Monk (K19 Security Solutions Book 7)

by Heather Slade

  She was just about to get up, grab her robe, and join Monk in the kitchen when he walked in with a tray of coffee, food, and flowers.

  “You’re spoiling me.”

  Monk smiled, set the tray on the bed, and climbed in next to her. “I like doing things for you.”

  “I haven’t done anything for you.”

  “I disagree, but if you’d like to, I have some ideas.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a very un-Monk-like manner.

  Saylor grabbed a piece of perfectly prepared bacon from the single yet heavily laden plate on the tray, smiled, and then took a bite.

  “You’re very easy-going, Monk.”

  He shook his head. “I am the opposite.”

  “With me, you are.”

  “Only with you.”

  She smiled and took a sip of coffee. “Thank you for making breakfast.”

  Monk studied her.

  “What?”

  He shook his head.

  “What’s on your mind, Monk?”

  “I…”

  Saylor turned to her side and propped her head on her hand. “Talk to me, oh, Quiet One.”

  He smiled. “The pain I felt last night…”

  “I felt it too.”

  He leaned forward and captured her mouth with his. The man was an expert at kissing. She pushed any thoughts of who he’d practiced with out of her head and touched the silver ball on the tip of his tongue with hers. He broke their kiss, stood, moved the tray off the bed, and picked up one of the condoms they’d left on the bedside table.

  Saylor threw the covers off her body and watched as he pushed his shorts to the floor.

  “I love looking at your body.” She smiled when he stood where he was, letting her, while at the same time, trailing his eyes over her nakedness.

  When Saylor held her hand out to him, Monk took it and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I want this with you.”

  “I want it too, Monk. I just don’t know how to define what ‘this’ is.”

  He rested his hand on her thigh, his fingers creeping maddeningly close to her heated core. Saylor reached up and put her hand on his shoulder, pulling him toward her. “Kiss me again,” she murmured.

  He did and then held her face in his hands. “I have to leave in the morning.”

  “I think I knew that.”

  “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  Saylor nodded. “I knew that too.”

  —:—

  The breakfast he’d made for Saylor was now cold, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her hunger for food matched the hunger he’d had for her body in the last hour.

  He loved how easily she smiled, how often she touched him, even if it was just to rest her hand somewhere on his body. At the moment, her left hand was on his thigh, right above his knee, while she continued to eat with her right.

  Last night, he’d shared the story of his sister’s death with her and he’d briefly mentioned his mother’s passing. He hadn’t said a word about his father, she hadn’t asked, and he was glad of it. If she had, he would’ve had to talk about the abuse his mother had suffered at his hands, which would serve as a reminder of her ex-husband. When the time was right, Monk would tell her that story too. He had to. He couldn’t keep his father’s murder a secret and truly hold himself open to her. Saylor would sense that he was keeping something back, and when she did, her insecurity would lead her to make assumptions that weren’t accurate.

  “I’d ask what you’re thinking about, but I know that look.”

  Monk raised his eyebrows and studied her.

  “Razor goes to the same place you are right now. There are memories he’ll carry with him for the rest of his life. Things I know he wonders if he could’ve done differently. And while he never talks to me about it, I can sense what he’s going through. I’ll tell you the same thing I would tell him if I ever have the opportunity.”

  “What is that?”

  “The decisions you make are the best ones given the circumstances of the situation you’re in. There is a positive byproduct that comes with second-guessing, feeling regret, questioning yourself or your actions; it will help you make the same decisions in the future with less hesitation.”

  “Insightful.”

  Saylor smiled. “Or full of shit.”

  “Insightful,” he repeated, laughing.

  When Monk picked up the breakfast tray, Saylor stuck her head out of the bathroom door. “I know doing dishes relaxes you, but showering with you relaxes me.”

  He smiled, set the tray back on the bed, and padded into the bathroom to join her, grateful that she so often told him what she wanted rather than expecting him to guess.

  “WHERE ARE YOU HEADED?” Onyx asked three weeks later when they’d finished their hotwash of the final Petrov op.

  Monk checked the time. “I’ll find a place to crash and catch a flight in the morning.”

  “To?” Onyx asked, looking down on him. Monk wasn’t short by anyone’s yard stick, yet Onyx was taller than him. How a six-feet-six guy ever piloted the fighter jets Onyx had was something Monk hadn’t ever been able to wrap his head around.

  “Oregon.”

  “We’re scheduled to fly out at zero six hundred.”

  Monk’s primary concern had been getting the earliest flight out he could, but there wasn’t a commercial flight leaving that early. “Roger that. I’ll fly out with you.”

  “I’m headed up to the plane now if you want to catch a ride.”

  “I need sleep.”

  Onyx rolled his eyes. “Shit, I shoulda thought of that too since I’m flyin’ the aircraft tomorrow.”

  Monk shook his head. Yeah, obviously the man needed sleep as much as he did, if not more. “Yeah, I’ll go. Thanks.”

  The two went back into the main room of Doc and Merrigan Butler’s house, which also served as K19 headquarters and where those who had been part of the op were gathered. Monk had to admit, it was probably the nicest house he’d ever been in. Although from what he’d seen, all four of the founding K19 partners had pretty nice digs; Gunner owned his own fucking island.

  “Any word on Alegria?” Onyx asked after reporting that he and Monk were headed to the airfield.

  “Still in surgery,” Doc answered. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  “THIS WAS A ROUGH ONE,” said Onyx once they were on their way to the airfield just north, in Santa Barbara.

  Monk nodded. It had taken agents and officers from three international intelligence agencies to join ranks to take down one man, Makar Petrov—aka Conor McNamara—father to Razor’s wife, Ava, her twin sister, Aine, and as they’d learned tonight, Raketa Ivashov. The man had intended to kill all three of his offspring in order to get his hands on trust funds worth millions of dollars that he’d set up in each of their names years prior.

  The CIA, working in conjunction with K19, along with MI6 and the most unlikely of the trio—United Russia—joined forces to assassinate Petrov.

  In the course of the op, Alegria, who was one of K19’s regular pilots and who Onyx had been flying with for years, was shot. As Doc had told them, she was in surgery, her condition unknown.

  In addition to holding a hostage at gunpoint, Petrov had set up explosive devices in the area surrounding his hideout, and Onyx, a bomb expert as well as a pilot, had been called upon to diffuse them.

  “I should’ve asked if you wanted me to drive,” muttered Monk, feeling like an asshole for telling Onyx that he needed rest.

  “We’re good. The airfield is only another ten minutes away.”

  “Where do you sleep?”

  Onyx laughed. “You think the only people who use those privacy cabins are the senior partners?”

  “Who’s your co-pilot tomorrow?”

  “Corazón.”

  Monk nodded absentmindedly. “Never met him.”

  “Her. Sofia “Corazón” Descanso.”

  “Never met her either.”

  Onyx laughed. “You will in a few minute
s. She’s waiting at the hanger.”

  “I thought there were only two cabins in the back.”

  “You are slow as shit on the uptake tonight, man.”

  “You and Corazón…”

  “Yeah, me and Corazón. And I gotta tell you, if there was ever a night I could use the comfort found in the arms of a hot Latino woman, it’s tonight.”

  Monk understood. At least needing the comfort found in the arms of a woman. If there had been any way for him to be in Yachats tonight, he would’ve done so. What he would’ve done once he got there, he would’ve had to figure out.

  Saylor’s no-PDA-or-sleepovers rule was still fully in effect, so sneaking into her bed would’ve been out of the question. Calling her in the middle of the night to come to him would’ve been equally so.

  Monk scrubbed his face with his hand. No matter what either of them had said going in, the bottom line was he and Saylor were both in way deep. But he couldn’t see himself walking away any more than he could see her doing so.

  14

  “It isn’t that I like it when Monk isn’t here, but the truth is, I do get a lot more of your attention,” said Poppy, tossing a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

  “When did this popcorn obsession start?”

  “What do you mean? I’ve always liked popcorn.”

  Saylor rolled her eyes. “You bring a bag with you every time you come over. You used to bring a bottle of wine.”

  “Shit.” Poppy looked over her shoulder and waited for Sierra or Savannah to holler at her, but neither did. “I left the wine out in the car.”

  She ran out and came back in, carrying a chilled bottle of red. “I guess we’ll have to let this warm up a bit.”

  Saylor poured a glass of the wine she already had open. “Will a Pinot do?”

  “I’m not picky. You know this.” Poppy took another handful of popcorn. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “No idea, but wherever he went, he isn’t alone. My brother went MIA right about the time Monk had to leave.”

  “Don’t you get curious?”

  “At times I wonder where he is, but I don’t think it’s out of curiosity.”

  “What is it, then?”

  Saylor shrugged. “I don’t know…I guess curiosity is as good a word as any.”

  “You miss him.”

  She reached into her friend’s bowl and tossed a handful of kernels at her. “Don’t go there.”

  “I have to live vicariously through you since no guy I’ve met interests me as much as Portland guy.”

  “Comparison is the killer of joy,” Saylor said, but she knew exactly what Poppy meant. She couldn’t imagine any other man on the face of the earth who could hold a candle to Monk.

  He was hotter than shit, edgier than anyone she’d ever dated or even considered dating, with his tattoos and his tongue piercing and his café racer motorcycle. And he was so much more than that. He was a gentleman who was great with her girls, treated Saylor like a princess, a fabulous cook, and while he didn’t talk a lot, what he did say was interesting and thought-provoking. To be cliché, they clicked.

  Yes, she missed him, like she’d never missed anyone before. She longed to feel Monk next to her every night that she climbed in bed alone. She found herself daydreaming about him as she made her morning coffee and when she made dinner for her and the girls.

  That they asked about him daily didn’t help. Nor did her mother’s incessant teasing about how Saylor had finally found someone man enough to hold her interest.

  Saylor sighed and looked over at Poppy, who held her bowl of popcorn on her lap, taking handful after handful while she zoned out on what looked like the most compelling movie she’d ever seen. Except her eyes were glued to Saylor, and her friend had just seen every memory play out on her face.

  “You’re in love,” said Poppy.

  “I’m in lust,” countered Saylor.

  “Nope. That look isn’t lust. That is full-blown, all-out, heart-and-soul love.” Her friend tapped her lower lip with her finger. “Wanna know how I know?”

  “Sure,” she sighed.

  “Because I’ve never seen you look like this.”

  Saylor had to concede that she’d never felt about Cliff the way she did just now, thinking about Monk. And it terrified her.

  SAYLOR SAW two big black SUVs pull up to her brother’s house and wondered if Monk was in one of them. There was a chance that he wasn’t even with the group, but something told her he was.

  She was standing on tiptoes, peering out the kitchen window, when something, or someone, caught her eye on the deck. She smiled, knowing that she’d been caught when Monk, standing just outside her door, winked.

  Racing over, she unlocked it, and in a move that was, in the hindsight of a split second, probably an overreaction, launched herself into his arms.

  “I missed you,” she admitted, backing away.

  Monk snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her body flush with his. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he murmured, bringing his lips to hers and bestowing one of his scorchingly hot kisses.

  Without breaking their kiss, Monk gripped her bottom with his big hands and lifted her so her legs were wrapped around his waist.

  “Where are the girls?”

  “School.”

  Monk reached around and closed the door that led from the deck into the house with one hand, while he held her body next to his with the other. He carried Saylor into the bedroom, grinding his hardness against her.

  “I missed you too,” he murmured, setting her on her feet and pulling her shirt over her head. “Drop your hands,” he said when she reached around to unfasten her bra.

  Monk’s demanding tone sent a shudder down the length of her body. If he weren’t holding her up, her knees would’ve buckled.

  He pulled the cup of her bra below her breast and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Pain and pleasure melded into one as he sucked hard and bit the sensitive, hardened flesh.

  “Saylor,” he breathed before turning his assault on her other breast.

  “WHEN DO THE GIRLS GET HOME?” Monk asked.

  “Three,” Saylor answered, looking over at the clock on the bedside table. Had four hours really passed since Monk arrived at her back door?

  “Come,” he said, easing himself off the bed. He held out his hand, led her into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and adjusted the temperature before ushering her under the warm stream of water.

  “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

  “Monk?”

  “Yes, Saylor.”

  “Um…what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

  “Close your eyes,” he said again as he drizzled shampoo into his palm and waited for her to do as she was told before continuing. “I don’t give much thought to holidays.”

  “Ava told me that she and Razor are planning to spend it in Cambria.”

  She opened her eyes again when he didn’t say anything. He leaned forward and touched her lips with his. “Are you asking me to spend Thanksgiving with you?”

  “I guess I am.”

  “I’d enjoy that.”

  “It isn’t too much? I mean, it’s a holiday.”

  Monk smiled. “Stop overthinking things, Saylor. I enjoy spending time with you and the girls.”

  “We enjoy spending time with you too.”

  “Close your eyes,” he whispered. “Stop thinking. Just feel.”

  He massaged her scalp, his fingers digging in just enough to make her groan.

  “I like that sound,” he said, moving from her scalp, down her neck to her shoulders.

  She groaned again. “That feels so good.”

  When his hands left her body, she wanted to cry. She opened her eyes and watched as he lathered up the body wash. Monk raised a brow, and Saylor smirked and closed her eyes.

  “Good girl,” he muttered, bringing his soapy hands to her breasts. He lifted their weight in each hand, and massaged them the same way he had her shoulders.
Saylor couldn’t stop herself from groaning again.

  She felt his breath near her ear. “I dreamed about you making those sexy-as-fuck noises.”

  He wrapped one arm around her waist as though he anticipated her knees buckling. His other hand trailed to the heat between her legs. While his fingers ran through her folds, his tongue circled her nipples with the cold ball on its tip. She gripped his shoulders as her body clenched in another mind-blowing orgasm. She lost count of how many she’d had in the last few hours. It was almost as though all it took was just having his hands, his mouth, his hardness touch her.

  —:—

  A few days later, Monk sat on Razor’s deck and raised his face to the sun. A day as warm as this on the Oregon Coast was rare, and it felt good. He loved heat. The hotter, the better, usually. Being with Saylor, though, feeling her warmth, made tolerating the colder climate easier.

  He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift to earlier in the week when he’d pressed himself deep inside of her. He’d been away from Saylor for a handful of days, and yet his release was as strong as if he hadn’t had sex in several weeks.

  The sliding door opened, and Razor joined him.

  “Damn, it’s almost hot out here. Want one?”

  Monk turned his head. “Thanks,” he said, taking the bottle of beer Razor offered.

  “I was going to ask if you needed time off for the holidays, but Avarie said you’d be in Cambria with us for Thanksgiving.”

  “Yes.”

  Razor shook his head and laughed. “You’re the perfect man for my sister. You never talk and she never stops.”

  “I haven’t found that to be true.”

  When Razor raised his eyebrow and smirked, Monk shook his head and laughed.

  “You’re welcome to tell me it’s none of my damn business, but Saylor…” Razor took a deep breath. “I don’t know how much you know about her ex, but he hurt her pretty bad. Not just physically, but emotionally too. The physical shit is why I took care of getting the fucker put in prison the minute I had enough on him.”

  Monk nodded. “I know.”

  “How serious—”

  Monk held up his hand, and Razor stopped talking.

  “None of my business, is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yes. What your sister does is her business.”