Explosive Vengeance

by Kaylea Cross

  “There’s gotta be more to it than that,” she argued, staring at him as if he was a riddle she was trying to solve.

  He felt the same about her. “What about you?” he countered. “Why risk your life to save women you’ve never met?”

  “Because no one else is going to.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “That kinda makes you a Girl Scout then, doesn’t it?”

  She half-smiled. “Nope. Because I don’t play by the rules.”

  God help him, she was damn near hypnotic with that insanely sexy blend of confidence and resolve. “And what’s your plan? You gonna blow something up to save them?”

  Her eyes gleamed. “Only if I get lucky.”

  He wasn’t so tired that he missed the double entendre. He leaned back into the cushions, sleep suddenly the farthest thing from his mind. “What else are you trained in?”

  Amusement crept into her eyes. “A lot of handy things.”

  “Such as?”

  Another slight upward curve of her mouth. Her lower lip was fuller than the top. A soft pink, no lipstick. He had the sudden urge to suck on it, sink his teeth into it. Mark her a tiny bit, soothe it with his tongue, then delve inside to taste her. “If you stick around long enough, I’ll show you.”

  Only an unconscious man would miss the innuendo, the female interest in her gaze. Entranced as he was, he wasn’t dropping this line of questioning yet. “How did you meet Megan?”

  “When we were first sent into the Program. My first roommate washed out and was transferred to somewhere else, so they paired me with Megan.” She drew her bare legs up, tucking her feet beneath her. “I was the indoc class rebel. Based on our personality and psych profiles, they thought she’d be a stabilizing or calming influence on me.”

  “And was she?”

  She grinned. “A little. Mostly I was a really bad influence on her.”

  “You know, somehow I can picture that.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I’m pretty proud of my rep.”

  “I can see that too.” They shared a half-smile. “And what about your family?”

  All traces of humor vanished, her expression going eerily blank, as if a mask had covered her face. “What about yours?”

  He’d hit a nerve, though he wasn’t sure why. What was he missing? Maybe her relatives were assholes and she didn’t like talking about them. “I’ve got an aunt, uncle and cousins back home in Connecticut.”

  “No parents?”

  He shook his head. “Never knew my dad. My mom died when I was young.” His stomach muscles tensed at the mention of her.

  “What happened?”

  His initial reaction was the same as hers had been—to shut down and redirect. But he’d learned sensitive things about her, and after knowing her only for a few hours, he sensed that revealing his past was probably the best way to start earning her trust. “She was murdered.”

  Chloe didn’t gasp or react with horror the way most people did when they found out. Her expression was calm. Watchful. “By whom?”

  “Her ex-boyfriend.” He didn’t think of that worthless asshole often anymore, but when he did, it still sent a wave of white-hot rage through him.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Bastard. Happens way too often.”

  It did, and though he rarely talked about this with anyone, even Ty, he found himself opening up to her about it. “She always picked guys who treated her like shit. I watched her get the shit beaten out of her on an almost weekly basis for years, until the last one she broke up with snapped and strangled her.” He’d come home from school to find them loading the body bag into the back of an ambulance. The shock and pain had been so overwhelming when the social worker had told him what happened, he’d fallen to his knees there in the dirt, an inhuman sound of agony and grief ripping from his throat.

  “The old ‘If I can’t have her, no one can’.” Chloe’s voice was hard. Icy.

  He shook off the awful memory, forcing his mind back to the present. “Yeah. He’s in jail, but he’s up for parole in a couple years.” How fucked up was that? He didn’t deserve to be breathing, let alone have the chance at parole.

  “I’d have killed him.”

  Heath stilled. More than her words, the deadly calm tone told him she meant it. And he believed her. “Sometimes I wish I’d had the guts to.” Even at that young age, he’d fantasized about emptying a magazine into that son of a bitch’s belly and leaving him to bleed out on the ground.

  “You’re not wired that way.”

  Her insight into his personality surprised him. “No.” He’d taken lives in combat, but that was different. He’d done what he had to, to ensure he and his brothers-in-arms and his patients made it home. But it hadn’t been enough, because some of them hadn’t, and that hurt would never go away.

  “And that’s why you became a PJ. You couldn’t save her, but you can save others.”

  He didn’t respond, momentarily at a loss for words. Jesus, he felt uncomfortably exposed with her so deep in his head, in a place he’d only acknowledged a few years ago.

  “I get it. It’s why I do what I do now. In spite of all the training, in spite of all the brainwashing and ability to compartmentalize…I still feel.” The halting way she said it told him it wasn’t an easy admission for her. “After completing a mission, it was never killing my targets that bothered me. It was the innocent victims I hadn’t saved. So now I’m doing something about it that I couldn’t do before. It might be just a drop in the bucket in the grand scheme of things, but it matters to the ones I save.”

  He nodded, his heart thudding in his ears. “That’s exactly right.” Damn, she got him in a way few others ever had. They had way more in common than he ever would have thought.

  She smiled slightly, and it was different from all the others so far. This one was softer. Real. One kindred soul recognizing and connecting with another.

  Heath felt that same connection form deep in his gut. An undeniable physical and emotional pull toward the woman seated across from him.

  Before he could gather his thoughts, Chloe lowered her feet to the floor, stood and started toward him.

  He read the heat in her eyes, read the intent there, but he still didn’t move. Didn’t do anything but hold that hot, bold stare, his whole body tightening as he imagined pulling her down into his lap, tangling his fingers in that gorgeous hair and tasting those sexy lips.

  She paused directly in front of him, waiting a moment before bending at the waist to place her hands on either side of him on the couch. It took an act of will not to reach for her, his hands flexing on his thighs.

  Her face was inches from his, the fruity scent of shampoo and a hint of mint filling his nose as her avid gaze dipped to his mouth. Heath’s heart pumped faster. He shouldn’t be contemplating this, didn’t want any more complications in his life, but damned if he could turn away.

  She inched forward, drawing the moment out, until every single heartbeat drummed in his ears. Her lips brushed his. Once. Twice, then lingered.

  An electric current arced between them. Heat punched through him, along with a shocking burst of possessiveness.

  Her lips were so damn soft and pliant, the slow, sensual kiss the opposite of what he’d expected from her. He was dying to grab her. Hold her close and deepen the kiss so he could taste her. Claim her in some way, and she was teasing him with the promise of what he could have if he was willing to cross the invisible line they were flirting with.

  His control snapped.

  Coiling one arm around her hips, he plunged his free hand into that thick, soft hair and pulled her to him, absorbing her gasp with his mouth as she ended up straddling his lap. Keeping a firm grip on her hair, he locked her body to him, those tight, firm breasts pressed to his chest, her ass snuggled against the length of his erection trapped under his fly as he kissed her. A slow, thorough kiss meant to turn her inside out.

  He nibbled and sucked at her lips, stroked his tongue across them before delving inside to
touch hers. Mint. She tasted like mint and bold, tempting sin.

  Her quiet hum of enjoyment shot more blood to his groin, and the way she eagerly kissed him back threatened to turn him inside out in return.

  Bold as he’d expected, but twice as erotic. She kept it slow, matching his pace as she caressed his tongue with hers. She didn’t fight his dominant grip, if anything seemed to enjoy it, her soft murmur making him so hard he ached.

  Releasing his hold on her waist, Heath slid his hand up the length of her back, pulling her breasts harder into his chest.

  Chloe lifted her head to look down at him, her pretty brown eyes a little dazed as she slid her tongue across her lower lip. “Hmm, maybe not such a Boy Scout after all,” she murmured in approval, and leaned back in to brush a teasing kiss across his mouth. “I like it,” she whispered against his lips.

  Before he could pull her back down for more she pushed at his chest, eased off his lap and rose with a smile, her cheeks flushed and her nipples beaded tight against the fabric of her shirt. “Good night.”

  He smothered a protest. At least one of them had the sense to stop this before it got totally out of hand. She went to his head like a drug, muddled his thoughts and destroyed his control. “Night.” He mentally groaned at the sight of that shapely ass walking away from him in those short, tight shorts, leaving him hard and aching.

  One kiss. One kiss and she had him strung taut as a tripwire.

  Heath ran a hand over his face. Yeah, there was no way he was leaving her undefended if he could help it, even if it might cost him in the end.

  For the first time in his life he was operating without a mission plan, and he didn’t even care.

  Chapter Eleven

  Guillaume woke up early Friday morning on the leather sofa in his office when his eldest daughter shook him lightly, sunlight shining through the window above him.

  “Time to get up, Papa. You have to get ready for the funeral.”

  “Of course. Thank you, sweetheart.”

  The morning passed in a blur, and then he and his family drove to the church. When he stepped out of his car the blast of a pipe organ came from inside the gothic cathedral and the pallbearers were gathered behind the hearse carrying Dom’s body.

  Keeping himself numb so the grief wouldn’t overwhelm him, he greeted the guests, accepted condolences and walked into the church. He stopped to dip his fingers in the holy water to make the sign of the cross.

  The priest met him at the entrance to the nave. “Monsieur Dubois, my sincere condolences on the loss of your brother.”

  Loss? It was more than a fucking loss. Dom had been bound, possibly tortured, and then murdered in his own home.

  Keeping his civilized veneer firmly in place, Guillaume buried the rage down deep and forced a polite smile. “Thank you, Father. It’s been a trying time for us.”

  The priest nodded. “May God comfort you and your family at this difficult time.”

  He escorted his wife and daughters to the front pew. The inspector was seated behind him, offered his condolences again. All Guillaume could think about were his words last night.

  Be patient.

  The funeral mass seemed to take forever, and the trip to the cemetery where he endured the terrible ordeal of watching his brother being lowered into the ground almost shattered his control.

  His youngest daughter reached up to take his hand as they walked toward the car. “Are you all right, Papa?”

  Looking down into her innocent, beautiful little face, Guillaume’s grief lessened a fraction. He smiled at her. “Yes, my angel. Just sad.”

  Sophie nodded, her blue eyes somber. “I am too. I miss Uncle Dom.”

  “Me too,” he said, squeezing her as tears burned the backs of his eyes. Dom wouldn’t want him to cry. He would want him to find and punish the killer.

  He glanced to his right at his wife. She gave him a sad smile and reached for his hand. Guillaume grasped it, shot a wink at their other daughter, who was holding Marguerite’s other hand. “I’m the luckiest man in all of France to be blessed with such precious jewels.”

  His wife and girls were the most valued things in the world to him. He would protect them at all cost—something he’d been unable to do for the brother he’d just laid to rest.

  The inspector stopped him on the way to the car and pulled him aside. “Did you think about what I said last night? The offer still stands.”

  Be patient. “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” He ushered his family into the car and drove them home, Jean-Pierre following them. The reception was an agony all its own, people reminiscing about Dom, talking about how much they’d loved him.

  Lies. They hadn’t known Dom. Only he had. Most of these assholes were only here to enjoy the food and alcohol Guillaume was paying for.

  Finally the guests began to leave, trickling out in maddeningly small groups. The inspector was one of the last. Guillaume was glad to see him go.

  When everyone was gone, he locked the front door, bowed his head, and heaved a tired sigh.

  “Anything I can do?” Jean-Pierre asked behind him.

  Guillaume nodded. “I have something I need to take care of. I need you to follow me there.”

  “Of course.”

  He caught up with the inspector’s vehicle several kilometers down a quiet, country road, and flashed his lights. The inspector slowed and pulled to the side of the road, rolling down a window as Guillaume approached, keeping his gloved hands in his pockets.

  “Did I forget something?” the inspector asked with a smile. “You could have just called me. You didn’t have to come all the way out here.”

  “Yes I did.” He pulled out the silenced pistol and put a bullet through the man’s forehead.

  The inspector’s body slumped over the steering wheel.

  Guillaume bent to stare into the blank eyes. “That’s me being patient,” he snarled, and walked back to his car.

  ****

  Chloe checked her messages on the drive into the closest town on Friday night. After being cooped up in the cottage for so long to avoid detection and no new threats materializing, she’d deemed it safe to at least go out to dinner as a group.

  Mostly she’d just needed to get out of there before her head exploded. Being around Heath for that long after that insanely hot make-out session had been hell on her self-control. If Megan and Ty hadn’t been around, she’d have jumped him long ago.

  There was a message from Fleur, under the bogus names and email addresses they’d set up to communicate with each other.

  Package sent off safely. Should arrive at destination tomorrow.

  Kaya. Fleur had taken her for medical care, then put her into transitional housing run by a private non-profit group in Paris that helped female trafficking victims. Kaya would be given the choice of staying in France or returning to her home country. Chloe wished her the best.

  “Good news?” Heath asked from behind the wheel.

  She finished typing her response, a smile on her face. “Very good. The woman I got out in Paris is okay and on her way to starting a new life.”

  “I didn’t know you rescued a woman.”

  She set her phone down to look at him, that shock of awareness hitting her all over again. It was impossible not to think about the way he’d held her, the incredible rush of arousal he’d elicited when he’d seized control and kissed her, and having him so close only made her want more. He came across as aloof and gruff, but there had been nothing aloof about that. Now she wanted more, to see just how deep that hot alpha streak went.

  She hadn’t slept much last night, thinking about Heath and Megan and Ty’s offer to help her with the Marseille op and targeting Dubois. She had to admit she could use the help, and who better to have her back than Megan and two Spec Ops trained men sworn to her cause?

  After weighing the pros and cons of allowing others into her private operation, she’d finally made the decision to let the others assist her. She’d spent the mornin
g and most of the afternoon with Megan, reconnecting and talking about the upcoming shipment Chloe was going to intercept while Ty and Heath had hung out. After that the four of them had met for a couple of hours going over logistics, and Chloe had consented to include the rest of the team back in the UK: Amber, Kiyomi and Trinity. Two other former Valkyries named Georgia and Briar were involved too, but stateside working on gathering intel.

  It wasn’t easy for Chloe to bring outsiders into her personal life, but Megan had been like a sister to her while they’d roomed together. She trusted her old friend, so if Megan vouched for the other women, that was good enough for Chloe. And if Megan thought Ty and Heath were up for this, then they were. They’d both been SOF, with all the training, skill set and security clearances that came with the territory. They were solid operators. It was just strange for Chloe to be working with them on an op.

  “It was only the one woman,” she answered. “Dominic had pilfered her from his most recent shipment of women from North Africa two months ago. He kept her locked up like a slave in his bedroom for his personal use.”

  The dark face Heath pulled made her like him even more. “What a fucking piece of shit.”

  “Yes, he was. I’m glad he’s dead.”

  “And his brother? Is he the same?”

  “No. Guillaume’s almost worse, because he’s slicker. A monster hiding behind a polished, civilized mask. Most of his businesses are legitimate in the banking and real estate worlds, and he hides everything else. The most disturbing thing to me is that he has young daughters. All accounts say he reveres them and his wife, and yet he’s fine with buying and selling women on the black market if they turn enough of a profit to make it worth his while.”