by Desiree Holt
Lorena was silent for a long moment, delicately gnawing her bottom lip.
“Fine. I agree with you. But if this is all legitimate do not do anything to upset the applecart. If the Ferrens get pissed off and pull the deal for weapons we have a huge problem.”
Rojas tipped his head. “Understood. I will be careful and delicate and let you know what I find.
“As long as you don’t do anything to screw this up,” she warned. “And I want to be informed the minute you find anything. Assuming, that is, there’s anything left to find.”
“Of course.”
Elias, who had been unusually silent throughout the conversation, cleared his throat.
“Lorena, Luis is not going to do anything that would disrupt the chance to make us even richer and more powerful.” He turned to look at El Toro. “After all, this means broad international expansion for you, also. Am I right?”
“Of course. Of course. “
“And we wouldn’t want anything to happen to our relationship that spans generations. I’m right there, also.”
Lorena thought how many people had begun to take her husband for granted when he fell ill. Luis had not been one of them and she knew his respect for the man had not wavered. It was one of the many reasons their business relationship continued to flourish.
Luis nodded.
“Excellent.” She rose from her chair. “Then let me check with the cook. I believe dinner is almost ready.”
But all she could think of as she headed to the kitchen was, If that fucking bastard screws this up, I will kill him myself.
*****
Silas leaned back in his desk chair and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. His hands felt gritty and dry and no wonder, the amount of time he’d spent looking at the damn screen this afternoon. Normally, he’d assign this kind of research to someone who did it as part of their job, but it was important that he read every bit of the information himself to pick up any nuances. So many times you had to read between the lines.
Luis Rojas could win an award as one of the most evil men in the world. He had grown up as a foot soldier in the violent La Regla cartel, regla for rulers, which they had fully intended to become, until the day he assumed the mantle of control. There were whispers in back rooms that Rojas had gotten the throne not because he was the heir apparent but because he had killed off the three men higher than he was in the ranks and the two who had been discussed as logical successors. In dark corners and back rooms they called him asesino. Killer.
Si was certain Rojas fostered those rumors himself. What better way to keep people in line than to let them believe if they strayed a bullet would find them. Or maybe they’d be burned alive. There were rumors he’d even had rivals thrown into the alligator pond at the rear of his sprawling estate. No one was anxious to test that theory.
When Regan Shaw had picked up the chatter that he and the cabal were forming an unholy alliance, his blood actually chilled. Take one group of people with more money than was good for them, no conscience, and a thirst for worldwide power. Add in a list of the most evil terrorists and the most bloodthirsty cartel—which was saying something—and the possibilities were worse than the worst nightmare.
He was searching for clues as to how the whole had come together. It was easy enough to band the ranchers in a group. One of his researchers had easily found a meeting they’d all been at and gravitated toward each other. It was no secret they chafed at many of the government regulations. They’d traced Bernardo Ferren’s connection to Jed Whitlow from their college days. Digging up the information on the man’s illegal arms sales and offshore accounts hadn’t been all that easy, but that’s what Bone Frog had experts for. The sickening part had begun to develop when Regan Shaw picked up the chatter about the high-value terrorists being smuggled into the country. The whole combination frightened the crap out of him, and he didn’t scare easily.
They needed eyes and ears in the middle of this thing, and convincing his boss he should recruit Max DiSalvo had been an easy sell. Not so much where Regan Shaw was concerned. There was hesitation about putting her in a dangerous situation She wasn’t after all trained for anything like this.
But Si had made his case and now, finally, it was all coming together. According to Bernardo, who he’d managed to scare the crap out of, this was the final meeting before they made their move. The fact they’d scheduled it for July 4th, as far as Si was concerned, showed a total lack of respect for this country, but it would certainly get everyone’s attention.
He glanced at his watch. Almost nine o’clock. By now, Max and Regan should be finished with their second day of Jed Whitlow trying to pick them apart and another dinner with Jed and his wife. The man ought to be calling him shortly.
Even as the thought popped inti his mind, his secure cell phone rang.
Max opened with, “Well, we’ve been vetted six ways from Sunday.” He went on, “I think he’s happy with us. And thank you for Regan. I don’t think Jed was expecting someone who very nicely looked down her nose at him.”
Si laughed. “Yeah, she can do that.”
“Tomorrow’s the big day, and we’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” Max told him.
“Watch yourself. As prepared as you are, you never know when something’s about to go sideways. I’m still nervous about this cartel connection. Luis Rojas is an insane wild card.”
“Understood. We’ll be alert for anything and everything.”
“The most important thing,” Si told him, “is not to do anything that raises anyone’s hackles and causes Rojas to go off the deep end.”
“He’s not going to be at the meeting, right?” Max confirmed. “Whitlow didn’t mention it.”
“He’s not an official member of this cabal,” Si assured him. “His connection is through the Alvaros. But I’d be shocked if he hasn’t found a place to set up not far away. If these people were to pull this off, it would open the door for him to control worldwide drug distribution.”
Max whistled. “Damn!”
“Right. So if he thinks you might throw a monkey wrench into this, he’s liable to go off the rails and…Well, I don’t even want to speculate. Just watch your six. Yours and Regan’s.”
“Will do.”
“Where are you now?”
“Out behind the hotel in a little alcove where no one can see me. I told you the whole suite is bugged except for the bathroom.”
“Not surprising. Okay. Check in when you can.”
“You got it.”
As he rode back upstairs in the elevator, he wondered how he’d last another night on the living room couch with a raging hard-on he was doing his best to conceal from Regan. Well, he slept in worse situations before.
Chapter Seven
The living room was empty when he let himself into the suite. He wondered if Regan was getting ready for bed this early.
No. Don’t think about that.
He walked over to the big window and stood looking out at the lights of the little town below them.
“All set for tomorrow?”
He had not heard Regan come up beside him, and her voice startled him. The carpet in the suite was so thick the sound of footsteps was almost nonexistent. When she touched her fingers to his arm, a powerful electric shock ran through him. The first time they’d touched, a handshake the day they met, the little tingles that surged along his arm had startled him but not given him a lot of worry. He was, after all, a healthy man with healthy appetites. He might not be as young as he once was but that didn’t mean his desire had faded. He’d had to keep reminding himself this was not just a business arrangement. It was also an assignment he’d accepted with the fate of the country at stake, so no hanky-panky.
So what if they were pretending to be a married couple? That didn’t mean they had to enjoy all the benefits of marriage. Right? But holy hell! He couldn’t remember the last time a woman gave him a hard-on so painful and insistent that at times it made it difficult to wal
k. He felt like a horny teenager and couldn’t figure out what to do about it.
Wouldn’t intimacy add to their appearance as a married couple? At forty-eight, he had enough learned discipline that even if his cock didn’t get the message, his brain did. He knew how to behave in a critical situation. He was pretty damn sure, after the conversation with Regan yesterday, she felt the same way, but how to approach it? How to accomplish it? Both the living room and bedroom had listening devices, which meant if they indulged in sex they’d need to stuff something in their mouths to be quiet.
But he really felt they needed something after the past two days, and before they headed to the lodge in the morning. Jed had taken up a good part of their day again today, on the pretext of learning more about Ferren Arms, asking him too often to be accidental how the weapons would be delivered and if he’d been able to get the other ordnance the group had requested.
Now, standing in the living room of the suite, he wondered what his friend would say if he knew about the growing feelings for this woman. Or had he already guessed?
“Max?” Regan’s voice was soft, with just the right casual tone. “Want to go down to the bar before we hit the hay?”
Going to the bar was their code for leaving the suite to talk without being eavesdropped on.
What would she do if he said, I’d rather go to bed with you? He’d prepped for a lot of missions with the SEALs, missions that required him to use the skills he had drummed into him over and over again. He could hit a target on the run, take down a tango with only one hand, make himself nearly invisible in the dark, and control his breathing so nothing gave him away. He should be able to figure this out, right?
“So, what do you think?” she prompted.
He turned to face her, hoping the naked hunger he felt wasn’t written all over his face. “I’m still thinking.”
She stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “So am I. And I see in your eyes the same thing I’m feeling. I know we’re on a mission, and self-discipline is the first thing we need. But there’s something happening between us. I don’t know about you, but it shocks the hell out of me. What I do know is we ought to do something about it. If we show up tomorrow wearing sexual tension like a second skin, these people will spot it right away. They’ll either think our marriage is in trouble or we’re not married at all. Right?”
He blew out a breath and nodded. She was right. He stroked his fingers across her cheek, cupped her ear, and pressed his mouth to it.
“I’m thinking,” he whispered.
“About what? Am I being too forward?”
He shook his head. “I’m thinking that I need a shower. And about how much more I’d enjoy it if you were in there with me.”
He felt her cheek muscles move as she smiled.
“What a splendid idea.”
He took his hand away and raised his head. “I’m thinking it would be good to turn in early. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day. Driving to the lodge. Meeting everyone. Finally getting all the details Bernardo was too sick to give us.”
“Good idea. I’m for a hot shower.”
“Sounds good. Me, too.”
“Ladies first, then. Go on.”
“Thanks.”
Max followed Regan into the bedroom, watching the saucy little wiggle she gave her butt. He was so hard and swollen just from anticipation that walking was difficult for him.
He wondered how they’d handle getting undressed. He didn’t want them to just strip off their clothes and go at it like fuck buddies. In the bedroom, they stopped and stared at each other. He made himself wait for signals from Regan. Even if the situation wasn’t ideal, he would do this with class.
He was stunned when she stood there a moment then grabbed the edges of her sweater and slowly drew it over her head. He sucked in his breath at the sight of her nicely rounded breasts cradled in the cups of a lacy purple bra. The dark nipples were temptingly visible through the cutouts in the lace.
He waited to see if she would continue or if he should take off a piece of clothing. But Regan just drew in a deep breath, let it out, and unzipped her slacks. She kicked off her shoes, eased the slacks down her legs, and toed them aside as she stepped out of them. Now she stood before him in nothing but the bra and matching purple panties.
She had the ripe figure of a woman, hips flaring, thighs nicely rounded. He had to bite the inside of his cheeks to maintain any control or, like a horny teenager, he would have come in his pants.
Slow, he cautioned himself. Take it slow.
His gaze traveled the length of her body, and when it reached her face again, he was stunned to see uncertainty in her eyes.
“I really haven’t done this in a long time,” she whispered. Even her smile was a little shaky.
Max swallowed against the sudden surge of emotion in his throat. He remembered to keep his voice too low to be picked up. “Then I’m really glad you waited for me, even if you didn’t know I’d be the one.”
He stepped forward, cupped her cheeks, and placed a slow, tender kiss on her mouth. Her lips tasted faintly of the cherry cola she’d had with dinner, and it was a pleasant taste.
Cherry cola? Who the hell drank cola anyway?
He licked the surface of her lips, teasing at the corners before very slowly easing his tongue inside. And oh, god, the taste was like an elixir. He licked slowly, letting the flavor seep into his mouth. Regan reached up to place her hands on either side of his head and, when he eased back on the kiss, whispered against bis lips.
“Bathroom.” She mouthed the word. “They’ll be listening for the water.”
“You’re right.”
Taking Regan’s hand and tugging her along behind him, he strode into the bathroom, slid back the solid glass pane of the shower door, and turned on the faucet full blast. He could adjust it once they were inside. Then he turned, brushed a kiss over her mouth, and stripped off his clothes. He was surprised he didn’t pop the buttons on his shirt, as fast as he pulled it off. He kicked off his shoes and yanked his pants and boxer briefs down in one movement, being careful not to do damage to his rigid, protruding cock.
Then he turned back to Regan, who stood there with a look on her face that was half hopeful, half fearful. He trailed his fingers along the line of her jaw, down her neck, and across the plump tops of her breasts. “It’s going to be fine. You have my word. You just have to promise not to laugh if I can’t hold off for more than fifteen seconds.”
“Believe me. Laughing is the last thing on my mind.”
Max couldn’t believe his hands were actually trembling when he cupped her breasts and abraded the nipples through the lace of the bra. Nor could he believe how hard they were already. Pinching them between thumb and forefinger, fabric and all, he squeezed and tugged and rolled them, loving the little gasps of pleasure from Regan’s throat. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back, and her upper body arched into his touch. Hungry to taste her without the barrier of cloth, he reached behind her, unsnapped the bra, and pulled it off. When he captured one naked nipple with his mouth and bit down gently, she moaned, a sexy little sound he felt all the way to his groin.
Cupping the other breast, he kneaded it as he continued to suck on the nipple, drawing the beaded tip deep into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth. Regan clutched at his upper arms, arching herself more fully up to him. He switched sides, wanting to taste the other breast just as much, but impatience to see and feel and touch and taste the rest of her roared through him.
Taking a step back, he ignored her little cry of protest and lifted her onto the bed, placing her right at the edge. He stripped off her panties, nearly ripping them in his haste, spread her thighs, and knelt between them. And nearly lost it completely. The lips of her sex were so pink, bordered by neatly trimmed hair a shade darker than the auburn on her head. Her flesh glistened with moisture that beckoned for his tongue.
He inhaled, letting the sharp sweetness of her essence fill his lungs before pressing th
e lips open with his thumbs. With one swipe of his tongue, he tasted her from top to bottom, reveling in it, lapping it again and again. Opening her wider, he slipped his tongue inside and swirled it around in the tight channel.
Regan was making those sexy little noises again, sounds that only served to make him hotter and harder. When he removed his tongue and slipped two fingers inside her, she cried out and thrust herself against him. God, she was so tight inside. It was obvious she hadn’t had sex in a long time, and he just hoped his cock would fit without hurting her. He moved his fingers in and out, coaxing her response, wanting her to be prepared for when she took his cock.
The sounds she was making were driving him crazy, and his cock was sending him urgent messages. He reached for the famous SEAL discipline and focused only on giving Regan pleasure. In and out his fingers slid, slowly at first, making sure to hit her sweet spot each time. When her inner walls began to flutter, he captured her clit with his mouth and tugged on it. It only took another moment before her climax roared through her, inner muscles gripping his fingers, hips thrusting at him.
He rode her through it until the last tremor subsided.
“Okay?” he asked when her eyes opened.
“Better than good. I wasn’t even sure I could do that anymore.”
“Oh, babe, you more than did it. And I’m glad it was with me.”
Then he slipped his fingers from the grasp of her body, and, with her eyes still on him, licked each of his fingers, one by one. He saw heat flare in her eyes and the pulse at the hollow of her throat flutter as she watched him.
“You taste damn good, Regan,” he whispered in her ear. “I want a lot more of that, but if I don’t get inside you in the next sixty seconds, I really will embarrass myself.”
And that was no lie. He hadn’t been this urgently horny in longer than he could remember. He was famous for his control, for his ability to take a long time pleasuring a woman before he took them both to orgasm. That wasn’t happening this time. Regan unlocked things inside him he hadn’t even realized were hidden, and his cock was demanding he acknowledge them.
