by Hype, Jenn
There was nothing particularly erotic about the scene, but I was close enough to see the lace trim of her bra. The demi-cut made the swells of her breasts bounce lightly as she scrubbed her shirt vigorously over the sink. My dick sprang to life, making me feel like an asshole. I readjusted myself in my pants and forced myself to look away. To think about something else, anything else. When I went inside, I couldn't do it with a raging hard-on.
Keeping my dick in check, exercising self restraint of any kind, had never been an issue. The ability to keep a level head and think rationally was the reason I took point on jobs. Going over possible scenarios, thinking through the possible good and bad outcomes of my actions quickly - that was my forte. Coming up with solutions and executing them without hesitation. Those were the skills my team depended on.
While deployed, my unit regularly ran into buildings full of insurgents, having to think on our toes to stay alive. Snap decisions can be the difference between life or death, for both yourself and others depending on you. Second-guessing myself wasn't an option. Trust your gut, follow your instincts. Hesitate, and it could be too late. Self doubt was like a chink in armor. Having the time to overthink and overanalyze was a luxury that people in my line of work couldn't afford.
So why the hell was I standing in the shadows with no fucking clue what to do next?
Through the barely parted curtains where she'd stood moments ago, I could see her curled up into a ball on the couch thanks to the intentionally open floor plan. She looked so small, even fragile. Her car was an older model, but it was in excellent shape. Why not sleep there? Was something wrong with her? To fall asleep so quickly, so easily, in a strange home? For all she knew, the owner could return home at any second. Who could relax enough to sleep in that kind of environment?
Why was I so damn concerned about her being okay?
My phone vibrated in my pocket, most likely Trent. He would still be watching the cameras, wondering why I hadn't gone in yet. Rather than tell him his fearless leader was acting like a pussy, I forced my feet forward. With a stupid amount of trepidation, I opened the backdoor and took quiet steps, stopping in front of the couch.
Eyebrows pulled in, mouth pulled into a tight line even in her sleep. Long, dark hair fell over her shoulder, thankfully blocking my view of her breasts. High cheekbones, a small, pert nose and plump lips. Everything about her delicate face made her seem sweet and innocent. Something told me that was a very inaccurate assumption.
Almost immediately, she proved just how inaccurate that really was.
One minute I was ogling her like a pervy voyeur, the next, sleeping beauty went airborne. Her thin, but surprisingly strong, arms wrapped around my head, crushing it to her chest. Without even giving me a chance to appreciate the position that put me in, her legs wrapped around my torso, her feet crossing against my lower back and her thighs squeezed around my rib cage. While it definitely wasn't comfortable, she wasn't really hurting me. The momentum, however, did manage to throw me backwards a couple steps, causing me to trip over the coffee table. With her wrapped around me like a deranged spider monkey, the additional weight kept me from being able to re-stabilize. So down we went.
Instinct pulled her closer to me, my body twisting to make sure I broke her fall. Luckily we missed all the furniture, landing squarely in the middle of the carpeted floor. The impact knocked most of the air out of my lungs. Her long hair pulled back in a ponytail fell across my face, my nose buried in her neck. The subtle scent of strawberries filtrated my senses. Sweet, delicate, delicious. Would she taste as good as she smelled? Yes. Most likely she would taste even sweeter. Obscene images of her legs wrapped around my head, my face buried between them, lapping at her core assaulted me.
Shit. I had to get her off of me before I lost control of my dick again.
"Are you okay?" I asked as I slid out from under her and climbed to my feet.
Instead of answering me, she crossed and uncrossed her arms before widening her legs a fraction, keeping her knees slightly bent. Her stance put her more on the offense than defense, like she could bolt at any second, yet nothing in her expression showed any signs of fear. I towered over her in height, and while her ridiculously short shorts made her lean legs seem to go on for days, there was no doubt that she didn't stand a chance against me. I'd never intentionally tried to intimidate a woman, but something about the way her eyes narrowed accusingly and her lip curled into a snarl that should not have been sexy made me want to see how much she could take. A primitive urge to dominate her rose up from a deep, dark part of me I didn't even know existed.
"Who the hell are you?" Her question, as well as the humor I heard tinging her voice, pissed me off.
What the fuck did she think was funny about this situation?
"Since you are the one who broke into a house that doesn't belong to you, I don't think you really have the right to be asking the questions."
Apparently growling at her was amusing, not intimidating, because her fists unclenched and the other side of her lips quirked up. My cock twitched, and though I knew there was absolutely no way she could have seen it through my slacks, her eyes still flicked down to where my length stretched down my thigh. Not stopping there, she let her eyes continue downward, taking in my appearance. No doubt she mistook my expensive suit and shiny dress shoes to mean I was someone wealthy, someone who spent the bulk of their time behind a massive desk that served to overcompensate for other areas the rich and entitled were lacking.
She couldn't have been more wrong, and when her eyes met mine again, I knew that's exactly what she was thinking. In reality I loathed wearing these monkey suits, but from time to time, I didn't have a choice. It was the only shitty part of my job, but it was a small price to pay to accomplish what we set out to do.
When she crossed her arms again, my eyes were automatically drawn downward. Anyone with a pulse wouldn't have been able to keep from noticing the way her arms pushed up her already pert breasts. They weren't huge, just the right amount to fit in the palm of my - someone's - hands. The demi cup wasn't doing any favors for my semi, not with the way the lace cut into the swell of her breasts, pushing in further with each breath she took. I may have let my eyes dwell in that area for much longer than was acceptable, but if my scrutiny bothered her, she didn't show it.
With a sigh, I caved, hoping she'd open up if I went first. "My name is Grant. This house belongs to my employer. We detected motion on the cameras and I came to check it out. You won't be in any trouble if you'll just tell me who you are and why you're here."
The time for pleasantries had passed. Instead of waiting for her response, I lunged for her, tackling her to the ground, shielding her body with mine.
Who the hell was shooting at us?
Chapter Four
Gimme A Gun
Brooke
A sane person would have been focused on the multitude of bullets breaking past the sheetrock, zipping past their head. A sane person would be trying to figure out how to make it out alive. Good thing I never claimed to be sane. Because all my attention was focused on Grant's body, his weight pressing down onto me. His reaction to the first sound of gunfire was so instantaneous, I almost didn't have time to brace myself for his body tackling mine to the ground. In a matter of seconds, he'd flipped the coffee table up on it's side and pulled a gun out of a holster hidden behind his expensive suit jacket, all while still covering me with more than half of his body.
Oh, I noticed how sexy he was long before he turned into a real life James Bond, but guys with money had never really been my thing. Still, any girl with working lady parts would have taken notice to the way his suit did nothing to hide the body beneath it. Broad shoulders that pulled his clothes taut across a muscular chest when he crossed his arms. A basic white button-up that pulled tight against his tapered waist, making it easy to imagine the contours of what I had no doubt to be a very ripped torso. My imagination was confirmed to be accurate now that his body was pressed hard again
st mine. If it weren't for the bullets still flying through the walls of the house, my fingers would be digging into his hips and pulling him closer instead of just resting where they'd landed on their own.
"Brooke." At first I didn't think he heard me, but he finally pulled back, putting his face inches from mine and then nodded.
"Wait here, Brooke." His voice was stern but calm, sounding unphased by the attack still happening around us.
"No way, I'm coming with you." I could tell by the sympathetic way his eyes softened that he took that to mean I was scared to be left alone, and yeah, when bullets are flying in the air with you as the target, it's some scary shit. But mostly I didn't want to be left behind while the action was going on. I was capable of doing more than just laying around, waiting for a rescue.
"Give me that revolver you have strapped to your ankle." I'd felt the gun holstered against his ankle when we took our first tumble, and it was stupid to have me just laying here like a waiting duck while he took on however many shooters on his own. Plus, based on the speed of which the bullets were coming at us and how long they'd been shooting without stopping, they were more than likely using assault rifles. Without knowing which direction the shots were coming from or how many people he would be up against once he did locate the source, there was no way his Glock would do him any damn good.
When he continued to eye me speculatively instead of handing over the gun, I lost my patience and tried to make a grab for it, only to come up short when his hand wrapped around my wrist.
"We don't have time for this. You're as good as dead if you go out there alone, and waiting them out doesn't seem to be an option since they haven't let up for two seconds since they started shooting. I doubt they're going to let us just walk out of here. So give me the damn gun already."
Grant reluctantly handed me the gun, and I could see the distrust in his eyes. Couldn't say I blamed him. I didn't trust him either, but the fact remained that whoever was shooting at us wasn't on either of our sides, so what choice did we have but to trust each other? At least until we got out of this mess, hopefully all in one piece.
"Follow me, do exactly as I do." I tried - and lost - the fight to roll my eyes at Grant's bossiness. He didn't see me, though, already having started to army crawl on the floor towards the front door. Following his directions, I did the same, keeping my head down as debris flew all around us. In reality, probably only a matter of a few minutes had passed, but it felt like the damn house had been getting shot at for hours. Seemed like a hell of a waste of ammo to me. If destroying the place wasn't an issue, why not just throw a damn grenade at us or something? Shooting blindly obviously wasn't proving effective, and the stupidity of the shooters gave me a little hope that we could actually make it out of this unscathed.
Using the nose of his gun, he tipped the door to a closet next to the front door open and crawled into the darkness.
"Pull the door shut," he ordered just as I entered the cramped space behind him. He pulled out his phone, fingers flying while I tried to find a way to not be practically right on top of him inside the tiny closet. "You'll be safe here."
"I already told you I'm not just going to sit around and hope you and your glock can take out an unknown number of men who are probably rocking AR-15s." Grant glanced away from his phone and quirked a dark eyebrow at me. Yeah, I probably don't look like someone who would know a lot about guns, but being practically raised by a cop means learning a lot about that sort of thing. What else were we going to talk about?
"There are four shooters surrounding the house, and they do have AR-15s. Funny how you knew that."
Other than the light coming from his phone's screen, we were completely enveloped in darkness, so when I took a swing at him I did it blindly. When my fist connected with his shoulder and he let out an "oomph" I chuckled.
"Shit."
"What?"
He held his phone up so I could see the feed from several different security cameras.
"There are cameras inside!?"
"Not the point. Look." He pointed at one of images of the shooters. All of them had quit firing, and they were backing away from the house.
"Are they leaving?"
"I doubt it."
All of the shooters were spaced evenly around the house, guns pointed, but none of them firing. "Shit," Grant muttered before reaching his hand out. Part of the wall pulled out, and a blue light lit up the small cut out where two handguns rested next to a box of ammo. Pulling them out and loading them one at a time, Grant shoved one into the waistband of his slacks at his lower back before handing one to me. Apparently the time for distrust had come and gone, though I wasn't sure what had caused his reluctance to make a vanishing act.
We watched with rapt attention, both of us huddled over his phone. One of the men came back into the range of the camera, approaching the house slowly. Gently, he laid a bag down right next to the front door, before jogging away. Grant's arms enveloped me, his hands pushing my face into his chest, shielding me. Seconds passed before we heard a thud on the outside of the door, followed immediately by vibrations in the floor.
"Bomb," Grant muttered.
For the briefest of moments I let myself just breathe in Grant's clean, manly scent and took comfort in his strong arms around me. Too soon the moment of safety was replaced by the time to take action. Despite the walls around us still remaining, I had no doubt there probably wasn't much left of the house beyond them.
Grant turned the handle, pushing the door open a couple inches. The gunfire started back up, only it didn't sound like the consistent rounds that had been coming from the ARs minutes ago. This sounded more like a handgun, and I counted three shots in total.
The static now filling the screen of his phone confirmed that they'd knocked out the cameras. He pulled up his text messages before muttering, "Backup is on the way. Trent is going to cover us while we make a run for the car. You stay right behind me and do not stop no matter what, do you understand?"
Maybe it was the way his hand was gripping my chin firmly, or maybe it was our faces being so close that our noses almost touched, or maybe it was just the seriousness of his voice, but for the first time since seeing Grant hovering above me on that couch, I didn't feel the need to fight him. Thanks to the grip he still had on my face I could only offer him a small nod. I reached my hand up and took his from my chin and laced my fingers through his and squeezed.
Before letting the door open fully, he reached into his pants and pulled out one of his guns and wrapped his finger around the trigger. I still couldn't see anything, and when the gunshots started up again, Grant jerked on my arm so hard I stumbled slightly behind him but quickly recovered.
We were on the run, but I still caught a glimpse of the house. Glass crunched beneath us, and only pieces of the outside wall remained upright.
Though his legs were longer than mine, I was able to keep up the pace as we sprinted from the house. At first I thought I'd tripped, but when Grant's body landed on top of mine I realized he'd tackled me to the ground. Beneath him I could feel his body recoil slightly as he fired off his weapon. Through the small gap between his head and shoulder, I saw another masked assailant fall to the ground.
"Get in the car," Grant barked as he handed me a set of keys, yelling when I made no move to take them. "Now!"
I scrambled to my feet while Grant stood gracefully. His gun never shifting away from the man still lying still on the ground. Of course I didn't go straight to the car. I wasn't going to leave him behind. The man on the ground groaned, and Grant kicked the assault rifle away from the injured man's hand. Movement in the corner of my eye pulled my attention to the side of the house. I looked over just in time to see another masked man round the corner of the house, his rifle pointed directly at Grant.
Without thinking, the keys tumbled to the ground. My right arm lifted, gripping the 9mm, releasing the safety. Left arm bent at the elbow, I raised the gun to eye level, blocking my target. A twitch of my
finger and within seconds, the asshole fell to the ground with a bullet between his eyes. Grant's head jerked up at the sound, his eyes darting between me and the man now lying still on the ground. The shock and awe disappeared behind a cold mask so quickly I thought I imagined it.
"Nice car," I muttered as he turned the key in the ignition and peeled out of the makeshift driveway. Two SUVs blew past us in the direction of the house, causing Grant to have to jerk the wheel of the car, almost sending us into the tall grass on the side of the dirt road. "Backup?"
Grant jerked his chin in response.
"So you wanna tell me what happened back there?"
After tearing out onto the open road, Grant shot a glare in my direction. "Since you showed up out of nowhere and broke into the house, I assumed those men were there for you, so I think you stole my line."
Though his voice dripped with sarcasm, his face didn't show the slightest amusement. I knew we'd just escaped certain death and all that, but being pissy didn't seem productive. Hell, we should be celebrating. YOLO and shit.
"You're welcome for saving your ass, by the way."
Other than a subtle tick of his jaw, he gave no reaction, and certainly showed no thanks to my awesome shooting abilities. Tucking my chin into my chest a little, I lowered my voice to mimic a man's before continuing my one sided conversation. "Thank you Brooke. I owe you my life. You're such a badass. I could learn a lot from you."
When he continued to ignore me, I grew more irritated, and when I'm angry, I say and do shit that doesn't usually make the situation any better.
"Hey asshole! Helloooo!" His fingers wrapped around my wrist when I tried to wave my hand in front of his face.
"I'm fucking driving, do you mind?"
"I do mind, actually. Where exactly are you driving to? I don't remember agreeing to go anywhere with you. If your sole mission was to just get me out of there alive, then kudos, you can drop me off here and be on your merry way. Being kidnapped wasn't on my itinerary for the day. And after escaping two attacks and then a gun fight, I'd say I deserve a little break from the dramatics."