thing his mother lived for.

  The thick lather, vicious scrubbing, and beating flow weren’t enough to swindle the guilt from his conscience. Still, acknowledging it ease
d the razor’s edge. He rinsed the suds from his body and set his face beneath the spray. The phone chirped. Ryan scrambled out of the shower, dripping water all over the world, trying to reach it before the second ring.

  “Noble,” he answered.

  “Her story checks out. Clean record and exemplary credentials from the L.A.P.D. Her older sister has a wrap sheet just as long as Piper’s accolades. Mostly minor stuff, until the last few years. She has known links to the Sinaloa Federation’s faction in the US.” Tucker huffed. “I hate to say it, but maybe Piper got in over her head with them too. You’re a hell of a convenient way out of that hell hole.”

  Ryan considered it for a fraction of a second. “No. She’s not telling me something, but there’s no way she’d work for them.”

  “Don’t underestimate the influence of an older sibling. They’re role-models. Positive or negative.”

  “My instinct says no.”

  “You mean your dick says no.”

  “Damn it.” Ryan hoped he swung the mouthpiece up in time that Tucker didn’t catch it, but the man caught everything.

  “Look, you’ve always been a good operative. But today you became great.” Well, that shocked his irritation mute. Tucker continued, “You were an instructions man. Whatever I told you, you did. No questions. No fault. If anyone changed the op, it wasn’t you. That kind of fortitude is treasured beyond all others in most military outfits. But I like my men to listen to those instincts when they scream louder than me. Copy?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Just make sure it’s instinct doing the screaming and not your Johnson.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The line went dead. Ryan set the phone on the counter and stared at it, and then his dick, and then his face in the foggy mirror. Pretty sure he knew who was running the show, he dried, stuffed his junk in another stolen pair of boxers, proving it wasn’t calling the shots. He shoved his feet into his dust-dipped boots—because come on, who wants to walk barefoot where a pile-o-bodies had lain a few hours ago—and grabbed the phone, ruck, and his rifle. He stepped into the hallway and stopped as abruptly as if he’d smacked into a tree.

  On a towel in the middle of the corridor, Piper perched on her heels. Her hands gripped the tops of her bare thighs. Eyes cast to the floor and hair neatly braided, only the slope of her forehead and bridge of her nose were visible. The rest of her body postured in perfect display. Her form coursed with lean muscles, a sculpted work of art.

  Ryan’s nostrils flared. The grip on his weapon doubled. His eyes didn’t narrow on the usual spots. Though his cock stood at attention for her dusky areolae and beaded nipples. It bulged in utter appreciation for the neat patch of curls at the junction of her thighs. Yet, his heart ratcheted to erratic beats at the feminine curve of her waist and the bend at her hips.

  Instinct and his cock joined forces.

  The posture wasn’t submissive, but the gesture enticed the quiet Dom inside him. Ryan dropped heels on that side of himself, straining the reins of his composure. He absorbed the sight of her. Hope flickered that when he closed his eyes her image would be seared into his vision like a vibrant sunspot. Because he didn’t, for more than a few seconds, believe she would go through with this little experiment.

  He’d wager a truckload of money that the first instruction he gave, no matter how sedate, would send the swell of her well-toned ass running. Which was enough to make him misty-eyed. A body like hers deserved to be pleasured. Restrained and set free at the same time. Mastered.

  Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession. Buds no bigger than under-ripe blueberries pointed at him, calling him out for being a coward. Here she was, making herself vulnerable. His gaze dropped to her white knuckles, which clung for dear life to her thighs.

  “Palms up. Backs of your hands resting on your thighs.”

  His voice sounded gruff. Like he’d gone through puberty a second time and his voice deepened yet again.

  Piper’s fingers slid from her skin. She raised them into the air, then turned them. With the delicacy of butterflies’ wings, she rested them on her quads. Pride swelled his chest while lust did magical things to his penis. One step at a time, he neared. To her credit she stayed balanced like a proud lioness at the top of a cliff.

  Ryan leaned the gun inside the bedroom, set the phone on a dresser, and the ruck on the floor. He circled around her back and awed at the definition of muscle beneath her olive skin. They V’d and X’d this way and that. Most men liked stick figures or swollen curves. He liked women fit for the furor of his appetite. The pads of her toes peeked out under the rounds of her butt and he couldn’t help but lick his lips.

  “Relax, Piper. You’re giving yourself over to pleasure. Releasing your stranglehold on control. Giving it freely to experience the thrill of the unknown. Give yourself over to the possibility of ecstasy,” he coaxed.

  Her shoulders dropped. The backs of her hands sank against the tawny skin of her legs. Consequently, a blush rose on her nipples and crept up her chest.

  “Beautiful. Now, stand.” When she rose he stood in front of her and tipped her chin with his index finger. “While we are engaged in this scene your eyes are to stay on mine at all times.” He smiled. “Unless I tell you otherwise or I am exploring parts unseen.”

  “Scene?” Her copper eyes flared. Her skinny red lips drew his attention. When he raised his gaze, hers remained fixed on him.

  “Yes. You’re not in the life, as they say. Encounters or scenes should always be negotiated prior to beginning, especially with a new partner. Hard limits should be set for safety’s sake.”

  “Negotiated?” Both her brows raised. “This isn’t a hostage situation.”

  “It could be.”

  Her breath caught in her open mouth. Ryan closed the inches between them and sealed his lips over hers. Piper’s head relaxed back while his tongue delved inside her mouth. Spearmint toothpaste and her hot tongue invited him deeper. He toyed with her mouth, exploring and learning his way around. All the while her tiger eyes remained fixed to his. When she swayed he eased from her heady taste.

  “Tell me your hard limits, Piper.”

  “I…” Her gaze flitted about the hallway. Looking everywhere. Seeing nothing.

  “Eyes on me,” he growled.

  She found him again and her cheeks flushed.

  “Piper, it’s about trust. An exchange. We both give and both receive. I need to know if anything is over the bounds for you.” He leaned closer, touching her cheek to his and whispering in her ear. “Can I eat your pussy? Can I tie you? Are you overly sensitive anywhere? Do you have triggers? Can I slide my dick inside your sweet cunt? You lush ass?”

  She whimpered.

  “I was tested clean a year ago and haven’t had any partners since. Are you on birth control?” he asked.

  “How romantic,” she squeaked.

  “It’s responsible. And Piper, when I’m inside you, there will be no pulling out. No turning back. So, if you don’t want this tell me now.”

  “I was clean six months ago. No one since. I took a Depo shot before I left the States.”

  “Hard limits?” he demanded.

  “Apparently none with you.”

  “Any experience in the world of kink, Piper?”

  “Some role play once, and anal play occasionally. But I’ve never had…anal sex.”

  “And did you enjoy yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “At any point, if you wish to stop, what do you say?”

  “Bronce.” True to character her voice didn’t quaver in the least. Piper Vega, always in control. Until now.

  “If you want something harder, softer, longer, faster. You tell me. Do as I say, and I’ll oblige you as long as I’m breathing. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she sighed.

  Ryan’s every muscle shook with the need to take her. Right there. Standing in the hallway. Banking the insane urge with some deep breathing, he hooked his arm behind her knee, s
upported her back in his other, and scooped her against his chest. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He strode into the bedroom and sat her on the edge of the bed.

  “Lie face up. Feet toward the headboard.”

  With a few scoots she did as he asked, stretching her gorgeous body before him. He stepped to the low-slung foot of the bed. The end of her braid lay in an S above her shoulder, its end wrapped with a strip of tattered cloth. Pinching it between two fingers, he laid the long twine straight, pointing up from her head. He slipped the tie from her hair then one by one unwound the plaits. The closer he came to her head the longer the silky group of strands ran over his finger. Three distinct sections lay fanned over the end of the bed.

  When he pulled the last of the twines from her scalp a moan parted her lips. Her eyes fluttered like they longed to close against the bliss. But their gazes remained fixed. Ryan sank his finger into the strands at the base of her skull. He lifted her head off the thin covers and circled his fingers against her scalp. Her back arched off the bed. The peaks of her breasts begged for contact. The rectangular and plentiful plateaus of her abdomen contracted.

  He kissed the center of her forehead then trailed them to each temple in turn. All the while his fingers kept working. He skimmed her nose with his lips. His mouth hung over hers. She whimpered and raised her lips for his. They only whispered over her eager crimson skin, giving barely a hint of what was to come.

  Ryan removed one hand from her hair, but kept her busy with the other, letting it roam about her crown. Eyes fixed on hers, with his free hand he tweaked her nipple. Her mouth fell open on a gasp. He licked his right thumb then rubbed the pad over her lower lip. Dew from her hot breath gathered on his finger, forcing him to gulp his escalating need.

  Grabbing both her hands, he spread her arms wide. His weight bore palm to palm, pinning her to the mattress. He breathed over her mouth for several seconds, and then moved on without a touch. She voiced her indignation in a huff, which Ryan cut off. His lips sealed over her left nipple and he sucked the miniature raspberry-sized treat into his mouth. Her huff contorted into an airy keen. The point of his tongue lashed over her delicious peak.