Mission: Her Freedom: Team 52 #6

by Hackett, Anna

  He shoved his glasses back on and saw Callie looking at them again. Damn, she really liked his glasses.

  “Everyone hit their bunks?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “I was just running a few more searches.”

  She tilted her head. “I wanted to check that we were okay?”

  Brooks leaned back and nodded.

  “We’re friends,” she said. “And your friendship is important to me.” She moved closer, and he got hit with the scent of coconuts. “I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

  Brooks froze. She was giving him the “let’s just be friends” spiel. Still, as he looked at her, he was gratified to see her swallowing hard. She didn’t look quite as blasé about this as she was making out.

  Blair’s words echoed in his head. Don’t let her back off. “That’s what you really want?”

  Callie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes.”

  “You’re sure?” He rose. They were so close, their bodies brushed.

  He heard her draw a breath, and he took one of her wrists. He slid his fingers over the delicate bones. She sucked in a deeper breath, and he felt her pulse thundering under her skin.

  That’s all it took—and the darn scent of coconuts—for all the blood in his body to go south. His cock pushed hard against his jeans. It seemed to stay that way around her all the time.

  “Your nipples are hard,” he murmured.

  She blew out a breath. “Brooks.”

  He stroked her wrist. So delicate, but so strong. “Your pulse is racing.”

  She just stared at him, emotion churning in her gray eyes.

  He saw the desire and it set flame to his own. He couldn’t seem to tamp it down. Slowly, he lowered his head and kissed her.

  * * *

  Oh, God, the man was a good kisser.

  Helpless, Callie kissed him back—hungry and desperate.

  He slid an arm around her and lifted her up onto the counter. He shoved his notepad and tablet aside. Then he nabbed the tablet with one hand and touched the screen.

  “Doors locked,” a computer voice intoned.

  Callie lifted her head. “Your computer sounds like the one off of Star Trek.”

  “Yep.”

  She smiled and cupped his face. Dammit, she couldn’t say no to him, to this. She couldn’t seem to stay away.

  She was so screwed.

  He kissed her again, his hands roaming over her. Before she knew it, he was tugging her pants off.

  Callie was panting, need twisted in her belly. Brooks’ sexy hands stroked up her thighs.

  “I love your body.” His voice was deep and husky.

  “Brooks.” She heard the need vibrating in her voice.

  He toyed with the edge of her panties, fingers dipping under the lace. When she didn’t protest, he pulled them slowly down her legs.

  His gaze stayed on her belly and she felt seduced. She licked her lips. He made a hungry sound that speared through her.

  Then he was pushing her thighs apart, and his fingers were sliding through her folds. She made a small cry, her hips tilting up. He kept stroking.

  “So damn pretty,” he murmured. Then he knelt in front of her.

  She gasped. “What are—?”

  “I’m not just good with my fingers, Callie.”

  He pressed his mouth to her.

  Oh. God. Her spine stiffened. She clamped her hands in his hair. Her husky cries echoed in the room.

  He lifted a hand and touched the tablet again, even as his tongue kept licking at her. A screen on the wall flashed on, and she turned her head.

  Callie jolted. It was her on the screen. Them.

  It showed her half naked, face flushed, with Brook’s dark head between her thighs. They looked…so wanton. So sexy.

  “Tell me—” she tried to get her words together “—tell me that you’re not recording.”

  He lifted his head, his lips glistening with her juices. “No! I’d never risk you like that. It’s a direct feed to that screen. All recordings are off.” He turned his head and nipped her inner thigh.

  She moaned again.

  “You like seeing me eat you, Callie?”

  “Yes.” A thousand yeses. She nudged his head, directing him back to work.

  With a growl, his tongue plunged into her. He worked her ruthlessly, until she couldn’t sit still. She felt her climax building, building.

  Then he sucked her clit and she broke.

  Sensation hit her like a tidal wave. She shuddered and her legs clamped on his head. “Brooks!”

  His strong hands held her as her body shook. When she slumped against the counter, she felt dazed. Her legs felt loose, her body relaxed.

  Brooks rose.

  And all Callie could see was the hard bulge in his jeans. A very nice-sized bulge. She licked her lips and looked up. Her belly clenched. His face was a mask of intense need.

  “Do you have a condom?” she asked.

  His eyes flashed and he shook his head.

  “I’ll have to get creative, then.” She straightened and reached down. She opened his jeans and delved a hand inside his boxers.

  He muttered a curse.

  Oh, boy. Brooks had been blessed in more ways than one. She freed his generous cock and he groaned. He shoved into her hands.

  Callie stroked his cock. So hard and perfectly shaped. She made a humming sound.

  His body locked, rocking into her touch. “Callie. Fuck.”

  She stroked harder, faster. She liked watching the emotions cross his face. “Come for me, Brooks.”

  A second later, his hands slammed onto the counter on either side of her hips. “Love your hands on my cock.”

  “Me too.”

  “I’m coming.” He groaned through his climax. Warm spurts of his come splashed onto her belly.

  Then there was only the quiet hum of computers and the sound of their breathing. Her pulse was still racing, and it was going to take a while before it returned to normal.

  One of Brooks’ computers pinged.

  “Damn.” He tucked himself back into his jeans. “That means I need to do some tweaks to my search parameters.”

  She reached over and grabbed a box of tissues, doing a quick cleanup. “And I need a shower again.”

  His gaze was on her face. “Callie, that was…”

  Soul shattering. Her belly jittered. She needed some time to process. She cupped his cheek. “We’ll talk later.”

  He never looked away from her eyes. “You promise?”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Callie was dreaming.

  Strong hands cupped her breasts, and she moaned, twisting in her sheets. One clever hand shifted between her thighs.

  Yes. Desire was bigger and brighter than anything she’d felt before.

  She heard the low, sexy rumble of Brooks’ dirty talk…

  She woke, her body trembling and on the verge of orgasm. She twisted in the sheets of her bunk. She was very much alone. Flopping down, she let out a low groan.

  She looked at the clock. It was morning and almost time to get up.

  “Lights.”

  The lights in her room flickered on. She lay there, contemplating whether or not to do anything about the throbbing in her lower belly.

  Then her phone buzzed, and she reached for it. “Callie.”

  “Callie.” Lachlan’s voice. “Meeting in the computer room. Now.”

  She sat up, her muscles tensing. “Brooks found something?”

  “Yes.”

  “Be there in a sec.”

  She took a lightning-quick shower, then pulled on some black cargos and a white tank. She was out the door and pulling her hair into a ponytail as she headed for the computer room.

  She turned a corner and nearly ran into Blair. The other woman was wearing an almost identical outfit, except her tank was gray.

  “Hey,” Callie said. “You know what’s happening?”

  Blair sho
ok her head, then she cocked it. “You look…different.”

  Callie froze. “What do you mean?”

  Her friend lowered her voice. “You look like you got yourself some.”

  “What? No.”

  “Liar.”

  Callie huffed out a breath. “It’s not entirely a lie.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Later,” Callie muttered.

  “I’m guessing Brooks has some sexy, talented hands.”

  Callie’s head whipped up. Blair was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  “Using the keyboard all the time.” Blair made a humming sound. “I’m guessing that translates well to other things.”

  “I’m not listening to you.” Callie strode past her and into the computer room.

  The guys were already there, and the scent of coffee hit her. But her gaze unerringly moved straight to the counter where she’d fooled around with Brooks the night before.

  Her belly tightened. She looked up at Brooks’ broad back. He turned around and shot her a smile, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose.

  “Morning,” she managed. Those glasses made her squeeze her thighs together.

  “Good morning.” He looked tired and rumpled, but his hair was damp, so she guessed he’d found time to shower. He was also wearing a clean shirt. This one was emblazoned with the words “Geek by day, Jedi by night.”

  She swallowed a snort.

  Lachlan pressed his hands to the counter, his intense gaze sweeping the room. “Brooks, what have you got?”

  Brooks leaned against the counter, his tablet in hand. He turned to look at the screen.

  Callie swallowed. The screen where she’d watched herself coming thanks to his clever mouth. Desire was a visceral hit between her legs.

  Needing a distraction, she reached out and stole Seth’s coffee mug. She took a huge gulp. Her teammate scowled at her.

  “I’ve been running all kinds of searches, and I got some pings,” Brooks said.

  “Go on,” Blair said.

  “The Windvale Church in Las Vegas. Mr. Ordinary, otherwise known as Howard Manning had been there the day before the attack. He worked closely with Brandon Mayfield.”

  Everyone traded glances.

  “Manning brought the shard here,” Lachlan said.

  “That’s my theory,” Brooks said.

  “Why?” Callie said. “Howard is a leader at Windvale. Why let Brandon Mayfield destroy one of their churches?”

  “I don’t have the answer for that,” Brooks said. “But my guess is that he’s definitely looking for the larger jewel. Manning is second-in-charge of the entire Windvale Organization. He reports to this woman. Amy Holder.”

  A picture of an attractive, middle-aged woman appeared. Callie guessed the woman was in her fifties, with her ash-blonde hair pulled up behind her head. She was smiling at the camera.

  She didn’t look like an evil mastermind.

  “Holder took over a small church founded by her father, and turned it into this—”

  The next pictures showed packed auditoriums of people, lights whizzing overhead, ministers wearing headsets.

  “Holder knows about the jewel, and asked Manning to snatch you,” Lachlan mused.

  Brooks lifted a hand. “There’s no way to know for sure. Some of this just gives us more questions with no answers.”

  “Unless we talk to her,” Callie said.

  Lachlan looked at her, something working in his eyes.

  “I’ve got more,” Brooks continued. “The name Holder came up in the Smithsonian data.”

  Now, all the team straightened.

  “Maxwell Holder was one of the men on the dig in Mexico years ago, reportedly looking for the wind jewel. Maxwell was Amy’s father. He died a few years back.”

  More gazes were traded.

  “I smell a trail,” Blair said.

  “We need to pay this Amy Holder a visit in Arizona,” Lachlan said.

  “I looked into her,” Brooks said. “Apparently, she’s prepping for a big charity ball that’s on this evening at the Wrigley Mansion in Phoenix. Windvale runs it every year, raising money for all the charity work the church conducts.” Brooks smiled. “I got you tickets, so get your tuxes out.” As Smith groaned, Brooks glanced at Blair and Callie. “And your sexy dresses.”

  At the word dresses, Blair’s nose wrinkled.

  “Get the X8 prepped,” Lachlan ordered.

  “And Lachlan,” Brooks added. “This time, I’m coming.”

  Callie tensed. What the hell? Brooks rarely came into the field with them.

  “This is a low-risk trip,” Brooks said. “I deserve to know if this woman is behind my kidnapping. I can run the tech from the field, and my skills could be useful.”

  “Brooks,” Callie said. “We never know when a mission might turn dangerous.”

  Lachlan held up his prosthetic fingers. “You have the right, Brooks. And you’re correct, this is a low-risk trip. Now, find yourself a tux since we have a gala to attend.”

  There were groans and everyone shuffled out of the room. They all preferred guns and boots.

  * * *

  The jet-copter touched down at a private airport on the outskirts of Phoenix.

  Brooks rose from his seat, sliding his tablet into his pocket. He was nervous, and fiddled idly with his necktie.

  Seth appeared from the cockpit, looking like he’d been born in a tuxedo. Lachlan and Axel rose, both filling out their tuxes. Smith’s muscular frame strained against his jacket, and he tugged at his necktie. His scowl was thunderous.

  Blair sauntered out behind Seth. She was wearing a long column of black that glimmered under the lights. A high slit on one side showed a lot of leg as she walked.

  Callie rose from her seat and Brooks tried not to swallow his tongue. She was wearing a swirl of silk the color of the sea. It floated around her shapely calves and had the tiniest straps, leaving her toned shoulders bare. Her hair was shiny and loose, and made him think of black rain.

  She smiled at him as she walked past. She was wearing a pair of killer black heels with a sexy ankle strap and red soles. When he lifted his gaze, his body locked. Her dress had no back. All he saw was sleek skin.

  Brooks swallowed a groan, trying to control his body’s unruly response.

  Outside, a black van was waiting for them. Kinsey arranged all their logistics, and never failed to organize everything the team needed.

  Lachlan slid open the side door, while Smith got behind the wheel.

  Inside, the van was high-tech. It had a top-of-the-line computer system, and compartments he knew would be packed with anything and everything they might need. Brooks sat and buckled his seatbelt.

  Soon, Smith had them pulling out of the airport and heading toward the historic Wrigley Mansion, where Windvale was holding their gala event. The sprawling, mostly Spanish colonial style building sat atop a hill and had been built by chewing gum magnate, William Wrigley Jr.

  By the time they pulled up, night had fallen, and the event was in full swing. As they walked up the drive, sleek cars were pulling up and disgorging elegantly dressed guests.

  People streamed up the stairs to the ornate front entrance and into the huge, white mansion. The team flashed their invitations at the door, and entered the grand ballroom. Lights were strung across the beams of the ornate ceiling. Brooks scanned the room and fought back a whistle. Enormous vases of fresh flowers graced the tables and the windows gave a fabulous view of Phoenix spread out before them. Guests filled the room, the women dripping with expensive jewelry.

  “Security is discreet,” Lachlan murmured. “Suited guards at the door and probably around the grounds.”

  “None in the ballroom,” Blair added.

  At the front of the room was a stage, and large screens displayed a slideshow of pictures. Smiling people working with the homeless, others serving food at soup kitchens, some teaching young children, others visiting the sick in hospitals.

  Maybe this Amy
Holder wasn’t involved. How could you support people in need like this, but be doing bad things behind the scenes? Maybe the woman had no idea what her people were doing right under her nose.

  All around, the sounds of polite conversation, subdued laughter and the clinking of champagne glasses filled the room. Doors on the far side of the room opened onto a patio.

  He saw Blair and Callie grab champagne glasses from a passing server. He knew they wouldn’t drink it—it was just for show, so they blended in.

  “Mingle,” Lachlan murmured.

  Smith let out an unhappy grunt.

  Brooks skirted some groups of partygoers. One woman turned, eyeing him with interest. But then he spotted Amy Holder on the other side of the room.

  She was at the front of the ballroom, talking animatedly with several people. She was a handsome woman, and tonight her hair was in a sleek, complicated twist. Her blue dress was conservative, swirling around her ankles.

  She smiled and nodded to her companions, one elegant hand gesturing as she spoke.

  Brooks took a step toward her, when a man moved to her side. Manning.

  Seeing Mr. Ordinary was like a punch to the gut. For a second, Brooks was back in that cell.

  “Brooks.” Callie slid her arm through his and pulled him to face her.

  “Ordinary…Manning. He’s here.”

  She pulled him toward the edge of the room, where thick, velvet curtains hung. She touched her ear. “Lachlan, Manning is with Holder at the front of the room.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  “You okay?” she asked Brooks.

  He straightened and nodded.

  “Good.” She patted his cheek.

  The loud, rumbling sound of someone moving a microphone made them both turn toward the stage. Amy Holder adjusted the microphone and smiled at the crowd.

  “Welcome. Thank you all for coming tonight. It is because of your caring, your empathy, and your generosity that the proceeds from tonight’s event will go to help so many people in need. People who need us to step in and provide the things they desperately need. We can be a guiding light in the darkness. The work that Windvale Church does is so vital to so many communities. So be generous at the silent auction tonight. Very generous.”