by Lora Leigh
Clint ran over the information that popped up beneath Mace's talented fingers. There were four listed as Fuentes' generals, Manuelo among them. There was Diego's bastard uncle Jose and his nephew Santiago as well as a smaller player from a year ago.
"When Kell and Ian get here, I'll apprise Morganna of the plan we have in place." Clint rubbed at his jaw as he read the data on the screen. "We'll get moving this evening."
"She's going to be jumping out of her skin to get started" Mace grunted. "That woman is an adrenaline junkie, Clint Maybe even as bad as you are. She'll be raring to go."
That was what he knew, and it terrified the hell out of him.
"Kell and Ian lie itching to get started as well. They'll he here soon."
"How many know about this place?" Clint frowned.
"Just the right people," Mace assured him. "Men who| know to keep their damned mouths shut, that's for sure. DID you think you were my only leak? I love ya, man, but you're a rare visitor and I get lonely." He waggled his brows and pursed his lips in a comic display of utterly false affection.
"Let me have your keyboard." Clint waved Mace away from the computer. "I need to run a few checks of my own on some of the regulars I recognized at Diva's."
"Spoilsport." Mace lumbered from the chair. "You can play with my toys, but yours racks me. That's just so not right, man."
Clint's snort of laughter was followed by the sound of a door slamming. He turned, eyes narrowing, as he watched Morganna smile benignly at both of them.
"I bet Clint isn't rude enough to get inside and play with your hard drive, either, Mace." She arched a brow mockingly as she padded across the room.
Mace shifted nervously, rubbing his hand over his chin as he flashed her a bright smile.
"Sunshine. I hope you slept well?" Amusement laced his voice as he steered carefully clear of her.
Her lips twitched as her gaze flicked from Mace to meet Clint's. Laughter lurked in the gray depths and tugged at her lips. With her hair falling in disarray around her face, the loose T-shirt and pajamas, and her bare feet, she reminded him of the precocious teenager she used to be.
"I got cold." Her gaze was warm, heating him in ways he knew he should be terrified of.
Instead, he swiveled around until he faced her fully and patted his knee in invitation. She fitted against him perfectly as her arms looped around his neck and she perched his lap.
"He has work to do," Mace grumbled. "You should fix pancakes."
"Give me a reason to cook, Mace," she drawled mockingly. "I do my best work after seeing grown men twitching pain."
"Then beat up on him," he grunted, pointing to Clint. "Instead of cuddling against him like a damned kitten. Some things just ain't right."
Clint smoothed his cheek over Morganna's hair, watching Mace scowl at both of them.
"Do your thing on my computer, Mac, and get it over with. Then you can explain this harebrained scheme you've up with Drage Masters and that balls-busting woman of his. Smith and Morganna here ought to get along just fine."
There was a triumphant glitter in Mace's eyes as he spoke, a smirk on his lips as he met Clint's gaze. Clint sighed, shaking his head as he felt Morganna tense in his arms. "What is he talking about?" She tilted her head back to re at him, putting his lips much too close to hers. He couldn't help dipping his head that last inch for a kiss. She was sleep-tousled, soft in his arms, and what he was about to do was clenching his guts with dread. When he lifted his head, bittersweet satisfaction raged through him at the misty emotion in her eyes and the flush to her cheeks.
"He's talking about taking out Fuentes." Clint grimaced pushing her up from his lap before patting her rear, allowing his hand to linger, to enjoy the soft curve and warm flesh beneath the cotton.
"I thought that was the object all along." She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. Breasts tipped with pebble-hard nipples despite the frown on her face.
Clint stared back at her, steeling himself against the decision he had made, praying to God for a miracle.
"You have your wish," he told her. "We're going to Diva's tonight. We'll be slaying in a suite in the lower level, and working with Drage Masters and his head of security, Smith. We're going to draw Fuentes' men out and see how many we can take down. Manuelo will know where the lab is; we suspect he's the head of that little operation."
"What about the mole on Joe's team?" Clint watched her eyes sharpen, watched the sense of excitement that filled her eyes even as calculated intelligence began to gleam in the stormy depths of her gaze. Damn, she could be scary some times.
"We're after him, too. Joe's only in so far as using his team to watch and provide backup. He's unaware we're also working to uncover the mole he doesn't want to admit he has. We're in a dual operation here, Morganna. It's not going to be easy-"
"Bullshit!" She waved the warning away. "If we're working together we can do it, Clint. I saw Masters' computer setup; his system is state-of-the-art."
"It was compromised, though." Clint explained the drugging of the girl the night before and the bastard's awareness of the cameras in place. "He's changed his camera angled and added a few, but Joe doesn't know this. He's also added a secondary surveillance point to the computers. Those in his office won't display the two additional cameras. Those will be in another room. Joe's group will be given a quick explanation of the setup and then we'll see what happens."
Morganna watched Clint closely. He was in SEAL mode now, hard-eyed, his voice firm as he laid out the operation and answered her questions. He was talking to her. He wasn't ordering her. He wasn't treating her like an extra he had to deal with. He was working with her. And the plan he and Drage had come up with was a damned good one.
"I'm pulling in two of my men on this as well." Clint turned to the computer, motioning her over as he pulled up their in-formation. "They're regulars at Merlin's. Know them?"
She stared at the screen. "Kell and Ian. I don't know their last names. They pretty much stay to themselves, other than whatever women they have on their arms. They like to watch us dance." She waggled her brows mockingly. "They like that a lot."
"I bet they do," Clint growled, a scowl marking his face. "You know what that dance floor is, right, Morganna?"
"Of course I do." She shrugged negligently. "The droves of wolves pick their innocent little lambs from within the writhing masses of bodies. Only the, quote, unquote, subs take to the dance floor. They're out there to be seen, to be lusted over and watched."
"So why were you out there?" Clint's voice was dark, progressive. She loved it.
"Because I like to dance. If I wanted a Dom, I could pick one myself. I don't need to literally put myself up for auction to do it. Why did you think I was there?" She propped her hand on her hip as she regarded him with mocking
amusement.
"You're a menace," he muttered, his hands moving over the computer keys as he followed the information Mace had pulled up.
"You say that as though you doubted it, Clint," she drawled, ambling over to the couch and the stacks of boutique bags sitting there. "Whose clothes?"
"Yours. Smith went shopping for you." He sounded less than pleased. "I haven't looked at them yet. I was afraid to."
It was a good thing he hadn't. Morganna looked into each bag, restraining her smile as she glimpsed the clothes the other woman had bought. Jayne Smith just had righteous taste. She was definitely going to have to go shopping with her soon.
"I'll go through them later then." Morganna picked up the bags and carried them into the bedroom. "Are you hungry, have you eaten?"
"Hungry." Mace's voice was almost desperate. "Pancakes."
She rolled her eyes. She should fix bologna sandwiches instead, except she was rather hungry herself. Besides, she had a feeling she was going to definitely need her strength to work with Clint. SEAL mode was complete Dom mode. Obey me, do it my way, tough-assed alpha. She smiled slowly Working with Clint was going to be a lot of fun.
DARK HAD
SETTLED OUTSIDE THE house when Kell Krieger and Ian Richards stepped into the basement, staring back at Clint and Mace with hard expressions. Morganna had talked to them several times, had danced with them, but the steely glints in their eyes had always had her pulling back warily. These weren't men you played with, and until Clint, Morganna hadn't been interested in any sort of relationship, especially the fully committed ones she had a feeling both men would require.
"Chief." Ian nodded his dark blond head at Clint, his brown eyes assessing.
Clint stood by the couch behind Morganna's sitting position. She had drawn her legs up, regarding the two men over her upraised knees.
"I had a feeling you were hiding out with her." Ian's hazel eyes lit with a glint of laughter. "You're trouble, woman."
Her lips twitched as she glanced up at Clint. He didn't look happy.
"I thought you didn't know them very well?" he half snarled down at her.
"I don't." She smiled. "Just enough to know to steer a wide path around them when they're hunting for a woman. They're worse than those wolves I mentioned earlier." Kell shook his head as Ian chuckled at the description.
"We checked Markwell's body before coming here," Kell told them then. "They did a number on him, Chief." Morganna blinked her eyes against her tears as she ducked her head. Clint wasn't talking about the man he had
lost; he wasn't mentioning it. He wasn't cold, but he had grown distant over the last few hours, his dark blue eyes cool and shadowed.
"Come on over here and I'll explain what's going on."
Clint led them over to the small kitchen table where the wall and surface of the table were littered with drawings and printouts.
She laid her arm on the back of the couch, watching the four men as they talked. For once, Clint wasn't dressed in leather. He wore jeans, boots, and a white cotton shirt. The clothes, rather than detracting from the strength of his body, emphasized it instead. Black strands of hair fell over his brow as he lowered his head. discussing the operation with the other two men; the short growth of a beard and mustache gave him a rakish, wicked look. She liked it. She had especially liked the feel of it against her skin in the tub earlier.
"Your main job is to watch her." He turned then, pointing imperiously toward Morganna as she rolled her eyes. "If you know her, then you're very well aware of the fact that she's as slippery as an eel and twice as dangerous. Fuentes' men are determined to get their hands on her. If they take her, there's going to be hell to pay. From me and Reno." He stared back at the two men fiercely. "Be sure you want to take that risk."
Kell turned and winked back at her. "We've been practicing over the last two years. I think we can keep up with her."
It would have been nice if they had informed her that they actually knew Clint and Reno. She could have managed to avoid them as well.
She caught the tightening of Clint's jaw and the flare of anger in his eyes before he hid it. A sigh slipped past her lips. Pushing him past this jealousy stuff wasn't going to be easy. It was never smart to tempt a man's beast, but in this case he'd best keep the jealousy thing under control.
She had a feeling she now knew why she had never met the men in Reno's and Clint's units. Clint didn't want her anywhere around them.
"Be sure you do," Clint muttered. "And while you're undressing her with your eyes, try to leave enough clothes on her for decency's sake."
That one surprised her. Morganna lifted her brow as the other men chuckled, turning from her, but Clint's gaze lingered, dark, assessing. She winked back at him, pursing her lips in an airy kiss before rising from the couch.
"Have fun plotting and planning, boys." She looked at the clock on the wall. "I need to get showered and dressed if we're going to get out of here on time."
She had left it to the last possible moment. It wouldn't do to give Clint time to actually protest the clothes she had chosen to wear for the night.
"There's a duffel by the bed. Pack the rest of the clothes in there, Morganna. We'll be taking them with us," Clint stated absently as she headed for the bedroom.
"I'll be sure to, cupcake." She kept her back to him. "See you in a bit."
"Cupcake?" Ian turned back to Clint, his gaze going over the tall, lean form and the fierce scowl that creased his expression.
"Get fucked!" Clint growled, turning back to the plan they had laid out.
"Only one game in sight right now; do we take dibs?" Kell murmured.
Clint lifted his gaze, his midnight eyes turning icy, filled with a promise of retribution. "Ask Mace." Ian turned to Mace, a smirk on his lips. "You're still alive." "Trying out for soprano, though," Mace sighed. "That woman has a wicked knee and perfect aim. Watch your hands there, Ian my man; she can do some damage." "And if she doesn't, I will." And there was no mistaking intent behind that voice. Deadly. Menacing. Clint McIntyre had staked his claim. "Now get your head out of your pants and back to protocol here. We want to finish this up fast. I want this taken care of and taken care of now."
Chapter 24
CLINT DIDN'T KNOW EXACTLY WHAT he expected in t way of Morganna's clothes. Tight leather, maybe. The 1ittle schoolgirl outfit. His blood pressure could have had died either one. But what she walked out of the bedroom wearing an hour later damned near sent him into cardiac arrest.
The long-sleeved crop top and matching pants had sexy cutouts on the front and at the sides. Cutouts nothing, the hips and thighs were nothing but stretching straps of material and too damned narrow for his peace of mind. Her soft little pussy was barely concealed. Long sleeves covered her arms and fitted over the sides of her breasts. It covered her nipples. Maybe. The straps on her thighs were copied across her breasts, and the material stopped just below those full breasts. There was way too much silken skin left bare from the bottoms of her breasts to the juncture of her thighs, It was made to fit like a glove and that was exactly what it did.
The four-inch black heels made her legs look a damned mile long and fit for nothing but wrapping around his thighs. Clint was aware of the other three men staring at her, jaws unhinged, their eyes bulging, as she paused halfway across the room, swung out a hip, and propped her hand on it and tilted her head mockingly.
"Are you going to get dressed?" Her gaze met his, jerking him back into reality rather than the fantasy of fucking her silly in the middle of Mace's basement.
"I will if you will." He forced himself to speak, though how he managed it with the lust choking him to death, he wasn't certain.
"You're funny." She smiled gently. Gently. She didn't even bother to show the least bit of concern that he was about to cover her with a blanket and hide her in a damned closet. "But you'd better hurry. I think you said Drage was supposed to be waiting to slip us into the club."
"And leave you here alone?" He blinked back at her. Yeah, he really thought maybe he should just drag her into the bedroom and put those pajamas back on her. They were a lot better. They weren't capable of causing a riot.
"Yes, you are going to leave me in here alone with these three yahoos just waiting to make a smart comment." She arched her brow at the other men. "I'd hurry if I were you, too. Or I might end up making pancakes."
Pancakes? Oh yeah, she cooked when she was pissed.
He glared at the three men. "Touch her and I'll kill all of you. Better yet, stop looking at her. It's pissing me off."
He stomped from the room before he heard more than a snicker. He didn't pause as he passed Morganna; he couldn't. If he did, he would end up throwing her over his shoulder again and hauling her straight to the bed. Damn. Could a man die of a hard-on?
THE MUSIC WAS PUMPING FROM Diva's as Clint pulled the BMW up to the back entrance. The door opened smoothly, revealing Jayne Smith, outfitted in skintight leather, biker boots, and a pistol held close to her thigh.
"Righteous." She grinned and lifted her fist to Morganna as she glanced at the outfit.
Meeting the other woman's fist with hers, Morganna slid a look to Clint's closed expression
, winking back at Jayne subtly. He hadn't said two words since he had come out of the bedroom dressed in the leather pants, shit kicker boots, and black shirt and leather jacket. He looked hot as hell, in more ways than one, Morganna thought with an inward laugh.
"Everything is in place." Jayne hid her smile as she nodded back to Clint. "The lower suite has a private entrance to it, or you can use the main entrance. We'll slip you down in the private elevator and you can come back upstairs through the main entrance. No one will know you just arrived."
She slid a key card into the elevator's security slider and ushered them inside.
"Is Joe's team in place?" Clint questioned as the doors slid closed.
"All but the tech in the van." She nodded. "I managed to get a little bug inside the vehicle, though. If he calls out to Fuentes, we'll know it."
Morganna caught the look Clint slid her way. "Where did you get your bugs?"
"I make them myself," Jayne drawled. "Want a few?"
His answer was a noncommittal grunt.
"I think he's upset with you, Jayne," Morganna sighed, "He doesn't like the outfit."
"What outfit?" he growled. "There's no outfit to it. A few strips of cloth, that's it."
Jayne lifted her brows mockingly as she glanced at Morganna. Morganna sighed. Again.
"She'll be noticed." Jayne shrugged in unconcern. "The object is to have her seen and to push Fuentes into making his move soon. If he makes it while we're prepared, we have a better chance."
Morganna glanced at Clint as he turned his gaze to Jayne. The flat, knowing glint in his eye had her lips twitching. Yeah, he was aware of all that, but that didn't mean he liked any of it.
"Here we are," Jayne announced as the elevator slid to a smooth stop. "We've had all the security pass cards into the suite changed." She handed Clint a key card, which he tucked into the front pocket of his pants. "You're fully stocked with drinks and snacks; if you want anything in the way of meals, Drage's chef will take care of you. His number is beside the phone in the kitchenette."