Firestorm

by Rachel Grant

  Brie had assured Bastian that JJ was too much of a chickenshit to come after her, but that didn’t mean her half brother wouldn’t hire help. Bastian would worry until he was home by her side, and Cal couldn’t blame him.

  But Brie also had Morgan Adler looking after her, and Cal would never bet against the spitfire archaeologist who’d proven to be more badass than some soldiers he knew. With Morgan guarding the door, JJ didn’t stand a chance.

  He turned to Savvy and grabbed the knot of the bow tie. “You know how to tie these so it comes out even?”

  She smiled and undid the tie. She slowly retied it, while he took her scent deep into his body. Sleep had been a long time coming last night. He never should have kissed her in the elevator. And he certainly shouldn’t have pinned her in the corner and ground himself against her.

  But God, she’d felt so good. And her mouth had been heat and wine and sex and everything he needed.

  He wanted to possess every inch of her, with every inch of him. He wanted to feel her mouth on him. To fuck her fast and hard against the wall and to make love to her slowly in a bed. To go down on her until she came apart, and then to screw her so thoroughly, she’d feel his cock was a part of her.

  That shit was twisted.

  But that right there was the problem. His feelings for her were twisted. Inexplicable. He wanted to own her, possess her, in a way that was primal. Intense.

  And utterly wrong.

  He’d never reacted to a woman this way before, and he didn’t understand it now. Certainly not with Savvy. But he suspected the primal want was at the core of his intentional dislike of her. She brought out desires he didn’t want to feel. Not for a spook. So he lashed out at her, when what he really wanted was to possess her.

  He needed to sign up for sessions with the base therapist at Fort Campbell. There was a good guy there who worked with Special Forces. He understood them. He’d make an appointment with Joe as soon as he was stateside.

  But before he could do that, he had to get through tonight. And tomorrow. And the next few days.

  Prep for tonight had filled their day, giving him little time to think about what would happen next. They’d bought another car so they’d have an anonymous vehicle to escape in should things go to shit with Gorev and Lubanga. They’d packed up and loaded everything—including Savvy’s spy gadgets, computer, and the two handguns they’d managed to smuggle into the country—in the new sedan. Savvy was leaving nothing to chance. They wouldn’t check out, and they wouldn’t return to this hotel.

  Savvy finished tying his bow tie, then ran her hands down his lapels. “You look perfect. I wish this were a dress uniform. But you look hot no matter what.”

  She stepped back and twirled before him. Her gown was gold sequins from top to bottom and flashed in the light, literally blinding him. “How do I look?”

  “Like a lighting bolt. Energy. Power. Beauty.”

  She smiled at him in a way that made his heart twist. Maybe there was more here than attraction, but he didn’t want to delve into that. Not when they were about to walk into the lion’s den and she was going to risk everything by sneaking into Lubanga’s quarters.

  She could get killed tonight. She could become a star at Langley, and no one outside the Agency but him would know her name or sacrifice.

  It was different for him. If he paid the ultimate price, his name would be published in newspapers across the country. Odds were, his parents would receive a call from the president. Not that he wanted any of those things, but it was a stark difference between how his death would be honored and hers would be buried.

  He draped a light shawl over her shoulders from behind and couldn’t help but drop a kiss on her neck. “Game time,” he said.

  She took a deep breath. “Cal?”

  “Yeah?” he asked, curious. She sounded like she had something heavy to say.

  She held his gaze for a long time, then finally shook her head and said, “Thank you. For coming with me on this mission. I never would have gotten this far without you.”

  “I’m glad to be a part of it. I want to bring these motherfuckers down.”

  “Let’s do it, then.”

  The urge to tell Cal had almost overwhelmed her, but she’d stopped herself just in time. Telling him now would only mess with his focus when she’d made a decision that rendered telling him unnecessary.

  She had no intention of killing Lubanga tonight. It was likely to be impossible anyway, given the security on the boat, and she wouldn’t risk Cal that way. There was no reason for him to take part in the assassination. That was her job, not his, and she would protect him.

  He was doing his part. He was taking her to the party, where she’d copy Lubanga’s files per her original mission. Then she’d send him back to Camp Citron before she fulfilled her orders from the CIA.

  Cal didn’t have a role in the assassination. Instead, he’d be on base with a hundred alibis. And if Savvy failed, she’d take the fall alone.

  It was the right call to make. She hadn’t cleared it with Seth or anyone within the CIA, but she was on her own with this, so she could make her own decisions on how to best handle the job.

  She smiled and leaned over and kissed his cheek as he drove to the marina where the megayacht was moored.

  “What’s that for?” he asked.

  “I just like you. That’s all.”

  He smiled. He looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he dropped a hand to her knee and squeezed.

  It was enough for her.

  They reached the marina, and a cool calm spread through Savvy. She’d trained for this. More important, she believed in the necessity of her work to the marrow of her bones. She was the first line of defense for a just and free world. Her work gave the abused and forgotten masses a fighting chance by exposing corrupt people who raped and pillaged for power and money.

  Dead Drugov had kindly provided blueprints of gross Gorev’s yacht for Savvy to study. She suspected Drugov had planned a nasty surprise for his rival oligarch tonight, but he’d been killed by Special Forces and SEALs. Too bad. Not sad.

  Savvy’s steps were measured and careful in the four-inch heels as she entered the main salon on Cal’s arm. The salon was wide and open—more of a ballroom—and was where most of the evening’s entertainment would take place.

  The women who’d been hired to provide entertainment wore various forms of lingerie. Some circulated the room with trays of drinks, acting as servers, while others simply sat in seductive poses, waiting for guests to partake of their wares. She was the only gowned woman present. The dress was a signal she wasn’t hired entertainment. Touch her and risk Mani’s wrath.

  Two women, one dark skinned, the other light, sat on a chaise lounge in the middle of the room, putting on a sex show for interested partygoers. Savvy took stock of which men watched with avid interest and which men showed indifference to the display. Lubanga and Gorev were among the indifferent—not surprising because they were the ones who’d arranged the entertainment. For them, this evening was all business.

  Cal played his part and fixed his gaze on the titillating display. Savvy presented a jealous pout. “Mani!” she scolded. “I’m thirsty.” She took his arm and turned him away from the show, heading toward the open bar.

  His hand slid over her ass and squeezed. “Let’s skip drinks and find a room.”

  She batted his hand away. “We just got here. I want to meet our host.” She scanned the luxurious room. “I bet he’s even richer than Stanley,” she said, giving the name of her fictional octogenarian lover.

  “Oh, honey,” Cal said, “if Stanley is your baseline for wealth, you’re about to have your mind blown.”

  “Who is the richest man here?” she asked, scanning the room.

  “Probably the two dudes at the table over there,” he said, nodding toward Gorev and Lubanga.

  “Good to know.” She turned to the bartender and ordered wine—choosing the same vintage she’d watch
ed him pour for a male guest as she approached the bar.

  He reached for a second bottle of the same type, and she shook her head and pointed. “No. That one.”

  The bartender winked at her. “Got it,” he said.

  She watched as he poured to be certain no drugs were slipped into the glass. Drinking was expected here. It would be noticed if she didn’t drink at all. She and Cal would only take light sips as an extra precaution.

  Anton, the Russian they’d met yesterday, approached and tried to draw Savvy away from Cal, but he slipped an arm around her waist, keeping her close. “Find your own woman, Anton,” Cal said in English, giving up all pretense that the Russian didn’t speak the language.

  While not the official language—Tanzania didn’t have one—English was the language of business and secondary and higher education, although it was being pushed out of schools in favor of Swahili, the country’s national language. While at least a dozen languages could be heard throughout the room, the most prominent was English.

  Anton smiled tightly. “I merely seek to keep her company while you meet our host. He is waiting to see the pendant.” He waved toward Gorev, who watched as a guest interrupted the sex on the chaise to drag the black woman into one of several private rooms adjacent to the main salon.

  Gorev nodded to a thin, brown-skinned woman whose eyes had the glaze of drugs masking fear. She approached the white woman, who remained on the chaise.

  The white woman spread her legs and pulled the scared woman to sit between her thighs, facing the audience. The white woman stroked the darker-skinned woman’s breasts, then dipped her fingers between the woman’s thighs.

  The scared woman stiffened and jolted. Even drugged, she resisted.

  “Shhh. You will like this.” The white woman spoke in a stage whisper, but she was the only one who was performing. The other woman’s terror was no act, even if the drugs made her compliant.

  The older woman—a madam of sorts?—met Gorev’s gaze. “This one is a virgin. I’ve been saving her for tonight.” She spread the unwilling woman’s legs apart and stroked her inner thighs. “Do you want her for yourself or to give to a guest?” She spoke English with a South African accent.

  Savvy’s stomach churned. This must be how Bastian had felt in the slave market, seeing the children on the auction block but knowing he was there to save Brie, and only Brie. While his team of Green Berets—including Cal—had found a way around that problem and had saved all the children, there could be no such rescue for the scared young woman on the chaise. Savvy and Cal couldn’t break cover to prevent the rape.

  Hell, they couldn’t break cover even if they witnessed her being murdered. Anything and everything could happen on this boat tonight, and they would do nothing to stop it.

  Instead, they had to watch and pretend to enjoy the spectacle.

  Gorev’s gaze turned to Cal. She leaned into him, presenting her vacant sex-toy front, and ran her hand down his chest. “Maybe we should find some privacy, Mani-baby,” she said with the seductive tone of a woman afraid of losing her meal ticket.

  His gaze narrowed as if irritated. “And insult our host?”

  She could feel the tension in his body. They’d planned for this, but he wasn’t an actor, wasn’t a covert operative. He needed to keep his revulsion hidden. He was doing a good job so far. But damn, if Gorev offered him the poor girl on the chaise, he might say yes so he could help her escape untouched, and that would get them both killed.

  No. Cal wasn’t a fool. He knew the stakes. She had to trust him.

  She did trust him.

  Gorev nodded to a man to Cal’s right. “You. Prime. You like the virgins, yes?”

  Savvy pretended to sip her drink as she shifted her gaze to look over Cal’s shoulder. And there she spotted the man Gorev had been speaking to.

  Holy crap.

  Jeffery Prime Jr., better known as JJ. Brie’s brother, the one who’d been in deep with Drugov. The one who’d fled Morocco the day after Drugov was killed. The one who’d sold out his sister to cut a deal with the oligarch.

  And now he was here, probably seeking asylum from a different oligarch.

  JJ stepped forward, his gaze raking over the frightened woman. “For me, Gorev? I’m honored.”

  “Because you were so good to watch over Drugov for me. But be careful with her, Prime. Others will want a turn.”

  Savvy maintained her serene smile even as her stomach churned. Gorev was reminding JJ of the fourteen-year-old girl he’d strangled as he raped her in Moscow a year ago. Drugov had told Brie he had the video. Savvy hadn’t found it in the materials recovered from the yacht, but she hadn’t gone through every hour of video they’d managed to grab.

  She wished she’d had more time to go through Drugov’s files. But once she’d learned of this party, her focus had narrowed. She hadn’t had time to do anything but research Gorev and Lubanga.

  JJ stepped forward and grabbed the girl, pulling her into one of the private rooms—which certainly had cameras set up to record everything that went on inside. The rooms were the reason Savvy had warned Cal they might have to get intimate to maintain cover.

  Better to end up in there with Cal than with someone else. If he hadn’t intervened that night at Camp Citron, she’d be here with Harry.

  “You. Kalenga,” Lubanga said. He then said something in rapid Lingala.

  Cal responded in the same language, pulling Savvy with him as he approached the power table. From his gestures, Savvy knew he was introducing her as his entertaining but also pain-in-the-ass companion. She sent Lubanga a winning smile, which he ignored. She turned it on Gorev, who was much more receptive.

  Lubanga took in Gorev’s reaction and said something to Cal. Cal responded by putting his hand on her ass and squeezing. She rolled her eyes and halfheartedly batted his hand away. “Not in front of people, Mani.”

  Cal fixed her with a look. “When and where I want it, Jamie. You know the rules.”

  She pouted. “You’re worse than Stanley.”

  “I think the word you mean is better. Much, much better—which is how you ended up in this mess to begin with.” He sat in an open seat at the table.

  She dropped onto his lap. He slid a hand between her thighs and brushed her clit with a fingertip under the skirt of her dress. She let out a soft sound of approval. “Oh yes,” she purred. “Much more pleasing than the old coot.”

  He gave her a smug smile, then pushed her to the edge of his lap, stopping short of dumping her. “Leave us. We have business to discuss.”

  “Come with me, my dear,” Anton said. “I will give you a tour of the yacht.”

  Cal glared at him. “She’s mine,” he said in French.

  “She can decide that,” the Russian insisted, also in French.

  “Not until I’m bored with her.” Cal’s look was hard and cold.

  The Russian glared back

  Savvy did her part and played dumb. “What are you arguing about, Mani?”

  “Ownership of your mouth,” Cal said.

  She narrowed her gaze and scanned the Russian. She licked her lips and looked at Cal. “I believe my mouth is mine and mine alone.”

  “Not while I’m paying your bills, sweetheart.”

  She gave him a pout. “You promised me diamonds.”

  He looked to the other men at the table. “And that’s why we’re here.” He smiled. “You’ll wear a string of them and nothing else the next time you suck me off.”

  She puckered, making a duck-lip pout that was never as sexy as the wearer hoped, and drew a finger down the studs on his shirt. “You know, it’s polite to take turns with that.”

  He tilted his head back and laughed. “What makes you think I’m ever polite?”

  She rose from his lap and took Anton’s arm. “Lead the way, Anton. I wish to see more of this big boat.” She glanced toward the private rooms. “And maybe explore one of those.”

  “No diamonds and no plane ticket if you enter one
of those rooms without me,” Cal said as she and Anton walked away.

  She turned and blew him a kiss. “As you wish, my love.”

  When they were out of earshot, Anton said, “I think you are more in charge than Kalenga knows.”

  She gave him a cunning grin. “He thinks he’s trained me, but I know how this game is played.” She smiled at the man and winked. “And I have my sights on bigger fish.”

  “You are a smart woman.”

  She pressed her hand to her chest. “You flatter me.” This guy clearly thought he’d given her the highest praise. In this world, women were objects and nothing more. Brains never factored in at all. But she knew who the idiot was here, and she wanted to ram his nuts so hard, they’d touch his brainstem, further damaging his feeble intellect. But she didn’t. Not yet. He was a tool—a basic, boring crowbar. Heavy and deadly, but most effective when wielded with strategic force. She would use him to pry open the exit and enter the corridors where the guest cabins were.

  “Why are most of the women here only wearing lingerie?” She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t expect that.”

  He cleared his throat. “It’s…unusual to bring a date. We allowed Kalenga to do so because you are so charming.”

  “Mani…he can be sort of mean. If I don’t do things just so.” Strategic force, step one: make him believe she was eager to move on from Mani.

  The Russian draped an arm around her as they stepped into the corridor. “Tell me about it, my dear. I am here to listen.”

  Step two: throw him off-balance while convincing him she was a complete twit. “Well, for starters, his cock is so big, it’s hard for me to get my mouth around it. I’m sure I wouldn’t have that problem with you.” She widened her eyes. “I mean—I’m sure you are…just right. Not like Mani.” She allowed a soft purr and said under her breath, “But he does know how to use it.” Then she frowned. “He has this thing he does when he comes. I’m so sick of getting jizz in my hair.”