Shoving his gun in his shoulder holster, Risto pulled her into his arms, then stood. He headed for the hall. As he carried her away from the carnage, he peppered kisses over her hair, her face, anywhere he could reach. Rocking her in his arms, between kisses, he muttered nonsense words, words of praise. As he walked, he thanked God for keeping her alive. He also added a few silent words of appreciation to her dad for teaching her how to defend herself.
Her loud, heart-wrenching sobs hurt him to his very soul. He walked into the kitchen where Berto stood, pulling a steaming pan off the stove. Obviously, Callie had been cooking when the bad shit went down.
Berto caught his eye. “The little one did good. She survived. Upstairs is a mess. She must have been down here when it went down. This is good, yes?”
“Yes. She took out three mercs. Ricky is seriously wounded. I’d say the little one did very well.”
“Berto,” Callie lifted her head from his chest. She sniffed, wiping her eyes. “Ricky … he … killed Javier.”
Shock then anger colored Berto’s face. “Did you shoot Ricky, Callie?”
“Yes. But I didn’t kill him… I wanted to … but knew Conn would need to … uh, question him about who he sold out to.” She buried her face in Risto’s chest and shuddered.
“She may not have killed him, but she did a number on him. Blew out his knee. His gun arm and hand are a mess.” Risto stroked her hair, smoothing out the tangles and picking out pieces of plaster. “He probably wishes he were dead.” And if he didn’t now, he would after Berto and Conn got done with him. Callie’s instincts had been good; they needed to know how far the damage from Ricky turning traitor went. If Ricky had exposed Conn’s operation, then they wouldn’t be safe here and would have to move out tonight. More than just Javier’s death or Callie’s thwarted kidnapping was involved.
Berto’s expression was deadly as he left the kitchen to check for himself.
Risto settled into a large club chair in the hearth room just off the open concept kitchen. As he cuddled her on his lap, he stroked her hair and let her compose herself. She’d had a hell of a time over the last two days and probably needed a good cry just for the emotional release. Hell, there’d been times after a bloody battle he wished he could cry. Instead, he got drunk and had sex. He couldn’t visualize Callie casually indulging in booze and sex to excess.
Conn entered the hearth room and covered Callie with a throw from the great room sofa. His friend swept a shaky hand over Callie’s hair before Risto shoved it away. “She took the two mercs out with single head shots,” Conn said.
The first two shots I heard.
“Ricky, the fucking traitor, is a mess.”
Probably the exchange of shots that followed the first two.
“She did a good job on him. He’s belly-aching. Said ‘who’d have thought a chica could shoot like a black ops soldier.’ Said he thought she would kill him, instead she shot his hand and then moved his gun out of reach with another shot.”
The last two shots I heard, which drove me insane with the need to find her.
Conn snorted back a laugh. “I heard she saved your ass, too, taking the guy out at the French doors?”
Risto shrugged, stroking Callie’s back. “I took a shot.”
“Well, buddy, you weren’t shooting a Glock with 9 mm jacketed hollow points, she was. She took the fucker out with another perfect head shot. Damn fine shooting. Don’t know too many soldiers aside from special forces who could’ve done as well.”
Risto shook his head and smiled. “Well, she was trained by the best.”
Callie sniffed and turned her face to lie on his chest. “I … I heard Daddy’s voice in my head. Remembered what he taught us. I … I … had to take them out.” She looked up at Conn then him, her fingers digging into his shirt. “You were coming back. I didn’t know how many were outside … couldn’t worry about them at that point. But inside…”
She inhaled and blew out a breath, then took another full breath before continuing. “I found poor Javier … heard intruders upstairs searching. Alarm was off. All wrong … knew someone … not someone … Ricky … just knew…” She shrugged.
Risto stroked his hand down her side. “You put it all together. Smart girl. Then what, Callie? Get the rest out, sweetheart.”
She sucked in a breath and exhaled noisily, noticeably calmer than even seconds before, but the horrific knowledge she’d taken lives was in her eyes. “I couldn’t run. They probably planned for that.”
She looked at Conn who’d knelt by the chair. A grim-looking Berto had come back into the room and leaned against the wall. Both men nodded, acknowledging her thinking. She’d done well. If she’d run, she would’ve been caught instantly.
Her lips twisted into a slight smile at the two men’s agreement. “So, I took … took Javier’s gun and hid behind the chair … then waited … waited to take my shots … make them count. Dead man can’t shoot you.” She shuddered and rubbed her cheek against his shirt. “Could I have done it any differently?” She looked at him, then the other two, tears welling in her eyes. “I was ready to kill Ricky. I looked right at him, waited to see whether he’d go for the gun…”
Callie started, gasping for breath. Risto growled, angry he hadn’t been there to take the burdens off her slender shoulders, angry that she had to kill to stay safe. “Shh, baby.” She was in danger of hyperventilating. “Slow breaths.”
“I c-can’t…” She shook her head, a wild look in her eyes.
He took her mouth in a kiss and breathed for her. When her breathing changed and she began to respond to the kiss, he pulled away. He smiled at her dilated eyes and pink cheeks.
“You did the right thing,” he said. “Ricky would’ve gone for the gun, and if you’d hesitated…”
Licking her lips, she stroked his jaw. “I didn’t hesitate. It all happened so fast and I just acted. It was as if it wasn’t me doing the shooting but some alternate Callie.” She shrugged, her lips turned down into a grimace. “When Ricky’s nostrils flared and his fingers twitched, I knew he’d kill me. He was livid and in pain and wanted me dead. So, I shot his hand, then the gun. I thought about a head shot … maybe for a split second, then thought no, he wouldn’t get off so easily.” She looked at Conn and then Berto. “He killed Javier in cold blood, killed him for money. He sold you all out so I left him alive for you.”
“And Berto and I thank you. We will take justice for Javier.” Conn leaned over and kissed her forehead. Risto hissed and Conn grinned. “And we’ll find out what else he might have told the enemy.”
“I already did. The coward told me all.” Berto’s lips twisted into an evil smile. “The pendejo didn’t sell us out to Cruz. He hooked up with a bunch of mercenaries who were out for the reward Cruz was offering. He swears they were the only ones he told of this place. I believe him. He was greedy and didn’t want anyone taking away his prize.” Berto spat on the floor. “He will never sell anyone out again. My familia will take care of the espuma.
Berto came off his position near the wall and knelt in front of the chair. Shooting Risto a “fuck-you” grin, he gently picked up one of her hands and raised it to his lips. “Javier was my cousin.” Callie gasped. Risto kissed the top of her head, offering what comfort he could. “On behalf of my familia, I thank you for honoring his death by taking down his killer. You are now family. If you need help, me, my brothers, and all my cousins will come and fight for you.” He placed her hand back on Risto’s chest, got up, bowed and left.
“He meant that,” said Conn. “And I’ll be there right alongside them if you need me.”
Callie shook her head, the saddest sigh escaping her lips. “If only I’d checked earlier, I might’ve stopped Javier from being killed.”
“Don’t think that way. It’ll only make you crazy.” Risto brushed a kiss over the side of her face, swearing silently at the bloody scratches on her smooth skin. Wanting to divert her attention from self-recrimination and the battle she’d j
ust survived, he sniffed the air. “I smell something good. Think you could eat?” He didn’t figure the traumatic side effects from the evening’s events were over yet or had even all appeared, but he knew from experience, the sooner a soldier could get back to normalcy, the better. “You want me to fix you something? How about a glass of wine or maybe something stronger?”
Callie laughed, so hard he sent a questioning glance toward Conn who shook his head and looked concerned. “Callie, baby, you okay?”
She waved a hand in the air then raised one finger. “Give me a … um, a minute.” She chuckled for a few seconds longer then wiped the heels of her hands over her face, rubbing away the newest tears from her laughing jag. “Um, you offered to feed me.”
Risto frowned. “That set you off?”
She nodded and choked back another laugh. “Um, after a big battle or a tense situation, my dad said soldiers want three things: food or alcohol, sex and sleep. You just offered me food and wine.”
“Well, I can offer a bed and some…” Conn looked at Risto and laughed.
Risto shot him an ugly look. “Well she sure isn’t getting the sex from you, old buddy, so shut the fuck up—and she’s sleeping with me.”
“Never doubted it, old buddy.” Conn leaned over and looked Callie in the eyes. “Callie, if this dumbass decides to let you get away, call me.”
“Over your dead body, asshole.” Risto glared as he shoved Conn on his ass. The loon laughed until he choked.
Chancing a glance at Callie, he found a slight smile on her face. “Callie?”
“I only want you, Marine.” She kissed his chin and then licked the small scar on his lip.
He grunted. “Good, that’s good. Now, let’s see about feeding you. We have a long day tomorrow. We need to get to bed soon.”
“Yes, Risto.” She snuggled into his chest, let out a yawn, and fell instantly asleep.
Conn smiled fondly at Callie. “Put her to bed and crawl in with her, Risto. She’ll need you when she wakes up.” All soldiers understood nightmares, especially after first kills. “The food will still be here later. Berto and I will do cleanup and then eat. We’ll store the leftovers in the refrigerator. I’ve called in extra guards. No one will get to Callie again.”
“Thanks.” He stood up and carried his exhausted little soldier to their room.
At the doorway, he stopped. The room had been ransacked by Ricky and the mercs. Well, at least the bed was still standing and mostly made. He carried Callie to it, laid her down, efficiently stripped her, then retrieved a damp cloth and wiped off all the blood on her skin, checking to make sure she didn’t need stitches. After cleaning her up the best he could, he stripped and climbed in next to her. Pulling her butt against his thighs, he dragged the comforter over them and fell asleep, his nose against her neck, his arm anchoring her waist.
Chapter Eight
Blood and bodies littered the floor. She moved from the corner where she’d shot the men who’d come to hurt her, to take her away. The house was deathly quiet. She was safe—for now.
She lowered the gun to her side and walked to stand over the dead mercenaries. Her aim had been true—single shots to each of their foreheads. She kicked their guns away, just in case they came back to life.
Mixed emotions swept through her—satisfaction at surviving, regret at having to kill, and grief for the loss of life. A half-laugh, half-sob came from her throat. She’d killed. She took several deep breaths and the sickness threatening to overtake her subsided. Backing away, she kept the men in sight. Would the images of them falling to the ground and their empty unseeing eyes haunt her forever?
As she retreated, a hand grasped her ankle. How could she have forgotten? There’d been a third man, Ricky, the traitor. She lost her balance and screamed as she fell to the ground. Hitting the floor, she lost control of her gun. Ricky dragged her across the surprisingly rough silk rug. He was strong and held her ankle in an unbreakable grip. She clawed at the floor to slow his progress, but the rug came with her as he pulled her ever closer.
She yelled obscenities, kicking out with her free leg as she attempted to grab her gun, just out of finger reach. An unearthly growl came from her attacker. With almost super-human strength, he pulled her the last few inches. He held her tightly against his naked torso, his cock erect and nudging the crease between her buttocks. He’d rape her! Hurt her!
She found a well of strength and turned to fight her captor—it wasn’t Ricky. It was Cruz. His fingers bit into her waist, jerking her closer. His dark, cruel eyes gleamed with lust as he shoved his cock…
Callie woke, her cry of fear echoing off the high, beamed ceilings of her room at Conn’s house. A naked male lay against her back, surrounding her, trapping her. A fully erect cock rubbed along her ass. Cruz! She whimpered and began to struggle. It was her nightmare come to life. Had he killed Risto and the others? Had she killed for nothing?
“Ssh, Callie. Wake up. I’ve got you, sweetheart.” A familiar voice whispered over her cheek, the tones soothing and calm. Strong but gentle hands held her as she fought her way out of the nightmare to waking lucidity. “You’re safe. It’s just a dream. Just a dream.” Firm male lips pressed warm kisses along her tense, cold neck.
She inhaled, scented the clean male musk unique to one man. She exhaled shakily. “Risto?”
An amused chuckle vibrated against her throat followed by a small nip on the pulse point. “Who else would be naked and holding you in his arms?”
“No one.” She let out a noisy breath then stiffened as she remembered. Tears formed in her eyes. Not everything in her nightmare had been imaginary. “I killed those men. I would’ve killed Ricky…”
Risto’s arms tightened, surrounding her with his strength, with safety. He took a gentle nip of her shoulder. “Don’t second-guess yourself. You did nothing wrong. They would’ve hurt you. Delivered you to Cruz.” He nuzzled a path to her ear. He licked, then took the lobe between his lips, sucking it. The sensations shot straight to her clit, and her pussy grew wet.
His mouth caused intense feelings, ones she couldn’t keep up with in her current frame of mind. He fondled one of her breasts, first cupping its fullness as if testing for ripeness then teasing the nipple with his finger and thumb.
“What are you doing?” Her voice sounded weak and so unlike herself. A low simmering ache roiled within her body, beginning with the ear he gently tortured, then to her breasts, and finally spreading to her sex where it grew into full-blown arousal unlike any she’d ever felt.
Risto released her earlobe and smothered an amused chuckle against her shoulder. “I’m distracting you with sex. Is it working?” She nodded. He pinched her nipple. “Talk to me, Callie. Do you want this?”
He moved his hand from her breast to her mound. Dipping a finger into her opening, he spread her moisture over her labia and clit. “Oh, yeah, you’re wet.” Her arousal gently simmered as he lightly and rhythmically traced her labia. When he thrust a finger into her, then ground the heel of his hand over her clit, she yipped and arched against him. He sucked on her earlobe. “Callie, do you like what I’m doing to you?”
“Yes-s-s. Can’t you tell?” She arched her head back onto his shoulder so she could kiss his jaw. She couldn’t hold back the gasp of pain as his finger went even farther into her with her movement. God, it had been so long … she hadn’t realized it would be so uncomfortable … that it would hurt.
“Callie? Did I hurt you?” He began to withdraw his finger.
“Um … don’t stop.” She covered the hand on her sex. “Please? I want you … want this.”
*
Risto brushed a kiss over the side of Callie’s sweat-sheened face. She was in pain, but refused to admit it. So, he’d go slowly if it killed him. He wanted her as hot and ready as he was.
“Hush, sweetheart, I won’t stop, but you need to tell me what feels good, what hurts. Tell me if I’m going too fast.” He tried to add another finger and managed it only after spreadin
g even more of her juices around and several seconds of delicate stretching with the finger already inside her.
“God, you’re so tight, baby.” Kissing along her jaw, he observed her as he thrust his fingers in and out in a slow, gentle motion. Her discomfort was evident in her winces and the teething of her lower lip as she attempted to stifle her gasps.
He frowned. Jesus, had she ever even had sex before? He’d assumed … shit. He pulled his fingers from her, turned her upper body toward him and cradled her head on his arm so he could see her face. His cock throbbing against her ass protested the halt in action.
“Callie, look at me. Please tell me you’ve had sex before.” She opened her eyes, her lashes glistened with unshed tears. He found a mixture of lust and distress in her all-too-innocent gaze. She was either a virgin or really inexperienced. Fuck, just fuck.
If she were a virgin, he’d fucking kill himself before taking her. Ren, Keely and Tweeter and every other Walsh male would resurrect his carcass and kill him again for even thinking about taking her innocence. He was not the man to introduce a complete novice to sex play.
“I’m not a virgin…” She hesitated.
Thank you, Lord. Then he scowled. “Honey … it sounds as if there’s a but in there somewhere.”
“My first and last experiences were when I turned eighteen.” She spoke softly, her eyes closed against him. “My dad died the next week—and I sort of had to become a mother, the bread-winner—and, you know, had to deal with everything. Then Evan discovered me and I started modeling and really didn’t have a lot of time … and the men I attracted…”
“The men what?” he snarled.
Her eyes flashed open, their silver gray darkened with the storminess of her feelings. “The men wanted my sexy, sophisticated image—and I’m not Calista. I’m plain old tomboy, marine brat Callie Meyers who’s only had sex twice in her whole life with one guy who…” She sniffed as tears slid onto her cheeks.
Damn. She was fucking crying again. He wanted to kill someone—preferably the incompetent jerk who’d taken her virginity. God, she hadn’t had sex in over seven years? What did the fucker do to her? “Did he hurt you?”
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