Elite Ops Complete Series

by Lora Leigh

  “You’re not ready for bed yet,” he told her. “When you’re ready, sweet, your body will let me know.”

  He led her to the door as she shot him a frown over her shoulder. “That’s a very arrogant statement, Micah,” she told him, irritation seeping into her voice.

  He had to be the most arrogant, irritating, frustrating man in the world.

  “I’m a very arrogant man,” he informed her as they stepped from the apartment. Before the door closed, the apartment door across from them opened and Risa watched as the agent Micah called John sprinted across the hall into her apartment.

  “What does he do in there while we’re gone?” she muttered as she heard the locks click behind them.

  “Trust me, with John, you really don’t want to know,” Micah growled, his voice low. “Now be a good girl. We don’t discuss the pests in your apartment while outside it.”

  She almost laughed at the comment before he nipped at her ear gently and led her to the elevator. The smile lingered on her face. Micah had a way about him that made her want to smile, made her want to join in whatever amusement twinkled in his black eyes.

  “Those jeans are killing me,” he sighed as they rode down the elevator.

  “I could have worn the slacks,” she tried for a sober look as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

  “I could spank you,” he muttered. “Such vile words should never come from such pretty lips.”

  She had to turn her back and bite her lip to keep from laughing. But she felt him behind her, and she swore she felt him looking at her butt. The jacket did nothing to cover it.

  As she stepped out of the elevator, it felt natural to have his hand riding at the small of her back, leading her through the lobby.

  “Mr. Sloane, your vehicle is waiting outside.” The doorman handed him the key. “Have a nice outing, sir.”

  “Thank you, Clive.” Micah accepted his key before moving to the car.

  Micah opened the door for her, helped her in, then moved quickly around the vehicle to the driver’s side. Sliding in and shutting the door, he started the engine and pulled out into the traffic.

  She stared around the car, wondering how safe it was here. Were there “pests” in the car as well?

  His chuckle drew her gaze back to him.

  “I can almost read your expression.” His smile was quick, warm. “The car is safe, sweet.”

  “How do you know?” she asked. “It’s been parked in a public garage.”

  “Locked, secured, and under the eagle eye of Nik’s camera,” he told her. “We rigged enough security to ensure we didn’t have any surprises.”

  “That’s good then.” The plush interior was comfortable and warm, the car smooth as Micah flicked on the turn signal and headed for the interstate.

  “What kind of party has your grandmother arranged?” he asked her then.

  “Just a small one,” she told him. “She nearly canceled it once she learned I was in danger. She was afraid the same thing would happen to me that happened to Emily.”

  Her friend Emily. She wanted to cringe when she thought of the older girl. Emily had been with her the night of the kidnapping. Jansen had arranged for Emily’s second kidnapping six years before. He’d been determined to acquire her as his own personal pet. It had been during her rescue from that kidnapping that they had learned Jansen was involved. He had died in the cell where Emily had been held.

  Such a tangled web of evil, she thought as she watched Micah take the ramp onto the interstate. There had been so many lives that Jansen had affected, so much pain that he had dealt.

  He had been the cause of the disappearance and death of Nathan Malone, a friend to the SEALs whose wives had befriended Risa. He had nearly killed Emily and Kell, and only God knew how many other lives he had destroyed. He had been a monster, and the world should have been told what he was, rather than allowing the fictional reputation he had built for himself to stand.

  “We’re not going to let anything happen to you,” Micah promised. “You definitely won’t be visiting the ladies’ room without plenty of company though.”

  Emily had been taken through a concealed door in the ladies’ room when she had accompanied Jansen’s second wife, who had pretended to be upset and ill.

  That woman had been diseased, Risa knew. Risa had spent years seeing the manipulating evil that had filled Jansen’s second wife as well as Jansen.

  “I think I’ll just stay out of the downstairs ladies’ room to be certain,” Risa told Micah. “I only need to be at the party a few hours; then I can leave. It’s just a hundred people, her best friends and their guests, so there shouldn’t be any surprises there.”

  “And unless Orion is intimately acquainted with your grandmother, then we should have no problems,” Micah told her as he handled the vehicle through the early evening traffic crush.

  “I rather doubt it,” she said as she watched the traffic nervously. It was running fast and aggressive as it usually did at this time of the day. If it had been up to Risa, she would have left earlier or later. She hadn’t considered the traffic, though, when they left. Her mind had been on other things.

  Things such as the erection beneath Micah’s jeans, and the flash of a fantasy that had run through her mind. The same fantasy that had followed her into her dreams last night. Her on her knees, his rough, aroused voice telling her to take him into her mouth. How to pleasure him.

  She almost shivered, only barely managed to restrain the urge. She wanted that. She wanted to experience everything she could experience with him while he was in her life. And yet there was still the fear. She’d already been with him once, she’d felt his possession, knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but the fear was still there, and it wasn’t that easy to push out of her head. Because with the fantasies, there was also a mix of the nightmares. They intruded at the worst possible times, reminded her that pain could very well await her.

  And she still wasn’t certain whether Micah wanted her because he found her desirable or because he felt sorry for her. She knew a man could become hard and could even climax whether he truly desired a woman or not, according to the Internet research she had done the day before while Micah was talking to several members of his team in the kitchen.

  One site on military personnel had even stated that adrenaline alone could cause a man to get an erection and after the erection was attained, finding release wasn’t that difficult.

  “You’re thinking too hard?” Micah stated, a question in his voice.

  Glancing over at him, she felt a flush mounting in her face before she turned quickly away from him.

  “Just quiet,” she said, trying to cover her embarrassment.

  She was sitting here thinking about his erections while he was driving her to her grandmother’s home. Obviously she had little or no self-control, despite the promise to herself that she would force herself to stop focusing on the needs that she couldn’t seem to halt.

  It hadn’t been this bad before Micah, except in her sleep.

  “Well now, if that isn’t a pretty blush,” he crooned, and the sound of his voice was like black velvet. Or black magic. Completely tempting and forbidden. “Maybe you’ll tell me what you were thinking about when I get you home this evening.”

  Home. She cleared her throat and risked another glance at him. There was a hint of a smile at his lips. It made them look even more kissable than before.

  “Maybe,” she said breathlessly, remembering how he had convinced her to sit in his lap earlier, and the results of it. “You may have a chance at convincing me.”

  He chuckled. No sooner had the sound left his chest than he tensed. Risa saw his hands clenching on the steering wheel as the car jerked, nearly throwing them into the lane of traffic next to them.

  His eyes jerked to the dash, then the road. His hands had a white-knuckled grip on the car as he cursed viciously.

  “Hold on,” he growled, his voice still calm, the vehicle his attempts to steer it.
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  Risa felt her heart rise to her throat. It was obvious there was a problem. The car was shuddering, the steering wheel jerking in his grip as he attempted to steer onto the center median.

  The car wasn’t wanting to be steered. The steering wheel kept jerking to the left as he attempted to pull it to the right. He jerked the gearshift down, tore the parking brake up. There was a scream of tires against the blacktop as the car seemed to jump partially into the opposite lane.

  Micah was fighting the wheel as horns blared around him. A black SUV plowed into the side of the car, throwing it back into the lane, then onto the median.

  Risa fought the screams rising in her throat as she heard the sound of glass shattering. Her hands were braced against the seat, her fingers digging into the cushioned side as they bumped over a dip a second before the car tilted.

  Something hit the back, throwing her into the door as she wondered frantically where the air bags were. Their seat belts were latched securely but weren’t protecting Micah from the glass that flew around them as the front end hit a cement barrier and the windshield shattered.

  “Micah!” she screamed out his name as the car rocked to a stop, smoke drifting from the engine as he slumped against the seat.

  She reached for him, her hands almost touching him when her door was jerked open and hard hands reached for her.

  She turned, expecting Nik or Travis, one of the men she had seen from Micah’s team. It was a stranger reaching for her. Dark glasses, dark hair. A vehicle was parked too close to the car, doors open as strong hands gripped her arm and pulled at her.

  “Micah!” she screamed his name as hysteria began to take over.

  She clutched at his arm, her nails digging into the leather of his jacket as she clawed for purchase and fought the hands trying to tear her from the vehicle.

  “Micah, wake up!” she screamed as she lost her battle. Those brutal hands grabbed hers, squeezing until she released Micah with a scream of pain.

  She was torn from the car with enough force that she slammed to her knees. Scrambling against the grass beneath her, she fought to find her footing, to throw herself back into the car as she screamed out for Micah.

  Why wasn’t anyone helping? She could hear the horns, the cars passing. She glimpsed the shocked faces as she was lifted by her hair and thrown toward the SUV.

  “Micah!” She couldn’t let this happen. No one would do this unless it was the man sent to kill her.

  She tried to see his face, tried to slap the glasses from it, to identify him. She had to get details. Micah would save her. He would need to know what this man looked like. Micah needed to know who Orion was.

  “Bitch!” Her claws raked his face as she fought him, twisting and jerking against his hold, her hands flying out, slapping at him, trying to claw him again.

  He was pushing her closer to the SUV. Dragging her by her hair and her arm, trying to throw her inside it. She felt a pinch at her arm and a feral insanity surged through her.

  An injection; the bastard had shot something into her arm. Her scream was enraged as she tore as his arm, clawed at his hand, and felt the darkness edging at her vision.

  No. No. She couldn’t let this happen. She couldn’t let him take her. Micah would never forgive himself. She wouldn’t have a chance to live if this man got her in that SUV.

  “Micah!” She felt herself weakening.

  Tears streamed from her eyes as her knees collapsed and the darkness began to swell through her. She felt herself falling, felt her face scrape the grass, and before she lost consciousness, she could have sworn she heard a gunshot.

  MICAH CAME BACK to consciousness with Risa’s screams ringing in his head. He could hear her terror, the sharp, imperative sound of rage and pain, and he knew in that instant what had happened.

  The steering had been sabotaged as well as the brakes. He’d felt the explosion beneath the car a second before everything had gone to hell. He’d almost had a handle on it, almost had them safely out of traffic, when that damned SUV plowed into them.

  The air bags hadn’t deployed. Somehow they, too, had been deactivated. A gunshot through the back windshield had also taken out the front one, shattering the already-broken window and throwing glass through the car.

  Blood filled his vision as he struggled against his seat belt. It took precious seconds to tear his weapon from the pocket of his jacket and too damned long to struggle to lie across the seats where he could glimpse her struggling with the hulking form of a male trying to push her into the black SUV that had pushed them off the interstate.

  He couldn’t see. He swiped at the blood that smeared over his eyes, but the figures were wavering. His vision was fucked the hell up. He was seeing double for too long. He couldn’t tell where she was, and the bastard had her too close. There was no way to fire at the man attempting to take her without possibly hitting her instead.

  He had to do something. He pushed himself from the car as he aimed to the side of the assailant and fired. Risa was to his right—well, two Risas. There were two versions of her assailant on the left. Micah fired to the left.

  The bastard was still trying to shove her into the SUV.

  Micah aimed at the ground and fired again, close to the other man’s foot. Had the bastard jerked?

  Risa fell from his grip as he jumped into the SUV. The assailant’s foot was on the gas before his door was closed and Micah was struggling away from the car.

  Where the hell was his backup?

  He rolled from the car, catching his weight on his shoulder as he struggled to get to her still form where she had been left, crumpled on the ground.

  “Risa!” he choked out her name.

  God, had he hit her with that bullet? Had his vision been worse than he thought it was?

  He could hear sirens, the sound of brakes, and voices rising as he stumbled to her.

  “Risa. Baby.” He touched her hair. There was blood on her face, her arm. Her eyes were closed, her body limp.

  “Risa. Please. Baby, please.” He hunched over her, rabid fury coursing through him as he fought to run his hands over her body, to check for injuries.

  She couldn’t be hurt, he prayed. He couldn’t have shot her. Not Risa. How could he live with himself if he had hurt her, even in his effort to protect her?

  Shaking his head, he lifted it, his weapon coming up as a shadow fell over them. Shadows.

  “Micah, it’s Jordan. Dammit, stand down.”

  Jordan came to a hard crouch as the other shadows, Nik and Noah, were suddenly there as well.

  Micah wiped his arm over his face again, feeling the blood that seeped from his forehead and altered his vision as it dripped into his eyes.

  “Is she shot?” he screamed. “I fired. I fired, Jordan. Did I hit her?” His hands ran down her arms, her waist. He couldn’t find a wound, but he was terrified to turn her over, too scared he would hurt her worse before help could arrive.

  “Ambulance is on its way!” Noah yelled over the sound of sirens approaching. “Son of a bitch, Noah. We could see him jerking at her and couldn’t get past those damned cars deadlocked back there. I haven’t run that far that fast in my life.”

  Micah shook his head. Dammit, he couldn’t see her clear enough. He couldn’t keep the blood out of his eyes.

  “Risa,” he choked out her name as Jordan began moving her. “Did I hit her? I fired. The bastard almost had her, Jordan. He almost took her.”

  Control. He was losing control, losing focus. He’d just held her in his lap no more than a few hours ago and given her her first taste of pleasure. There had been a smile on her lips before the world had gone to hell. She had been thinking about him. He’d eased her, gentled her. He couldn’t have hurt her.

  “I said stand down, Micah!” Jordan’s tone was a lash of command. “She’s been injected. He broke the skin. Looks like a sedative. She’s out cold. No wounds other than surface cuts. Ambulance is here.”

  Dizzying weakness tore through Micah.<
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  “Noah, ride with her. Make sure.” He felt something on his forehead. “Don’t leave her alone.”

  “Dammit, we’re not leaving her alone,” Jordan cursed. “Hold that on your stubborn-assed head until we get the paramedics over here. Son of a bitch, you’re as bad as Noah.”

  As bad as Noah? Hell no. No one was as bad as Noah when he was wounded. The man was like a kamikaze when he saw his own blood. Unless his wife was around. No, if Bella was there, then he was like a big-assed baby crying for attention. Micah was doing neither.

  He lifted Risa against his chest, lowered his head over hers, and whispered a prayer against her forehead. She was okay. He could feel her even breaths. She wasn’t struggling to breathe. He let his fingers find her pulse; it was slow but steady.

  She had been injected. A sedative. She’d been given a sedative. But she had fought the bastard. Micah had heard her screams; he’d seen her lash out at her assailant’s face.

  “Fingernails.” He lifted his head to find Jordan. “Her fingernails. DNA. She raked his face.”

  “Good girl!” Jordan exclaimed. “The paramedics are here. I’ll have them preserve anything they find. Get ready now, dammit; we have to move her.”

  Micah’s hold tightened on her. He couldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t be certain she was safe. He had almost failed her once, he couldn’t fail her again.

  “Dammit, Micah—”

  “Jordan, get them in together and fucking let it the hell go,” Noah suddenly cursed. “He’s not going to let her go.”

  He wasn’t letting her go. He gripped his gun in one hand, his arms wrapped around her as he held her to his chest.

  “Get them in the ambulance together. Micah’s injuries are worse; she’s sedated. You have the power to do it, now do it, and let’s get them the hell out of here.”

  Micah let the argument drift away. He struggled as they lifted Risa onto a stretcher. The paramedic tried to push him back until he found the business end of Micah’s weapon in his throat. Micah was pushed into the ambulance with her moments later as he fought to blink the damned blood out of his eyes. Weak but conscious, he let the paramedic check the head wound, Micah’s gun held carefully at the side of his leg as he heard Jordan in the front of the ambulance barking out orders to the driver.