I stand as well. “Everything still on schedule?” Even if it doesn’t matter, I’d like to know.
“Ja. We should be installing the first one in six weeks or so.”
We don’t install the wind turbines ourselves, but contract two leading marine construction firms from the United States who have the required experience and knowledge to install the giant equipment. However, Kurt and I oversee the operations and we’re the ones who determined the best spots to install each machine. Over one hundred of them. The game plan had been that I would remain only long enough to ensure everything proceeded smoothly. Then I would hand over the project to him and move on to the next Storm Industries endeavor. But as things stand now, that’s a pipe dream.
I grab a pen, stab it into the scratched up surface of my desk. Wish I could provide some encouragement, but I can’t. For the child to survive, the Storm Industries’ project must fail. No choice really. Still, I have to acknowledge his help. “Thank you, Kurt. I know it hasn’t been easy for you. I appreciate your support.”
He nods and takes a step toward the door. But before he gets there, he turns around. “No matter what you think, Jake Cooper will more than likely investigate. He’s not the type to ignore what’s going on.”
Yeah, I know. But I have a plan. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
His brow scrunches. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see.”
Chapter 6
______________
Jake
AT MY MEETING WITH TERRENCE up the coast, I suggest a covert operation. With his blessing, I would investigate the thefts and vandalism. Other than him, no one would know about my mission. He agrees that would be the best tack to take. So the following morning, I reconnect with as many of the project staff as possible, ask questions, get the lay of the land. Everyone’s worried about what’s going on, but mostly they’re not willing to point fingers. Probably afraid of losing their jobs.
Hamish and Todd take turns keeping tabs on Brianna. Since they’re under orders to notify me every time she so much as twitches, I know exactly where she is at all times. While the two operatives watch her during the day, I’ll protect her at night. Which I will. From the couch. I’m not being a coward, just have a healthy sense of self preservation.
While she’s at work, I install a locker in her bedroom and secure my weapons inside. I’ll need them handy in case someone breaks in at night. Having done as much as I can at the compound, I drive to the nearest big city, Natal, on the chance the bug in Terrence’s office was purchased locally. I jotted down its make and model as well as the details of the additional one we discovered in his Jeep Wrangler. Although the brands are German, they could have been purchased anywhere so I plan on visiting the security equipment stores in the big city to see if any has a record of selling them. A long shot but worth investigating.
Before I head out, I call Hamish to verify he’s at his usual spot watching over Brianna. He confirms she’s in her office where she’ll probably remain the rest of the day. I don’t expect any complications. It’s at night she likes to cut loose, and I’ll be back long before then.
I pull down the 4 x 4’s top to catch the ocean breezes, but the forty-five mile drive to the big city remains hot and humid, what you might expect from a trek on a Brazilian road. The surface is neither the best I’ve driven nor the worst. Although the Jeep Wrangler is built to handle rough terrain, the road’s a bitch to navigate.
After I arrive, I stop off at the local watering hole to hydrate and catch up on local gossip. Bars and taverns are the best places to gain some intel. But no one’s talking about the unrest at the compound. Word of our troubles has not reached the big city. At least not yet.
The owner of the first store does not recognize the bug, neither does the second, the third nor the fourth. It’s only when I get to the fifth shop that I hit pay dirt. The owner recognizes me, and since I tip generously when I get what I need, he gives me his full cooperation. Word has it he committed a crime in the United States and fled back to his homeland. As a general rule, Brazil does not honor extradition if the person sought is a national. So if he did commit a crime on U.S. soil, chances are he will never be held accountable. A tidbit I’ve tucked away in the back of my mind.
His records are the old-fashioned paper kind. Odd, given he traffics in electronic equipment. Probably a safety feature. In case he needs to run, all he has to do is grab his journal and set fire to the rest. Not the first time that’s happened in this part of the world. While I lounge on a barrel that doubles as a chair, he flips through his paper receipts until he comes across the sale of not two but seven listening devices, all of which were purchased a month before. “Rush order from Germany. Expensive, but the buyer was willing to pay top price for it. Cash.”
“Who was it?”
He runs a fat finger, with its missing tip, down the buyers’ column. “Roberto Machuca.”
The name doesn’t ring a bell, but then I doubt the purchaser would have given his real name. “Do you remember what he looked like?”
Tapping the paper with his middle finger, he squints, as if he’s trying to remember. “Dark-skinned, brown eyes, average height.”
In other words, like a million other Brazilians. “Thanks.” I slip him a C-note for his troubles.
“Anytime, senhor Cooper. You’ve always been a great customer. In the market for anything else?”
Don’t blame him for the sales pitch. A man’s gotta eat. Seems ungracious to put him through all this trouble and not buy anything. “Got any handcuffs?”
A wide grin rolls over his pockmarked face, revealing a gold tooth. “Got a new shipment just this week.”
“Good.” The thought of slapping a brand new pair of handcuffs on a certain blond gets me hard. It shouldn’t, but it does. I look through his assortment of manacles and choose a sturdy Smith & Wesson pair. Doubt they’ll be enough, though. I’ll need more than handcuffs with her. The cord ropes behind him catch my eye. “I’ll take those.”
When he grabs a set, I stop him. “No. Not the red, the blue.” To match her eyes.
His mouth twists into a knowing smile. Bet he gets all kinds of strange requests.
After he bundles up my purchases in brown wrapping paper, I head back to the Jeep. Wish I could call Terrence and report back to him. Can’t very well do that. From now on, I’ll have to relay the information in private and far enough from the compound we won’t be overheard. I’m fiddling with the phone keys wondering if I should check in with Hamish when I spot a member from the security team hurrying down the street. Nothing unusual about it. The staff rotate days on and off to make sure everyone stays fresh. But when his impatient glance darts up and down the road, my senses go on full alert. Who’s he meeting? I don’t have long to wait.
Marina, dressed in a tight, red skirt and a one-shoulder white blouse, teeters toward him in a pair of black fuck-me pumps. Her long, dark hair, snapping black eyes and brick house curves earn her a fair share of male attention. Seeing how I’m stuck on a certain blonde virago, she does nothing for me. But I can certainly appreciate her appeal, and the effect she has on men.
The operative grabs her by the waist, pulls her into him and they clinch into a sizzling kiss. Even from fifty yards away, I sense the heat. Poor fool. He’s got it bad.
At thirty six years of age I can’t say I haven’t had my share of women. As a Navy seal, I took groupies up on their offers more times than I care to count, but my hook-ups had been one offs where I could walk away when duty called. All they usually got at the end was a hard kiss and a quick goodbye. I never once got attached to anyone.
Until the day Brianna Storm walked into my life.
The moment I met her she struck me dumb, deaf, and stupid. At only eighteen, she’d had everything—brains, beauty, class. And she’d known it too. In the eight years since, I’ve watched her toy with one man after another, sometimes for a weekend, sometimes for a couple of months. But the affairs always ended the s
ame. With her handing him his hat and a don’t-slam-the-door-on-your-way-out. The only one she’d come close to marrying had been that idiot Anton, the fiancé she’d found in bed with a man when she returned early from a trip abroad. After she kicked him out, she’d cried and railed over it, but it was more because her pride had been hurt, not because her heart had been engaged.
I never let her see how she affected me. That would have been a one-way ticket to goodbye. So I kept our relationship businesslike. Not much I could do about it. Until now.
That kiss. That goddamned kiss. It changed everything.
I got the scent of her in my nostrils, the taste of her in my tongue. And I want more. A lot more. My cock’s pounding like a son of a bitch, aching for what it can’t have. Goddamn it. I nudge it hoping to relieve the ache. But it bobs back reminding me it hasn’t been between a woman’s thighs for quite some time. I scrub my face, glance around. Maybe I should take care of business while I’m in town. You know, just to relieve the ache. I know a bordello where the hookers are clean. But as soon as the thought pops into my head I dismiss it. Who am I kidding? There’s only one woman who’ll satisfy me. And she’s off limits.
Not anymore, the beast inside me roars. You’re no longer employed by Storm Industries. You can do what you want. The temptation to take her, to make her mine, has grown into a savage hunger which won’t be satisfied until I bury my cock in her. It’s only a matter of time before temptation grows too great and then? God help me.
I peel away from the sidewalk and thunder out of town back to the Storm Industries compound where I can spend quality time torturing myself, wanting what I won’t take. Given the state of the roads, the drive should take close to an hour and a half, as long as I focus on the ruts on the road. But my gut tells me something’s going on back there. And I need to get back. Pronto.
Pushing the Jeep beyond what’s sensible, I swerve to avoid a rut and land in a bigger one. When the 4 x 4 bucks, I fight not to tip over into the gully by the side of the road. Something blows beneath the vehicle and the damn thing lurches. Goddamn it. When I finally wrangle the Jeep to a standstill, I pound a hand against the steering wheel. Fool. Idiot. I don’t have to look to know I blew a tire.
By the time I replace it with the rusty tire iron, daylight’s gone. It’ll be full dark by the time I arrive at the compound, and God only knows what trouble she’ll be up to by then.
Chapter 7
______________
Jake
SHE SWAYS AROUND THE DANCE FLOOR of the local watering hole, her body undulating to the samba rhythm, breasts thrust forward one second, hips the next. Every masculine eye glued to her.
Not again. Not fucking again.
When I arrived at the bungalow, I found it empty. A quick phone call to Hamish confirmed my worst fears. She’d headed to the boteco to put on another floor show. This one, though, will have a totally different ending.
Without a moment’s hesitation, I stomp to her and throw her over my shoulder.
“What are you doing? Put me down.” She screeches.
The place erupts into pandemonium. Some idiots, deprived of their evening’s entertainment, charge me en masse. Dodging a kick, I punch a man while I carry her in a fireman’s hold, and she pounds my back. Fat lot of good it will do her. I’ve suffered worse than her, a lot worse.
Storm Industries’ security sweeps in to handle the crowd, giving me the opening I need to make our way out. When we reach the Jeep, I drop her into the seat, buckle her in.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she unbuckles it and kicks me in the ‘nads.
Pain streaks white and hot through me. Son of a bitch. “Stop that, or I swear to God.”
“Or what?” She spits out.
I don’t bother to answer her, but clutch her waist and slam her back into the seat. One handed, I flip open the glove compartment and grab the handcuffs I bought.
When she sees them, her eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t dare.”
As the agony fades from my nuts, I twist my mouth into a wry smile. “Oh, come on, bright eyes. We both know you love getting tied up.” I snap them around her wrists and buckle her seatbelt. Again. For good measure I grab the Kevlar rope from the back seat and wind it around her, all while she screeches and screams and rains down curses on me. “Bastard. Tosser. Blighter.”
“If you don’t settle down, I’ll gag you as well.”
“Bastard.”
“You said that already.”
“Arsehole.”
“Much better.”
“Aaarghhh.”
Should have kept that last remark to myself. Can’t be sorry for it, though. She’s magnificent when she’s riled up. Eyes sparkling with blue fire, heat blooming in her cheeks. Now I’ve secured her, I climb into the driver’s seat and speed through the night, all while she spits obscenities at me.
“I’ll make you pay if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Sure you will.” I shift the Jeep into second gear, and the damn thing grinds. Probably damaged something when I fell into that trench by the side of the road.
After we arrive at the bungalow, I untie her and swing her over my shoulder while she screams more outrage at me. Gotta give her credit. She’s got quite a vocabulary for a member of the upper crust.
I wrangle open her front door while she pounds my back with her fists. Once inside, I truck to her bedroom and dump her unceremoniously on her bed.
“You son of a bitch.” She pulls a knife and comes after me.
I yank it from her, toss it somewhere in the room. Clamping down on her stomach, I strip her of every stitch she’s got on. I hunt for weapons while she wriggles, bucks, and even tries to bite me. To no avail. I’ve searched men bigger and stronger than her. After I retrieve more knives and a weapon belt, I secure them inside my weapons locker and lock the door.
Wild-eyed, hair tousled every which way, she screams, “Those are mine. Give them back to me.” Her breasts heave with every labored breath. Her trimmed snatch glistens wet. Godamn it, she’s enough to make a blind man weep. “Not until you behave.”
Suddenly the fight goes out her, like a balloon whose air has leaked out. That’s Brianna. She can go from hot to cold in a nano second. “You never let me have any fun.”
Petulance. Not one of her better looks. “If by fun you mean put on a floor show guaranteed to drive men crazy, then you’re right. I won’t allow you to do that. Why are you behaving this way? This can’t just be about you being illegitimate.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because you’re whip smart and you know what your behavior is bound to do. Something else is driving you. What is it?” Something is eating at her, and I intend to find out.
She shrugs. “Nothing is driving me. I just want to enjoy myself. But I can’t. Not with them. Most of them are my employees and the others at the bar? Not worth my time.”
“So you’re teasing the poor bastards for kicks? Is that what you’re doing? Driving men into a frenzy of lust is not a pretty thing. They could come after you. Hurt you.” I have to make her understand the damage she’s causing, the consequences of her actions.
“But you’re here to protect me. Aren’t you?” Her eyelids drop to half-mast, and she peeks through her lashes at me. A siren glance she’s perfected. Seen it a thousand times. “And maybe something more. I haven’t been with anyone since I returned from London.” Beautifully naked, she kneels on the bed and leans toward me. The scent of hot woman and intoxicating perfume ensnare my senses. “I don’t suppose you want to volunteer?”
My hands twitch, eager to grab what she’s so generously offering. But I refuse to play her game. “Volunteer for what?”
She rakes her nails up my upper arms. “A good fuck. That’s what I need. You gonna give it to me, Jake?”
Goddamn. My breathing harshes. My cock hardens. Lust and desire race rampant through my veins. She’s touched a nerve. More than a nerve. My whole body’s gone into overdrive. Goddamn it.
She kisses my bicep, and the damn thing twitches as if it’s waited forever for her touch.
“I find that always settles my nerves, don’t you?”
My gaze runs over her—a perfect face, a sweet ass and a set of tits a dying man would give his last breath to taste. I scrub my face, look away, but like a beacon my gaze returns to her. I have to leave. Now. Before I cross a line I shouldn’t cross.
Someone pounds on the door. “Jake, Ms. Storm, you in there?”
Hamish. Thank fuck. “Yeah. Be right out.”
“Coward.” Her laugh echoes through the room as I beat feet out of there. It’s going to take a long, lengthy plunge in the cold Atlantic Ocean to get my dick under control.
I open the door to find a frazzled, wild-eyed Hamish glaring at me. “Everything okay in there? I heard her scream.” He peeks around my arm to investigate. He won’t see much. The witch’s holed up in her bedroom, enjoying her victory over me.
“Right as rain. Where’s Todd?”
“Back at the boteco. They need every man jack there to contain that madhouse.”
Makes sense after the way she riled up the men. “Going for a swim. Watch her, will you?”
He glares at me as if I’ve gone loco. “Now?” I know what he’s thinking. Who goes for a dip in the ocean this late at night?
“Didn’t get it in today. Too busy doing other things. If she tries to leave, shoot up a flare.” Every operative carries a tool kit which contains a flare gun. A signal fired from it is visible from ten miles out.
“Sure. Will do.”
I don’t expect to find anyone at the cove. Most of the men are either at the boteco or asleep in their bunks, and no woman would go for a nighttime swim alone. Sure enough, the place’s deserted so I lose the khakis and dive in naked. The shock of cold water cuts off my breath, but I power through. Swum through a hell of lot worse. Staying close to shore, I pound the waves until the heat fades from my body. Only when I regain a modicum of control do I wade out. I failed to grab a towel on the way out so I fetch my shorts to dry me off. I’m just slipping back into them when a scream rips through the night. Brianna!
Storm Conquered Page 4
