Elite Ops Complete Series

by Lora Leigh

  Jordan wiped his hand over his face. “That’s what the FBI thought two years ago when they learned someone was gunning for a senator’s wife. He killed the agent and the wife’s bodyguards at the safe house. She ended up with her wrists sliced, Micah. You know that.”

  “The FBI didn’t know who they were dealing with,” Micah argued. “I want her out of this, Jordan. Now.”

  “Your emotions want her out of this,” Jordan stated quietly. “You can’t let your emotions affect an operation.”

  Jordan was aware of Tehya as she sat silently on the couch on the other side of his chair, watching him too closely.

  “Are you going to fuck with me on this, Jordan?” Micah’s voice was dark, dangerous.

  At any other time, Jordan would have definitely fucked with him. Jordan was in command, not Micah. But in this case Jordan had a feeling Risa would have more to say in the matter than Jordan could come up with.

  He’d seen her eyes at that meeting with the attorneys. She was stronger than anyone was giving her credit for. Risa would want to know the risks, she’d weigh them, and Jordan had a feeling she would give Micah a fight he hadn’t anticipated.

  “We’ll discuss it,” Jordan finally relented. “I’ll be over there this afternoon. We’ll let Risa know what she’s looking at and see if she’s willing to go to the safe house. We can’t force her into it; remember that.”

  “She’ll go.” Micah’s voice hardened. A second later the call disconnected.

  Jordan closed the phone, laid it back on the table, and watched the surveillance videos thoughtfully.

  “He has a weakness,” Tehya said quietly. “You didn’t anticipate this, did you, General Malone?”

  He flicked her a cool look. He wasn’t a general. He never had been. The mockery in her voice assured him that she was well aware of that.

  “He’ll get over it.” Jordan shrugged, though he knew better. He’d seen Micah’s eyes in the limo, seen how he held Risa. The man was a goner. He was so damned caught up in what he was feeling for Risa that he didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.

  “He’ll get over it?” Tehya asked as she twirled a long strand of fiery red hair. “You don’t just get over love, Jordan. Once it’s there, it’s there to stay.”

  “He’s not in love; he’s in lust,” Jordan argued, even though he knew better.

  Tehya’s soft laughter was tinged with mockery. “You don’t believe in love, do you?”

  “Nope.” He didn’t believe in love. He believed in possessive instincts; he believed in a lust that sometimes went too deep. That was what was happening with Micah, he assured himself. Just a surfeit of lust.

  “Then explain Noah,” she challenged him.

  “Noah was a Malone. There’s no accounting for the insanity that runs in our family sometimes.”

  Noah had once been Nathan Malone, Jordan Malone’s nephew. Now he was Noah Blake, one of the best damned agents Jordan had. Noah was also the man who had reclaimed the wife he had once known, and a soul Jordan had feared his nephew would never find again.

  “But that insanity can’t touch you, right?” Tehya pointed out.

  He didn’t take his gaze off the pictures displayed by the monitors set up.

  “Have you known me to show insanity?” he asked her rather than answering her question.

  She breathed out heavily. “Stone man,” she muttered. “No, Jordan, you’re never insane.”

  “Then you’ve answered your own question.”

  Now he had to figure out how to convince Micah that he wasn’t insane, either. Because sure as hell Micah was falling into that emotional pit of darkness that men never seemed to claw their way back out of.

  Love, my ass, he thought. He might as well blow Micah’s head off himself, because there was no doubt in his mind it was going to explode before this mission was finished. And God help them all if Risa didn’t survive Orion’s determination to kill her.

  “Yeah.” Tehya rose, long gorgeous legs filling his peripheral vision as her voice echoed with anger. “I answered my own damned question. Good night, boss man.”

  He didn’t speak. He didn’t let his eyes follow her, but damned if it wasn’t hard. If any woman had been created to be a weakness, then it was Tehya. And Jordan promised himself, No weakness.

  FOR THE FIRST time in his life, Micah felt the knowledge that his heart was in danger. Staring into the dim light of the bedroom as dawn filtered through the heavy drapes, he felt his chest clench with emotions he wasn’t entirely certain he was ready to face.

  Tucked snug and warm against his chest, Risa slept on, exhausted and replete. Her body conformed to his, soft where his was hard, tender where his was tough.

  He stroked his hand down her naked back, feeling the warmth of her, the tender flesh, the silkiness of her skin. As though he had never touched a woman’s body before, he luxuriated in the feel of her. He committed each dip and curve of her body to memory, and reminded himself that dead men weren’t supposed to dream.

  That was one of the rules.

  Dead men don’t talk.

  Dead men don’t dream.

  Dead men don’t love.

  Dead men don’t have families.

  Dead men didn’t have memories.

  And dead men definitely weren’t able to have a weakness.

  Micah had a weakness. A small, beautiful, passionate weakness that he feared could become the destruction of his soul.

  Once, long ago, Micah had wondered if settling down, being a lover and a husband, would ever be a part of his future. Until six years before.

  Until he had disobeyed the order that had come down through the chain of command in the ranks of the Mossad. The order that Orion was off-limits. All investigations into his identity were to be halted.

  That order had come down just weeks after Micah’s mother’s death. It was an order he and his father had been unable to follow. And they had both died because of it.

  His father at the hands of a suicide bomber.

  Micah, or David as he had been, had died when Orion’s bullet had grazed his temple and he had thrown himself overboard from the freighter he had tracked the killer to.

  Somehow, the man Micah had been had been betrayed by his own. He’d made the mistake of calling in Orion’s location and requesting a backup. Orion had found him instead.

  Now, Orion threatened the woman who had managed to work her way into Micah’s heart, when he had sworn he didn’t have a heart to enter.

  Dead men don’t have a weakness, he reminded himself. He was a dead man, part of the Elite Operational Unit that existed in the dark, deeper than black ops, independent of government interference.

  David Abijah no longer existed. Micah Sloane’s identity could be terminated at any time and a new name, a new identity, could be created. A relationship, especially marriage or a family, could never survive the pressure.

  His hand lifted to touch her hair, his jaw tightening at the silken warmth of the thick strands. Nothing, no other woman, had ever felt as warm in his embrace, nor as perfect.

  “No one has ever held me like this.” Her voice was soft in the twilight, a whisper of awe that had him blinking back a strange moisture from his eyes.

  His Risa had never been held in a lover’s embrace, and she had been born for a man to protect, to cherish.

  “You could have had your pick of lovers,” he told her, knowing it was true. “But I won’t say I’m sorry to have been the first.”

  He turned to her, holding her against him as he stared into her upraised face.

  The smile that curled at her lips was faintly disbelieving. “I’m not exactly beautiful, Micah.”

  He frowned at that statement. “This isn’t true, Risa. Do you think I’d be perpetually hard for you if you weren’t attractive? I can barely walk for the stiff cock torturing me.”

  Something gleamed in her eyes. An edge of hunger, perhaps the faintest hint of belief that she was indeed beautiful.

&nbs
p; “You’re odd, though,” she stated with a hint of amusement. “Your opinion doesn’t count.”

  “My opinion is the only one that counts.” His arms tightened around her as he pushed his cock against the seam of her silky thighs. “My dick is the only one that matters, because it’s the only one in this bed.”

  “That’s true,” she agreed somberly then. “Only you.”

  She would end up breaking his head before this was finished. He would end up hurting her before the day was out.

  He’d already made up his mind what had to be done to finish this particular operation.

  “Remember that, Risa.” His hand tightened in her hair as he held the back of her neck. “In the future, when you take another lover, remember, your beauty is unsurpassed. It’s strong and wise, and it’s a beauty that goes clear to your soul. Remember that, and whoever sees you will know it as well.”

  The thought of her taking another lover made him want to be violent. He’d have to mark Atlanta off his places to train, he warned himself. He’d never be able to come to the city without checking up on her. And he’d never be able to control his rage if he saw another man touch her.

  “When I have another lover?” she asked, almost thoughtfully. “You don’t intend to stick around for a while then?”

  “You’ll be safe soon. You won’t need me after that.” He kept his tone casual, kept the furious regret and unending hunger from reflecting in it.

  Micah felt her breath catch, felt the tension that tightened through her body as she stared back at him.

  He couldn’t tell her he was sending her away, not yet. He couldn’t make himself speak the words, couldn’t force them past his lips.

  “I see.” She lay still against him. Micah couldn’t feel a sense of anger from her, or even hurt. She was perfectly composed; whatever she might be feeling was perfectly hidden.

  It infuriated him.

  She was hiding again, even more than he did. Pushing her emotions so far inside her that even Micah couldn’t sense them.

  “What do you see?” He couldn’t help but ask the question.

  “That I had better enjoy what time I have with you then,” she said quietly. “However you want to spend that time.”

  RISA FELT AS THOUGH she were breaking apart inside. She had told herself over the past week that Micah was nothing to her. He was just a man who made her feel wanted. One who wouldn’t be staying long. She had known he wasn’t committed to hanging around after Orion was disposed of.

  But maybe a part of her had hoped. Maybe there was a fragile thread of emotion, something building inside her, that she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge until now.

  It wasn’t that big of a deal; she would survive just fine when Micah was gone. And she was lying to herself. She knew she was, even as the thought drifted through her mind.

  “I know how I want to spend this time with you,” his voice whispered in shades of the desert. It was rare for the hint of an accent to slip free. Rare that the oddly fluid cadence was allowed to stroke over her senses.

  She shivered at the sound, at the intent that suddenly tightened his body.

  Risa licked her lips nervously, though why she was nervous she wasn’t certain. She shouldn’t have been. He’d touched her many times, he had taken her no more than hours before, and he had showed her the beauty and the pleasure of a touch that had brought her nothing but pain in the past.

  He was wiping the past away, she realized. As she lifted her head, her lips parting for his kiss, she let the warmth of his touch steal over her.

  She wasn’t accustomed to his body yet, she told herself when his palm moving to her breast caused her to catch her breath in rising excitement. She was certain after a few more times it wouldn’t be so cataclysmic, would it?

  His kiss surely wouldn’t steal her breath each time he kissed her for weeks on end.

  Or would it?

  A whimper left her lips as she arched against him, feeling his hand palm her breast, his finger and thumb as they found the stiff peak of her nipple and gripped it in a heated vise.

  There was no place better to lose herself. The sensations were still a bit frightening, a bit surreal. As though this pleasure were forbidden, and she knew she was being allowed only a few moments of stolen time.

  “My Risa,” he whispered against her lips as he rolled her to her back and leaned over her.

  He was a dim outline above her, the faint light of dawn barely pressing through the thick drapes that covered the windows. He was a warm shadow above her, around her.

  He called her his, and yet he talked of leaving her.

  But he was here now. She could memorize the taste and feel of his flesh. She could let his rapid heartbeat sink into her, reassure her.

  “Yours.” She couldn’t hold the word back as his lips stroked down her neck, igniting heated flames beneath her skin as he moved to her breast. “Micah,” she sighed his name, and lifted to him as his tongue stroked over her nipple. “Touch me.”

  She loved his touch. The feel of his hands moving over her body, parting her thighs. The rasp of his body hair against her sensitive flesh, his lips, teeth, and tongue tormenting the hard tip of her breast.

  “I love touching you, Risa.” He lifted his head, his black eyes glittering in the darkness. A gleam of heat, lust, and pleasure that sent a thrill of awakening sensuality rushing through her.

  He wanted her. She could feel it.

  His cock was pressed at the juncture of her thighs, pressing against the tender bud of her clit as her legs spread wider for him.

  “Look how pretty you are.” He leaned back, spreading his legs wide between hers as his hands framed her breasts and plumped them up for her view. “Pretty, sweet nipples. They’re hard and tight for me, Risa. Eager for my touch.”

  Her hands shook as she held on to his arms, staring up at him. His expression was intent with pleasure, as though touching her was more than a sexual act.

  She was fooling herself with the feeling, and she didn’t care. She’d been without touch, without emotion, for so long that she needed that illusion. She needed to feel it was more to him than just sex, just a warm and willing body.

  “Risa, you make me lose my mind,” he groaned as he shifted back.

  He lowered one hand and gripped the base of his cock, moving it until it slid through the slick, moisture-rich folds of her sex.

  Risa moaned in rising pleasure as she felt her body prepare itself further, felt her pussy grow wetter, slicker for his penetration.

  Eyes wide, her breath harsh in the silence of the room, she watched as the broad, glistening head pressed deeper, against the flexing, tormented entrance to her vagina.

  She was aching; a flaming need echoed between her thighs as she felt him working inside her in slow, tight thrusts. His hands moved to her hips and he lifted her along the incline of his upper thighs, pressing deeper as whimpering cries fell from her lips.

  The feel of the broad, hot crest of his cock working inside her was exquisite. She could feel her muscles stretching, her flesh wrapping around him, revealing nerve endings that were otherwise hidden. They weren’t hidden any longer. They were revealed, throbbing with awareness and so sensitive that each stroke had her crying out in pleasure.

  She lifted to him, watching as his erection eased inside, pulled back, her juices gleaming on the heavy flesh before he entered her once again.

  He rocked against her, into her. He filled her until she was certain she was overfilled, only to convince her body to take more, to move against him, to ease for him.

  “See how pretty, Risa?” he groaned, his voice throbbing with the power of his lust. “I want to take you in front of a mirror. I want you to see your face as I work inside the hottest, tightest pussy I swear I’ve ever known.” His voice tightened as he spoke, echoed with power and pleasure, and sent a rush of excitement spiking through her system. “I want you to see how pretty you are.”

  She was shaking, shuddering with the pleasure
, with the look on his face, in his eyes. As the faint light of morning began to peek through the few cracks in the shades and drapes covering the window, it seemed to worship his face and the tight planes and angles of his tension-ridden body.

  Risa stared up at him, her lips parted as she fought for breath, feeling the wonder of his touch, a gift she couldn’t have imagined ever knowing before him. He gave her passion, he gave her a semblance of self-confidence, and he gave her touch.

  Digging her heels into the bed at the sides of his body, she began to move with him. Thrusting into the slow penetrations as wild cries began to build in her chest. The slow undulations were killing her. She needed more. She was close to orgasm, so close. If he would take her harder, deeper, then she could find her release without battling that veil of darkness that tried to slip in, that rocked her senses with such a shock of sensation that she flew outside herself.

  Desperation rode her now. She forced her hand from his arm, slid it down her body, and let her fingers find the swollen, tormented bud of her clit as he watched.

  “Bad Risa,” he breathed out heavily. “You’re not allowed to cheat, baby.”

  But he didn’t stop her. He watched her. His hands tightened on her hips, a grimace pulled at his expression, and his pace increased. Thighs bunching, his abs dewed with perspiration, he thrust harder inside her, working his cock into the flexing desperation of her pussy as Risa cried out in abandon.

  She couldn’t have imagined doing this. Stroking herself while he pumped inside her or the intensity of the wicked, erotic sensations that thundered through her veins.

  Lifting to him, hips churning and thrusting, her fingers stroking faster over her clit as his cock pounded inside her with stretching, burning strokes.

  She couldn’t fight the pleasure. She couldn’t fight the veil of darkness intent on rushing over her. It gathered inside her mind as the rush of pleasure became an inferno. Her fingers moved faster on her clit; her body tightened. The sensations tore through her until she slammed back at him, a wail parting her lips as her clit exploded in pleasure. The rush of orgasm peaked the little bud, then slammed into her pussy, her womb. The darkness rushed over her, then exploded into a cacophony of light and strangled cries.