Dangerously Broken (Aegis Group Lepta Team Book 4)

by Sidney Bristol

  It had been the end of business with Arturo for Damian regardless that Arturo had been a repeat customer. Now it figured that this job would have Arturo all over it. Regardless of what the man said about who was at fault, Damian blamed Arturo.

  “There’s no way for us to go in there, just the three of us, and get this job done,” Aaron said.

  Damian nodded. He’d already thought of that and had put feelers out before arriving to scope out the location.

  “Why are we doing this?” Aaron turned to face Damian. “Why not cut our losses and run?”

  “Those guys in there, they work for a company called Aegis Group. Ever heard of them?”

  Aaron frowned. “No.”

  “Then you haven’t been paying attention. Anyone who fucks with them gets burned. We thought we were up against some small-time crooks, when really we were poking the bear. Now, unless we take care of them, this is going to come back on us. If we cut and run, they’ll come after us. The only way this gets handled is if they’re dead.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “I’ve seen it happen.”

  And Damian wasn’t going to allow that to happen to him. It was time these people learned who they were fucking with.

  SUNDAY. SAFE HOUSE, Albuquerque, New Mexico.

  Priscilla dragged her fingers through her hair. Her mouth was dry, her head felt full of cotton. It was like a hangover except she hadn’t drank.

  What the hell?

  A light tap on the bedroom door had her scrambling off the mattress. Her bra prodded her ribs, a reminder that she’d fallen asleep fully dressed wrapped around Brenden.

  She opened the door and Brenden slid through the gap, two mugs of coffee in hand. His hair stuck up on one side and there were still wrinkles on his cheek from the pillow. And just like her he’d slept in yesterday’s clothes.

  A laugh bubbled up out of her.

  “What?” He handed her a mug.

  “I can’t remember the last time I passed out like that.” She cradled her mug, the heat and aroma helped made the morning more real. “What time is it? Is anyone else awake?”

  “Riley’s on security.” Brenden’s hand slid along her back as he passed her to sit on the edge of the mattress.

  Priscilla joined him, perching on the foot of the bed, one leg curled under her. The digital clock read ten past five.

  That was still seven hours of sleep. More than she managed on a typical night.

  Brenden turned, following her gaze and blinked at the clock.

  “We must have been way more tired than we realized if we both slept that long two nights in a row.” The words sounded good coming out of her mouth but they felt wrong.

  Attributing the sudden bounty of sleep to something as simple as exhaustion was a crime, and she knew it. She hadn’t slept because she was tired. She hadn’t even been the first one to fall asleep. That had been Brenden.

  Lying there, wrapped around him, she’d felt peace. Night before last she could take whatever excuse she came up with, but last night was more.

  “I don’t even remember falling asleep.” Brenden stared at the carpet, his brow furrowed and his frown

  She couldn’t help but chuckle at the befuddled expression on his face. “You were telling me about your sister’s obsession with fireflies.”

  “Why? Why was I telling you that?” He turned to face her.

  Priscilla shrugged. “It was a cute story.”

  “No one wants to hear about my sister’s obsession with bugs.”

  She did.

  She’d hung on his every word, immersing herself in his history, this side of him she hadn’t known yet. It made her remember her own past, before all the bad stuff. She didn’t care if he talked about bugs, the dishes or any of the other mundane things because he was sharing about himself. She wanted to know everything. The tiniest details.

  “What?” He watched her over the rim of his mug.

  “Sorry, just waking up.” She hid her mental tangent by sipping the dark brew.

  When was the last time she’d been this comfortable and interested in a man?

  Never.

  Before Brenden, this level of intimacy that combined physical, mental and emotional hadn’t existed for her.

  She’d fallen for him.

  Probably in the moment he’d risked himself so a kid could have some water. Everything since then merely supported her assessment that Brenden was one of the good ones. And on top of that? He got her in ways no one else ever had.

  Her chest tightened up.

  In a few short days, maybe even tomorrow, this was over with.

  Priscilla gulped her coffee, doing her best to drown the sudden panic with caffeine. All that did was bring this moment into sharp focus. The practical side of her knew that a relationship with so much distance between them was impossible. She couldn’t do it. And yet, she also knew that some part of her needed Brenden.

  He was special. He got her. He made her feel safe, protected, cared for when she’d never wanted those things from any man before.

  So what was she going to do about it? Let it slip away because she was scared of a good thing?

  Priscilla got up and set the mug down on the dresser adjacent to the door. She braced her hands on the flat surface, trying in vain to ground herself. But all she felt was need. For this man. For what they had during this short chapter of time.

  She turned and found him watching her over his cup.

  He was what she wanted.

  “What’s wrong?” Brenden asked, because of course he was attuned to her in every way.

  “Nothing.” She took his mug and set it on the nightstand.

  She lifted her hand and ran her fingers along the beard that was growing in. It hid the scar on his chin that she’d noticed in the first moments of meeting him.

  “I just want to do this.” She bent her head and kissed him.

  He sucked in a breath and cupped her face. He didn’t grope her or try to manhandle her, he held her. Because that was the kind of man Brenden was.

  She crawled up, straddling his lap. Last night they’d shared more of themselves. Small, seemingly insignificant details, but it was so much more than that.

  “I want you,” she whispered against his lips.

  It was true, she wanted his body, his cock, the orgasm he’d give her. But she also wanted him, the quiet moments they shared, the easy conversation. What she wanted was all of him.

  Brenden went still, his eyes traveling from side to side as he studied her.

  Was he onto her? Did he know that this had become more to her? That he mattered?

  She didn’t have the nerve to tell him. After just a few days he’d know she was crazy. But she could show him.

  Priscilla reached between them and unfastened his pants. Brenden leaned back on his elbows, granting her better access. She freed his cock, pleased to see the burgeoning erection. She wrapped her hand around him and stroked the velvety skin.

  Brenden’s head tipped back, and he groaned.

  This big, strong man didn’t hold anything back from her. She couldn’t tell him how she felt, but she could do this for them both.

  He lifted his hips, watching her with heavily lidded eyes. She grinned at him, luxuriating in the feel of feminine power. With him she was free to be herself, sexually, professionally, athletically. He never asked her to be anything except herself.

  “You’d better lose the clothes,” he said.

  “Should I?” She smiled. “Are you going to make me?”

  “Yes.” He growled the word and sat up, gathering her in his arms.

  He stood, taking her with him, and turned, setting her on the edge of the bed. She stared up at him, her head spinning from lust. He reached down and grabbed the waistband of her yoga pants and in one move stripped her of both pants and panties. She yelped then covered her mouth to try to muffle the sound.

  Brenden bent over her, his nose almost touching hers.

  “I wan
t to hear you come,” he said.

  Priscilla reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. At the same time he cupped her mound, pressing into her. She sucked in a breath and tightened her grip on him as he plunged her depths, stroking the walls of her channel.

  He bent his head, just enough to brush a light kiss to her lips, and then he was gone. She gripped fistfuls of the sheets, curling her toes into the mattress as he finger fucked her.

  She loved his man. God, did she love him.

  His warm lips touched her mound and coherent thought ceased. Her spine bowed up off the bed as he kissed her intimately. His tongue explored her in a way she had never experienced before. Everything about him was selfless, even when it came to pleasure.

  All at once her body tightened. She reached down, fisting his hair and groaned her release.

  His fingers lazily stroked her, sending tiny tendrils of electricity zapping through her.

  Priscilla pulled on his hair again, hauling him up her body. He went at his own pace, kissing her hip then her stomach. He shoved her shirt up and over her head as he crawled up her body.

  She could do this with him every day of her life and not get tired of it. In fact, it felt as though she’d been missing him all this time and only now realized it.

  Brenden finally reached her mouth. She pulled him down on top of her and hooked a leg around his hip.

  She loved him.

  Not as in an idle, passing thought in the way she loved her most comfortable yoga pants or bra. No, she loved him, loved him. As in real, deep, abiding love.

  Holy shit.

  “Turn over?” he asked against her mouth.

  Priscilla rolled, both because he’d asked and she needed to hide her face while she got these thoughts under control.

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her onto her knees. His hands smoothed down her back to her hips.

  She dropped her head, burying her face in the comforter.

  Brenden forced her knees wider, exposing her body to him. Did he have any idea how close he was to her soul? Her heart? Her most vulnerable places?

  “You’re so damn perfect,” he said.

  Words clogged in her throat. Witty comebacks failed her in the face of her emotional revelation.

  The blunt head of his cock pressed against her. She closed her eyes and pushed back, desperate to feel more of him. Brenden groaned and thrust into her orgasm-tight pussy. Her answering moan rising from her throat unbidden.

  “So fucking good,” she mumbled at last.

  His hands coasted up and over her thighs, her back.

  She needed him to move, to feel this as much as she did.

  Priscilla rocked backward then forward. Hands gripped her hips so tight she could count his fingers.

  Brenden thrust, driving into her at last. She slid her hands out, bracing herself against the onslaught of his body, losing herself in the hard joining of their sexes.

  In these moments, she felt him body and soul. She’d found him in the most unlikely of places and now she didn’t know how to keep him in her life. But she could have these moments.

  “Pris.” Brenden leaned over her, bracing a hand on the mattress and kissed her shoulder.

  Her toes curled and then she felt it, that bone-deep release roll up through her, robbing her of her senses. All these new feelings swirled inside of her, coalescing into something she could only label as love.

  She loved Brenden Taylor, and she didn’t have one clue what to do about it.

  15.

  SUNDAY. SAFE HOUSE, Albuquerque, New Mexico.

  Brenden needed out of this house. He had to think. To process.

  He took the mugs into the kitchen, his skin still buzzing from Priscilla’s touch.

  Last night did not make sense any way he looked at it. He very rarely had a restful night’s sleep. It was something he’d grown accustomed to. When on the job he’d often get up and share surveillance duty, allowing whoever was on to get a break. At home he used that time to do small chores. It was routine. Nothing about his wonky sleep schedule bothered him.

  What he couldn’t wrap his head around was that he’d fallen asleep while talking, fully dressed and weighted down by a warm woman.

  He’d never been diagnosed with anything. The doctors he’d seen had ruled out PTSD, depression and a whole host of other typical suspects. Did he have guilt that he’d survived and so many hadn’t? Yeah, but he never allowed that to rule his life. He just didn’t sleep well and sometimes his nightmares brought the past into sharp focus. But not for long. He was always in control.

  The one person he’d spoken to that had made sense was a buddy’s wife. She’d said after being around him, observing the others, his subconscious need for control was on hyper drive. There wasn’t anything necessarily wrong, he was just wound too tight.

  Priscilla made that tightness go away. She relaxed him.

  “Yo, earth to rocket man.” Riley waved a hand in front of Brenden’s face.

  He shook his head. “Yeah?”

  Riley thumbed over his shoulder at the dining table set up with the laptop. “Grant’s going to take over cameras and he wants two of us to do a walk-around. You up for that?”

  “Sure. Let me gear up.” Inwardly Brenden breathed a sigh of relief. A task might help focus him.

  “Light gear. Grant wants us to play under the radar.” Riley snapped his fingers. “Oh, and take this Kevlar vest to Priscilla, will you? Melody texted me to make sure we had it available first thing.”

  Brenden grabbed the petite vest from Riley. Typically someone like Priscilla got their vest the first day. But they hadn’t realized until the plane went down she was still a target.

  “Be back in a minute,” Brenden told Riley.

  He jogged down the hall, thrilled at the opportunity for some fresh air, even if the goal was to ensure their safe house truly was safe. Cops did regular drive bys of the place, which was one of the concessions they’d made to make nice with the cops. Brenden didn’t like it. They’d already run afoul of dirty cops in Rio. What if that happened here?

  It didn’t matter that Brenden knew the likelihood of that being the case here was slim. He was not completely rational when it came to Priscilla.

  He tapped on the door before cracking it open.

  The bed was empty.

  “Pris?” He stepped in and shut the door.

  “Yeah?” She stepped out of the bathroom wearing a fresh change of clothes.

  He paused, taking in her jeans and the purple T-shirt with a faded sunset across the chest. With her hair pulled back she looked casual, comfortable, ready to spend a lazy weekend together.

  Brenden held out the Kevlar vest. “Melody wanted to make sure you had this.”

  “Well isn’t this the latest fashion?” She took it from him and held it out. “What is it?”

  “It’s a bullet-proof vest. This one’s made to be worn under the clothes.”

  “Hello reality.”

  “This is just for now. And it’s just in case.”

  “In case someone tries to kill us again? Awesome.” She ripped the Velcro straps apart. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to go walk the neighborhood with Riley.” Brenden tossed a T-shirt and hoodie on the bed. He’d shower after.

  “I’m guessing I don’t get to go?” Priscilla held out her arms, her vest on over her shirt. “How’s this?”

  “Good. And sorry, you can’t go.”

  “I figured.” She sat on the bed and watched him.

  He slid on an under shirt, then his under clothing vest and followed it up with a T-shirt. A mob holster allowed him to carry two weapons, one under each arm, and the zip up hoodie over everything helped conceal his tactical advantage.

  Priscilla slid off the bed and grasped the front edges of his hoodie. She pulled him toward her.

  Without thinking he bent and kissed her. It was only when their lips touched that the sensation of rightness hit him, knocking him
mentally off balance.

  “Try to not have too much fun without me.” She smiled and gave him a little push toward the door.

  Brenden nodded because he didn’t trust himself to speak.

  He didn’t quite flee out of the door, but he moved with haste.

  Riley waited for him in the living area, phone in hand and a goofy smile on his face. He glanced up and flashed Brenden his phone. “Erin’s at the mercy of my mother this weekend.”

  Brenden grunted and nodded toward the door.

  Riley turned and walked with him.

  That was the nice thing about their second in command. Riley was both perfectly willing to talk and be quiet. He was a laid back kind of guy who helped balance out their team of loud personalities.

  “Grant said you weren’t up at all last night.” Riley slanted a glance sideways. “Here. New comms.”

  Brenden’s mouth went dry. So much for quiet thinking time. What was he going to say?

  He took the earpiece but didn’t put it on yet. Someone was always listening, and he didn’t want to talk this out with the whole team until he knew just what the hell was going on in his own head.

  They approached the front of the house, both going to the tall windows bracketing the front door.

  He pulled aside the curtains and frowned. Two beat up older cars sat across the street, windows down. There were five, maybe six rough looking guys inside. They stuck out in a neighborhood like this.

  “Riley?”

  “I see them. Grant?” Riley reached under his own hoodie and drew a handgun.

  “What?” Grant replied from the living room.

  “The cameras.”

  At that moment, both vehicles opened their doors. The first faces Brenden saw had bandanas up covering everything save for their eyes.

  “Fall back,” Brenden barked.

  At the same moment their phones rang out a warning siren.

  He and Riley backed up. They were outnumbered, but they had the advantage. The front entry created a bottleneck that would work in their favor.

  Brenden grabbed the heavy, metal entry cabinet and turned it to act as a shield. He took a knee and drew both weapons, his entire focus on the entry.

  “Four on the door, two are circling either side of the house,” Grant called out.