by Lea Griffith
She didn’t fully relax until they were airborne.
Allie had no idea what she was heading into. But he’d promised to get her home. If she had to detour with him, well, she was placing her faith and trust in him—even though she didn’t know anything about him except that he’d killed his father, changed his name, made a new life as a Navy SEAL, and been screwed over on an undercover operation in Beirut. He had demons—big, snarly, glowing red demons. Oh, he also kissed so well that he made her forget all about McDonald’s.
And that was going to have to be enough.
He grabbed her hand, and she twined her fingers with his.
She prayed it was.
Chapter 14
Belgrade, Serbia
King sat back in his chair and propped his beer on his stomach, never taking his eyes off the gorgeous woman sleeping peacefully on the bed in front of him. His gaze veered behind her to the bank of windows the bed butted against. Belgrade was chilly this time of year, though things remained green. Fall hadn’t quite decided to take hold yet but was making a valiant effort.
The sunsets here were magnificent, the current one no exception. They’d landed around noon after a layover in Athens, Greece. The trip, rental of a vehicle once they’d arrived, and registering into the Hyatt Regency had all been uneventful.
If there was one thing Harrison Black did really well, it was create new identities. When Jude had given King the packet with the fake IDs, he hadn’t hesitated to trust them. That had been Black’s niche in Endgame Ops. Sure, he was as deadly as the rest of them, but each man brought a different set of skills to the table. That had made them one of the most elite fighting units King had ever known. Not even SEALs operated as well as Endgame had.
His eyes caught on a particularly brilliant shade of orange that blended into the salmon of the falling sun. As the colors slowly faded, the shadows became long, falling over the Sava River and burying the buildings below in darkness. Ten stories above the ground, there was still enough light to see in the room without turning on a lamp.
He took a drag off the beer and sighed. It wasn’t raining, which was always a plus.
As Allie shifted on the bed, one of her legs peeked from under the sheet he’d consistently had to cover her with, and his breath stopped. Her leg was long, lean, supple, and an ivory color that made King want to trail her skin with his fingers, maybe leave some sign he’d touched her skin—that she was hi—
Whoaaaa, boy. She wasn’t his. Couldn’t ever be. He’d made a promise to get her home safely, and until he could do that, she was staying close to him. She was also a bit of an ace in the hole. Keeping her safe in King’s shady world would require skill and strategy, but the stakes were too high to fail.
Her toenails were bare, and the sight of them had a smile pulling at his lips. What had she said on the plane? Mani, pedi, french fries. The woman was tough but so damn feminine that his back teeth ached from clenching his jaw so hard. Had he met her at any other time in his life, he would have already had her underneath him, enjoying the rounded breasts that pressed against every shirt the woman wore.
She’d walked into the suite, asked him for a T-shirt, showered, and fallen into bed. She’d slept for twelve hours straight. King had put a Do Not Disturb sign on the door and left to handle business, leaving a note on the nightstand telling her he’d be back with clothes and food. The clothes remained in the bags he’d brought them up in, and the food was long since cold, but she was getting much-needed rest so King hadn’t disturbed her.
What he had done was watch her, cataloging every inch of the skin he was blessed enough to steal a glimpse of, along with every mole or freckle that was exposed. Her hair had dried and was a thick, bone-straight, shimmering mess on her pillow. She was lying on her left side, facing him, and the sheet had fallen when her leg shifted restlessly.
King’s T-shirt had ridden up and was bunched around her slender, slightly rounded tummy. It was the curve of her hip that caught him, had his breath catching and his heart beating triplicate. It was unmarred by any string or material—just ivory skin that looked so damn soft and fragile he could drown in it.
The woman was commando. His T-shirt had stroked over that rounded ass, nestled against her mound, and, in general, had touched places on her body King could only dream about.
He took yet another pull of his brew, finishing it off as he breathed out roughly and adjusted his hard cock. It was a permanent state around her. There wasn’t much he could do about it. So he did his best to ignore it. Truth be told, it was about way more than the physical need he felt for her. Yes, she was beautiful. But her sassy mouth and grit got him there too. And therein lay his problem. He liked her and was quickly adapting to having her in his life. This presented a set of problems he’d never experienced. It made him uncomfortable, both mind and body.
He needed to get up, leave her to rest in peace, or he was going to lose the tenuous hold on his control.
A discreet knock sounded, and King stood, grabbed his gun, and padded to the door.
“Service,” a low voice said.
King opened the door, standing behind it as adrenaline kicked in. He pushed it down. A small woman dressed in a hotel uniform held a package. She smiled, handed it to him, and bid him good night.
He’d been expecting this package and placed it in the seat he’d vacated. He’d met with Adam Babic earlier, knowing Jude and Black were close and would keep an eye on the room. Babic was a former Serbian special forces commander who lived a very private life away from the public eye in the crumpled buildings of eastern Belgrade. He was a solid contact for King simply because the proud man would go to his grave trying to pay King back for saving his life during a nasty skirmish in Bosnia years ago. Belgrade had seen its fair share of damaging wars, from WWII to the most recent Serbian conflict. Serbs and Bosnians, Catholics and Muslims had fought for so many years that it was hard to separate the country from the conflicts that had forged it.
King had tapped Adam because the man always had his nose to the ground. Drugs, weapons, people—if it could be trafficked and run through Serbia, Adam knew about it and did his best to dismantle any conglomerates he ran into. Some would call him a crime boss with a stranglehold on Belgrade. Adam called himself an entrepreneur who preferred to keep the riff-raff out of his town.
Jude’s intel was supported by Adam. Savidge was definitely back in Beirut, according to Adam, running Dresden’s death business with an iron fist. Adam kept tabs on Savidge because Belgrade was the bastard’s home turf, and Adam would want to know if he was making incursions. Adam wouldn’t tolerate Savidge in Belgrade.
“Vasily Savidge is making moves,” Adam had told King earlier. “He’s turning up the heat in Africa and making end-run forays into the Ukraine with little to no resistance. Men, women, boys, and girls, AK-47s, heroin—he’s expanded his boss’s business by leaps and bounds over the past two years, King. If you want to kill that gnat, you damn well better be packing more than a grenade.”
“What’s his weakness?” King asked his contact.
“Blond women.”
King’s heart had stuttered at that. Then he’d calmed. Jude and Black were with Allie. No one would get to her past them. And Savidge was in Beirut. King needed the information Adam had, so he took a deep breath and beat back the residual fear. “Any sign of CIA?”
“Those rats are everywhere, King. You know this,” Adam admonished him. “But overt moves made by the US of A? No. I think they pulled out their station chief a few weeks ago. Word is, Savidge threatened the man’s wife and children who were living here in Belgrade. The chief left that day, and no one has replaced him. At least not in the last twenty-four hours.”
King had waited patiently for Adam to supply him with a pack filled with weapons—everything from a dismantled M110 to grenades and a brick of C-4. Pack a cannon, indeed.
He’d left
the meeting with Adam with more questions than answers, but he’d also left with Adam’s promise to deliver more weapons and money to King and his men the following day.
He’d returned to the hotel and made plans with Black and Jude. The two of them would do recon in Beirut while King took Allie to DC. They’d report on what they found at Savidge’s place, and then King would meet with his men and make plans to eliminate the bastard. It was as close to Savidge as King had been in a year. His body ached for action.
On the flip side, he was taking Allie home tomorrow. Jude had set up yet another under-the-radar flight, assuring King he could get into DC and out with minimal fuss. King would contact her father when they landed in the States, and once he’d handed Allie off to Broemig, King would head to Beirut. He didn’t know how he felt about not seeing her again. She’d burrowed inside him so easily that a piece of him, a big piece, balked at the thought.
“What’s wrong?”
Speak of the devil, and she shall awaken, King thought, a smile tugging at his lips.
“What makes you think something is wrong?” he asked, turning and meeting her gaze.
“You’re just standing there, staring out the window,” she responded.
“I’m not allowed to do that?”
She sat up carefully, making sure to pull the sheet around her. He mourned the loss of his view of her skin.
“Do what you want,” she said, and her voice sent needles of need through his groin. Soft, husky…she’d kill him with it.
Shrugging, he walked to the bar on the wall opposite the windows. He pulled out the food he’d brought back and threw it in the microwave. After warming it for about thirty seconds, he put it on a plate and walked back to her.
Her eyes widened, and she gasped.
“Is that what I think it is?” she whispered.
He smiled at the awe in her voice. “You were asleep when I brought them back hours ago—but I figure warmed-up fries are better than no fries at all.”
Her smile was worth every bad thing he’d ever done that had led him to this place. That smile lit him right the hell up, made his hands clench, and made his cock even harder. She licked her lips, reached reverently for one of the long, slender fries on the plate, and he thought he might need to look away.
“Do I need to give you two a minute?” he asked, barely masking his smile.
Her gaze rose to meet his, and there was the imp that lived beneath the strong shell of the woman he was coming to know. “A minute isn’t nearly long enough.”
He left the plate in her hands and turned around quickly, putting distance between them before he said to hell with the fries and fucked her six ways from Sunday. She didn’t call him back, just dug right into the fries and didn’t come up for air until they were all gone.
He wondered if she’d lick the plate before she shot him a glance, and he knew for a fact that’s what had been on her mind. Imp. She smiled and put the plate beside the bed before she stood stiffly and walked over to stand directly in front of him.
He watched her warily, unsure what she was going to do.
Then she moved in to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and laying her head over his heavily beating heart before she whispered, “Thank you.”
Well and truly fucked. That’s what he was in that moment. His arms rose of their own volition, and he gave her a small squeeze before he stepped away and headed to the bathroom.
“I’m going to shower. There are more fries in the microwave,” he told her, then sought refuge in the massive bathroom.
He should be a gentleman and let her shower again before he did, but as he looked in the mirror, he recognized he wasn’t strong enough for that. He took several deep breaths, trying to control the lust barreling through his body, and as he calmed his racing heart, he gave himself a hard look in the mirror.
He needed a shave, a shower, and a few hours of uninterrupted sleep in that bed. He cursed as he took off his shirt and lathered his face. He couldn’t think about the bed with her in such close proximity. His dick would never let him sleep.
King concentrated on removing the beard from his face, then took a long, cold shower. It didn’t help. He walked back into the suite to find her staring out the same windows he’d been looking out earlier.
“Shower’s free,” he said.
Their gazes met in the window, and for a second, it was as if time was suspended. It was just the two of them, alone in a hotel room, a man and woman, each needing the other.
“It’s not that simple,” he murmured, reading her face so clearly it was like a book with her expressions as the words.
“Nothing with you would be simple, I’m thinking,” she said with a small grin.
He was reminded of what he’d said to her three nights ago.
“Would it be worth it though?” she continued. “Oh, I’m sure. You look like you were built to be good at two things, King McNally.”
He cocked his head, reveling in their banter. “Only two?”
She chuckled, low and husky, and he was forced to lock his shit down. His cock was beating at him behind his sweats. If she looked down, she’d know he was hard and ready. She looked, and he hissed in a breath.
“Probably way more than two,” she said softly. “But two that I’m sure you excel at.”
He wanted to sew his mouth shut, but the words tumbled out anyway. “And those two things would be?”
“Come on, McNally. Are we going to play games now?”
“I thought that’s what we’d been doing,” he told her honestly. But once again, her words were the reminder he needed. This was an op, not some lust-filled jaunt across the world.
“You have. But I’m not a player. I told you that. I am, however, into honesty.”
He waved a hand at her, deciding he’d finally lost his mind. “I’m not stopping you.”
She turned around, pinning him with a blue gaze so intense he felt the heat under his skin. “Fighting and fucking.”
Her gaze fell again, and she took enough steps toward him that they were only a foot or so apart.
He nodded but swallowed hard. She’d said the f-word. “I’m good at both.”
“Of course you are.” She smiled and pointed at his cock. “I’ve seen you kill and felt your kiss. Tell me, is sex a weapon for you too?”
“Do you want to find out?”
Please let her say no. He willed it to happen. He was losing control.
“I think…yes. I do want to find out. Will I? Well, that’s the question, McNally. There’s no doubt I want you desperately. I have from the moment I saw you on the plane. I’ve never experienced the pull I feel toward you.”
Her honesty would unman him. He wanted to sink into her body and not come up for air. He wanted to drown in her.
“Watch what you say, Allie. In fact, don’t say another word. What you’re feeling is a by-product of adrenaline overload and fear. It happens. What I need you to do is go take a shower and not mention this to me again.”
Her gaze fell, and he was left feeling like he’d kicked a puppy. He didn’t want to kick her; he wanted to pet her all over with his hands, his tongue, his cock, and anything she’d let him touch her with.
She nodded and started to walk past him. But then she stopped suddenly and looked up. Heated wildflowers. Goddamn, he was done for. She didn’t touch him, but she didn’t need to. He wanted her, had from the moment she’d stared at him on the plane.
“Adrenaline and fear? What about just plain, old want? What if it’s as simple as this woman wants this man? I think you’ve been in the game too long, McNally. I’ll let you chalk it up to the fight and situation we’re in, but I won’t do the same. I’m not a liar or a coward.” She ended her salvo and walked to the bathroom.
The saliva in his mouth dried up. This was really bad. So bad he didn’t have a f
rame of reference for it. The last thing he’d needed was this woman. Any other woman, and he’d have been fine. Allie Redding couldn’t have happened at a worse time.
King walked to the packet he’d been brought, placed it in his pack, and then headed to the only bed in the room to lie down. His mind raced even as her scent surrounded him. He had to sleep; there was no choice.
So he thought about his mission. He thought about Beirut. He thought about blood, death, and revenge, and when she walked out of the bathroom, he was ready to rest.
“There are clothes in that bag over there.” He motioned before he threw his arm over his eyes. “I’ve got to sleep for a few hours. Don’t leave the room,” he warned her.
“Yes, Your Highness,” she quipped, but there was humor in her tone so he let her sass go. He grunted instead.
“More like it,” he murmured and heard her gasp.
He’d won that round then.
Good.
Chapter 15
His chest rose and fell evenly, letting Allie know he’d finally gone to sleep, or whatever version spec ops soldiers used. Her father had once told her that true soldiers were always vigilant. They didn’t sleep, didn’t eat, and didn’t shit when they were on ops. Of course he hadn’t meant that literally, but every black ops member she’d ever met looked like they met those criteria.
She smiled at her thoughts. The tension in the air abated, and the constant energy that surrounded King dimmed to a low buzz. His cock was semi-hard, slightly tenting his sweats, and Allie licked her lips.
What the hell had she been thinking when she told him she wanted him? She was certifiable at this point. She ran a towel over her hair and watched him sleep.
He’d brought her McDonald’s fries, and her heart had melted.
Sure they weren’t even half as good heated up, but those had been the best she’d ever tasted, because he’d remembered.
