by Warren, Rie
I watched her through half-lidded eyes. It felt like she was making love to me with all our clothes on, and it was enough to make my control snap.
As she slowly dipped down into a sexy crouch before undulating back up, I looked out across the bar to find Walker staring straight at us.
He raised his trigger finger at me.
I spun Jessica around so her back was against my chest. “You see that guy over there?”
“The hottie Native American?”
Jesus Christ.
“Yeah, him. Name’s Walker. I want you to stay away from him. He’s dangerous.”
“Mmm. I think I just figured out I like dangerous.” With a low laugh, she swiveled around.
“You want me to fuck you right here?”
“If you feel you need to prove a point. But I was referring to you . . . and danger. Not that guy over there.”
“What if I want to spank your ass for disobedience?”
“I’d prefer it if you spanked my pussy.” She slid one long thigh between my legs, grinding against my cock.
“That can be arranged.” I held her close for a moment before setting her away from me and scrubbing a hand down my face. “Just not for a few days. Can’t see you for a few days.” Not until I made sure Vicente was well and truly out of the picture, incarcerated, or put six feet under.
“Okay then.” She immediately turned back to the pool game in action and graciously thanked her opponent for waiting for her.
She was aggravatingly unconcerned about me.
I set my hip against the table and folded my arms across my chest. “Walker is my houseguest.” My very unwelcome asshole houseguest. I hoped he didn’t think I was changing sheets or putting out fresh towels for him.
“No prob,” she said, still annoyingly blasé.
“Hang on a sec.” I pulled her around by her waist. “Are you seeing other people?”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Me either. I don’t sleep around just like I said before, if that’s what’s got you all hot and bothered.”
“Yeah, that’s got me hot and bothered. I don’t sleep around either.” Anymore.
“But c’mon, we were only together twice.” She twirled the pool stick and tapped me on the chest with it.
“Excuse me? We were together a lot more than that.”
Her cheeks flushed and her onyx gaze danced from my eyes to my mouth. “We were together two nights, and we fucked a lot both times. But that doesn’t mean we’ve exchanged promise rings or anything.”
“Right.” The muscle in my jaw leaped. Taking the pool cue from her grip, I marched her outside, her elbow in my hand.
When I got her into the vacated parking lot, I crowded her back against the concrete wall of the building. I braced my hands on either side of her head and bent my knees until I was face level with her. She shivered, and I didn’t know if it was from the cold or the situation but I took off my leather jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
“We might not have exchanged promise rings or whatever—and maybe it was only two nights—but I’m not fucking around with you—”
“Well, technically you are . . . fucking around with me.” Her head tilted to the side, she watched me with wary amusement.
“Jessica,” I growled her name. “Getting attached is a very bad idea.”
Her lips popped open, but I placed my fingers against her mouth. “I really like you. Not as a fling. And on the one hand I want to keep you safe, on the other I want to keep you in my bed permanently.”
“Well, that would make it difficult for me to go to work,” she mumbled around my fingers, her eyes twinkling like night stars.
With a groan, I scooped her to me. “You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told. But I work with five-year-olds all week long. I’ve gotta get it out somehow.” She pressed up and her warm lips skimmed from my jaw to my ear. She caught my earlobe between her lips, nibbling lightly. “I really like you too.”
I reared back. “You do?”
With a smile, she said, “Let’s review the evidence, shall we? I just let you interrupt my pool game, twice. I didn’t kick you out of my bed last night. I gave you a stellar blowjob, and I don’t just pull out those mad skills for everyone, Hunter.”
The promise of her words sent a flash of excruciating heat to my groin, and inside my jeans my cock surged and ached. Her face cupped in my hands, I bent low to kiss the soft heat of her mouth. Her lips moved in sync with mine, and when I trapped her tongue in my mouth, she moaned.
The door to Retribution opening and slamming shut beside us dragged us apart. Walker glanced over, flipping his long braid out of his army-issued canvas jacket.
“I’ve seen enough, Kemosabe.”
“Get lost already.” I hid Jessica’s face against my shoulder.
“You don’t want to introduce us?”
“Fuck. Off.”
He ambled away, whistling a low tune.
“So”—Jessica turned my face to hers—“get everything out of your system with me?”
“Not everything.” With a press of my hips, I brought her pelvis in contact with my hard erection.
“What about everything else?” she whispered, her arms looped behind my neck where she toyed with my hair. “Because you’re kind of possessive.”
“Sorry.” I grinned sheepishly.
“I don’t think you are at all.”
“You got me. I’m not usually like this, though, with chicks.” Her slim eyebrows arched while I made a hash of things. “But yeah, I kind of want to mark my territory all over you.” My voice rumbled out of my chest.
“I see.” She bit her lip, her mouth curving in a coy smile.
“That a bad thing?”
“I like it.” Her hands moved down my back, and she squeezed my ass. “I’m feeling a little possessive too.”
“I feel that.” Clearing my throat, I said, “So maybe if I can get my shit together, we could go on a date or . . .” I took one of her exploring hands in mine, and held it against my lips. “Try to make a thing out of this. You and me.”
“Not big on using your words, are you?”
“Jessica.” Hauling her up against me, I nipped at her juicy lips. “I’m more of a man of action.”
“I feel that,” she gasped.
“I have to go, sweetheart. Walker is waiting.” With my arm around her waist, I wrestled my phone free of my pocket. “Add your digits.”
She did as asked then gave me her cell phone in return so I could plug in my numbers.
Tilting up her chin with a brush of my knuckles, I said, “I want you to be safe, okay? So if anything strange happens, or if anything just feels wrong, you call me right away.”
“Okay.” Concern crossed her features. “You’ll be careful too, Hunter, whatever it is you’re up to with that man?”
“You can count on it.”
With a last sweep of my lips against hers, I swatted her on the ass. “Now get back inside. And don’t stay out too late. I’m calling you later to say goodnight.”
“You’re not going to go all heavy breather routine on me, are you?”
“Phone sex could be fun. Never tried that.” I laid another spank on her sexy ass. “Now scoot.”
I walked backward to my motorcycle.
“Hey! Your jacket!”
“Keep it.” I winked and waited for her to go back inside. I’d call her later to make sure she got home all right . . . and on her own.
Possessive might’ve been an understatement.
Walker and I exchanged minimal words as I revved up beside him for the ride back to Chez Hunter. Once home again, I didn’t bother showing him where various shit was—the dude was a professional snoop. I had no doubt he could find what he needed, probably in the pitch black without even knowing the layout of my house.
I called Mel and Jack, hoping I didn’t wake them up.
I told Mel to be extra vigilant, feeling like a shit for keeping
her in the dark. Not even the mother of my child knew the whole truth about me.
A few minutes later, I listened to a sleepy Jack recite the latest bedtime story.
When he rambled off at the midpoint of Don’t Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late!, I said, “Hey, Jack. You know how sometimes I call you monster?”
He giggled. “Yeah.”
“Well, here’s the thing. I say it because I never want you to be scared of anything. I don’t want Mommy to be scared either. So, if anything scares you, ever, you let me know and I’ll take care of it.”
“Mm’kay.” I pictured him scrunching his face and scratching his nose.
“I love you, monster.”
He giggled again. “Love you too, Daddy.”
In spite of everything, a large grin spread across my face. “I might not be able to get you next weekend or see you this week because of work, but I’ll check in on you everyday. And we can FaceTime, okay?”
“Uh huh.”
“And remember not to talk to strangers.”
“Don’t know no strangers,” he replied.
“I know. That’s kind of the point.”
“’Night, Daddy!” He rang off before I was finished.
An hour later, I dialed Jessica. When she answered, I didn’t hear any ambient noise from with Retribution MC or male voices in the background. I relaxed onto my bed with a smile.
“You home?”
“Alone. In bed. Almost asleep.” Her honey-low voice was music to my ears.
Or that could’ve been the fact she was in bed, alone.
She ramped up the stakes with a rustle of sheets. “I’m naked as well. I wish you were here.”
“Damn. You took off the corset without me?”
“I’ll wear it next time you see me.”
“Promises, promises.” I listened to her laughter. Then I shot up in bed. “Did you just say you’re naked?”
“Uh huh.”
“So phone sex isn’t off the table?”
“Uh uhn.”
“You’re going to be the death of me, Jessica.” I groaned.
“I doubt that very much. A big, virile man like you . . .”
Despite our teasing words, it turned out we didn’t do the dial 1-900 number thing to each other that night. I lay in the dark, quietly talking to my woman about motorcycles and teaching, about Jack and what little I could tell her of my past.
After awhile I heard a soft snuffle and knew she’d fallen asleep probably amid the tumble of her soft, sweet-scented hair.
A surprisingly peaceful feeling settled over me, and I sank into slumber soon after.
Chapter Nine
THE NEXT COUPLE OF days were an exercise in patience. Virtually housebound with Walker, we tried to dig up shit about Vicente. We worked well in the field together, but we tolerated each other as friends out of necessity. Guys like us didn’t do the best buddy thing any more than we did relationships, marriage, or settling down in suburbia. But at least the dude was house-trained. After having lived rough or on the run, forced to sleep when and wherever we could grab a couple hours shut-eye, we knew the luxury of having a roof over our heads and a safe house in which to hole up.
We called in favors up and down CI alley from South Carolina to Florida—along with the one we waited to collect from Frankie—then basically sat around twiddling our thumbs. Inactivity was not a recommended activity for any operative with the sort of extensive backlog of missions we’d completed.
We scanned the airwaves, snuck through firewalls to monitor email accounts of Vicente’s known associates, and exchanged money for intel that wasn’t forthcoming on the slippery Cuban motherfucker.
I did not contact Chief Tilden, Ashe Kingston, or anyone else tied to the MPPD. I aimed to keep that connection clean of my past in hopes of a more permanent, on-the-books position later. The Chief had a file on me for sure, but it was a seriously cleaned up version of my career highlights, thoughtfully supplied by my employers when they’d allowed me to retire from service, so to speak.
Exactly ten years ago, I’d entered the Boston Police Academy, hell-bent on doing something worthwhile with my life. Such naïve notions almost made me laugh now. Two years after becoming one of Boston’s men in blue, I’d distinguished myself further, completing the grueling physical and mental training and joining the Special Weapons and Tactics Team. A sharpshooter and a rescue specialist, I volunteered to be first in and the last out. But there was never enough danger to satisfy me. A little bit reckless in a way that made me even more valuable, I earned a name for myself. I always got the job done as quickly and quietly as possible.
I’d been noticed. Operation T-Zone kept tabs on me, just like they did for anyone in the military or civil services who stood out above the rest. Fuck, they had no morals or compunction when it came to recruitment. They even trawled the criminal element if a service could be rendered.
Op T-Z courted me. Made me an offer. I didn’t have a fucking clue who they were or what they did at first. I was merely told I’d receive more survival training, situations would be life-threatening in the extreme, I’d have little if any back-up, and I better start learning some foreign languages ASAP—specifically those spoken in the Middle East. I knew then what I know now: the government paid me, but it wasn’t a branch housed in a building in Washington DC with a plaque beside the front door. There was no building, no address, no real names, and orders came in codes.
At twenty-six, I thought they’d handed me the world on a silver platter.
It was a miracle I lasted five years, and in the end it wasn’t a silver platter at all. More like a coffin. A prison. A jail cell. A life sentence.
The Tampa Outlaws case almost destroyed me. Bitter, jaded, in danger of losing my humanity, I’d needed to get out. I hadn’t even been sure there was an out for men like me. I almost certainly knew too much, but the way the Op was run, I didn’t know enough to pose a threat to an organization that simply didn’t exist. I’d hoped.
They didn’t grant my release easily. In fact it became more torture conducted in empty buildings during which I’d been blindfolded. Exit interviews turned into polygraph tests, followed by sodium thiopental injections and intense narcoanalysis to ensure I wasn’t a danger—that I wouldn’t blab. To make sure if they let me go, they wouldn’t have to do so with me in a body bag.
I couldn’t say anything to anyone if I wanted to. Assassin, gun runner, drug dealer—all the roles I’d assumed to play my part and get the job done were so far outside the law I’d be hanged. The thing was, I’d done it for good. I’d done it all because I’d been ordered to.
Now I wondered how much I really had done it for good, or if maybe I was just a sick fuck.
All I wanted was a quiet life except when the danger-junkie withdrawals hit me, an itch I couldn’t, wouldn’t, scratch. Seemed Vicente was going to provide the scratch I was going to itch with my Ka-Bar against his bleeding skin, as soon as we located him.
Walker slammed his MacBook shut. “Maybe we should head down to Miami and start cutting out tongues.”
“Not leaving my people unprotected.”
He gave a derisive snort.
I stretched to my feet, shedding my shirt. “I’m hitting the workout room. You can sit here and stew if you want.”
Wearing gym shorts and sneakers, I did a round of weights and then Marine-style drills that had my muscles screaming and sweat dripping down to my jockstrap.
Walker strolled into the airtight, A/C-cooled room and watched me with narrowed eyes for half a second. He’d changed into his usual workout gear, what passed for a fucking loincloth and little else.
He pulled his fists to his face. “Bring it. If I gotta sit around here and watch you moon over the teacher, I finally get to fuck up your pretty face.”
I couldn’t agree more, with the face-fucking-up part that was. I drew up my fists. “Aw yeah. Let’s do this.”
Foregoing any sissy feint-footed sparring or easy buildup, we imme
diately clashed like titans intent on the kill, both of us sheer animals. I had height. Walker had speed. When his bare foot connected with my abdomen in a jarring roundhouse kick, the force of the blow knocked the wind out of me. I fought the urge to crunch over and catch my breath. That wasn’t going to happen, not with him gloating over me like a grinning maniac.
Show no weakness. Show no mercy. The rules I lived by.
With a roar, I barreled into his midsection, my heavy shoulder shifting him off balance. I dodged his fists, rolling beneath him to undercut his legs.
Grappling on the floor, we traded pound-the-shit-out-of-you punches to the ribs, never so much as grunting. We drew apart at the same time, each taking a corner, both breathing hard.
Walker skipped in front of me. I jogged in place.
“You hate me.” His words burst forth.
“Don’t hate you.”
“Sure looks like it.” Limbered up, he took a swing at my head.
I ducked just in time. “You remind me too much of me.”
“Yeah.” He swung again, missing me. “I can see how that’s bad.”
Hopping to-and-fro, I deflected all of his blows. With my knuckles tight, I aimed at his kidneys, a pop-pop-pop spinning him against the wall. “Having no allegiance is gonna kill me. I can’t be a gun for hire anymore, doesn’t matter if the good guys are footing the bill or not.”
Walker kicked me away, the force of his blow bowling me backward. “Pussy.”
I came back at him with a fury of fists, the meaty thud of flesh hitting flesh pulsing in my ears as blood roared faster than oxygen through my system.
When he drew back and hit my face with the force of a concrete block, I spun on my heels then splatted to the floor, but not without bringing him down with me.
We disconnected to lay side by side, breathing in and out as loud as saw blades cutting through timber. Drenched in sweat, I eased up beside him and hunched over my knees, just in case I decided to puke my kidneys out.
“I’d rather be alive than feel my soul die, my man.”
“Then you got more smarts than me, Kemosabe.”
Our bust-up ended as it always did: with grudging admiration. Equally beat to shit. And feeling a hell of a lot less hot under the collar.