A Shot Worth Taking (Bad Karma Special Ops Book 3)

by Tracy Brody

  He went lower, trailing kisses over the unbandaged side of her stomach, then lower, nibbling at her inner thigh. He inhaled her feminine scent. Her body writhed, and her hands clenched fistfuls of the sheet, which heightened his determination to give to her the way she had unselfishly given to him.

  His tongue trailed up her thigh to circle her smooth outer lips before delving inside to taste. He slid his hands under her firm, rounded ass, lifting her higher so he could go deeper. The end of his nose rubbed against her, applying pressure and increasing the urgency of her sultry moans.

  “Don’t stop. Don’t,” she panted, inspiring him to deliver an even higher “satisfaction guaranteed” level of service.

  His tongue hit her sweet spot. She gasped when he teased the hardened nub. Her leg muscles went rigid. She lifted her hips higher when the first wave of orgasm gripped her—and didn’t stop.

  He watched the expression on her face as she continued to clench until she finally sagged back on the mattress and gave a prolonged sigh. He eased over her legs to lay by her side. The dreamy smile plastered on her face was the best gift he’d gotten in a decade.

  After he kissed her temple, her eyelids fluttered open. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to guess what she was thinking—not with that smile.

  Thirty

  Angela startled and nearly dropped the book in her hands. Her heart pumped like it had been the starting shot for a race instead of the doorbell ringing. She slid lower on the couch and craned to see who was at Tony’s front door.

  A hitman wouldn’t likely ring the bell. Not likely, but … Tony had to have a gun, or five, in the house. Where would he keep them? She eased off the couch.

  Damn, being alone this morning and this whole bomb-in-the-bed business had her imagination running rampant. First, yesterday with poor Rosie, and now while she kept out of view of the person at the door.

  Halfway up the door’s side window, a small face pressed against the glass. The child’s body jolted when her shiny brown eyes landed on Angela staring back at her. Next to the girl, slender fingers held a cloth grocery bag. Though Angela couldn’t see the woman, the sight of the two lessened her need to be armed.

  She swallowed the shrinking lump of trepidation, opened the door, and recognized the pixie with waves of red hair.

  “You must be Angela.” The woman greeted her before Angela could speak. “I’m Kristie Hanlon. Mack’s wife. And this is Darcy.” She nodded to the girl whose smile could reform the heart of a supervillain. “We heard you were here and might need some lunch and dinner.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Angela said, an unfamiliar tug in her stomach.

  “This is what we do in the unit.” Kristie didn’t move forward. She stood there, holding the bag, and waited for an invitation. Darcy leaned so far forward on the balls of her feet she had to take a step to keep from falling face down. It knocked down a chunk of Angela’s protective wall.

  “Thanks. Come in. Please.” She stepped back to let them pass. Darcy bounced in, triggering a reminder of the look on Tony’s face when Mack had shown her pictures of his family when they were in the elevator.

  “The chicken and rice casserole needs to go in the fridge.” Kristie carried the bag toward the kitchen. “I thought it would help out with Tony going back to work. Heating instructions are on top. And I brought several options for lunch,” she continued while she unloaded the bag. “There’s chicken salad, Cajun pimento cheese sandwich, and a peanut butter and jelly with banana sandwich.”

  “And Jell-O since you were in the hospital,” Darcy added.

  “So many choices.”

  “And fruit salad and zucchini bread.” Kristie spread everything on the counter, then put the casserole in the refrigerator.

  Darcy eyed the food, cementing Angela’s suspicions. “Would you like to stay and join me for lunch?”

  “I—” Darcy started before Kristie’s hand on her shoulder stopped the girl.

  “We don’t want to impose,” Kristie said.

  “There’s plenty of food, and I’d enjoy the company.” And the funny thing was, she meant it. Even if they were here to check her out, not being alone—and an opportunity to gain some insight on Tony—prompted her to open up.

  “We’d love to, then.”

  Angela found plates in the second cupboard she opened while Kristie found glasses.

  “What would you like to eat?” Angela asked Darcy, though she knew the answer.

  “Can I have the peanut butter, jelly, and banana? And some of your Jell-O?”

  “You certainly may. I’ve never heard of PB and J with banana, too,” Angela said.

  “It’s good. I like the creamy and crunchy peanut butter mixed.”

  “She’s a little high maintenance, but she’s worth it.” Kristie winked at Darcy, who wore an impish grin. She unwrapped the sandwich and set it on a plate. “Which would you like?”

  “Either is fine. I recall hearing you were …” she trailed off, cutting her gaze to Darcy in case they hadn’t shared the news yet.

  “Expecting?” Kristie finished. “Yup. The pimento cheese sounds good.”

  “I’m going to be a big sister.” Darcy beamed.

  “Have you felt okay?”

  Kristie laughed. “You’ve heard of morning sickness? It’s a lie. Though if women knew it could last twenty-four seven, the human race might die out.” Nevertheless, joy radiated from her.

  “I’m sorry.” Angela joined Darcy at the table.

  “It’s okay. They say morning sickness is a sign of a healthy baby. There are worse things than being nauseous. I didn’t think I could have kids, so ….” Kristie set the glasses on the table.

  “Why’s that?” Angela remembered Tony’s comment that Mack recently married, making Kristie Darcy’s stepmom.

  “My first husband and I were never able to conceive.”

  “And did you have to do anything?”

  “No. Well—one thing.” Kristie grinned, and her cheeks reddened a bit. “The doctor said it probably had something to do with me and my late husband together. They never figured out what, but it’s not an issue now.”

  The mention of Kristie’s late husband dredged up her own loss and hit Angela like a physical blow. “How did he …?” Why couldn’t she say the word?

  “Eric was killed in action in Iraq.” Kristie’s solemn tone mirrored the sadness that clouded her eyes.

  Both women took bites of their sandwiches in the stagnant silence.

  Kristie had called her husband by his name. Owning their past. Though it obviously still impacted her, she’d moved on.

  “So, you’ve known Tony a while?” Angela changed the subject.

  “I’ve known Uncle Tony a long time,” Darcy stated with an adorable bobbing of her head.

  “All your life?” Kristie laughed.

  “Maybe. He babysat me before.”

  Tony babysitting? Angela wanted to know how that came about.

  “I’m going to marry Uncle Tony because I can’t marry Daddy.”

  “And your dad’s okay with that?” Angela asked, further taken in by Darcy’s sweet nature.

  Darcy nodded with the charming innocence of a child.

  “I don’t think we quite have Mack convinced yet. Of course, he says the girls can’t date until they’re twenty-seven, kiss a guy until twenty-eight, and they have to be thirty before they can get married. Right?”

  “Yup.” Darcy took a bite of her sandwich, clearly not fazed by the twenty-year wait.

  “I haven’t known Tony too long,” Kristie chimed in. “Mack and I, uh, kept our relationship quiet for a while. Since I’m a warrant officer, our relationship violated certain Army fraternization rules. And I had no intention of falling for another man in Special Ops.”

  “I see how that turned out.” They both gave a light laugh. Angela’s connection to Kristie built with each revelation.

  “He’s pretty persistent. And irresistible. Like this one.” Kristie n
udged Darcy’s leg with her foot, evoking a giggle. “Took me a while to get past my own stubbornness. I finally realized that I was better off living with the fear that something could happen to Mack than pass up a chance to be truly happy with a man I love. And I get two incredible daughters.”

  “Amber’s at camp this week,” Darcy contributed, her mouth filled with Jell-O.

  “I definitely made the right decision.” The glow on Kristie’s face eclipsed her words.

  “And the issue of rank?” Angela asked.

  “Long story, involving classified details”—she cut her eyes to Darcy—“but the Army occasionally makes exceptions if you’re in different chains of commands. My commanding officer put me on inactive reserve while I recovered from a broken leg and helped us around the fraternization issue. Though now that I’m pregnant, I won’t be flying and may switch to the Army Reserve or the Guard permanently after I have the baby.” She rested a hand on her belly. “Especially now that the girls’ mom agreed to give us more time with the girls.” Kristie and Darcy exchanged smiles.

  They seemed close. Far closer than Angela had been with either of her stepparents. Her throat constricted, making it difficult to swallow her mouthful of chicken salad.

  All she’d wanted was a normal, happy family to belong to. Had planned that with Stephan—until terrorists killed him and her dreams. It made working for the CIA an attractive outlet for her pain—not knowing that it would annihilate any possibility of the future she’d so wanted.

  Darcy’s crush on Tony would surely dim and be replaced with more age-appropriate ones in the future. Would Angela’s own infatuation with Tony fade? Or would he pop into her thoughts for decades?

  She enjoyed lunch with a family like the one she envisioned Tony having someday, but closed the door behind them a half hour later, knowing she’d have to work hard to keep from getting sucked into an alternate reality that didn’t align with her life or future.

  Thirty-One

  Angela remained seated on the couch when Tony came in from his first day back to work. He stood near the doorway, smiling at her long enough for ripples of heat to race through her. The way he swaggered over, then leaned down to kiss her before saying a word ignited a few inner fireworks.

  “How was your day? Good to be back at work?” She held on to her book to keep from running her hand up his muscled abdomen and chest.

  “It was okay. Had a lot of intel to catch up on, so didn’t manage to slip away for lunch with you like I hoped. I missed you.”

  This man always had the right thing to say. She could easily get used to him coming home to her.

  “You hungry?” he continued. “I thought I’d grill out some burgers.”

  “Kristie Hanlon brought over lunch and left dinner for us.”

  He gave her a hand when she shifted to stand. “Nice. I didn’t know she was doing that, or I woulda called to prepare you. Sorry.” He led her to the kitchen.

  “It’s fine. Good to have some company, and I got to meet your fiancée.”

  “My fian—what? Oh!” He laughed. “You mean Darcy. Isn’t she the cutest thing? You aren’t jealous, are you?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “No need to be,” he assured her.

  Angela opened the refrigerator and reached for the casserole dish with her good arm.

  “Let me get that.” He eased past her. “I’ll get dinner on the table, at least.”

  “How is it some woman hasn’t snatched you up?”

  His smile disappeared, and he angled away to turn on the oven.

  Why the heck did she say that? She wracked her brain for something to say to get him out of the hot seat.

  He met her gaze, then sighed. “I came close. I dated this girl, Carla, for two years in high school. The fall after graduation, she went to Syracuse University, and I left for boot camp at Fort Benning. We were young and naive about how hard a long-distance relationship would be.”

  “It’s hard.” She and Stephan had been making an effort, but a young guy in the military? Far from home?

  “Yeah, suddenly, she’s at this big university known for its party reputation. No strict parents to answer to. Meeting new people with no boyfriend to hang out with.”

  This was not going down the path Angela had assumed.

  “In Basic Training, you can’t make calls whenever you want, and you don’t have much time to write. I’d told her that, but I could tell things were starting to change when I finally got to talk to her after Basic. I went straight to Advanced Individual Training, so I didn’t get to go home and see her until Christmas.

  “I gave her a promise ring to let her know I was all in. That’s when Catholic guilt made her confess that she’d cheated on me. Claimed because I only called once a week, she thought I didn’t care anymore, and she had gotten drunk and hooked up with some guy. She said it didn’t mean anything. Begged me to forgive her.”

  “That’s hard to move past.”

  “Yeah. I was hurt. Pissed, too, but I loved her. I thought she was the one. We all screw up sometimes, so I agreed to give it another shot. She, uh, tried to make it up to me.”

  Angela could guess what he meant by that.

  “She came to see me during her spring break. I came home on leave that summer and took her on a four-day Caribbean cruise. Things seemed back on track.”

  “Three more years is a long time. Was getting married and her going to school where you were based an option?” she asked.

  “Not really. Changing schools, credits don’t always transfer. Her parents wanted her to get her degree from Syracuse since they were alumni. They were afraid she might drop out and not graduate. When she went back to school that fall, she joined a sorority, and things got—weird.”

  “Weird how?”

  “She accused me of going to bars and strip clubs to pick up girls before I deployed to Iraq. Said there was no way I could go a year without sex.”

  “She was projecting because of her infidelity,” Angela mused.

  “That’s what I thought and that she’d chill when I deployed. She wouldn’t have anything to worry about when I was over there. One day I see a picture of her on social media. She’s at a frat party, Solo cup in her hand, hanging on some guy. My trust level was already stretched thin. All I can think is that she’s cheating again, and I’m gonna have to confront her.”

  A sickening feeling formed as Angela listened.

  “We went out on dismounted patrol that afternoon, and all of a sudden, I’m on the ground, eating dust. My ears were ringing. It took a minute to shake it off and see our medic getting a tourniquet on what’s left of my buddy Mills’s leg. He stepped on an IED.”

  She grimaced. “Did he … ?”

  “He made it, but he lost both legs. If my head had been in the game, maybe I would have seen the IED, and he wouldn’t have stepped on it.”

  Angela touched Tony’s arm. “I’m sorry about your friend, but you can’t blame yourself.”

  “I know.” His voice was gruff. “But you can’t help but go there. When you’re in combat, you can’t afford to be distracted. It’s more than your own life. I called Carla the next day.” He looked away.

  “How’d that go?”

  “She tried to tell me she’d been at the library writing a paper on Thursday night. When I mentioned the photo, she accused me of not trusting her. Goes on and on saying I hadn’t forgiven her, and four years apart was too much, and we needed to take a break.” His laugh rang hollow. “Like we could just pick up again after she graduated. I couldn’t trust her anymore, and I ended it. Since then I’ve been looking for a woman I can trust and who can trust me enough to make a go of it.”

  “You’re right. In your line of work, having a spouse you can trust to be faithful and hold down the home front is key,” Angela agreed. He wasn’t looking for sympathy with all he’d shared. But there was something, at least subconsciously, he wanted her to know, and it was now plain as day. He told her what he needed, bu
t she couldn’t give him the future he wanted, so she didn’t say more in the uncomfortable silence that followed.

  “I’m gonna go get changed. I’ll come back and put the casserole in once the oven’s preheated.”

  “Wait.” He might want more, but he didn’t live like a monk. She’d thought about him all afternoon. Pictured him in the kitchen, serving her a plate of pasta. Imagined the sheen of sweat on his arms and chest when she passed the exercise equipment filling the second largest bedroom. Remembered the ecstasy on his face in the shower. Longed for his touch, and the deliciousness of his mouth when she’d lain alone in his bed to nap. Finally, he’d come home and stood close enough to touch.

  She understood his physical needs. Those she could satisfy. The oven might not be preheated yet, but it was close enough.

  “Why don’t you put it in now?” She set the timer, then stepped out of his way long enough for him to shut the oven door. “It says to cook for forty-five minutes.”

  His raised eyebrows told her he caught the invitation in her voice.

  “Forty-five minutes, huh?”

  At his heated smile, she invaded his space—not that he moved back an inch. She’d had it with the damn sling supporting her left arm. With her right hand, she unfastened the clasp, releasing her arm so both hands were free to touch, to urge him closer. Her fingers slid into the soft hair above his neck to pull his face down until their mouths joined in a hungry, urgent meeting.

  His hips pressed against hers. She groaned with pleasure when his hand slid down to cup her bottom and position her against the hard bulge of his arousal. His tongue swirled with hers.

  No doubt, this man could use his tongue to illicit pleasure wherever he used it. Her nipples tingled, longing for his attention, but her mouth refused to give up its claim on him.

  Behind her, the oven beeped—fully preheated. As if that was his signal, Tony lifted her with both hands. Her legs wrapped around his hips while he held her with powerful arms. He continued to kiss her as he carried her out of the kitchen.