“Tell me a truth, Nicola. Touch your gorgeous body, and trust me with another truth.”
Her hands grazed her nightgown. Her breasts anticipated, her breaths shortened, and quick flashes of electricity fired beneath the surface of her flesh. A truth. Nicola pressed her lips together, summoned another round of courage and said, “I’ve been dying to taste you too.”
His breath hitched. “Christ.”
She swallowed away a sigh. Her confidence blazed at his reaction. He was just as needy as she felt. This was erotic power. Seduction.
Nicola confided, “I’d kneel between your naked legs. Your powerful thighs. And then I’d kiss you.” Cash groaned quietly into her ear, daring her to continue. “Your hands twist in my hair, and you’re rock hard, scary large, but the silkiest, smoothest thing I’ve ever touched.”
“Lick,” he growled, low and deep.
She nodded, her fingers knotting in the silk nightgown. “And suck.”
“Goddamn, woman. You’re not shy. Tell me more.”
That was all she needed. He fortified her, pushing her past steamy to audacious and adventurous. “And hum. My lips vibrate around you. My tongue caresses you. You feel it?”
“Hell, yes, I do. What I wouldn’t give to flip you around, with your mouth still tight on me, and love that sweetness of yours.” The breath fled from her lungs as he painted a carnal picture. “I’d hold your hips in place, press you to my mouth, and drive you crazy.”
Nic’s fingers toyed with the top of her underwear, sliding back and forth over the elastic band. Damp heat teased between her legs. From a thousand miles away, Cash aroused her. She needed him to continue, needed him to voice every amorous thought. “Tell me more. Tell me everything.”
“About how I’d make you scream my name?”
She nodded, and her fingers slipped under the fabric. “Uh-huh.”
“Are you touching yourself, Nic?”
She nodded, moaning her answer.
“Good, sweet girl. You’re wet for me. Aching.”
“Hm-hmm.”
“I’d hold you close, hold you open. Suck your perfect clit until I felt you tremble. Shudder and shake. Then one finger. Two fingers. In and out.”
She could feel him. Her hands. His words. Their actions. Turned on and bolder by the second, Nicola continued. “My hands would wrap around you, sliding in time with my mouth.”
He groaned. “Fuck yes. Tell me how good we are together.”
“The best.”
“Tell me what you need.”
“God, Cash. You. I need you.”
“Come with me, sweet girl.”
She moaned into the phone. Her fingers worked magic like they were his. Her core throbbed. Her defenses were gone. The build unraveled in a powerful riptide. She could hear him, feel him. The strength and the arousal. Their desire. Her body craving his, sensations exploding.
Cash whispered her name into the phone. Ripples of satisfaction slammed through her. They were in concert. Climaxing, wrapped together as one, thousands of miles apart. She loved what he did to her with words, with trust. She loved him more than she could ever explain.
Their breaths pounded and started their sated descent, entwined through a cell phone signal. Knowing Cash held the phone to his ear felt like a lullaby, soothing her into sweet dreams.
“Nicola?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re still awake? Thought I lost you.”
“You’re never going to lose me.”
“I have to tell you something.” Cash sighed. She waited. “I… I need you with me. Here with me. Come home to me.”
She nodded, sleep and contentment dragging her. “I will.”
In the room adjoining hers, the door opened and closed, jolting her back to real life. The job. David the Butler. “Cash?”
“Yeah, babe.”
“Got a second for work?”
“Guess so.”
“Get anything good off the listening devices on the butler?”
“I think so. You want to know now or when we debrief tomorrow after you return?”
“Now is fine. He just slammed a door, and I’m awake again.”
“All right.” Cash cleared his throat, shuffling what sounded like his covers. “Two things of interest. First, he’s conversed with someone named Nero. He calls himself Mars.”
Her stomach bottomed out, shooting her straight up in her lonely, rumpled bed. “What? What’d they say?”
“You know Nero?”
“What’d they say?”
“Package logistics. Nothing I can make heads or tails of, though I haven’t tried that hard yet. Why? Who’s Nero?”
“Antilla Smooth was obsessed with Roman history. One of the reasons why my cover worked so well… he could—”
“Get to the point, Nic.”
“Nero and Mars. Roman gods of war. Mars may have been subservient to Nero, and if you translated some texts, even his wife. But mostly—”
“Smooth’s dead. I blew his brains out. Clean shot.”
Nic nodded. “I saw him, but the hierarchy didn’t fall apart completely. Maybe they picked up where Antilla left off.”
Cash whistled. “This is what we need. Tip of the iceberg, this will prove the butler is a double.”
“You’re right. So this godforsaken trip is worth it.” She paused, letting it sink in and squelching the urge to confront David in the next room. “What’s the other interesting item?”
“He’s logged phone time with someone named Gianori. He’s connected to Smooth somehow, and I haven’t looked him up yet, but—”
Nicola reached to the nightstand and palmed her chromed out .38 Special. “They’re not connected.”
“Sure sounded like it.”
“That’s wrong. They’re not.”
“How would you know that?”
She was a Gianori encyclopedia, that’s how. “Salvatore Gianori. Mafioso boss for the Gianori clan. His sons, Basilio, Durante, and Emilio, are all named Italian versions of ‘I’m king motherfucker.’ They deal in gun smuggling, bid rigging, and loan sharking. But Salvatore, his specialty is violence.”
Her insides shook, recalling everything she knew about the mobsters who were never nailed for anything, ever.
“Nic, why do you know that?” Concern edged his voice. Not panic, which he surely heard in hers, but ice cold concern. “Tell me you just know your mobster history, that this David asshole doesn’t know about…”
She double checked the .38. Locked and loaded. Nic propped up on a pillow, facing the only door. “He must. He knows. It was the Gianori mob. Very few people know that, and he’s not on the short list. He sure as fuck shouldn’t be talking to them.”
“Grab your piece.”
“Done.”
“And don’t move ‘til I get there.” Cash’s voice vibrated through the phone.
“Istanbul? We’d be wheels up before you got here. Our plan isn’t changing. Not because of this.”
“Why would you get on the plane with him, knowing that he—”
“Because it’s the operation. The job. I’m not blowing my cover because of an added layer of danger. The fucker is a traitor, and we’re taking him down.”
“Nic—”
“We move forward as planned.”
He huffed. “Give me your tail numbers, your flight plan. I’ll have a jet escort you in. And I’ll be on the tarmac—”
“Cash.”
“Waiting for you, ready to—”
“Cash!”
“What?”
“Ready to protect me? That’s not the point of any of this. He’ll know that we know. I’m not your girl right now, I’m your partner.”
“Damn it, Nicola. You’re being so hardheaded right now, trying to go all Lone Ranger.” She waited, hoping something decent would come out of his trap that wouldn’t ruin their night. He sucked a breath. “No matter what you’re doing or where you are, nothing’s going to change my need to protect you.
I’m that asshole, okay. It’s in my blood, in my brain. I’m fucking hardwired to step in front of you. To cover and protect you. So, Christ almighty, know that I’m trying.”
“Make me understand that you know the difference between partnership and possessiveness.”
Cash sounded clear and cutthroat. “You’re sitting with a flimsy-assed hotel door between you and someone who might hurt what’s mine. I’m an assassin. A contract killer. It might be for the good guys, but still, that’s me. Let’s not play and pretend that it hasn’t been ingrained into me to seek blood or to watch your ass. Trust me, Nic. Know that I’ve got your back. Few people in the world truly understand a phrase that gets tossed around as easy as that one does. Few people understand the responsibility that comes with that vow. I’ve got your back. I trust you to make the right move. But if something happens, I’m there, itchy trigger finger and all. You’re mine to protect and possess.”
“I’m yours?”
“Was there some confusion about that?”
“Well, no. It’s just we haven’t really talked about anything. We’ve just sort of… slept together.”
“God, Nic. This isn’t college. I don’t have time to write notes during English one-oh-one. Let me be clear. I don’t want you with anyone else. I’d think knocking your roomie out made that clear.”
“But see, you didn’t say, ‘I don’t want to be with anyone else.’ You’ve been king of the players for a long time. A month stuck with me, and you’ll be raring for something new and improved.”
“Hardly. And you’ve leapfrogged from us to the job to us. Like I said, I need you, sweet girl. I’ll be ready for you stateside. Don’t fall asleep. When you see him in the AM, be polite, be courteous, and have a plan to kill everyone in the room.”
“Advice like that makes all the girls swoon.”
“Only you, Nic. The only girl I want is you. Keep the safety off, and I’ll get eyes on you soon as I can. Put the phone on speaker. I’m with you all night long.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Only an hour had passed since they’d left Istanbul’s modern airport. The trip had been more than productive. Nicola now knew that she shared a private charter—complete with a culinary genius and a stewardess who must’ve gone to the Emily Post School of Etiquette—with a double-crossing traitor. Seeing David strung up by her brethren at the CIA would be so damn satisfying.
She knew some talented men who worked every day on their information-eliciting techniques. She hoped to God that David would hold out on his explanations so those men could have a go at him. That was if Cash didn’t kill him first. There was always that chance. David would be dead before he took a second step out of the jet and before anyone heard the gunshot. Cash’s .50 calibers were good like that. The bullet always beat the sound barrier.
Eyeing the bastard, Nic worked to act as normal as possible. It was a chore considering that he was involved with the Gianori clan, but she kept her casual disdain alive. Without that, David would sense a problem. She didn’t watch him too closely. She didn’t nose about his personal items. She was simply ready for whatever came her way.
Her phone vibrated. It’d been about an hour since she’d last checked in with Cash, and she wasn’t due to talk to Beth until after they landed. Pulling the phone free of her bag, she looked at the Caller ID. No numbers were programmed in, but she knew this one.
“Hey, Jacks.”
David looked up from his book, eyebrows high as if he hoped to see her receive bad news. Well, fuck you very much.
“Nicola.” Jackson sounded agitated. “When are you coming home?”
“I told you I had to work.”
“I just thought you mentioned you were coming home last night. When I woke up, you weren’t home. I worried.”
Honestly, if she’d landed last night, she wouldn’t have been home anyway. She would’ve been with Cash, preferably in bed, but that wasn’t worth discussing with Jackson in front of David.
David smiled sickly, interrupting her daydream of Cash. “Everything all right?”
Nic nodded and wished he didn’t look so damn excited all of a sudden. It made her stomach queasy. “Fine, David.”
“Michael,” he hissed. “The stewardess might hear you.”
“Fine, Michael.”
“Nicola, are you there?” Jackson asked. “Who’s with you?”
“Who’s that?” asked David.
Too many men needed her attention. One was dangerous, the other annoying. Both needed to shut up.
“David, it’s my roommate,” she said, ignoring his annoyance that she didn’t stick to the married-to-Michael act. “Jacks, I really have to go. We just left Istanbul, and it’ll be a while before we land. But don’t expect me home tonight.”
Really, don’t expect me home ever. That’s not your concern as my roommate.
“Why not?” Jackson pushed.
God, he was getting on her nerves. Time for a subject change. “I wanted to thank you for that project you worked on. Really good job.”
Jackson needed a bone thrown his way, she could tell. Not wanting to go into any details in front of David, that was all she’d say. A good job and a thanks.
“I only did it because you asked me to, Nicola. You honestly have to know that.”
Christ. Jackson wouldn’t let anyone blow to pieces. It wasn’t his nature, but he was obviously still raw about the Cash-punch thing. David scowled at her, rummaging through his carry-on bag.
She sighed. “Whatever the reason, thanks. I really have to go.”
“We should talk when you get home. I need to make sure you’re okay. I don’t know that I like you working with Titan Group.”
Was there something in the water? What else would cause perfectly normal men to lose perspective and act this damn overprotective?
“Got it.” Her phone went dead. No white noise. Nothing. She looked at it and saw a full charge and great reception. “Jackson? Jacks?”
David smiled, showing far too many teeth. “Must’ve lost your connection.”
Bullshit.
He’d found a listening device, or maybe he just wised up. Whatever the reason, David had turned on a cell frequency blocker, and she had no way to communicate with anyone outside the jet.
Welcome to the game, David. I’ve been playing since you boarded the flight to Istanbul.
***
“Nic’ll be wheels down in—” Cash checked his watch “—thirty-three minutes. You think you fucks could hurry the hell up?”
Watching Jared and Roman dillydally punched at his patience. They were a five-minute drive from their rendezvous point, another five minutes to get into position and watch Nicola deplane with that piece of shit, double-dealing butler. The rest of that time made him vibrate with impatience.
Cash was armed to the teeth. More than armed. He could outfit a third-world tribe with enough brass to create a serious change in the balance of power, and that was only what he had strapped to him. The Hummer’s trunk told a whole other story.
Jared looked him over, boots to collar, and grumbled. “You plan on redefining the word overkill? We’re backup. We’re not storming an Iranian missile silo.”
Can never be too prepared, or some Boy Scout shit like that. He’d been to the site twice today, walked the perimeter, memorized every outbuilding, every hangar, nook, and cranny. If someone was there who shouldn’t be, if something moved that wasn’t supposed to, Cash might shoot first and ask questions later. He’d let Jared deal with the nuclear-fallout-sized headache and handle the question-and-answer portion of their day. That’s why boss man made the really big dollars: to fix whatever wrongs Cash was very ready to do.
“Get your asses in the rig. Let’s go.” Cash ran through his mental checklist and jumped in. Rolling the window down, he circled his hand. “Now.”
Shit. Giving orders to Jared was as smart as licking an electrical socket during a hurricane. Not the cleverest idea he’d had all day. No worries, though. He h
ad some brilliant beauties ready to make up for it. First, his dead-dropped listening devices were stashed in either of the private hangars Nic’s jet could pull into. Second, he had a remote and a recorder running already. He’d hear everything in his earpiece, as would Jared and Roman, and it’d all be transmitted to Titan HQ, where Parker, their techie genius, would save it to hard drives or computers or whatever.
Jared and Roman re-checked the last of their gear and joined him. Finally.
They sped down the back road to the private airport where her plane was expected. It was easy to have the flight rerouted away from the public airport, even if it had a chartered section. Nothing like Jared’s rolodex of people who owe him favors. They were able to amend flight plans mid-journey. Their vehicle moved through security, passing without a single curious glance. They simply rolled up, and the gates rolled open. The officers manning the station even made it a point to look the other direction.
With the stealthy efficiency of men trained in the art of camouflage, the three moved to their designated spot inside a hangar. Small windows allowed a view of the runway, the secondary hangar, and their position could survey all exits. A solid location, if there was one, to set up for a game of wait-and-watch.
Cash’s trigger finger curled, relaxed, then repeated. Too bad waiting blows. The beat of his fingers kept pace with his nerves. Drumming wasn’t helping him, but he kept at it. Shit. He was a sniper. His bread and butter came from lying in wait. The only difference was that he waited for Nicola instead of a moving target. He thought of David. Well, not a target he could take out right now.
“Calm your shit,” Jared growled at him. He’d been growling all day. “Roman’s holding his shit together. You can too.”
Roman rolled his angry eyes. Cash knew his spotter better than anyone in the world. Roman was on the edge, a nasty word away from cutting everyone’s throat open with a butter knife.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
Jared lifted his chin. “What’s doing?”
Cash studied the alarm reading. “Perimeter’s broken in Hangar B.”
Roman spoke up and put his ear bud in. “I cleared it this morning with Cash. No personnel expected in for the day. Nothing’s scheduled.”
Summer Heat: A Steamy Romance Boxed Set Page 44
