Hard Justice: A Cobra Elite Novel

by Clare, Pamela

  Och, shite.

  Fighting laughter, he walked over, turned the device off.

  Then he opened Elizabeth’s text message.

  Shut off your camera!

  Chuckling, he was about to send her a humorous reply, something like, “Stop looking.” Then he remembered the dick pics and the harassment she had endured at the Agency. Would she think he’d done this on purpose?

  Fuck.

  He tapped out his reply.

  I’m right sorry I am.

  * * *

  Elizabeth stared at the screen on her phone where the image of Quinn had just disappeared and then read his apology, her conscience pricking her.

  Good. Freaking. Heaven.

  She’d been asleep when her phone had buzzed. She’d seen it was an alert from the security camera in Quinn’s room and had been halfway out of bed when he’d suddenly appeared, buck naked, on her screen. He’d vanished into the bathroom to take a shower and had emerged ten minutes later, his hair wet, his body gloriously exposed. She knew it was almost exactly ten minutes later because she’d stared at her screen the entire time.

  She’d finally tipped him off—but not before she’d gotten a very good look.

  You’re terrible, Shields.

  But, dear Lord, who could blame her?

  Elizabeth had seen her share of naked men, but she’d never seen a man who looked like Quinn. His butt didn’t bounce, it shifted, twin globes of moving muscle. His abs ended in the beautiful V of his obliques, her favorite muscle on a man.

  And his cock…

  He hadn’t even had an erection.

  She squirmed, the ache between her thighs making her wish she’d brought her vibrator. She never traveled with it for fear that some customs agent would think it was an explosive and pull it out of her luggage with the Cobra guys there.

  She ought to apologize to Quinn, but what would she say?

  Sorry I didn’t tip you off sooner, but I couldn’t quit staring at your dick.

  That didn’t carry quite the professional tone she hoped to convey.

  She laid back on her pillows, reached down between her thighs, and touched herself, her mind mingling the sight of Quinn’s naked body with yesterday’s catastrophic, wonderful, amazing kiss. She let herself imagine him sliding, hard and thick, inside her, his big body moving over hers, deep thrusts carrying her higher and high—

  A buzz on her phone.

  Have you had breakfast?

  Damn it, Quinn.

  Give me 10 minutes.

  She tried to go back to her fantasy, but couldn’t, not knowing she had to be done and dressed in ten minutes. “Hell.”

  With a moan, she threw off the covers and marched into the bathroom, the unsatisfied ache between her thighs leaving her grumpy. She took a quick shower, brushed her teeth, and put on makeup. Then she stomped back into the bedroom to dress, choosing a peasant blouse and a pair of faded jeans.

  By the time her ten minutes were up, she was ready to go—and frustrated as hell.

  She met Quinn in the hallway, her irritation growing at the clean, fresh scent of his skin. Seriously, could he be any more attractive?

  “Did ye sleep well?”

  “No.” She set off for the elevator.

  “I’m sorry to hear it. Are you ready for another full Scottish?”

  She pushed the elevator call button. “No, thanks. I’ll stick with toast or yogurt.”

  “Are you angry wi’ me?”

  She didn’t dare meet his gaze, or he’d see guilt written all over her. “No.”

  “Aye, you are. I’m sorry. I forgot about the camera.”

  “It’s okay, Quinn. I know you didn’t flash me on purpose. Besides, I’m thirty-three. Yours is not the first penis I’ve seen.”

  The elevator car arrived. Elizabeth hoped it would be full of people so that this conversation would end. No such luck.

  “Then why are you so upset? I can see it on your face. You’re ready to explode.”

  Jesus fried chicken!

  Elizabeth drew a deep breath, tried to come up with an excuse. She looked up at the security camera, not sure whether it had a mic. “Let’s not talk about it here.”

  They rode the rest of the way to the ground floor in silence, giving Elizabeth time to come up with an excuse. By the time they were seated, she was ready.

  “I’m frustrated because I’ve used up four days of my two weeks here, and we haven’t gotten anywhere. I’m working with both hands tied behind my back. I’m not used to being ineffective.”

  That was at least true, if not the truth.

  “Och, you shouldnae be so hard on yourself. We’re workin’ blind here. If we had those phone records…”

  “Can’t we ask Ava to request them on our behalf?”

  Quinn shook his head. “What if she looks at them herself and discovers that Jack didnae really lose the old mobile?”

  Even Quinn’s compassion was sexy.

  Damn him.

  “Then I guess we support her through that. Whatever the truth is, she’ll have to face it eventually. Better sooner than later.”

  “Aye, it’s true, but I dinnae want to be the one to hurt her.”

  “It might be better coming from you than Wilson.”

  “Aye.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have no idea what’s in those phone records. But I do know what will happen if we don’t get them.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  * * *

  Quinn sat on the sofa in Elizabeth’s room, Elizabeth pacing slowly back and forth as the two of them worked their way through the data on the whiteboard.

  “It’s three in the morning. He drives into the alley for some reason. He gets out of the vehicle—or is forced to get out.” She shook her head. “No, he gets out voluntarily. If someone forced him to get out, he would have known something was going to happen.”

  “What if the killer pointed a firearm at him?”

  Gun crimes were rare in Scotland, but they did happen.

  “If the killer had a firearm, why didn’t he just shoot Jack? Why risk getting close to him to cut his throat when he could end it with a bullet?”

  Aye, that didn’t make sense.

  Elizabeth moved on. “He gets out of the car for whatever reason, and someone cuts the right side of his throat. Okay, combat expert, let’s try it.”

  “Try killin’ a man?”

  “Aye, killin’ a man.” She mimicked his accent—not bad, really, but then she was a linguist. “I want to do a walk-through.”

  Quinn got to his feet. “You want me to pretend to be the killer, aye?”

  “Exactly.” She motioned him forward. “Stab me.”

  He’d like to penetrate her all right. “Where should I stand?”

  Keep your mind on the job.

  “That’s part of what we’re figuring out. Are you right-handed or left-handed?”

  “Right-handed. So was the man who broke into Jack and Ava’s place.”

  “Where would you stand to stab a man in the left side of the throat?”

  Quinn thought through the motions. “I’d have to be standin’ in front of him, aye?”

  “Wouldn’t Jack see the knife coming?”

  “Aye, but no’ necessarily in time to react.” Quinn moved lightning-fast, his hand stopping millimeters away from Elizabeth’s throat.

  Her pupils went wide. “Wow. Okay. What if he stood on Jack’s right side?”

  Quinn moved to stand beside her, putting about an arm’s length of space between them. “It’s awkward. He’d need a bit of room to get up the necessary momentum even with a sharp blade. It’s no’ easy to sink a knife into a man’s body. It takes force to penetrate skin and tissue, and if you strike bone...”

  He feigned drawing a blade, driving it into her throat. “Aye, that might work. I cannae say whether Jack would have seen it.”

  “And from behind?”

  Quinn walked behind h
er, rested a hand on the slender curve of her shoulder, and pressed a finger to her neck, the scent of her skin filling his head. “The thrust of a blade here would instantly sever a man’s carotid.”

  Her eyes drifted shut. “And … his trachea, too.”

  “If the killer cuts hard and deep enough.” Quinn knew he shouldn’t, and yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He ducked down, brushed feather-light kisses over the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

  She gasped but didn’t pull away. “I-if the attacker was behind him, wouldn’t Jack have …. heard … him … coming?”

  “Possibly.” He nipped his way along her throat, felt the frantic rush of her pulse. “It wouldnae have been easy to sneak up on Jack.”

  She sank against him, her head resting against his chest, her eyes still closed. “We shouldn’t do this.”

  “Aye, I know.” He nibbled her earlobe and reached around to cup her breasts, their weight filling his hands, making him hard. “I want you, Lilibet.”

  She arched into his hands. “What about our jobs, our contracts?”

  Quinn didn’t give a damn, not when touching her like this felt so right. Besides, how would Corbray or Tower find out? “Are you goin’ to grass on us?”

  “No.” She took one of his hands, moved it down between her thighs.

  He cupped her through her jeans, groaned as she ground herself against his hand. She was as passionate as he had imagined she’d be, her body pliant beneath his touch.

  He slid one hand beneath her blouse, teasing the tight bud of her nipple through the lace of her bra while his other hand slid inside her panties.

  Och, she was already wet.

  She moaned, rocked her hips forward, urging him on.

  He stroked her clit, letting her responses guide him—the little shudder of breath when he got it just right, the involuntary jerk of her hips, her attempt to part her thighs. “I want to undress you, kiss every inch of you, and fuck you until you scream my name.”

  “Yes.”

  He scooped her into his arms, carried her to the bedroom, and set her on her feet at the foot of the bed. Then he reached over and flicked on the light. “I want to see you.”

  She started to take off her blouse, but he stopped her.

  “Let me.” He drew her blouse over her head, her nipples just visible through the lace of her bra. He reached behind her, and unfastened the clasp, hungry to have those nipples in his mouth. “Perfect.”

  He cupped her breasts, ducked down, licked each puckered bud, thrilled by her reaction, each flick of his tongue making the rosy tips draw tighter and summoning a little gasp. But he needed more.

  He reached down, yanked off her jeans and panties, and tossed them aside. Then he stepped back and let his gaze rove over her from her full breasts to the flare of her hips to the auburn curls between her thighs, lust and tenderness washing through him in equal measure, leaving an ache in his chest—and his groin.

  “Och, Lilibet, you’re beautiful.”

  She smiled. “I bet you say that to all the naked lasses.”

  He chuckled. “And how many women do you imagine that to be?”

  “Hundreds at least.”

  He teased her. “Thousands.”

  She helped him undress, but seemed to get distracted the moment his shirt came off, her hands sliding over the muscles of his chest and belly, tracing his scars, her breathing rapid, her pupils dark. Then she took his erection in hand, stroked him, making him harder. “I guess now I’ll be able to decide whether size matters.”

  Quinn chuckled, though he couldn’t deny feeling a wee bit of pride. “If all a man has goin’ for him is a big cock, he’s probably a lousy lover.”

  She sat on the bed, scooted backward, then lay back and let her legs fall open, giving him the most erotic view. Her gaze met his once again. “I want you inside me.”

  Och, Jesus!

  He stretched out beside her, his cock straining for her, his heart pounding. “You’re protected, aye?”

  He knew Cobra paid for contraception for female staff sent to regions of the world where there was a risk of sexual assault.

  She nodded. “An IUD, courtesy of our bosses. Fuck me.”

  But Quinn was in no hurry. “If this is the only chance I get to make love wi’ you, Lilibet, then I’m goin’ to make it last.”

  9

  Quinn’s words sent a shiver through Elizabeth. He gazed down at her as if she were precious, his brow furrowed, the intensity in his dark eyes stealing her breath. Then he cupped her cheek and lowered his mouth to hers.

  This was nothing like yesterday’s impulsive kiss in the gym. It was sweet and slow and achingly tender. He teased her with soft butterfly kisses until her lips tingled, then traced the curve of her lower lip with his tongue. “I feel like I’ve waited a hundred years for this.”

  “So have I.” Years of working side by side, dozens of dangerous missions, and through all of it, she had wanted him. “Quinn.”

  She slid her fingers into the thickness of his hair, drew him back into a kiss, caressing his tongue with hers, nipping his lower lip.

  In a heartbeat, the kiss transformed from gentle to fierce. Quinn took control, plundering her mouth, his tongue sparring with hers, demanding her surrender. She yielded gladly, desire lancing through her, his kisses and the heat of his naked body igniting her unspent arousal from this morning.

  Oh, God, she had dreamed of kissing him like this. The hard press of his lips. The rasp of his beard against her skin. The skilled strokes of his tongue.

  He tore his mouth from hers, trailed fiery kisses across her cheeks and along the sensitive skin of her throat to the divot between her collar bones. Then he cupped her breast in a big, callused hand, lowered his mouth to her aching nipple, and sucked it into the heat of his mouth.

  She whimpered, arched to meet him, her fingers clenching in his hair, little darts of pleasure shooting straight to her belly with every tug of his lips and flick of his tongue. He went from one breast to the other and back again until she squirmed beneath him, her body aching for release.

  But Quinn had clearly meant what he’d said. He wasn’t going to rush this.

  He moved slowly over her body, driving her crazy with his mouth and hands, kissing and caressing her breastbone, licking and nipping her belly and the curve of her hips. He teased the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and the backs of her knees, chuckling at her response.

  “I’m ticklish.”

  “Aye, you are.” He nudged her legs wider apart with his knee then slid his hand between her thighs, his gaze fixed on hers. “Och, you’re so wet. Show me what you like.”

  She reached down to guide him, the intimacy of looking into his eyes as he explored her and gave her pleasure startling. But, sweet heaven, it didn’t take him long to get it right, his fingers stroking her clit just the way she liked it. “Just… like… that.”

  It felt good, so good, Elizabeth’s eyes drifting shut, her breath coming in pants, her body rushing headlong toward orgasm. She fought to hold her hips still, the nails of one hand digging into the hard curve of his shoulder, the other hand fisted in her sheets.

  Quinn kept up a relentless rhythm, kissing her, whispering nonsense against her skin “Lilibet. Sweet Lilibet. Mo ribhinn.”

  Then he lowered his mouth to her breasts once again and suckled.

  She came with a cry, climax washing through her, a tide of molten bliss.

  He stayed with her until her peak had passed, pressing kisses to her breasts, her throat, her lips. Then he raised himself above her, all man and muscle, and settled his hips between her thighs, his erection resting against her. “Do you want this?”

  The big, sweet Scot was giving her one last chance to turn him down.

  As if.

  “Yes.” She reached down and took hold of his cock to guide him.

  His gaze fixed on hers, he nudged himself into her, going a little deeper each time, until she ached for him again.

  �
��Och, you’re tight.” He took one of her legs, rested her calf against his shoulder, opening her more fully. Then with a single slow thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, Elizabeth’s delighted gasp becoming a moan.

  “Are you okay?” He held himself still inside her for a moment, a muscle clenching in his jaw, the look in his eyes as he gazed down at her making her pulse skip.

  “Hell, yes.” She was better than okay.

  His lips quirked in a grin—and he began to move.

  He went slowly at first, deep, unhurried strokes that enabled her to savor every sweet inch of him—the slick glide, the piercing stretch, the satisfying fullness.

  “That feels … so good.” Hungry for him, she slid her hands along his pecs, his shoulders, his biceps, the shifting muscles of his ass, the feel of him an aphrodisiac.

  But as incredible as it was, she’d never been able to climax from penetration alone. She was about to reach down to give herself a hand when he shifted his hips. With his next thrust, the base of his cock rubbed against her clit.

  She gasped and stared up at him, astonished.

  He chuckled, adjusted his position, and thrust again, falling into a rhythm, stroking her inside and out, driving her out of her mind.

  She was lost, beyond all control now, her eyes closed, her nails digging into his forearms as she fought to hold on. Panting … sweating… needing him… needing more. Then she shattered, crying out his name, orgasm singing through her, sweet and pure and bright, his thrusts driving her pleasure home. “Quinn.”

  He stayed with her until the quaking inside her subsided, then adjusted his hips again and drove into her hard, his body shaking in her arms as he came at last.

  Still breathing hard, she opened her eyes, looked up at him, an unfamiliar ache in her chest. She reached up, cupped his cheek.

  He rolled off her, drew her against him, pillowing her head against his chest, where she could hear the rapid beating of his heart. He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Thank God I’ve lived to see that.”

  “See what?”