Roark's Leading Lady [Soldiers of Passion 2] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Dace Everan

  Harley looked up at the glowing stars on her ceiling, pondering Layle’s words. “So I can tell Roark what I will and will not do?”

  Layle giggled, hugging her close. “You are the one that makes all the decisions, Harley. He can push you all he wants. You have to be the one ready to go forth.” She propped up on her elbow and looked her friend in the face full on. “Roark will push you. He will do what he thinks you are ready for…nothing happens unless you allow it.”

  Harley nodded. She was getting that.

  * * * *

  Roark gave Layle a little shake. Her eyes popped open, widened, and filled with fear until she recognised him. She offered a sheepish smile. “Laird’s waiting for you,” he whispered, glancing at Harley, hoping he wasn’t disturbing her rest.

  Layle nodded, dipping up and kissing Harley on the chin.

  Harley grunted, shoving her away and rolling to her side. “Not making out with you, Layle,” she grumbled, snuggling to the blanket. Layle giggled, scooting from the bed.

  After Roark had made sure the place was locked up, he returned to Harley, stripped down, and crawled in. Within seconds of settling behind her, she was rolled over, her thigh flung across his midsection and her arm dangling over his neck. He grinned as her warm breath fanned his shoulder. Shit, being with her had never felt so much like home.

  * * * *

  Harley stared at him as he slept. Shit, he was a heavy sleeper. She ran her finger along the length of his chest, watching his facial reaction. She smiled when he frowned, his hand lifting. She moved hers, avoiding his slight push away. She circled his belly button, grinning. He had the cutest little innie. She wanted to dip her tongue in there. She leaned close and littered soft kisses along his jaw, and felt his cock harden and touch her tummy. “I know you’re awake,” she whispered. He didn’t respond. She bit her lower lip and continued her assault. She littered kisses along his thick neck, up over to his ear. She nibbled on his earlobe, producing a moan from him. His hands shifted to her hips, his grip tightening. “Roark…I’m going to do this whether you’re awake or not,” she warned.

  His lips curled in a smile. His big blues opened, and she greeted him with a good-morning smile. “That’s better. I would hate to feel like I was taking advantage of you.” She lifted her hips and settled on his thick shaft with a soft gasp.

  Her eyes widened, and her little pink tongue darted out and licked her ruby-red lips. Roark licked his own lips, watching her as she rode him. Her eyes on his, her hands braced on his shoulders. Her wet cunt sucking at his dick hungrily. For fuck’s sake, to wake up like this every morning would be paradise.

  Chapter Eleven

  His thumb caressed her clit, and she shivered. “Don’t you think it’s just a tad bit rude to start without the other?” He tightened his grip as her pace picked up.

  Harley shook her head. “No.” She closed her eyes as he applied pressure to his thumb, causing streaks of pleasure to zing throughout her.

  Roark grinned, his free hand groping her tit. His thumb worked her. “Let me know when you want to switch,” he groaned as her cunt squeezed around him.

  Harley nodded. “I…will,” she panted, biting her lower lip between her teeth. The pleasure from his thumb stroking her sent her higher. His dick filled her, touching her deeply, giving her the fullness she needed. She quickened her pace with a need she had not ever felt. She wanted this man in her. To come in her and feel him fall into the blinding abyss they called orgasm. She grunted with every slam against him.

  His thumb quickened, and the light hit her in a rush. She stiffened, and before she knew it, he had his arms around her, lifting her then shoving her down on him. “There you go. One more time, Harley,” he urged, grunting. His muscles bunched as he lifted her.

  Her arms went around his neck. “Please, Roark! Please…more.” She wasn’t sure what it was she was saying, but she didn’t want him to stop this. Her cunt clamped around his thick dick.

  Roark groaned, her tight-fisted cunt milking him. The tremors of her cunt reaching gratification sent pulsating pleasure through him. His balls tightened, and he clutched her close as she shuddered in his arms, his cum shooting in hot streams into her. Both growled out the other’s name in a passion of hazed bliss.

  Roark waited until her body had only minor aftershocks before he took hold of her chin, making her face him. His mouth took hers in a hungry kiss, and her arms tightened around him. He pulled away. “Good morning, Harley,” he whispered, his voice husky and a bit shaky.

  She smiled and laughed breathlessly. “Good morning, Roark.” His good-morning turned her insides into a jellied mess with the quiver in his usually sure voice. She had brought him to this shaky, quivering state just as he had brought her whole body to the quivering mess it was now. Aftershocks pulsed through her. “I’ve never had it last so long,” she mumbled, shivering, her hips jerking against his.

  Roark grinned, holding her flush to him. Her cunt pulsed around his softening cock. He didn’t want to lose this spot, this heat surrounding him. Harley’s sweet essence all around him, engulfing him and capturing him.

  When they both settled and she was slumped in his arms, her mouth opened. “I don’t know what I want with you, Roark…The thought of you bossing me around does things to me that I don’t understand…spanking me?” she grunted, playing with is hair. “I think I want you to spank me. It scares me, the thought of you tying me up. I’ve been tied up before and the things that could happen scare me.”

  Roark rubbed her back. “You have to separate work and this, Harley. When they tied you up—”

  “No, I think I’ve been tied up somewhere else.” She pulled away, looking at him. “I feel like half my frickin’ life has been erased, Roark! Who the hell is this Brandon guy I’m dreaming about? Why can’t I remember who my boyfriends were in high school, college! Did I even go to college? I don’t remember shit from before I met Layle!” she grunted, slumping.

  Roark rubbed her shoulders. “Harley…how much do you remember about your childhood?”

  Harley looked at him sharply. What did he know? Why would he ask a question like that? And why in that tone, like he knew something was up? She met his soft gaze and her demeanor softened. Roark was her friend, her comrade. She shook her head. “Nothing.” She grimaced. Did she know how to ride a bike? She’d always associated children with bikes, but she didn’t recall ever getting on one.

  “Parents?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I see them every time I come home. Have dinner, sit and watch a movie, and then I leave.”

  Roark frowned. That was very basic. “That’s it?”

  Harley nodded. What else was there to do with parents?

  Roark studied her. He’d been following her since they returned. She hadn’t gone to see them yet. “How was it this time around?”

  She shrugged. “Same as usual, roast beef, mashed potatoes. We watched an old army flick. Dad likes those ones. Mom humours him, but I think she’s just checking out the men in uniforms.”

  Roark nodded. “What’s your dad do for a living?”

  Harley laughed. “You still don’t know?” She laughed again, slapping his shoulder. What a silly man. She was sure Roark Hurt could find out anything. She scooted out of his arms. If he seriously couldn’t figure it out with the skills he had, there was no way she was telling him. He obviously needed to work a tad bit harder. “Not telling you,” she uttered, frowning. She paused, looking at him. He looked as confused as she felt. What in the hell was going on here? Roark, her Roark, did not know how to dig up information. That was wrong on so many levels. She licked her lips and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I…am I…I, oh my God, Roark.” Something was wrong, and very wrong. What did her dad do? What did her mother do? Why couldn’t she recall childhood memories? Why the hell could Roark not find this simple information out?

  Roark tugged her close, enveloping her in his embrace. Fuck. Never in the past five years following this woman had
he seen that look on her face. The confused, lost, hurt, dread-filled look in the depths of her beautiful eyes. His heart cringed at the thought of what the information he had found out would do to her. Roark held her as she sat limply in his lap. No sound, no movement except for the even rise and fall of her chest. He tightened his grip. How could she not remember? Was this a part of what Laird had shown him? How many others were like her out there? He grunted, hearing the telltale rattling that someone was on the fire escape. “Stay here,” he ordered, rising and shucking on his jeans. If that fucking weirdo Job was out there, he was seriously going to kick his ass.

  * * * *

  Roark reached for the hippie through the window growling. The man reared back, banging into the steel banister at the sight of him. Roark watched as he struggled to tuck his tablet down his pants, and his feet slipped from beneath him, causing him to bang harder into the steel stairwell with a thud. Roark grabbed hold of his shirt, dragging him through the window. “What in the fuck are you doing!” he demanded. Roark grabbed the tablet, shoving Job to the floor and stepping on his neck, holding him securely in place as he looked at the electronic device. His nostrils flared, and anger ripped through him at what he found on the small screen. “You’ve been monitoring her!” he uttered, his voice a deadly rasp. That was how they were keeping track of her!

  Job shook his head in denial. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he choked out, grasping at Roark’s ankle.

  Roark glanced across the room at the sound of Harley’s bare feet pattering against the floor. Fuck was she gorgeous, all sexed up.

  “Roark!” She quickened her step. “What the hell are you doing to Job!” she demanded, crossing to them. She went to kneel to remove Roark’s foot from her neighbor’s throat when her gaze landed on the screen of the tablet in Roark’s hand. What the hell?

  Roark handed the tablet to Harley at the shocked look that was replaced by confusion, quickly followed by anger. He grabbed up Job and slammed him against the wall. “You’ll spill now or I’ll make it hurt,” he threatened. Job clamped his mouth shut.

  Harley stumbled back at the numerous notes on the screen, her stomach dropped, and she felt sick. She plopped back on the couch in a daze. She flipped through files, accounts. Her hands shook at what she saw here. Sharp, piercing memories stabbed her brain, and she whimpered. It was coming back to her. The flooding of memories tore through her. She shook her head in denial. This couldn’t be. No! She was not what this stupid piece of electronic gadget said she was. Her gaze darted to Roark, whose face was shoved into Job’s, threatening him. She felt bile rise in her throat. She swallowed it down.

  She looked at Job in disbelief. “You’re my watcher,” she voiced breathlessly. It was all coming back to her. Being taken in to a cold, sterile lab, surrounded by doctors and nurses. The wires they would hook her up to and the screens monitoring her. The doctors that would mill around her with their clipboards in hand, ready to take notes, questioning her, wanting to know of injuries, of bodily functions, and of every little detail. She shuddered at the memories of cold hands, leering eyes. Her jaw trembled with rage. The tablet fell to the floor rug and she stood. There was no way Job would get away with this! She glared at him murder in her eyes. “Roark…restrain him,” she ordered in a sharp tone.

  Roark grinned. Captain was back, and she was pissed. He’d recognise that tone any day. He hauled Job across the room, slamming him hard down onto a chair as Harley disappeared down the hall. When she returned, she tossed him a large coil of rope. He raised a curious brow. Where the hell had she gotten this? “It’s Laird’s. I don’t think he’d mind,” she muttered, grabbing up the phone. She guessed it was Laird’s, as she’d found it in Layle’s room under the bed when she’d gone looking for a missing shoe the other night. They needed backup. She and Roark needed more manpower than just the two of them. She could not be the only one of whatever it was she was out there. If she knew anything about the government, it was that they didn’t just fuck around with one thing, but they fucked around with everything they possibly could. Something like this was huge. Fuck, she wasn’t even sure what this was! What the fuck was she?

  She fought to stop the tremble in her hand as she sent out texts to assemble the team. They would be able to figure this out. Between the five of them, they all would figure it out. Wait…her gaze landed on Roark. Why had he been going to Laird so much? Layle had mentioned the meetings the two had been having. Laird knew something. He had to! Her eyes narrowed. And Roark dared leave her in the dark on it! Bastard. She would deal with him later on, that one.

  Roark made quick work of Job, tying him securely to the chair.

  “You two won’t get away with this. I have contacts. You think I’m the only one watching her? You think I don’t have anyone watching me! You’re military—you should know better!” he yelled, struggling against Roark as best he could.

  Roark grabbed a dishcloth and shoved it in Job’s mouth. He would wait until Harley was ready to hear the bastard flap his gums.

  “Layle, where’s Laird?” she demanded her head bent holding the phone piece with her shoulder. Her cell in hand, still texting.

  Roark furrowed his brows. Who could she be texting? He caught up the cell phone when she tossed it at him, barking at Laird into the phone. He read the text. She was reassembling the team. He glanced at her. He wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. Shit, the dangers she was putting them into, making them aware of the situation. She shot him a pointed look that told him to do as he was told. No way would she allow any room for error. It was the reason he was in love with her. When she meant business, she really meant business. He gave a nod. She was his boss lady, and he would follow.

  * * * *

  Laird circled the man. “I knew something was up with him,” he murmured, grabbing Job’s hair and forcing his head back. He studied the man more closely, nodding. He pulled the neckline of his shirt down and spotted where the fake skin makeup began. He tore at the loose ends until, soon, there sat a totally different man in front of him.

  Harley staggered, her jaw dropping her mouth gaping open at the man. “Brandon!” she uttered, horror filling her. She remembered him! “You…you tied me up.” Her brain screamed at the eruption of memories flooding her thoughts. “You said you loved me!” Her hands shook and rage filled her. She would kill him. He was her maker. He had developed the tech that made her what she was. She looked at her hands. These hands that had killed so many! That had saved so many. All cloned, not real. She was a clone! Her hand went to her stomach. She was going to be sick.

  She looked at Roark. He’d fucked a clone, a fake! She wasn’t even real. A high-tech super-skeleton frame with cloned human flesh! She had been developed in a petri dish and grown in a fucking lab. She turned on her heel and rushed from the room. She made it halfway down the hall when her belly emptied out onto the floor. She retched and fell to her knees in a fit of heaves at the disgust tearing its way through her. How could she have let this happen! How could she forget so many things? She had told herself the last time that she would remember! She would make herself remember!

  “Ha! You all do that when you figure it out,” yelled Job from the living room where he was tied to the chair.

  Disgust pulled at her. She wished someone would shut the fucker the hell up! As on cue, she heard flesh slam into flesh, then the thump of a body falling and wood smacking against wood. Heavy grunts as deep voices cussed and made promises of closure, of ending the fucker tied to her kitchen chair. She continued to heave until there was nothing left in her gut.

  Roark wiped his bloody fists with the cloth Layle handed him. He looked around the room at his peers, Harley’s team. His most trusted comrades from the past five years of working side by side. Harley had handpicked the three of them. His top lip twitched. Would they still follow her? Would they keep this secret? Shit, they had no choice. They could die. Shit, Harley had put every one of them at risk. He had put them at risk in following h
er orders. He swiped a hand through his hair and exhaled a heavy breath. This wasn’t just his life or Harley’s that were getting messed up now. It was all of theirs. He eyed everyone in the room, and in their eyes, he saw what Harley had probably seen the first time she had studied each and every one of them. Loyalty.

  He tossed the towel and headed down the hall. He scooped up Harley and stepped over her mess, carrying her into the bathroom. He kicked the door closed and set her on the counter, ignoring the huff of air that left her. He grabbed up a cloth and ran it under warm water, wiping the remnants of spew off her face. Fuck, he hated to see her in this state. Not use to it at all. She was his commander. He had gone through jungles following this strong woman. “You need to get your head in the game, Harley,” he chastised. He didn’t like the dazed look in her eyes. “Look at me!” he demanded, waiting for her to recognise his voice and get her shit together. He knew it would happen. Only once in all their time together had he seen her in this state, and back then it had torn hard at his heart as it did now.

  Her eyes moved, and slowly she focused. First, he saw the raw hurt of the acknowledgment of what she was, followed by heated anger at the fact that this had happened to her. Too soon, that look was filled with what looked like self-pity. He tossed the cloth in the sink and cupped her face. “You are still Harley!” he growled. She went to shake her head and he held her still. “I am telling you right now, Har, you are who you are. Don’t you dare think otherwise!” he ordered. There was no way he was losing this wonderfully strong woman. Not a chance he would let this take her down and drag her under. After seeing those photos of her and that blank look in her lively eyes, he vowed to never let that look enter her eyes again. If that meant him being by her side for the rest of his life, then so be it. That would be what he would do!