Walker (Bad Boys of X-Ops #1)

by Rie Warren

  I wished I’d shot Jade’s people.

  The return trip to the States eight weeks ago had been stifling. In the plane, I’d stationed myself far away from everyone else. I’d sat stiffly with my eyes shut, almost meditating. More like concentrating on how to contain the emotions boiling over inside me.

  The last moments with Jade as she lay broken and pale and unconscious. More dead than alive.

  Pain the likes of which I’d tried for the past five years to make sure I never gave into again.

  Falling in love. What a schmuck I was.

  But it didn’t make a damn bit of difference. No matter how much I felt like the fool, I could not forget the harrowing terror when Jade’s breaths had stopped.

  I had no choice but to close every feeling down or I’d simply snap.

  Once more we’d smuggled Madge onto US soil, because we weren’t done with her yet. But I was just about done with that motherfucking mission, and Blaize Carmichael could chew my ass out for the rest of days for the downward spiral this op had taken from the moment I’d laid eyes on Jade and decided her cause—Majedah’s cause—was the right one.

  I did not give a fuck anymore.

  Storm, Justice, Bane, and I had occupied a new safehouse right under the government’s nose in DC. We’d kept Madge under wraps until the story broke. The story we wanted the world to hear.

  I’d shut down any attempts at conversation. And Madge’s endless apologies for endangering Jade’s life only made me hunker down more inside myself.

  “Wasn’t your fault. Jade made an exigency plan,” I’d gruffly told Madge.

  That was one sour point I just couldn’t get past.

  As soon as Madge was delivered to safety under the auspices of the UN Security Council, I was out of there.

  I’d fulfilled my promise to Jade.

  I didn’t owe her anything anymore.

  I’d flown out to Wyoming, picked up my Indian Scout, and cut loose from all responsibilities.

  The more miles my bike ate up and spat out, the more the recriminations and guilt—the pain and loss—chipped away at me.

  Without even thinking about it I ended up in the South Dakota Badlands, at the reservation. Spring had started to erupt, bright wildflowers and rich, dark green grasslands finally beating out the last of the late spring snowfalls.

  I visited with friends and old folks and my mom and dad, and helped with the daily workload for a few days, but that wasn’t the reason for my unannounced visit.

  On the fourth day, I left the big cabin and the feeling of tribal community behind. I camped in the woods for a couple nights while I constructed a platform from wood I cut down and lashed into place.

  I couldn’t go back into the cabin, not with all that had happened between Jade and me—it was her ghost that haunted me now. But this time I wasn’t running.

  Dad joined me every day, working silently beside me.

  When it was finished, I sat in front of the scaffolding we’d built. A hawk soared overhead, spiraling higher and higher. I heard the heated snuffs of deer beyond the break of the clearing. I smelled the sap and the bark, and the grasses shooting through the soil in spring bounty.

  I closed my eyes and imagined Kimmy and Winona freed from this earth and this life. I saw them together, hand in hand.

  When my father rode up on his horse, I bowed to the North and the South. The East and the West.

  He stood beside me as I placed on the platform soft cuttings of their hair I’d kept with me, but Winona’s dream catcher I kept curled in my palm. I was never going to part with it again.

  Dad combed out my customary braid, chanting in his gruff voice. Life and death, the infinite balance of our people. He cut a thick piece off the end of my hair and set the black strands in my palms.

  Transferred to the scaffold, the offering was small, but I gave part of myself to my wife, to my daughter.

  The fire beneath caught with a great breath-sucking whoosh as I lit the pyre.

  I hadn’t been at their burials. I couldn’t bear it.

  Now I said goodbye as day turned into night.

  I stood beside my dad, quietly crying. He sang in a deep, clear voice, the flames lofting higher into the ink-dark sky.

  We stayed there, watching the wooden platform crackle and spit and waft up into the air.

  We watched it burn to blue embers and black cinders.

  We watched until I had no more tears left, and dawn broke the surface of the horizon.

  “You are letting Jade go too?” he quietly asked.

  I nodded as the sun burst free of its nighttime blanket of hazy clouds, gilding the whole world in gold.

  “Maybe she’s one you should hold onto, Wakiza.”

  I’d left several days later. Trying to locate Jade turned out to be a lost cause no matter how many favors I called in. She’d vanished into thin air.

  So long as she lives.

  That was what I kept telling myself. I’d tried to make do with that thought. Except I didn’t know if she was alive or not. And that alone was doing my head in.

  I could probably easily track down her parents. And say what?

  “Howdy there. My name’s Walker. Jade probably never mentioned me because until recently she wanted to stick a knife in my back. You see I’m kind of a spy, just like your lovely daughter, except you’re not really supposed to know that. Anyway, she sort of disappeared on me after I got her into a whole bunch of trouble, so I was wondering if she’s sent you a postcard or anything recently?

  Not gonna happen.

  I had to face the facts. Jade wouldn’t be found unless she wanted to be.

  And the next time I saw her we could be holding each other at gunpoint again.

  Better to leave the past in the past and get on with the reality. And the reality was—I looked down at my empty glass as I propped up the bar at Retribution—I needed another damn drink.

  Coletrane and Kinkaid—both full members of Retribution MC who were still left doing the bulk of the scut work—had mesmerized me with their thorough washing and polishing of glasses and replenishing of drinks.

  Or maybe that was the whisky talking.

  Fuck. I needed a life.

  “Heads up.” Cole’s huge chain cuffs rattled when he knocked me on the shoulder.

  “What?” I lifted my face.

  “Hunter. Coming your way.”

  Ugh.

  I thudded my head to the bar top.

  I did not want to see his all-knowing amber eyes or look at his smug so in love smile. And commiseration on my misery—that was also way the fuck unwelcome.

  “You are in a bad way, my man.” He slid onto the stool beside me.

  I kicked it away with my foot.

  “And you have it bad for Jade,” he added.

  “Jade’s a viper. Medusa. A siren. A man-killer,” I gnashed out.

  “Well, that’s what I always thought.” He raked his fingers through his raven-winged hair. “But you two made one hell of a team. And you made the best of a really fucking bad situation.”

  “Did. Done. In the past. Go away.”

  “Did you see the latest about Majedah?”

  Hunter did not go away as asked.

  Asshole.

  Justice—the Internet whizkid—had done some fancy footwork with the recording from the hotel hostage situation. He’d clean edited the audio to remove anything that could pin Jade or me at the scene. After adding some impressive voice recognition software even Hezbollah diehard Qasim Hassan couldn’t wriggle out of, Justice had spun Qasim’s loud, proud, maniacal confession out into the World Wide Web.

  How better to get the word out than to hand it over to the proletarian, political youth movement. The underground movers and shakers who had their eyes and ears attuned to real government conspiracies all over the world. Instant Internet overload because the story about Hassan’s guilt and Majedah’s innocence went viral.

  If we’d played into the agencies’ hands, they’d ha
ve quashed the story until Madge remained nothing more than a traitor to her people.

  This way she was goddamn exalted.

  Buzzfeed that, motherfucker.

  After that I’d handed Madge over to the UN. She’d been freed to return to Lebanon.

  The story had finally aired on MSNBC, CNN, all the primetime channels, and of course Faux News:

  In a bizarre turn of events, the international manhunt for Sheikah Majedah Chehab has been called off. In light of new evidence, her husband, the self-titled Emir Qasim Hassan is being indicted for crimes against humanity.

  The sheikah is exonerated and returning to her family citadel in Hasbaya as a hero of her people and homeland.

  But the latest Hunter hinted at was last night’s broadcast when Madge finally got her soundbite on CNN’s Hardball.

  “There are two people—two special warriors—I must thank for bringing me home. Of course, as always, they shall remain nameless, but they will always be in my heart and prayers.”

  Didn’t I feel special?

  I was the instant daredevil of T-Zone. No disciplinary action taken. At least not until they started what would no doubt be an extensive internal review into my actions. Now I was out partying it up.

  Yeah, right.

  Too bad it all left a hollow ache in my chest without Jade.

  Hunter pulled my glass away when I reached for it. “There’s someone I think you want to celebrate with, and it sure as fuck is not me.”

  He nodded across the room.

  Swiveling around on my stool, I almost fell off, and it wasn’t the drink talking that time.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The Spy Who Loves Me

  JADE?

  Black leather. Black hair with the lush magenta streaks. Glowing green eyes slanted toward me. And that beauty mark Monroe piercing.

  Oh, man.

  Everyone gave her wide berth, maybe because her stiletto-heeled boots struck like gunfire on the floor, or maybe because her eyes aimed at me alone.

  The woman probably had a blade sheathed in her boot, and she most certainly had a Beretta holstered on her somewhere.

  I knocked the stool back, standing to spread my hands across my hips.

  Fuck.

  Beautiful

  Deadly.

  Lethal.

  Mine.

  “How’d you find me?”

  “You aren’t as good as you think.”

  “Oh really?” I lifted an eyebrow, my heart doing the bongo beat as I folded my arms over my chest.

  I thought she was dead. I though at the very least I’d never see her again. She looked . . .

  Holy shit, she looked fucking amazing.

  She came closer, and despite being a world-class killer and a killer looker, all her bravado fled. “And Hunter helped me out.”

  “Why?” I took a half step back from her, remaining stoic even though all I wanted to do was haul her to me. “Why now, Jade? It’s fucking May! It’s been two goddamn months and you didn’t even bother to let me know you were okay?”

  Everyone in the MC was staring at us, and I lowered my voice. “Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

  “I’m sorry. I . . .” She reached out hesitantly before retracting her hand, my mother’s token still on her wrist. “I’m tired of fighting.”

  Rubbing a hand over my mouth, I averted my gaze. She was too much. Too beautiful. I’d ached for her for too long.

  “Are you going to look at me, Walker?”

  And I did.

  The last time I’d seen her she’d been on death’s door with one foot over the threshold. The sallow skin was gone. So was the lank hair. She shined from within like she always had—a fucking force of nature hypnotizing me.

  I started to lean forward. Her lips, those beautiful soft lips sang to me. I wanted to kiss her, hold her, take her home and bury myself inside her.

  Jade flung herself into my arms, but I stopped her before our mouths met. I gripped her by the shoulders.

  “Wait. Wait, goddammit!” I pulled my hands off her, still too wary to let her back in. “None of this explains why you’d planned a second exit strategy, Jade.”

  Her shoulders sloped down and she dropped her eyes.

  “I had to,” she whispered. “I made contact before I turned myself over. That was the only time. I . . . I wasn’t sure you’d come for me.”

  “How the hell could you even question—”

  “Because,” she hissed. “Because, we were thrown together in a situation we couldn’t control. Because I wasn’t sure I trusted my feelings. I didn’t know if you’d been playing me all along!

  “It wasn’t until I was recovering, when I started remembering—you in that hotel room in Beirut. The way you looked at me like my pain was your pain.” She paused, her lips trembling.

  “You don’t have to talk about that day.” My voice was rough.

  “You, yelling at me to live and doing everything to keep me alive.”

  I tilted up her chin, delving into those stunning eyes that gleamed, slightly damp. “And now?”

  “I know you love me, Walker.” Her smile broke free, and she finally touched me, her fingertips caressing the dark stubble I’d let grow on my face.

  “I do.” I nodded, my heart resuming its fundamental beat. “And you?”

  “There was one other reason I had another plan lined up.” Her fingers trailed down my neck until they rested over my heart. “I never wanted you to see me weak. And I knew they’d probably try to break me.”

  I swallowed roughly. “I could never—”

  “I didn’t want you to have to watch me die. Or have to take care of my remains if the worst happened, not after you lost your Kimimela and Winona.”

  A choking sound wrenched from my throat, and I scooped her tightly against me. “Jesus, Jade.”

  Wrapping her arms around my neck, she pulled me down. “I love you, Walker.”

  Our kiss began slow—tongues touching and chasing away. I groaned, slanting my head, tasting her deeper. Jade twisted my hair in her hands, turning up the heat until my knees felt weak and I wanted nothing more than to lay her out flat on the bar top and peel her skintight leathers off then and there.

  I moved a breath away, husky laughter on my tongue. “Goddamn good thing I did come for you. That crap team of yours showed up late.”

  “Oh, Walker. I love you.” Her mouth melted against mine, and her tongue’s entry between my lips swiped every other thought from my mind.

  To taste her again. To touch her. To love her openly . . .

  She whispered something—my name—when our lips parted, but I was too hungry to stop. Holding her hips, I lifted her up. We grinded together where my cock bulged, erect enough to bust through my jeans. I growled into her mouth when she bit the tip of my tongue, but it was a stinging pain I liked.

  “Walker.” Jade broke away. “We have an audience.”

  Fuck yeah we did. All the goons and their gorgeous babes whistled, roared, stomped, clapped, filling the air with combustible energy I was ready to tap into.

  “Don’t care,” I murmured against Jade’s lips, tugging the bottom one between my teeth before sucking on it.

  Both her hands slid to my face and she kissed across to my ear. “Let me take care of you later.” One hand dropped to my groin where she tripped light fingers up and down. “When we’re alone.”

  A forceful shudder ripped through me. “I’m gonna keep you to that promise.”

  Brodie Steele, the club VP, masked his grin with a tug on his wicked blond goatee.

  He held out a fist to me when I finally unlatched Jade from my arms. “Fuckin’ A, man. Make us wait for the happy reunion a little longer next time, why don’t ya?”

  “Because we don’t got enough drama around here on a daily basis.” Boomer Steele clapped a huge hand onto my shoulder.

  I introduced Jade around the joint, to the officers of the club, the regulars, all their ladies, and dozens of others I
’d gotten to know. Cole and Kinkaid. Sadie and JB. The chick mechanic called Rayce who formed part of their Ladies of Redemption MC. Ashe Kingston—Brodie’s woman. Tail and Tucker and the dude whose roadname was Handsome.

  Jade had no problem fitting in. She and I were used to blending into the surrounds, playing different roles. Reading people with one glance was part of the job. But I could tell this was all pure, undiluted Jade. And she was a surefire winner.

  Back at the bar, I announced in a loud voice, “Drinks are on Jade!”

  “Walker.” She punched me hard enough to leave a bruise on my ribs.

  Good thing I was used to her.

  “Hey now.” I rubbed my side. “I was kidding. Drinks are on Hunter!” I megaphoned out.

  “Whatever.” Hunter draped an arm around my shoulders. “Nice to have you back to being yourself, even if it means you’re more of an asshole than ever.”

  “A lovable asshole.” I smirked.

  “I’ll have to take Jade’s word on that,” Hunter said.

  “Lovable ahsshole it is.” She aped a full southern drawl and then, with a wink, hopped behind the bar to help Kinkaid and Cole with the orders swarming in from every corner of Retribution.

  I watched her, knowing the two probies had no idea what kind of woman they were joking around with.

  But I did.

  Only me.

  Especially when her shirt lifted above her waist, and I saw the blade sheathed there.

  I’d have been content to watch her all night . . .

  Not.

  I couldn’t wait to get her alone, and naked, and mine.

  So I was especially pleased later when she snuck up behind me, and her words whispered beside my ear, “Take me home, Walker.”

  I chuckled, pulling her roaming hands to my chest. “You do understand my real home is in the middle of nowhere, not even the middle-of-nowhere cabin on the reservation, right?” I kissed her fingertips. “No High Street boutiques or perfectly prepared frappuccinos and not a single salon in sight.”

  Turning, I flicked her long, wildly streaked hair.

  “What? I can do low maintenance.” She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at me.

  I chuckled again.

  “Hey!” Smoothing one hand across my chest, she looked at me through the long fan of her eyelashes. “All I need is you.”