by Jo Davis
“Damn, that was good,” Michael said, reaching for the bill. “I was starving.”
“You don’t have to pick up the tab,” Blaze protested. “We can pay for our own dinner.”
“Oh, you’re going to pay, all right. Think of this as a perk from me before I send you on a dangerous job.”
“Well, when you put it like that ...”
Their mood was optimistic as they left the restaurant and said their good-byes, then split up and headed across the parking lot to their cars. It was getting late, almost ten-thirty. The lot was nearly empty, the night clear. Emma reached for Blaze’s hand and was about to comment on getting packed for their early flight when a car screeched into the parking lot.
And roared straight for Michael.
“Look out!” she screamed.
Michael spun but had no time to react as the dark sedan braked next to him. An arm appeared out the driver’s window, the glint of a gun visible in the assailant’s hand.
Pop, pop, pop.
Three quick shots, their boss’s body jerking. Crumpling to the asphalt.
She was already running toward Michael as the sedan sped away. Barely heard Blaze’s voice yell, “I’m going after him! Stay with Michael and call McKay for help!”
His Viper revved to life and peeled out, but Emma’s focus was on Michael. Heart in her throat, she dropped next to him just seconds before Bastian and Ozzie ran over and did the same, encircling him. Willis fired off a couple of rounds at the fleeing vehicle, to no avail.
“Oh, God!” Bastian cried. He pushed aside his friend’s coat and ripped open his white dress shirt, rapidly being soaked bright red.
“Bastian,” Michael began, choking. His eyes were glassy as they found his friend.
“No, don’t talk. You’re going to be okay, do you hear me?” Bastian’s voice broke and his chest heaved. Desperately, he pressed on a chest wound with both hands, trying in vain to stanch the flow.
“You’re in charge now.” Michael coughed, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “This has Dietz’s fingerprints all over it. M-make that sonofabitch pay—swear it.”
Bastian nodded, tears streaming down his face. “If it’s the last thing I ever do, I swear it.”
“Good. And Bastian?”
“Yes?” The man swallowed hard and wiped his eyes, visibly struggling to keep it together.
“I’m s-sorry,” he whispered, voice fading as his eyes closed. “Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive! You never lied to me.” He shook his friend. “Michael? No!”
Emma’s shaking hand went over her mouth. Their fallen leader’s breathing was shallow and raspy, and blood was spreading around his body with frightening speed. She was no doctor, but anyone could see that if McKay’s team didn’t get here soon, Michael wasn’t going to make it.
“Please hang on,” Bastian pleaded. “We need you.”
I need you. That’s what Emma heard in his stricken voice, and the tears she’d been holding in finally escaped.
“McKay and his team are almost here,” Ozzie said, flipping his cell phone shut. “Can’t get the medical helicopter in between all these buildings, so they had to bring the van.”
That would take too long. They all knew it.
She waited with her friends, praying Blaze caught the assassin and Michael would survive to see justice served. Silently, she added her promise to Bastian’s.
If it was the last thing she did, Dietz would pay for this.
Blaze raced after the dark sedan, running red lights, dodging oncoming traffic. His mind was focused to a laser point on nothing but catching the assailant and wringing every bit of information from his sorry hide.
And then killing him with his bare hands.
The image of his boss and friend being gunned down in cold blood threatened to wreck his concentration, but he pushed it aside. He couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now, tomorrow, or the next day. Not if he was going to burn out this nest of rats and exterminate them like the vermin they were.
An important key to getting that done was the man ahead, driving like a bat out of hell, trying to shake Blaze off his tail.
No such luck, asshole.
The sedan took the ramp and entered the freeway, no doubt hoping to lose him in an all-out race, or hoping he’d wipe out. Spotting an opening in traffic, he shot the gap and floored the accelerator, closing the distance between him and the sedan. It was a dark Infiniti, he could see as he drew near and began to pull even with the driver’s side. Jerking the wheel, he slammed into the other car, causing it to swerve.
The driver, a big bald man, bared his teeth and stuck his arm out the window, firing off two shots. Blaze ducked as his passenger’s window exploded in a shower of glass, then sat upright, swerving just in time to miss rear-ending a car that wasn’t flying at one hundred miles per hour down the interstate.
“Jesus.” Close call.
He pushed it to catch up again, and rammed the Infiniti’s left rear quarter panel, not giving the assassin another shot at him. Christ, they were attracting all sorts of attention, having an all-out battle on the highway. Someone had probably already called the cops, and he absolutely could not let the police get into this situation. SHADO didn’t officially exist, and neither did its agents.
To involve the cops would entail a helluva problem making them shut up and go away, especially without learning that American citizens were under a direct terrorist threat.
He had to get this bastard off the road. Now.
Up ahead the road was all clear of traffic. A sharp embankment lay off the right shoulder of the highway. He wasn’t going to get a better chance.
Gunning it once more, he hit the rear of the sedan again and this time cut the wheel all the way to the right. The other car fish-tailed and spun around. Blaze kept coming, using his car as a battering ram, and together they hurtled down the embankment in a spray of flying shrapnel, tires squealing.
The Infiniti rolled once. Twice. Then came to a stop right side up, the driver slumped forward. Blaze leaped from the Viper, sparing a sorrowful look for his mangled pride and joy, and then turned his attention to the unconscious henchman.
The driver’s door was stuck, and he had to yank it several times before getting it open enough to get his hands on the man. “Wake up, motherfucker.” After unbuckling the seat belt, he dragged the groaning man onto the ground. “Wake up! Who’re you working for? Dietz?”
Another pitiful moan was his answer. Cursing, he grabbed his cell phone and placed a call. Bastian’s muffled voice greeted him.
“Chevalier.”
“It’s Kelly. I’ve got the assailant. He’s a little banged up, but he should be able to talk. I need a cleanup crew here fast, before the cops arrive.”
“Okay, I’m on it.” His friend sounded wretched.
“How’s Michael?” God, he dreaded the answer.
“I’m escorting him to the compound with McKay now. It’s not looking good,” he said, voice wavering.
He closed his eyes briefly, sending up a prayer to whomever was listening to cut Michael a break for once. The man deserved to live, to be happy. “Hang in there, buddy. He’ll make it, if for no other reason than to see Dietz in hell.”
“He’ll have to stand in line.” Bastian paused, and when he spoke again, steel threaded his orders. “Don’t come to the compound, any of you. I’ll keep all of you updated on his condition. Get some rest and carry on with the assignment as planned. That’s what Michael would want, and it’s what I want.”
“You’ve got it. And Bastian . . . when he wakes up, tell him we won’t fail.”
“I will,” he said hoarsely. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
Jesus Christ. Michael couldn’t die. He was the heart of SHADO, and his agents loved him, down to a man.
There was no way now to help Michael except to do what he knew best—his job.
And unfortunately for Dietz and his host of murderers, he’d just be
en handed a personal motive to succeed.
As they emerged from the sedan Blaze thanked the agent who’d given him and Emma a ride home.
“No problem, Kelly. Again, awesome job catching that bastard. We’ll make sure he doesn’t see the light of day again.”
Blaze nodded and waved, then took Emma’s hand and led her toward the front door. Rage coiled in his gut, black and dangerous, and it needed a safe outlet. Michael, Dietz, the weapon, and innocent endangered citizens all vied for the top spot among the jumble in his head, and he needed to escape. Had to before he went crazy.
Letting them inside, he locked the door and turned to Emma. She stood in the foyer staring back at him, looking as strung out as he felt.
“Come here,” he said, opening his arms.
She launched herself at him, and he held her close, inhaling her scent. Drinking in her warmth, reassuring himself that she was all right. It could easily have been Emma who’d been shot. Hell, the assassin could’ve taken out any of them before they even blinked. The idea of losing her at all, much less so cruelly and suddenly, made him want to wallow in her.
Mark her.
Tilting her head up for a kiss, he tasted her briefly before letting her go. She shrugged off her coat and tossed it in a chair, giving him a sad smile.
“I’m tired, but I doubt I could sleep if I wanted to, considering.”
“I know how to fix that.” Stepping close, he ran a finger over the swell of her breast just visible over the vee of her blouse. His cock was slowly awakening at the prospect, filling his jeans. “We’re going to spend some time in the basement.”
She blinked at him, then gave a humorless laugh. “After what happened tonight? You can’t be serious.”
“That’s exactly why we both need this,” he explained, his patience thin. His sub challenging him proved she needed a firm hand, and now he couldn’t let it go. “If we don’t release the tension, the pressure, we’ll never get any sleep, and we have to be on our toes tomorrow.”
“I can’t believe you’re thinking about sex while Michael is fighting for his life,” she spat angrily. “Forget it.”
“I’m not asking, Emma.” He injected a thread of steel into his tone.
“I don’t care.” Blue eyes snapped, and her jaw clenched.
“You will.” With that, he bent, scooped her up, and tossed her over his shoulder. Ignoring her shriek of protest, he strode for the stairs that descended to the playroom.
“You jerk! Put me down!” Her fist pounded his back uselessly.
“I will, soon as we get there.” He started down, careful not to drop her despite her wriggling.
“I mean it! I’m not putting out for you, buster,” she fumed.
“Then use your safe word.”
“What?”
“You know how it works. Use your safe word.”
Silence met his demand, and he allowed himself a small smile. Just as he’d thought—she needed this as much as he did. At the bottom, he carried her to the middle of the room and set her on her feet. “Take off your clothes.” He crossed his arms, waiting.
“Damn you.”
Tears shone in her eyes, but he held firm. “Damn me all you like—just remember I’m your master. Clothes off. Now.”
Flags of color darkened her fine cheekbones as she stared back at him, chest heaving. After several long moments she grabbed the edge of her shirt, hands shaking, and pulled it over her head. Next, she unhooked her bra and dropped it onto the shirt, then kicked off her shoes. As she pushed down her pants, he enjoyed the sight of her full breasts swaying with her movements. The tips were hardened to points, a dark rose. She straightened and stepped out of the pants, and lowered her gaze to the floor.
The unconscious move took him completely by surprise and filled him with pride. Yes, she was pissed, but she had submitted to him.
And she was magnificent.
“Very good, Emma. Let’s go over here.” He took her hand and led her to a piece of gym equipment called a horse, one gymnasts normally used for floor exercises or vaults. His use for the device was something much different. “Bend over the bench and spread your arms down it on either side of you, so your wrists are near the rings.”
A grumble met his order, but she did as she was told.
“Not another word from you, or I’ll give you the punishment you’re asking for regardless of the stress we’re both under. Nod if you understand.” She did, though awkwardly with her head resting on the padding. “All right. Spread your legs wide. No, wider.”
With his sub in position, he used rope to bind her wrists to the rings on the bench. After a tug to make sure they were secure but not too tight, he retrieved a spreader bar and attached either end to an ankle. Finished, he stood back and surveyed his handiwork.
“God, yes. That’s beautiful.”
His hungry gaze followed the line of her back to her rounded buttocks, tilted up and presented to him like a tasty treat, pussy gleaming. She belonged to him, and he’d do whatever he wanted with her gorgeous body. His cock was already leaking in anticipation as he shed his clothes and tossed them aside. Every primal instinct screamed at him to plunge into her, and he would, but not yet. Tonight called for something with a harder edge than he’d used before. Something to push her boundaries even more.
Walking over to his collection hanging on the wall, he selected a flogger with a supple leather tip. This one was perfect to deliver a sting, but wielded properly it would not leave permanent marks.
Eager to get started, he moved behind her and let the leather slide over her spine, her rear. Teasing, he rubbed it against her pussy lips, using the barest pressure. “You’ve probably guessed this is a flogger and that I’m going to use it on you.” Her breath hitched, but she remained quiet. “I’m going to find out how much of a pain slut you really are, and when I find that zone you’re going to sob with wanting to be fucked, my girl.”
Taking a step back, he got into position and flicked the leather across one pert ass cheek. She whimpered but remained still. He gave her another lick, this one a bit harder, bringing up a faint line of red on her pretty skin. She wriggled, and he began laying stripes in earnest, working methodically, his tempo slow and even. He didn’t give her time to fully recover before he laid the next mark, and after a few moments, another breakthrough occurred.
The helpless noises in her throat took on a huskier tone and she began tilting her bottom into the blows as much as her position allowed. Her cries became pitched with arousal, desperate for more.
“You like that, baby?” he asked between strokes. “Jesus, that’s so pretty. Your ass is so red, your pussy pink and wet. Do you need my cock?” A hoarse cry was his answer. “Don’t worry, you’re going to have it.”
A few more strokes and she’d melted in her restraints, mindless with desire and ready for him. Unable to deny either of them another second, he pitched the flogger away and nudged between her slick folds. Grabbing her hips, he buried himself in her pussy in one smooth movement, almost shouting in sheer pleasure.
“Feels so good,” he rasped. “Gonna fuck you until you scream.”
He withdrew slowly, then slammed home. Again and again, loving the mewling noises she made, his helpless captive. The clench of her channel around his cock, the sight of his length disappearing into her heat, drove him insane. Before he knew it, he was fucking her hard and fast, pounding his cock as deep as possible.
All too soon, she tightened around him and cried out, “Master!”
His control disintegrated, and his balls drew up. One last plunge, and his orgasm exploded, filling her with his cum. The spasms went on and on until he lay draped over her back, spent. And centered as never before.
Carefully he withdrew and set about releasing her ankles and then her wrists. Taking her arm, he helped her straighten and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “Are you all right?”
“Much better now,” she said softly. The anger was gone, her expression sated, face glow
ing. “I never knew I could feel that way. Like I was flying.”
“Those crazy endorphins again.” He smiled and was gratified when she returned it.
“And one crazy man.”
“I don’t dispute that. But this crazy man is your master.”
“I doubt I’ll forget that again.” She rubbed her bottom for emphasis.
“If you do, I’ll take great pleasure in reminding you,” he teased.
“I’ll bet.” She hesitated, suddenly unsure. “What’s my punishment for speaking to you the way I did upstairs?”
He shook his head, sobering. “I think we’ve both been punished enough for one day. Let’s clean up and get some sleep while we can.”
He got no argument on that score.Together they headed upstairs, and his mind drifted to Michael and the upcoming assignment.
And whether their boss would live to see Dietz in hell.
Emma gripped Blaze’s hand as the plane lifted off the ground, nails digging into his skin.
His free hand covered hers, and she heard the sympathy in his voice underneath the exhaustion.
“I take it you don’t like to fly?”
“I’m worse when it comes to helicopters, but no. If I was supposed to fly, I’d have been born with feathers.”
A tired chuckle met this declaration. “You know the stats say that flying is the safest way to travel.”
“Maybe, but if the engine in my car dies, I can just pull over to the side of the road.” She gave him an arch look.
“True.” Leaning over, he gave her a kiss. “What can I do to take your mind off your fear? Meet you in the restroom and make you a member of the mile-high club?”
She couldn’t help but grin at the image. “Do people really do that? As tiny as those spaces are, I find that hard to believe.”
“It can be done.” He looked rather smug. “Not that I’d know or anything.”
“You and another person fitting in there? No way.”
“Way.”
“I’m sure I don’t want to know the details.”
“Probably not, especially since the sky marshal threatened to arrest us. Talked my way out of it, though, when he realized I was undercover.”
