Flopping back into her seat, Jordyn gave him a sexy grin. Her dark eyes were filled with a combination of excitement, satisfaction, and lust. “I don’t know about you, Double-O, but I’m horny as hell after that.”
Chapter 3
Present . . .
Ian pulled into the small airport for private jets and parked their SUV. The one that had been following on their six for most of the trip came to a stop in the slot next to them. The area was quiet and no one else was around. Bodies poured out of almost every door of the two vehicles with the drivers leaving the keys under the floor mats for their contacts to recover. Devon “Devil Dog” Sawyer, Ian’s younger brother and teammate led the rest of the party toward the waiting Trident Security jet. Their pilot, Conrad “CC” Chapman, had already started up the engines after being alerted to their impending arrival. A copilot, who Ian had borrowed from his friend and associate at Blackhawk security for the transatlantic flight, lowered the jet’s stairs for them.
“Where the fuck are we going, Carter?” Jordyn barked at him, trying to dislodge herself from the grip he had on her arm. No way was he letting go. The woman was faster than a jackrabbit, and he didn’t feel like chasing her across the tarmac. They needed to get in the air as soon as possible before another hit squad tracked them down.
“On a vacation, sweetheart. Somewhere we can be alone.” He winked at her and laughed when she glared back.
At the bottom of the stairs, she yanked hard on her arm, pulling him to the side. His backup let out a few chuckles as they kept their momentum up the steps. Jordyn was about to blast into him when the squeal of tires barely audible over the whine of the jet engines caught their attention. Looking back at the gate they’d driven through, they saw two black SUVs barreling toward it. Fuck!
Carter whipped around to throw Jordyn up the stairs to find she was already climbing them. Not wasting a moment to admire her fine ass, he flew up the stairs two at a time. When he’d reached the cabin, he and Ian grasped the handles for the stairs and pulled them up as CC started them rolling toward the runway.
Just as the cabin door shut, Carter saw the vehicles come to a screaming halt and four guys with assault rifles climbed out. He shifted his view to the cabin window as Ian locked the door. The men raised their weapons, but before they got a shot off, an explosion rocked their world.
“Yeeee-ha and hooyah!”
Carter laughed at the man who was cheering while staring out the window next to him. Boomer was Trident’s explosives and ordinances expert, and in his hand was the remote that had sent the SUVs Ian and Devon had parked a few minutes ago up in a blaze of glory. “I fucking love blowing shit up!”
While the four men who’d been ready to pump the jet full of lead had been out of the direct blast zone, they’d still gotten thrown to the ground and had their bells rung from the concussion wave. Two of them were down for the count while the other two were rolling around, probably trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Flaming pieces of metal and fiberglass landed in the parking lot and on the tarmac surrounding the men.
“Goddamn it!” Ian roared. “Now I have to pay for the fucking trucks! And I’m sure the price is going to be ten times what they’re fucking worth over here.”
Carter snorted at the head of Trident Security as the man dropped into one of the luxury, first class-style seats at the front of the plane. “Oh, like those trust funds you and Devil Dog have couldn’t buy a thousand of them every month for the next five years.”
“That’s not the fucking point, jackass.
Ignoring the other man’s brooding, Carter pointed, one by one, at the men taking seats, preparing for takeoff. “Jordyn, this is Ian Sawyer, his brother Devon, you already met Tristan McCabe, pretty boy over there is Val Mancini, and this here is Baby Boomer.”
The latter rolled his eyes as he clicked his seatbelt shut. “Ben Michaelson, and just Boomer is fine. It’s nice to meet you, Jordyn.”
“A pleasure.” Her sarcasm wasn’t lost on anyone as she disregarded them and stepped toward the middle of the plane where there was a relaxed, living room setup of couches and recliners. The Trident boys liked to ride in style when they could—it beat cargo planes any day of the week.
Carter followed her and sat in one of the recliners as she took another one after dropping her duffel bag on a couch and fastening a seatbelt through its handles. He’d barely clicked his seatbelt when the pilots started speeding down the runway. Evidently the $500 in US currency Ian had given CC to pass onto the air traffic controllers to clear their takeoff trumped a measly explosion in the parking lot, which had probably been heard for a few miles. Boomer’s unofficial motto was “go big or go home.” In this case, they’d gotten to do both, which was always a good thing.
When the aircraft reached whatever altitude it leveled off at, Carter released his seatbelt, stood, and strolled to the back. From a stocked refrigerator he took two bottles of water and returned to the seating area, holding one out to her. It didn’t escape his notice that the chickenshits were staying in the rows of seats up front. Clearly he was on his own here to face her wrath. And, yes, she looked downright pissed.
Instead of taking the water from him, Jordyn stood and crossed her arms. Her eyes narrowed. “All right. We got away from the goon squads. Now, are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?”
He took in her exotic features. Born and raised in South America to a distinguished businessman and a former Miss Argentina, the thirty-one-year-old had inherited her mother’s natural beauty. Her long, black hair was pulled up into a messy but cute ponytail, and her soft brown eyes were complimented by her olive skin. Her body was exquisitely toned due to her constant training, yet she had curves in all the right places. And what he wouldn’t give for another chance to explore each and every one.
Tossing the water on the couch next to her bag, he stepped toward her until there was only a matter of inches between them. As he’d expected, she stood her ground, but a flash of anger appeared in her eyes, while her body rebelled against her mind. Her nipples pebbled beneath her shirt and her carotid pulse increased in tempo at her neck. Lifting his hand, he stroked her cheek with his fingers and lowered his voice. “Are you going to tell me whatever I did so many years ago that has you hating me?”
To his surprise, her expression softened, and her hands went to his chest. Electricity shot from her fingers, through his T-shirt, lighting up the nerves just under his skin. “I don’t hate you—”
He almost didn’t see it coming. As it was, her knee caught him on the side of his groin, instead of a direct hit. He’d shifted just in time, but not fast enough to avoid a tremendous amount of pain. His breath fled his lungs, and he saw stars as he coughed and gasped for air. Bending at the waist, his hands on his knees, he tried to will the agony away. Damn, that hurt! She not only hates me, she wants to make sure I never reproduce!
Standing over him, she growled. “As I was saying, I don’t hate you. That’s not a strong enough word. Try abhor or detest or loathe, you asshole.”
A snort came from Ian when he approached them from the front seats. As he skirted around a temporarily disabled Carter, he said, “Don’t mind me. Feel free to continue kicking his ass, Jordyn. I’m sure he deserves it.”
Glancing up, Carter saw her smile pleasantly after the man. “I’m starting to like you, asswipe.”
Without even turning around, Ian waved to her over his shoulder on his way to the jet’s head. “The feeling is mutual, sweetheart.”
Carter hoped the bastard fell into the fucking toilet and got stuck. Taking a deep breath, he slid his hands to his thighs, then pushed himself up into a standing position and shifted his hips to give his aching cock and balls some room in his cargo pants. Moving slowly, he made it to a recliner, but lowering himself into it was torture—another reminder of why he would never submit to a sadistic Domme. He’d never understand why masochistic men would agree to have their junk tormented.
Grittin
g his teeth, he looked up at the woman who turned him on like no other even though she wanted to castrate him for some reason. She calmly took a long drink from one of the bottles of water as Ian returned from the back and, without saying a word, tossed him a bag of ice for his troubles. Fucking gloating bastard.
When Carter was as alone as he was going to get with Jordyn again, he rasped, “Feel better?”
She plopped down on a nearby couch, crossed her shapely legs, and shrugged. “A little. Now, tell me what the fuck is going on. How was my cover blown?”
Placing the ice pack where he needed it, he pushed back on the recliner so his family jewels had breathing room. He obviously wasn’t going to get an answer to his earlier question and didn’t dare repeat it, at the moment—he was in enough pain. For now, he’d stick with the current problem. “Not just your cover; part of Deimos’s NOC list was downloaded by a hacker before they were able to shut it down. As far as we know, a dozen agents were compromised. The first two targeted, Joe Aikman and Glenn Aldridge, didn’t survive.” He grimaced, partially from pain, partially from the bomb he was dropping in her lap. The nonofficial cover list was something every covert agency had—information on their agents’ true identities, which was an espionage nightmare. Deimos’s was apparently being used as an assassination list, which was ironic since some of the people on it were assassins for the United States. “And I’ll give you one guess who’s next on the alphabetical list.”
“Alvarez,” Jordyn said, a mixture of anger and obvious dread on her pretty face. “Me. Shit.”
She took a deep, calming breath. Standing, she walked toward the front of the plane as Carter watched in confusion. Over the jet engines he heard her clear her throat to get the attention of the five other men. “Gentlemen, thank you for coming to extract me. I appreciate it. Why don’t you come on back so you can fill in all the blanks, hmm? I promise, the only one who has to worry about an ass kicking already got his. Well, actually, it wasn’t exactly his ass that got kicked.”
Boomer was the first to stand, grinning wildly. “I can’t wait for the Trident women back home to meet you. Damn, woman. If I wasn’t already madly in love with my fiancée, I’d be begging you to marry me.”
And that right there had Carter wanting to plant his fist in the EOD specialist’s face—which was kind of weird since he’d been a third in a few past scenes with Boomer and his fiancée, Kat Maier. But once he’d had his one night of incredible sex with Jordyn, the thought of her in any other man’s bed had him seeing crimson. It didn’t matter that it had been years ago and miles away from here. It also didn’t matter that the man he currently wanted to hit was one of his best friends—in Carter’s line of work, those were few and hard to come by.
The sexy-as-hell woman smirked as she sashayed her way back to the couch. “And if you weren’t already madly in love with your fiancée, I might be taking you up on that offer, stud. I like a man who blows things up in spectacular fashion.”
The others scattered around the casual seating area, settling in for the trip, with the exception of Ian who retrieved a bottle of Jack Daniel’s Single Barrel Select along with lowball glasses and ice. The fucking jet had everything, including a damn ice maker—which Carter’s balls were grateful for.
Jordyn turned to Ian as he began to pour everyone a drink. “I heard your boys took care of that girl’s perverted, sperm donor last year. They saved me the trouble of going back to Tampa to do it myself. How’s your brother doing? And the girl?”
The youngest Sawyer brother, Nick, had been shot while rescuing a teenager from the hands of her father who’d been molesting her for years. He’d been backing up Ian’s teammate and employee, and his current boyfriend/Dom, Jake “Reverend” Donovan, on the case while on R&R from SEAL Team Three about a year ago. Jordyn had gotten involved in the action when Carter had asked her to use her cat burglary skills to break into the father’s house and office safe to recover the vile pictures and videos he had of his daughter. In the end, the bastard had been killed.
“Nick’s completely recovered and back on full duty with his team,” Ian informed her as he handed her a glass of the amber liquor and then passed out the others to the men. Their flight would be over six hours long, so a glass or two wouldn’t be an issue for any of them. “He’s got another six months in San Diego before he’s going to retire from the Navy and come work with us. By that point, the west coast team will be up and running, and Jake’s going to hand over the reins to whomever we promote to team leader. They both want to come back to Florida. As for Alyssa, Boomer’s parents were granted guardianship, and she just started her first semester at the community college in Sarasota. She’s going to be just fine.”
“Glad to hear they’re both doing well. Now, tell me about the hit squads and anything else you know about what’s going on. Start with where we’re going,” she said to no one in particular.
“Scotland.”
Her jaw dropped at Carter’s response. “Scotland? What the fuck is in Scotland?”
“Castle Steel and a friend of mine.” The corners of his mouth ticked upward. He knew that hadn’t quenched her curiosity. In fact, if the expression on her face was any indication, his answer had conjured up at least a half a dozen more questions, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of asking them. Good. He couldn’t wait for her to meet Mic.
He took a much needed taste of the whiskey Ian had given him before continuing. “About the hit squad. We had no idea if they’d tracked you down or not, but I wasn’t taking any chances. The other two were both stateside when they were hit. Aikman took a sniper bullet to the head, sitting in his living room the other morning, and Aldridge had a car bomb waiting for him yesterday afternoon. Everyone else on the list has been pulled in already, with the exception of Benito, Brennan, and Dartmouth. They have teams tracking them down on their assignments.”
It wasn’t uncommon for the operatives of Deimos to limit contact during a mission, even though their headquarters knew the bare basics. The less contact during an op, the less chance of their cover being blown. In this case, though, it had the opposite effect. Going black had almost gotten her killed. But now that she was under his watchful eye, he was going to make damn sure nothing happened to her. And after the threat against her was eliminated, he was going to find out, once and for all, why she had such a bug up her ass about him.
* * *
“Lady and gents, prepare for landing.”
The pilot’s announcement and the feeling of the plane dropping in altitude had Jordyn stirring from her sleep. After getting as many details about the leaked NOC list as the men had, she made herself comfortable on one of the plush couches since the recliners had all been taken. It hadn’t taken her long to doze off between the combination of adrenaline crash and two glasses of whiskey. Usually, one was her limit, but Carter’s announcement on top of his constant, heated gaze, despite his aching balls, had caused her to nod her assent when Ian had offered her another glass.
Around her, the men all stirred or returned to their seats, and the sound of seatbelts clicking closed filled the small cabin. She glanced from one man to the next. They were all good-looking—what the hell was in the water in Tampa? Whatever it was, the women in that city were damn lucky if the rest of the male population looked anything like these hunks.
Even without meeting the two older Sawyer brothers prior to today, she could tell they were siblings. They had similar facial features, topped off with black hair that offset their matching blue eyes—their brother Nick had inherited the same family genes. While they were what was considered to be dark Irish, Tristan McCabe was a stereotypical Irishman—rusty blond hair with soft green eyes and a smattering of freckles over his nose. With broad shoulders, strong arms, and a chiseled torso, he was probably a big ol’ teddy bear when he wasn’t kicking ass. She wondered if he looked younger without his goatee and mustache—her guess was he had a baby face without them despite his midthirties age.
; Boomer was a brown-haired cutie between his appearance and bubbly personality. His fiancée was a lucky woman, and Jordyn bet the man treated her like a queen. The last of the Trident men aboard the jet was Val Mancini. He had Hollywood pretty boy looks similar to Jake Donovan—tall, dark, and panty dropping handsome. Either one of them could be a movie star headliner with women swooning over them left and right. Since Jake was gay and in a permanent relationship, it wouldn’t matter to him. Mancini, however, probably had a girlfriend in every city around the world, and many more women lining up to be among his harem.
Sitting up, Jordyn stretched her arms over her head before putting her own seatbelt on again. Glancing out the window, all she saw were dark clouds and raindrops battering the aircraft. The jet jolted and dipped as it hit a pocket of turbulence, but the pilot swiftly got it under control again. They descended and dropped below the clouds as the landing gear grinded into position.
Her skin tingled and without looking, she knew Carter was staring at her. What was it about the bastard that made her body so aware of him and crave to be in his bed again? Thankfully, her mind had more common sense than her body. Too bad she hadn’t known what he was into before she’d let him fuck her brains out that night. He wanted to abuse women? Well, she refused to be one of them. Her mother had tolerated it and look where that got her—six feet under, alongside the bastard who’d shot her and then himself—Jordyn’s father.
Jordyn had been fourteen years old when her privileged life was thrown into shock and turmoil. Her father, a respected businessman in Buenos Aires had abused his wife, a former Miss Argentina and a first runner up Miss Universe for most of their marriage. He’d been a jealous bastard. Why her mother stayed with him, Jordyn would never know, but she had. Regina Alvarez Huerta had become an expert in covering up bruises with makeup. Jordyn would be damned if she followed in her mother’s shoes.
Absolving His Sins: Trident Security Book 7 Page 3
