“Princess. Sugar.” Jared watched them feign innocence. Douchebag McGee cowered on his knees, with Nicola’s thumb pressed firmly into his pressure point. Just to make sure the message was clear, Jared leaned down. “Look at them again, you won’t see tomorrow.”
He led the ladies to a private area. A waitress appeared as if on command, handing the women champagne and him a bourbon.
“So protective, Boss Man.” Nicola giggled.
“Princess, if Cash saw you—”
“He’d have given us high-fives. ’Cause we fuckin’ rock.” She and Sugar bumped knuckles, then made them explode.
Patience. Deep breath and fuckin’ patience.
A shadow moved. Cash the sniper was on the move, ghosting it like he was on the job. Jared didn’t say a word. Cash wrapped an arm around Nicola and pulled her tight. She melted into him. How she knew it was Cash and not Douchebag McGee, Jared had no idea.
“How long’ve you been here?” Nicola fawned over Cash, her hands splayed over his chest.
Cash nodded hello to Jared and pulled his wife close. “Long enough to know you girls were pushing the line.”
Nicola rolled her eyes, Sugar shook her head, and Jared wanted to go someplace else.
“Let’s go, Nic.”
Nicola agreed, toying with Cash’s shirt. Then the ladies did some gossipy girly giggle that left Nicola laughing aloud and Sugar pushing her away.
Cash and Nic were all over each other as they left. For two people who could flip the switch to serious whenever they were on the job, they could flip to honeymoon mode just as quickly. It was nauseating. Jared shook his head. That left just him and a silent Sugar, who was the animated life of the party, except when she was within striking distance of him. He wished that hadn’t changed.
She smirked. “Don’t you have a line to throw down?”
“Nope.”
The quickest of wounded looks flashed across Sugar’s face then disappeared. “Why the hell not? I thought you were ‘hot on my trail.’”
He took a sip of his bourbon. “I’ve recalibrated my approach.”
She crossed her arms, unintentionally making her breasts fuller. “Whatever. I’ll see you around.”
Sugar turned, and the view of her backside was heart-attack material. She swayed it in a soft side-to-side action that could’ve hypnotized him. Her dark-brown hair swished to the same cadence. Fisting his hands into pockets, he ignored the guttural need to knot his fingers into that silky mess.
She marched to the bar, fending off suitors, and ordered shots. One. Two. Three of them.
Great, Sugar’s on a kamikaze mission. That was not the kind of behavior he wanted to see up in this joint.
She gave a listless flick of her wrist, and the bartender pulled out the bottle.
Hell no. He’d had enough. She wasn’t drinking herself vulnerable in Abu Dhabi. The club might’ve turned a blind eye to two chicks knocking around guys on the dance floor. But it would also look the other way if any man pushed his luck with her. Willing or not, drunk or sober, Sugar was on the short list of a few men who were eyeing her. If she was leaving unwillingly, it was going to be with him.
Jared swallowed the rest of his drink and embraced the burn. He slammed the glass down, got up, and shoved imbeciles out of his way.
From behind her, he clasped her bicep. Their gaze connected on the mirrored wall in front of her. He nuzzled into her hair. The scent of vanilla and flowers filled his nose. And he flexed his grip on her muscle, letting his thumb caress the underside of her arm. “We’re going.”
She didn’t turn around. “I’m not.”
“Make a scene if you want.” He grabbed hold of her other arm. He rejected the urge to slide his palms over her skin. “No one will care.”
“I’m not going to bed with you.”
“Didn’t ask you to.” He breathed her in again and inched closer. “Move your ass, Sugar. Before I move it for you.”
He would wait a three-count. After that, she would be slung over his shoulder. That wasn’t his best course of action, considering he didn’t know how much that too-short skirt would cover—or what was under that skirt. He groaned. One, two… Jared held his breath, willing her to slide off the barstool. And three.
She stood up, elbowing him away.
Thank fuck.
“Fine.” She put her arms out to assure her balance.
He grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers into hers. It was small. Delicate. Innocent and feminine. Surely, you’ve held a chick’s hand before. Right? It was an unfamiliar feeling. So, eh… maybe not.
Her fingers tensed against his knuckles. Other than the knife cut on her palm, her hands were unbelievably smooth. How could she work on AR-15’s and have survived an Afghani mountain without getting so much as calloused fingertips? He had no idea. The only explanation was that she was a champ.
They exited the club, and he guided her toward the row of elevators. His hand, still interlocked with hers, balanced out her slight wobble while they waited.
Ding. The brass doors opened. They were alone on the elevator. He punched the button for floor sixty-three, with a solid plan to secure her in her room and somehow lock it from the outside. The numbers flew by, knocking through the forties, then the fifties.
It should’ve slowed. They hit sixty-one, sixty-two, and then sixty-three. And the elevator blew past it. Jared punched the button again as the elevator shot into the seventies. The penthouse capped out at ninety-nine.
“Jared?” Sugar’s voice wavered.
He let go of her hand and pulled the emergency-stop button. The elevator slammed to a stop. Sugar hit her knees, cussing. His shoulder slammed the wall, taking the jarring hit. The lights flickered off, then cut to emergency lights.
“What the fuck?” he growled, hitting the operator button. He stared toward the security camera and jammed the button again. “Hello?”
An American voice poured through a speaker. “Our apologies for the problem. You’re between floors. Maintenance should arrive soon.”
Owning an equity stake in the hotel just paid off. The loyal staff knew Jared by name, but the man over the speaker hadn’t addressed him directly. The hotel was well aware of who Titan was and made certain allowances for them, like his suite that doubled as an armored apartment and security measures that made Fort Knox look like it was protected by mall security. Besides, anyone speaking through the speaker would’ve had a foreign accent. “Not a problem. Thanks for the update.”
Sugar’s eyes were wide. Despite the liquor, she was smart enough to stay mum.
“Come here, woman.” He pulled Sugar tight to him, then slammed them against the wall. His lips trailed up her neck, to her ear. “Don’t say a word. We’re in trouble.”
She moaned an understanding. He ran his hands down her back and cupped her behind.
Jared nudged her earlobe. “I’m going to toss you up. Punch out that grate and pull yourself out. Don’t look over the edge, and hang on if another elevator passes. I’ll be right behind you.”
A noise echoed in the elevator shaft below—the sound of voices, mechanical clanging, and climbing.
She repositioned her head, dragging a breath across his skin, the same as he’d done. When her lips tickled the shell of his ear, he groaned. Get your head in the game, man.
Sugar murmured. “I’ve been drinking. I don’t know if—”
“You’ll be fine. You’re a pro, and that’s not a maintenance crew coming for us.” A loud clang echoed in the shaft again. They were getting closer. “Ready?”
She didn’t answer, just closed the distance, sliding her lips over his.
If that isn’t the best damn good-to-go I’ve ever had… He kissed her a second longer than he should’ve and then catapulted her toward the ceiling. The grate busted free, and Sugar deadlifted her body up and over, short skirt, tall boots, and all. Mystery solved on what was under that skirt. Not fuckin’ much.
Using the handrail, he pulled up a
nd kicked in. The elevator swayed. Thick cables and wiring held the elevator in place. Shouts came from below. Other elevators rose and fell nearby. Their elevator shook as the cords swayed. He pointed to a metal ladder. “Move.”
She was on it, climbing, with him hot on her six. The elevator shaft smelled like grease and rubber. Everything was dark, dirty, and dingy.
Above them, doors opened. Florescent light illuminated the shaft at what must’ve been ten floors up. Jared grabbed Sugar’s legs to still her. They flattened against the ladder. Crack. A handful of neon glow sticks fell past them, then rolled on the roof of the elevator.
Male voices carried down the shaft. “Do you see them? Did they get out? Find her.”
Jared squeezed Sugar’s legs twice, hoping she knew to stay in place. Their ladder was narrow, and he needed to move above her to get them out of the shaft. He reached around Sugar, stepping carefully to the side, and shimmied up the side of the ladder until they were face-to-face.
“They can’t see us. Fuckin’ morons. Are you okay?”
“Little dizzy,” she whispered.
“Focus on the ladder. I want you on me. When I take a step, you take a step. When I stop, I’m going to open the door, get us out. I need you to hang on. Can you do it?”
She nodded.
“Gotta say it for me, baby cakes. I need to know.”
Her voice whimpered, “I shouldn’t have drunk tonight.”
“Least of our concerns. If you can hold your balance, I’ll get you safe. Got me?”
She took a sobering breath. “I’m good. Go.”
He wrapped a hand around her head, sliding his fingers into her hair. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you. Ever. Not me. Not these fucks. Let’s move.”
He pulled ahead of her, hating to leave her without a safety net. But he saw no other choice. They moved to the next floor’s opening. He looked down, and she concentrated on the ladder rung. Good girl. Below, boots stomped into their elevator, and faces peered into the dark shaft. He could see them, but they couldn’t see him—until he opened the doors. Then it was game on.
Jared reached over to their exit, which was an elevator door. His toe reached the lip of a small overhang. The rushing sound of another elevator approaching worried him. He hissed, “Hang on, Sugar.”
He flattened against the door, clawing his fingers into holds, waiting out the wind from the flying elevator. Sugar’s hair flew around. Her gaze never strayed from the ladder.
The elevator passed them, paused, then dropped with the same gale-force winds. As it passed, he shout-whispered to her, “Come on up, until you parallel me. I’ll pull you over.”
She didn’t say a word, but climbed the five rungs. The nearby elevators were on the move. Cables bounced, and the closest elevator came to a stop. Assuming people got on and off, then selected their floors, Jared figured he had a solid thirty seconds of inactivity.
He pried open the doors. Light flooded their location. Gunfire rang out from above and from below. He reached for Sugar’s hand and yanked. She flew to his side, rolling on top of him into the hotel hallway.
Jared jumped to her and ran his hands from her cheeks to her hips, looking for signs of injury. No blood. No tears. No problems.
Pulling the concealed weapon from his back, he ducked into the shaft, looked up then down, and fired back. “Don’t shoot at my fuckin’”—girl—“team.”
Ping, ping. Bullets ricocheted around him. They would kill innocents if they kept up this game. Enough of this.
He jumped up and slid his weapon into its holster. Sugar balanced in her high heels, looking down the hallway. No one came out to investigate the noise. Smart. But he would’ve bet his AmEx Black Card that a dozen-plus callers had reported gunfire. He also bet that not a single one of them had been connected to real help. If GSI had a guy shutting down the elevators, they definitely had someone intercepting outgoing calls.
Jared snagged his phone in one hand and grabbed Sugar with his other. He blasted an emergency code via text to the team, but if they’d heard gunfire, they were already on the move.
Switching the phone for his gun, Jared kicked open the staircase door without letting go of his girl.
“This way.” He pulled her down a flight of stairs.
Sugar didn’t complain as they took the steps three at a time. He spied a service door and made a move. Checking once, then twice, for GSI, he shoved her in and shielded her, just in case. They tucked in behind industrial carts piled with dirty linens. Jared pulled out his cell and hit direct connect to Brock. “GSI’s on the move. Botched elevator hit. Center elevator. Bag and tag.” He ended the call and looked at Sugar.
“I shouldn’t have had so much tequila. I should’ve known this was coming.” She rubbed her temple. “Look, I’ve been a bitch. I’m sorry for this, for earlier. For getting you shot at.”
“I get shot at all the time. Not a big deal.”
“But not because of me. I’m sorry, okay? I feel like crap, and not because of the Patron.”
Her big blue eyes shone. He didn’t know if she was overwhelmed or emotional. That didn’t matter—it was a knee to the nuts. “Shit, Sugar. My primary responsibility is you. Figure that out. Keeping you safe. Making sure you make it from point A to point B.”
Why did that feel heavier than I meant it?
Her bare shoulders looked cold. That flimsy shirt wasn’t one he would’ve recommended for a game of evade-and-run. She had black smudges from her breasts to her boots and marring her hands and face. A primal compulsion beat deep in his chest, like King Kong. Gather her up. Whisk her away. Just the two of them. There was no safer place than in his arms.
His throat tightened. Her outfit was having too strong an effect. He turned away.
“Jared?” She touched his shoulder. “Wait.”
He turned. Without thinking, he wiped at a black smudge on her collar bone, but he only made it worse. “Yeah, babe.”
Her cheeks went pink. He’d never seen shy play on her before. Sugar bit her lip. “If you’re honestly…. hell, I don’t know what I’m doing. But I’m willing to take away the booty call embargo.” She took a breath, and the vulnerability disappeared. Sugar flicked him in the chest. “But if you hurt my feelings, I’ll cut off your balls and leave you to bleed out.”
He laughed and took a step closer. This is the kind of girl I’m falling for? Wait… am I falling for her?
He shook his head and kneaded his knuckles into his eyes. He opened them and stared at the vamped-up knockout who’d threatened his manhood. For this chick, he would take a risk. If nothing else, he would go down having fun.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sugar’s throat was Sahara dry, and her head was swimming. She felt sober, but that was only the adrenaline. Too much tequila was still burning through her veins. The hotel service room was hot and humid. Piles of linens, humming pipes, and industrial gadgets that did Lord knows what cramped the already-small space.
Jared stepped away from her, hushing orders into his cell phone. He didn’t have to whisper. The humdrum of the equipment kept his call confidential. She couldn’t hear a word, yet she could guess every word. Sugar needed help. She couldn’t handle herself. Screw that. Irrational and irritated, she couldn’t calm her annoyance. Titan didn’t need to swoop in at every occasion.
She gambled a step forward and felt her leg tremble. The stiletto boot teetered on its heel until she leaned back to the wall. Maybe they did, and maybe I’ll stay put for another minute. Her hands shook, and her head pounded. Freakin’ adrenaline-tequila shakes. Coming down’s gonna be a bitch.
“You okay?”
She glanced up to see Jared watching her stare at her vibrating fingers. Great. Never better. Fan-freakin’-tastic. “You can stop asking me that.”
He smiled as if this were the most fun he’d had since choppering out of Afghanistan.
Good for him.
“Well, all right then, Sugar. For a minute, I thought you’d gone all woozy-stumbly
on me. Guess that wasn’t you about to take a noser into a hot-water pipe.”
“Oh, kiss my ass, Jared.”
He chuckled, and she wanted to smack away his grin. Cockiness poured off him, as if he might lean her across his knees at any moment. “Don’t think I won’t, baby cakes.”
Her skin flushed. Knowing what was on his mind, knowing how good it had been before… He was a roller derby of distraction. Around and around they went. A little violent, a little fun. Lots of games and strategy. She was hungrier for him than she’d realized.
As though he could read her mind, in two long strides, he was at her side, snagging her hand. She didn’t fight him because she was already fighting with herself. Don’t crawl into his arms, rub his chest, or plead for a kiss.
As he led her back to the stairwell, her body buzzed. His hyper-vigilant king-of-the-operatives hat was still firmly in place. All his talk and those soulful looks were little more than foreplay to him. He could toss them out and forget. Too bad she was still on fire.
The protective act worked for Jared in a major way. He was sexy in his own style. Not even decked out in tactical gear, he looked as if he ate his Wheaties every morning, then bench pressed his Expedition.
His gaze swept from side to side, on the lookout for bad dudes to kill. My vigilante white knight. He was smooth about it; she would give him credit for that much. At every turn of the stairwell corner, the man knew what was on the other side before she did. Such a badass.
They passed her floor and kept moving, probably to his suite, which was definitely the safer option. Hers would have enemy eyes on it. She was still a target, even if Titan had decimated whatever GSI ops were on site.
He opened the door onto his floor, ready to kill, and walked them to the door farthest away from the elevator and closest to the other set of stairs.
The Titan Series: Military Romance Boxed Set Page 61