Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Redeeming Violet (Kindle Worlds)

by Riley Edwards

  I had to hand it to her, she was trying her hardest to stay strong, but the weight of day had finally knocked her on her ass. She slumped back in her seat and lowered her head in defeat.

  “You’ll hide me, right?”

  “He won’t get to you,” I vowed.

  And in a moment of stupidity I pulled her into me, wrapping my arms around her small frame. I shouldn’t have been touching her, there was a certain amount of distance that was necessary when dealing with a someone you were in charge of protecting, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. And now that she was in my arms, I realized the depth of my lapse in judgement, only it was too late. Violet’s body had relaxed, and she snuggled into my side, pushing her face into my chest.

  “Promise you won’t let Manuel use me to get to Declan?”

  “I promise.”

  I dreaded looking up from the top of Violet’s head. I knew the smirk that would be on Zane’s face would piss me off. Only when my gaze lifted, he was staring at Violet and a look of contemplation weighed heavy on his features. Zane Lewis was a hard man to figure out; he rarely did what one expected him to do. Years of having to make hard decisions that more times than not led to loss of life, even if it was the enemy, had hardened him. He covered most of his deep-seated issues with sarcasm and a devil may care attitude. But we all knew it was an act. Not that any of us would call him on it; he’d earned the right to his privacy and his pain.

  He finally nodded and lifted his chin before he walked back toward the others, leaving me alone with Violet.

  “I’m sorry I pulled you all into this mess.”

  “I’m not. I wish you would’ve come to us sooner, but there’s nothing we can do about that now. Let’s concentrate on moving forward and finding Declan.”

  It was hard to stay mad at her when, under no fault of her own, she became another piece in Manuel’s fucked-up game.

  When her breathing evened out and she gave me the rest of her weight, I closed my eyes. I was bone tired and I’d need a clear head when we reached the states.

  ***

  Hours later the jet landed in DC. Wolf and his team said their goodbyes but not before he pulled me aside and told me if I needed anything to give them a call. He also expressed his gratitude to Violet. Even if the platoon didn’t actually need the help, at the time Violet didn’t know that. There may’ve been an ulterior motive, but we all believed she would’ve helped whether or not she’d wanted the chip.

  With the SEAL team on their way back to San Diego, we were now left with what to do with Violet. She looked worn down and small, not to mention even though she’d slept on the plane, she looked like she needed a week’s worth of rest.

  “You can take her to my cabin,” Jasmin offered.

  Jasmin had inherited a cabin in Claiborne, Maryland. It was located on the beautiful shores of the Chesapeake Bay. For some unexpected reason I wanted nothing more than to take Violet out there and surround her with the peace and tranquility the cabin offered, but I knew that wasn’t smart.

  “I don’t want to be that far from the rest of the team.” It was a forgone conclusion Violet would be staying with me, the question was where.

  Taking her to the office was an option; there were bunks there we used when we had watch or were too tired to drive home after we got back from a mission. It wouldn’t be ideal or comfortable, but it would be secure.

  “Stay at the barn. There’s a bedroom and security’s tight,” Zane offered. I nodded in agreement and Zane turned to Eric. “You and Jasmin head into the office. I’m sure my brother will be sending out search and rescue if he doesn’t lay eyes on his wife soon. I was happy he read the SITREP while we were OCONUS and I didn’t have to deal with his shit fit in person when he found out about what happened at the hotel.”

  “Great, throw me to the wolves.” Jasmin smiled, not caring one bit her husband Linc was pissed. It didn’t surprise me Linc was mad his wife had been involved in a firefight while in Africa. We all knew Jasmin could and would handle business, but no man likes to know his wife was in the line of fire.

  “He’s your man. You deal with him. I’m taking Jaxon and Violet to the barn. Do me a favor, yeah? Have him out of there before I get in.”

  “Oh, we won’t be there. Don’t worry.” Jasmin winked at Zane and he made his customary gagging sound, the same sound he made anytime either Jasmin or Linc brought up their sex life to him.

  “I’ll wait you for at the office, Z,” Eric said before he walked to one of the company-issued SUV’s that’d been left at the hangar for us.

  “I’ll be in touch later,” Jasmin told me before she turned to Violet. “Be smart and don’t leave Jaxon’s side. And thanks for…just thanks.”

  Zane looked at me, and I looked back at him before we both looked at Jasmin. I think I might’ve momentarily been transported to another universe, one where Jasmin Parker says thank you. Violet, who didn’t even know Jasmin, was shocked into silence. I tried to remember the last time she’d said thank you to anyone on the team and was coming up empty.

  “You ready?” Zane asked, cutting off my musings.

  “Yeah.” Before I could stop myself, I reached for Violet’s hand and pulled her close. I told myself it was a safety precaution. I also told myself I hadn’t felt the rush of excitement when she held tight and gave my hand a squeeze.

  Chapter Eleven

  Violet

  Zane got us settled in the basement, which consisted of going through a ridiculous amount of security checkpoints and calling to talk to Garrett. Which was not a fun conversation. He had confirmed Zane’s suspicions, the man I killed was not a government agent. I suppose me killing the man in my apartment was justified considering he’d broken in, but it was difficult to hear his name and learn he had a family. Somehow, when I believed he was a nameless MSS agent it was easier to process. Now I was left with an uneasy guilt of taking a life.

  Zane and Jaxon had both tried to console me; however, their well-meaning words did nothing to assuage the rock in my stomach. Zane said his goodbyes, leaving me alone with Jaxon for the first time since we’d met. Now I had a different kind of uneasy feeling. Not that it had escaped my notice before, but alone in the basement bedroom sitting on a bed while he rummaged through a backpack it hit me just how good looking he was.

  “How old are you?” I asked.

  Jaxon looked over his shoulder and answered, “Thirty-five.”

  He went back to his bag and turned to face me holding a USAF t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. “Do you have something to sleep in?”

  His question caught me off guard and my mind wandered to him undressing. I wondered if his muscles were really as big as they looked under his tight black tee. Did he have ridges lining his abdomen like I’d seen in movies? Would he let me touch them if he did? The few men I’d been with were not what one would call physically fit, they were intellectuals. While they weren’t pudgy, they certainly didn’t have the hardness Jaxon had. Nor did they make me want to rip their shirts off and …

  Jaxon cleared his throat, bringing my eyes up from his chest to the smirk on his handsome face. What did I care if I’d been caught? In a few days I’d be locked away somewhere to spend the rest of my lonely life behind bars. The realization made me brave. I had nothing to lose. This would be my last chance to have sex, to see if it was as great as I’d read it was in romance novels with a sexy well-built soldier. Surely it had to be better than it’d been in the past. He looked like he had the experience and if he didn’t, seeing his body up close would be good enough for me.

  I thought about lying and telling him I slept nude, but as brave as I thought I was I couldn’t be that brazen. I was still me, a little shy and self-conscious when it came to sex. And while the idea of ripping his clothes off and begging him to take to me bed sounded like a good idea in my head, I’d never actually do it.

  So instead I told him I did. He allowed me to shower first in the small utilitarian bathroom, sadly alone. The hot water di
d wonders, washing the last two days away. Before I’d left the room, Jaxon had removed the bandage he’d fashioned around my bicep and told me to clean it well and he’d redress it when I was done. Now that it was clean, and I wasn’t so scared, I inspected my arm and he was right, I was lucky, and it was just a graze. The area around the cut, what Jaxon had called a power burn, looked worse than the gash the bullet had left.

  I stood in the shower long after I was clean, contemplating how my life had come to this. I’d spent the last six months in limbo, a mental torture I couldn’t escape. I didn’t regret trying to help those agents, but now instead, mourning the loss of my freedom, I was pissed. Angrier than I’d ever been in my whole life. I hated Timothy Clark. I hated Manuel Ortega and whatever plan he’d devised. I hated the universe for taking my birth parents, my twin, and my adopted parents. I was a two-time orphan. I had nothing. I hated that I felt sorry for myself. I hated what my life had become, everyone and everything. Fuck Manuel Ortega. I hoped he got locked in the cell next to me and he could rot right alongside me.

  Fuck. The. World.

  “Hey.” The shower curtain was pulled back and I jumped, hitting my elbow on the water controls. “Come here. You’re okay.”

  “What? Why?” I belatedly remembered I was naked and tried to cover my girly bits, but I slipped again and reached out to grab Jaxon’s arm before I fell.

  Jaxon steadied me with one arm and turned off the water with the other. Once I had my balance he reached and pulled a towel from the bar on the wall and wrapped it around me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked again.

  “Come on.” He guided me out of the shower stall and grabbed a smaller hand towel, using it to squeeze the water out of my dripping hair. “I should’ve known better. I’m sorry.”

  I still didn’t understand what he was talking about. He dried my legs and my arms, careful not to touch the gash on my bicep. The towel went to my shoulders and he slowly moved the cloth against my skin, soaking up the water but never breaking eye contact. His eyes were full of concern and sympathy.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” I sobbed. “I don’t want your pity.”

  He didn’t say anything when he walked me into the bedroom, stopping to grab his USAF shirt. He pulled it over my head, placed my arms through the openings, and smoothed it down my torso before pulling the wet towel from under it. His shirt was too big and stopped mid-thigh. I was mostly covered but still felt extremely exposed. He reached into my bag and grabbed a pair of panties, knelt in front of me, and tapped one ankle. I picked up my foot and he repeated the process with the other foot, pulling my panties up and settling them on my hips. I should’ve been mortified Jaxon had dressed me, but I wasn’t. There was nothing sexual about the act. There was no hunger in his gaze; it was blank. Nothing. Just like the rest of my life - empty.

  It wasn’t until Jaxon had pulled the covers back, helped me into bed, and climbed in behind that he spoke.

  “The last thing I feel for you is pity, Violet.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jaxon

  I shouldn’t have been in the bed with Violet at all, but especially when she was half naked and vulnerable. When I heard her sobbing in the shower the last thread of anger I’d been harboring broke loose. I should’ve known better than to allow her to be alone after the last forty-eight hours. I knew the break down was coming; I saw it on the plane. As tough as she tried to be, pretending what had happened in the hotel room was no big deal, I knew better.

  The look of devastation and defeat on her face when I pulled the shower curtain back was gut wrenching. I didn’t think she even realized she’d been crying; however, she hadn’t protested when I dried her off and dressed her. I still needed to tend to her arm, but I didn’t have it in me to let her go just yet. It was by some miracle I was able to keep my body’s reaction under control, seeing her wet naked form in the shower threatened my resolve. She was a beautiful woman with her clothes on. But standing before me, even with tears streaming down her cheeks, fully nude, was a sight to behold. The woman had curves in all the right places. I’d like to say I was a better man and hadn’t looked, but once her uncovered full breasts came into view I couldn’t help myself. They were large and looked to be pillowy soft, the perfect size to push together and bury my cock between. The thought made me a douche, but I was man enough not to act on my attraction. The last thing she needed from me, was for me to use her to satisfy my urges. Not that she wouldn’t be more than satisfied herself. Bottom line was it would be wrong to touch her.

  “Tell me something about yourself,” she whispered.

  I didn’t make a habit of telling women about my personal life, but I couldn’t deny her.

  “There’s nothing special to tell. I grew up in Southern California, joined the Air Force and spent some time traveling around.”

  “Somehow I doubt there’s nothing special. Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  “I do. I have a younger brother. He’s still in California. He’s a cop.”

  “A family of service. Was your dad in the military?”

  “No.” I chuckled at the thought of my father getting his hands dirty. He was a good father and taught me and my brother the value of hard work, but his idea of work was sitting behind a desk. “He’s an investment banker.”

  “Was he disappointed you didn’t follow into finance?”

  “Not at all. He encouraged me and Cooper to work hard. He didn’t care if we were tradesmen or an executive. As long as we were the best we could be, it didn’t matter.”

  “What did you do in the Air Force?” she yawned her question.

  “I was Pararescue with the 71st Rescue Squadron.”

  “A PJ. That’s under the Air Force Special Operation Command, right? Were you deployed?”

  I was impressed she knew what a PJ was. Most people think of SEALs or Delta operators when they hear Special Forces, not knowing the Air Force had their own Special Forces team going back to World War II.

  “It is. I spent more years in the sandbox than I did on American soil.”

  Violet yawned again and shifted.

  “You should get some sleep,” I told her and rolled so I could pull the covers over her.

  “Will you stay with me?”

  Would I stay? Yes. Should I? That was a big fat fucking no.

  “Would you be more comfortable if I made a bedroll on the floor?” I asked.

  “No. I want you close.”

  I rolled off the bed and undressed, not bothering to leave the room. Violet was on her side safely facing away. I tagged the sweats I’d pulled out of my pack earlier and put them on; the extra barrier was necessary. We were playing a dangerous game sleeping in the same bed. She might not have realized it, but a searing current was sizzling just below the surface threatening my control. Need was starting to short circuit my brain and all the reasons why I couldn’t have her had disappeared.

  I slid back into bed next to her and tried to keep a respectable distance between us. Surprisingly it didn’t take long for exhaustion to pull me under. I felt Violet move closer, her tiny body pushed tight against mine, and she tangled her legs with mine. If I wasn’t careful we’d do something we’d both end up regretting, especially if she didn’t stop wiggling her ass into my crotch. She stopped moving and her breathing evened out. After a few deep breaths to calm the ache she stirred, I closed my eyes.

  I just had to make it through the night. How many times had I fallen asleep with that same thought? Only this wasn’t combat, and I wasn’t in desert. I was in a bed with a soft beautiful woman at my side. It was no less precarious. As a matter of fact, Violet Meyers was far riskier than any mission I’d been on.

  ***

  I was wide awake the moment Violet moved. I kept my eyes closed when she’d turned toward me and rested her head on my chest. Her arm was thrown over my stomach, and her touch was feather light. I assumed she was tracing the tattoo on my side, but I couldn’t concentrate enough on t
he pattern she was drawing to know for sure. She kept her movements slow and gentle; thinking I was still asleep she explored my chest and abs. My muscles tightened under her touch and she became emboldened, going lower, trailing her fingers around my bellybutton, then lower still stopping at the waistband of my sweatpants. Her hand lingered before she started to slide her finger tips under the elastic.

  I grabbed her wrist before she could go any further. Violet froze, then tried to pull her hand away but I kept a firm grip on her wrist, keeping her fingers just under my sweats.

  “Think carefully before you move your hand any lower, Vi.”

  “I have thought about it.” Her voice was throaty and sounded even sexier still rough with sleep.

  I loosened my grip and without waiting she pushed under the material. She didn’t have to go far before her hand reached the tip of my dick.

  The groan that escaped when she traced the head was involuntary, and only served as encouragement. Her hand pulled back and she dove back in this time under my boxers as well. The skin-on-skin contact was nearly too much. I had to grab her hand again when she fisted my dick and stroked me from tip to root. With my large hand over her much smaller one, she tried to stroke me again. Taking both of our hands down to the base, she stopped and squeezed. Before she could move, I tried to warn her again.

  “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “Yes, it is.” Her words were accompanied by her tongue licking around my nipple.

  Holy fuck, she was going to kill me.

  This was a bad idea.

  “It isn’t. If you’d stop to think about it, you’d know I was right.”

  “I don’t want to think anymore Jaxon. I want to not think. I know I’m using you to escape if only for a few minutes. But I need this. Please.”

  I let her plea roll around in my head before I answered.

  “You can take whatever you need, but you’ll need more than a few minutes. You’re in charge. You set the pace, and we stop whenever you want.”