All Knighter

by Em Petrova

  “Dahlia.” His low voice penetrated her sexual haze.

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m glad you were in that club tonight.”

  “Me too.”

  He drew her closer, his breath warm against her skin. Odd how comfortable she felt sleeping against this man, a virtual stranger. Surely that was odd…

  Hours later, she woke to daylight streaming over her bed—her empty bed. She pushed to her elbows, straining to hear the shower or her lover banging around the kitchen to fix coffee. But the apartment was silent, Ben was nowhere around and there was a note on her nightstand.

  With a groan, she jerked into a sitting position and snatched up the note.

  Dahlia,

  I’m sorry I went back on my word and couldn’t stay till morning. I’ve had someone collect your car and you’ll find it parked out front. Next time we meet at the club, I promise to clear my schedule.

  B-

  She crumpled the note in her fist. “Son of a bitch. That’s two strikes, Ben. And you don’t get a third.” Too bad her body was already latched onto the idea of a next time and the man’s yummy scent clung to her and her sheets.

  * * * * *

  “Whose car was that anyway?” Sean’s question didn’t even warrant a response from Ben. He was too involved in keeping watch through his binoculars. The wet sand clung to his black clothes and dampness seeped in, making him even more pissed off that he’d been dragged from Dahlia’s bed and into this mission.

  Sean elbowed him. “The car?”

  He grunted. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you? It’s a friend’s. Thanks for picking it up for me.”

  “It was fun. I haven’t hotwired anything in years.”

  “Knew you’d enjoy yourself.” He paused. “Give the signal. I see it.”

  Sean scooted closer in the divot they’d dug in the sandy beach to conceal themselves. “You have eyes on the craft?”

  “I see a light and it’s growing closer.” His words were soft but deadly. When he’d received the urgent call that he was to meet his brothers to intercept a vessel rumored to be carrying enough cocaine to give all of the French Quarter a buzz for days, he’d been pissed. Climbing out of Dahlia’s bed, leaving her sleeping so peacefully, her dark hair streaming over her creamy skin… Hell, she’d probably never let him in her bed again.

  Who could blame her?

  Why the hell the DEA wasn’t handling the drug trafficking case was his first question put to Colonel Jackson. Apparently, in addition to the drugs, a known hunted terrorist was also among the cargo. That had gotten Ben scrambling pretty quick.

  Sean gave the signal, a flash of a mirror that the rest of the Knight Ops team could detect but was in the opposite direction of the incoming craft.

  “Tell our team to sit tight. The light’s coming nearer.” Ben barely breathed out the message.

  Two flicks of Sean’s mirror had them on the ready. Their operative—to let the drug runners reach the shore and use darkness on their side. They were trained for stealth and boarding that watercraft wouldn’t be any difficult matter. Though they had no clue who may be guarding the criminal trying to slip into the country, Ben was confident that his men could stop anything that came their way.

  The best possible outcome was that everything went peaceably, with no gunfire exchanged and no boat explosions.

  Though blowing shit up sounded right up his alley at the moment. The fuckers had yanked him from Dahlia’s bed, dammit, and she was never going to understand because he couldn’t explain it to her.

  A metallic click sounded, and he and Sean scrambled, twisting in the sand, training their sights on the man moving through the darkness like nothing more than a shadow.

  “Easy, Knight Ops. Rocko reporting for duty.”

  “Jesus Christ, Rocko. About time you joined us, but you have piss-poor timing.” Ben lowered his weapon and grabbed his binoculars again as the sixth man of their team who’d missed out on all the fun of the compound raid landed in the sand next to them.

  “Sorry I’m late, Captain.”

  “You’ll make it up to me, don’t worry,” Ben grated out, low. He scanned the water, right, left, right, left, and couldn’t see the goddamn boat. “Dammit, it’s disappeared.”

  “Probably spotted a man on shore and booked it out of here,” Sean added.

  “Bullshit. No one saw me,” Rocko scoffed, amusement in his tone. “He’s still out there, just circling. It’s what illegals do when approaching shores. Take it from a SEAL.” He pulled out his own binoculars and trained them on the inky black water, the small waves stronger with the night winds.

  Each time Rocko shifted, his shoulder rubbed against Ben’s. “This is one hell of a way to meet our sixth team member. I don’t even know you and we’re already cuddling.”

  Ignoring him, a heartbeat of silence passed and then Rocko said, “I got eyes on it.” He gave a hand signal that the boat was two hundred yards to the left offshore. “We’re in the wrong position.”

  “We’ve got it covered. Rocko and Thunder, you keep the lookout and wait for my command.” Ben belly-crawled away for a few yards before getting into a crouch and rushing through the darkness to meet up with the other half of his team.

  Behind him, he heard Rocko say to Sean, “Thunder? That you?”

  Ben gave a mental shake of his head. He was going to have to bring this kid up to speed on their team. He didn’t even know the nicknames of his fellow members, and there was no excuse for not doing his homework. Rocko should know everything from what each Knight brother ate for breakfast down to his ammo of choice, and he had damn well better know the names and appearance of every terrorist on the planet too.

  Ben waded into the water, moving in a way that would reduce waves and keep them from lapping against the boat where his men waited.

  “Thunder?” Dylan whispered.

  “Nope. He’s back with that squid.”

  “Squid? Rocko showed up?” Dylan moved aside as Ben pulled himself silently up and into the boat. Water streamed off him, and he looked to the shore for his team’s signal.

  Nothing came. He had a second to explain.

  “He apologized for being delayed and said he’d make it up to me.”

  “Good thing. The Knight Mobile needs cleaned.”

  A huff of a laugh came from Chaz, who’d most likely caused most of the mess in the SUV with food wrappers and empty energy drink cans.

  Ben swung his gaze between the water and the sand. “Nothing yet,” he said quietly.

  “We have time for the story then,” Roades said.

  Ben looked at him. The moon was nonexistent tonight, a perfect night for a delivery of goods on US soil. But it meant his youngest brother couldn’t see his glare.

  “No story tonight.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Ma. Just one?” Roades always was a whiner at bedtime, but since he was the youngest, he’d often gotten their maman to read one more story.

  “Nothing to tell.” Ben knew what they were after.

  “When we’re instructed to stop at a club, hotwire a woman’s car and drive it to an unknown locale, then it’s a story. Who is she?” Roades pushed.

  “None of your fucking business. Now where— Fuck!”

  They all went on high alert, scanning both water and sand. Ben twitched two fingers in the direction of the van rolling across the sand, dangerously close to where Sean and Rocko lay.

  “Transport’s here,” Ben said. “Hope to hell this doesn’t go sideways.”

  Dylan’s teeth flashed white with his self-assured smile. “Not fucking likely, bro.”

  “Time to move.” Ben slipped back overboard, along with Dylan. Leaving two on the sand, two at sea and them in the middle, covering all angles. As the boat drifted into sight, the doors of the van opened and closed. But through the darkness, Ben couldn’t see a single man leave the vehicle.

  Because they were already on the ground, gagged and bound, if Sean and Rocko had done their jobs pro
perly.

  A quiet call came from the approaching craft, followed by a splash as a man dropped overboard. Ben raised an arm, a reflector in his hand giving his men the signal. Chaz and Roades started the engine and shouts sounded from the drug runners. But it was too late, because he and Dylan had reached the craft and Rocko joined up with them while Sean guarded the prisoners.

  In minutes, Knight Ops had five men trussed up like pigs for Sunday dinner on the beach and half a mil in cocaine seized. Not to mention an overlord of terrorism who could have let dozens more just like him into the country in custody.

  “Here comes the DEA now.” Chaz flicked his head toward the vans with DEA painted in white letters on the sides.

  “Hm, what gives you the impression it’s the DEA?” Ben drawled. Maybe if they could pass these criminals off to their counterparts quickly, he could hurry back to Dahlia and slip into her bed before dawn.

  He looked at the horizon. Fat chance. A pale band of light appeared between sky and sea. He compressed his lips.

  “You in charge here?” A woman in slim cargo pants and a dark jacket stormed across the sand to Ben.

  “Uh, I am,” Chaz tried to lure her away as usual.

  She threw him a look that could shrivel any man’s balls, but Knights were made of tougher stuff and Chaz just chuckled.

  Ben jerked his jaw upward. “That’s me. Let’s make this quick. I’ve got someplace to be.”

  “I need to know who authorized you.”

  “Well, if I tell you that, I’d have to kill you.” Ben wasn’t putting up with some harpy on a power trip. A deep ache to feel Dahlia in his arms again had taken up residence in his core.

  “You military types are so funny,” the DEA woman said with a tinkle of a laugh that had Chaz’s head whipping. She gestured to the men lying like sardines on the beach along with a few crates of cocaine. The rest of the drugs was still in the hull of their vessel. “Load everyone and everything into the vans while I deal with this matter,” she ordered her men. She turned back to Ben.

  “Look, lady, I don’t answer to you. You know who sent us and why.”

  Ben didn’t have much time, and he still had to debrief and unload this terrorist onto his superiors. He sighed. More hours of bullshit talk and forms filled out. More hours spent away from Dahlia, if he returned to her at all.

  “Sean, make the call so we can get this show on the road.” He raised a hand and his men fell in around him. They started away with the terrorist in tow. Over his shoulder, he said to the DEA agent in charge, “By the way, that’s your boat we borrowed to do our jobs. Hope you don’t mind loading it back onto the trailer. Thanks.”

  For the next hour and long into the morning, the guys joked about how Ben had ticked off that woman, but he could only think about the dark-haired beauty he’d left behind and whether or not he’d ever get another chance with her.

  Chapter Four

  Two weeks. Two weeks since Dahlia’d slept with Ben, so why couldn’t she shake the feeling that he’d just spread her thighs and—

  She cut off the thought for the thousandth time since waking to find him gone, more pissed than she’d ever been, and it wasn’t Ben she was mad at. After all, he was just a man, right? And men played. He’d proven he was a player from the start, yet she’d given him a second chance. This was where lust got her.

  She’d wanted the big man with a burning desire and had let herself get carried away. But now she was just angry and disappointed with herself. Not for giving him another romp in her bed, but because this time she’d let herself get too entangled.

  Maybe she was just lonely. Her girlfriends had abandoned her for new husbands and new lives, and she definitely needed to find a new crowd but hadn’t returned to the club since that night she’d found Ben again. For two weeks she’d been going home after work. She’d been trying to find new outlets for her stress but no amount of yoga downward dog or salutes to the sun were going to erase all the haunting calls she received in a regular shift.

  Picking up her knitting needles, she attacked the wool again.

  “How long are you making that thing, Dahlia?” Joanie asked from her desk.

  She glanced up at her coworker, saw the worry written between the woman’s brows and threw the knitting back into her bag. “You’re right. I need to end it.” Her mind wasn’t on the project so much as what was going on inside her. Ben had walked out of her life, but he’d left a note behind with enough hope in the words to drive Dahlia batshit crazy.

  She had to end whatever fantasy was going on in her mind.

  Her earpiece buzzed, alerting her to a call. “9-1-1, what’s your call?”

  “I know you told me not to call you here but it’s an emergency, Dahlia.” Serena’s voice projected into her ear.

  Damn. She looked around for Kyle but didn’t see her boss lurking around.

  “Fine, what’s your emergency?” she said urgently.

  “Mike’s buddy’s in town and we want to double date.”

  She glared at nothing in particular. “A double date? That’s your emergency?” She was getting more and more irritated with her friend. Calling during her shift, clogging up the lines with crap that could get Dahlia fired.

  “Yes, he’s a nice guy. Pulllease? We have tickets to the game.”

  On the other hand, a date could take her mind off her day’s work as well as block Ben from her brain.

  “Fine. I’ll go. Now let me get back to work. Goodbye.”

  When she hung up, she caught Joanie’s private smile. “Sounds like a good emergency to have, dear,” the woman said.

  She twisted her lips in some semblance of a smile. She was feeling far from excited about the date, but at least she wasn’t going home alone. Somehow, the prospect helped her get through her shift without a pity-party.

  After her shift she read her text messages and learned she was meeting her friends and the blind date at the club. The club, the only place where she’d seen Ben.

  Just pulling into the parking lot had her pulse racing. Last time she’d been here…

  She snapped out of that self-destructive train of thought. And just how the hell had her car gotten to her apartment when her keys were inside her purse anyway? Ben had question marks written all over his big, hunky body but she wasn’t going to dwell on the hotness of a mystery.

  She parked the car and reached into her big bag. Inside, she kept an array of accessories needed to amp up her daytime look for night. From sparkly necklaces to high heels and all the flirty lipstick colors between.

  Dahlia was a master of parking lot makeovers, and in seconds she went from frumpy 911 operator to date night ready. Hair fluffed, lips outlined in her trademark red lipstick, her comfy shoes ditched for stilettos with rhinestones on the toes and a cute velvet top pulled over her tank top. She got out of the car.

  As soon as she glanced toward the entrance, her heart skidded to a stop. Her hand few to her chest and no wonder—she needed chest compressions to restart it.

  Ben was leaning against a black SUV that looked big enough to haul a team of linebackers.

  He drew away from the SUV and started toward her, big thighs straining against his jeans ohhh, so right. Her pussy clenched at the mere sight of all that testosterone headed her way.

  When he stopped before her, he flicked his gaze down her body, lingering around her ankles before coming back up to settle on her face. “I see you got dressed up for me.”

  She found her voice. “Arrogant ass. Who are you to assume that I’m here to see you?”

  And just how was he finding her so easily? Could this really be coincidence?

  Taking a step toward her, he let his eyes hood in that way that drove her absolutely crazy with desire.

  She curled her toes in her rhinestone stilettos and attempted to slow her breathing.

  “Look, Dahlia, I’m sorry for—”

  She waved a hand, cutting him off. “It was nothing. Just a one-night stand.”

  A gr
owl left him, so low and rumbly that she nearly threw herself into his arms there and then. “A one-night stand? Is that what you think?”

  “That’s what it was—twice. So if you’ll let me past you, I have to get inside.” She had to actually take steps toward the gorgeous man she’d been dreaming about for weeks in order to reach the door. Which meant ungluing her feet from the parking lot and putting one in front of the other. She took a step.

  He caught her elbow as tried to pass and drove her crazier by placing his lips inches from her ear. “It wasn’t just a one-night stand. Or even a two-night stand, honey.”

  Shivers raced up and down her spine and tingles started between her thighs.

  “Let me take you out on a date. But not here. Someplace nice.”

  “I…” Her throat closed on the need to respond with a loud, resounding yes.

  No, she couldn’t go anywhere with him. He was toxic, just as poisonous to her mindset as losing a patient over the phone was.

  She shook her head. “I have a date waiting for me inside.”

  Instead of releasing her arm as she expected, he gripped it tighter and swayed her into him, totally overstepping all her boundaries.

  “A date?”

  She didn’t need to glance at his expression to know he didn’t like what she’d said. His tone said it all.

  “Look, Ben, you’ve been gone for two weeks. You know where I live, could have contacted me any time. But you didn’t, and I have a date.”

  “The hell you do.” He spun her against his chest and lowered his lips until they hovered over hers. Need pounded in her veins and much, much lower as his scent enveloped her. Why the hell were there so many pheromones at play? As if she needed another reason to be attracted to the man, her body was picking up whatever invisible waves he was tossing out at her.

  She swallowed hard. “Please let me go.” Her words wobbled, and she didn’t sound one bit convincing.

  His green eyes burned. “You don’t really want that, cher.”