The XXX Files Season One (Episodes 1-4)

by Lexi Maxxwell

  XXX

  Chapter Five — Brad Hammer

  Brad had Willow sprawled in the back seat and was barreling down the highway before he even texted Tricky Dick. Fortunately, the fucker confirmed his direction.

  Only when Willow was finally quiet did Brad realize how loud she had actually been. As he barreled down the highway, pushing the Lincoln and his safety past their practical limits, he felt a cool silence inside him, like the black between all the stars in the sky.

  Ever since the first night in Atlanta, Willow had been in his head in one way or another. He assumed that much of it was in his imagination – Jesus Christ, the things he could imagine – but now he knew, obviously it wasn’t.

  That much was clear by the way Brad was having brain sex with Willow before he charged into her motel room, chowed down on her chowder pot, then showered her with his glob. And that was assuming it wasn’t clear from the events at Bottoms UP! and all the dreams before and after that.

  But more than anything, it was the silence he felt in his head with Willow sleeping; a silence louder than thunder.

  Brad pushed harder on the gas.

  He had to find a way out. Had to get Grayson back. Had to make it back to the border and put a bullet in the face of Tricky Dick.

  The Lincoln was on fumes by the time Brad pulled into the parking lot of The Cadillac Tavern – a dive motel in the middle of nowhere, with just one car in the lot.

  He killed the engine, then opened the back and scooped Willow from the backseat, tossing her over his shoulder. He quickly approached Room #4, just like Tricky Dick texted, pulling the gun from his holster with his right hand as he balanced the barely breathing Willow with his left.

  Brad kicked hard on the bottom of the door, three times.

  After a minute of silence that sounded even louder than the nothing coming from Willow, the door split just wide enough for Brad to see the barrel of a 9mm Beretta peaking through the gash.

  Brad nodded. The door opened to the buzz cut and square jaw of a living, breathing action figure pointing one gun between his eyes while another two sat in holsters on both sides of his chest.

  Grayson was loosely bound to a chair in the corner. Brad caught her eye and she nodded, slightly, just enough to send Brad a silent I’m okay.

  Brad stepped deeper into the room, then gently lay Willow’s body on the bedspread, flashing back to their sloppy fuck fest from a few hours and a couple hundred miles before.

  His face was buried between her creamy thighs, his tongue stabbing her pussy, slamming her to orgasm. He pulled himself from between her legs, pulled his throbbing cock from his pants, stroked it once, then came all over her face. Willow licked her lips, biting her lip and flooding his mouth with her juices.

  A smile tickled the edge of Brad’s lips.

  He couldn’t know for sure, but he’d happily bet his big swinging sack and both balls in it that Willow had just been inside his head, sharing a memory.

  He measured the room, quickly deciding he had zero chance of going against Tricky Dick. Toe-to-toe or hand-to-hand, either way gave Brad zero chance of success. The asshole had several inches and what looked like two-hundred pounds of all American beef as an advantage.

  But whatever Brad had that worked so well with women, worked with people. Just because Brad had only used it on the fairer sex, didn’t mean he couldn't flip it upside down. He took a step toward Tricky Dick, who was still aiming the gun right between Brad’s eyes.

  “Stop right there,” Tricky Dick said. “Take your partner and leave.”

  Brad feigned surprise. He pointed to his chest, then said, “Really? Just like that? I can take my partner and go?”

  Tricky Dick nodded. “A deal is a deal,” he said. “She’s all yours.”

  “And what about Willow?”

  “She’s no concern of yours.”

  Brad should have left the room right then.

  His logical side was screaming for him to leave.

  But the side of his brain that thought with his cock, the side he most often used and had come to rely on more than anything, the side that was infatuated if not fully in love with Willow Monroe, couldn’t bear to abandon her.

  Brad took another step toward Tricky Dick, the gun still aimed at his forehead, then stared into Tricky Dick’s slate-colored eyes. “You don’t want to hurt me,” he said.

  “No,” Tricky Dick shook his head, “I don’t.”

  Confusion was clear on his face. Training, logic, habit and instinct were all fighting Brad’s lover’s whisper worming its way into his mind – the same whisper that could get any woman breathing to open their mouths, bend over, or spread their legs and wait.

  Tricky Dick’s gun wavered, then fell at his side.

  Brad held his hand in the air. Tricky Dick looked at Brad’s empty palm, down at the gun, then back at the palm before filling it with metal.

  “Thanks,” Tricky Dick said, his voice cracking with uncertainty.

  Brad smiled a you’re welcome, then slipped the gun into the back of his waistband and said, “What’s your name? Any names I might know?”

  Viktor nodded. “Drexel Seven.”

  Fucking A!

  Brad wanted to empty Drexel’s gun right into his face.

  “You’re the asshole who was responsible for the Toronto ambush, aren’t you? The reason we buried Agent Pressfield?”

  Drexel nodded. “Just doing my job,” he said.

  “Who do you work for?”

  “Whoever pays most,” Drexel said, falling into an honest laugh.

  “Who’s your boss?” Brad demanded.

  Drexel was silent, his face shifting through several looks before settling on defiance.

  “Who is your boss?” Brad repeated.

  Drexel suddenly smiled, then drew a gun from his left holster, the barrel just inches from Brad in a blink. “You shouldn’t have put my gun away,” he said, then cocked the Berreta. “Sorry, Hammer. I’m gonna need you to stand down. Now. You have four seconds. Five if I’m generous, though I should penalize you to three for stepping into my head like you did.” He stepped closer, nudging the barrel into Brad’s forehead. “If I thought for a second no one would care, I would’ve given you a lead bath already.”

  Drexel went over to Courtney and untied her. “I’m leaving here with Miss Monroe right now,” he said. “And I’m gonna let you live, seeing as how that’s how my boss prefers this to go down. But they’re not here, and if I say you were resisting, then they’ll believe me. So I’m going to say this once more. I’m leaving and you’re not following. Ya’ dig?” He turned to Brad. “And I promise you, Hammer. If I doubt your word for so much as a flinch, I’ll end Grayson’s life right now so you get a front row seat before I end yours.”

  Drexel moved his gun from Brad to Grayson.

  “Five...four...three…”

  Grayson’s eyes were wide and hollow.

  Drexel paused his countdown. “I know you love her,” he said, waving his gun at Grayson. “First your fiancé and her child, and now your partner. You really don’t want to lose everyone you love, do you?”

  Brad gritted his teeth.

  “Two…”

  “Fine!” He threw his arms in the air. Drexel smiled, then moved his aim from Grayson to Brad.

  Grayson suddenly launched herself from the chair and slammed the tip of her foot into the back bend of Drexel’s knee. He bellowed in pain, then crashed to the floor, earning a second kick to his head on the way down.

  Brad was on his fallen body a second later, slamming the butt of his gun into the back Drexel’s head and sending him into icy unconscious for at least a minute.

  He ran to Grayson and pulled her into an embrace, wanting nothing more than to shower her with kisses. But Brad kept his lips to himself. Not only would there be no going back from, it was sure to thicken his cunt stretcher.

  “Let’s go,” Brad said, pulling Grayson from Drexel’s crumpled body, and looking over toward the silent
Willow still sprawled across the bed.

  “Wait,” Grayson said. She kneeled on the spotted carpet, retrieved one of Drexel’s guns, then aimed it at his head and pulled the trigger, sending Brad into a shudder as chunks of Drexel burger flew through the room.

  “What the fuck, Grayson?” he cried. Brad pulled his partner toward him and stared into her eyes, letting her know that he’d do anything to protect her, anything to cover up what she’d done – or anything she would ever do again.

  Grayson said, “So, you DO love her?”

  “Her?” There was something off in Grayson’s voice, as though she was referring to herself in the third person. He pulled away and Grayson’s face went blank.

  Brad turned to the bed, where Willow was now stirring.

  Willow climbed from the bed. She had taken control of Grayson to end Drexel’s life, and now she looked mad enough to end the both of theirs.

  Brad stepped in front of Grayson as she swayed lightly back and forth, unsteady on her feet. She was vacant, not quite there, unable to hear what was happening around her. He turned to face Willow. “I swear, I wasn't going to turn you over to him,” he said.

  “No, you just used me as a bargaining chip.”

  “I had to,” Brad shrugged. “I love her. And I'd do it again. It was my only play.”

  “Don’t you love me?”

  Brad shook his head. “Our bond is animal,” he said. “It’s instinct at least, or maybe something more, I don’t know. But I do know that what I have with Grayson only came after a thousand cups of coffee and a million crude jokes. I mean, I can’t stop thinking about you, and,” he barked into a laugh, “I’d spend every day fucking you from sun up to sun down, then flip you over and fuck you from the back if I could. But I’m not sure that’s love, Willow. Either way, yeah, I was looking for a way out and needed you to buy time, but there’s no way in Hell I would have betrayed you.”

  Willow approached him, inching closer as he did nothing to stop her. She kissed him hard on the lips, her tongue swimming inside his mouth as her mind sank into the deep seas of his thought. Brad could feel her inside him, probing.

  After a kiss which felt like forever, where Willow wandered the halls of his inner truth and saw that he genuinely meant it – he would never have turned her over – she pulled away.

  “So, what now?” she said.

  “I can't let you keep killing people. I have a job to do.”

  “Before I went into your partner's head, I went into Drakov's to see if I could control him. I couldn’t,” she shook her head. “Not with you in there, too. But I did see why he wants me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because your government wants to turn me into a killer spy, then make a whole lot more just like me. Helix was lead on the project. And now I'm starting to think that the accident that created me wasn't an accident at all.”

  “Jesus,” Brad said.

  “Please,” Willow begged. “You have to let me go. I swear. I know you, Brad, and I know you know me. I promise I’ll never end anyone you wouldn’t think deserves it. You have my word. I promise on my pussy,” she laughed, stroking the bald between her legs. She took one step closer, pushing her body against Brad’s, and splaying her fingers into his ass. “I don't want to hurt you or your partner. But I won't let you take me in.”

  Brad said, "Go,” then waved his hand toward the door.

  Willow kissed him once more, long on the mouth. “I wish we'd met under different circumstances,” she said. “You are a kind man, Agent Brad Hammer. And a helluva fuck. Your partner doesn't know how lucky she is.”

  “I think she might, at least someday,” Brad smiled. “I’m sure she’s worth waiting for.”

  “Until we meet again,” Willow said, “I suppose I’ll be seeing you in my dreams.”

  “I fucking hope so,” Brad grinned.

  He looked down at Drexel’s body. The gunshot was loud. Even in the middle of nowhere, people would come looking. They needed to clear the room. “You need to go, now.”

  Willow nodded once more, then slipped from the room.

  As the door closed, Brad turned to Grayson, blinking through her confusion. She turned to Brad. “What happened?” she stuttered. “One minute this guy had me at gunpoint, the next I’m standing here with a gun?”

  “You saved the day, just like always, Agent Grayson.” Brad smiled. “Don’t you remember? You really need to think about not partying so hard.”

  Brad gently took the gun from her hand, slipped it back into his pants, then pulled Grayson into another embrace. She pulled herself into his chest, then pushed back when it seemed as though the hug was lingering a little too long.

  “What’s with the PDA?” she said.

  Brad smiled. “Nothing, just thought I'd lost you.”

  She shook her head. “Why can’t I think straight?”

  Brad laughed. “Because the guy whose head you detonated filled you with drugs. I think it may have been Sodium Pentathol. He was definitely digging.”

  Grayson looked worried. “Oh shit,” she said. “I wonder what I said?”

  “Don’t worry about what you did or didn’t say. It looks like it died along with him.”

  She shook her head. “What if he called it in to his superiors?”

  Brad said, “Didn’t happen. He was just starting to question you when we burst into the room.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah,” Brad said. “I brought in Willow to trade for you. I had to find her, then drag her ass down here. That’s what took me so long.” Brad cleared his throat, hoping her questions would quickly thin.

  “Where is she now?”

  Brad glanced toward the door. “She got away during the confusion. But it’s okay, Grayson. I owe her a getaway. You, too. We’re only alive because of her. She had a chance to kill us, and didn’t. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

  Grayson half-smiled and said, “I suppose, this time. But Division is going to order us after her. They’re going to want her now more than ever, right?”

  Brad nodded. “I imagine so.”

  Grayson punched Brad on the shoulder. “You just can’t control yourself around a great set of tits," she teased.

  Brad said, “That’s why you always have the leg up in this relationship.”

  Grayson smiled, then pointed at Drexel’s body. “Come on, let's call this in. Looks like we have a long night of reports ahead of us.”

  XX

  They drove in silence back to their motel room, nearly as smack dab in the middle of fucking nowhere as Drexel’s rendezvous.

  He walked Grayson to her door, made sure she felt safe, then did everything he could to keep himself from pulling her into a kiss before she closed the door.

  Brad lingered outside her room, pacing in front of the door, not just horny as fuck, but eager to realize the boil of his feelings.

  After a minute of pacing, Grayson opened the door. “What’s up, Hammer?” she said. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” he half-smiled. “It’s just...I don’t know.”

  “Spill it, Hammer. I care about whatever you have to say, promise, but I’m tired as a soldier waiting to shoot, and am falling asleep where I stand. If it’s not on the tip of your tongue right now, can we talk about it tomorrow?”

  Brad smiled, awkwardly, then said, “Sure thing, Grayson. Get a good night’s sleep.” He gave her a two finger salute, then said, “See ya’ in the morning,” then went to his room.

  Brad stripped to nothing but cock and balls, then slipped beneath the sheets, jacking his shaft as he pictured Willow and Grayson writhing on the floor of BottomsUP!

  Grayson started down Willow’s chest, moving her hand from head to tits, then tits to mouth before Willow took over, rubbing her hands across Grayson’s body, trickling from one tit to the other, flipping against Grayson’s bullet hard nipples through the silk of her shirt. Willow rubbed her palm hard against Grayson’s pussy, until a dark spot soaked through the fabric.
Grayson writhed beneath Willow’s touch, moaning and pleading to be fucked. “Someone shove something inside me,” she whimpered. “Pleeeeeeassse…”

  Brad’s hand was dripping cum in seconds. He was snoring just seconds after that.

  XX

  Brad opened his eyes.

  The first difference he noticed was that the room felt somehow different. A hotel room, but not the one he’d checked into. He sat up in bed and felt a sharp pain in his head, and a bit woozy.

  Where the fuck am I?

  Brad rubbed his eyes and looked around the room. It felt familiar, like a hotel he’d stayed in before, though he couldn’t remember which one or when. After a while, they all seemed familiar. A king-sized bed, thick red curtains, a desk, chair, and a small TV sitting on top of a long dresser.

  The room was dimly lit, though he saw no source for the light. The light wasn’t coming from the curtains. But there were no lamps, nor any windows he could see.

  Weird.

  And it wasn’t just the light that was weird. The air felt different, too. It was cold. And silent, save for the sound of the air being pushed through vents in the ceiling. It was then that he noticed a second sound, barely audible, beneath the air.

  A clicking of some sort.

  What the hell?

  Suddenly the room went pitch black and Brad wasn’t sitting up, but laying down.

  What the hell?

  He felt something touching his legs in the darkness, and screamed, trying to move, but he couldn’t. He opened his eyes to a bright and blinding light above him. Neither his arms or legs would move. He couldn’t feel anything, save for a coldness rushing through his body.

  I’m on an operating table. What happened?

  Nothing was making sense. He’d gone to bed and woke up in a hospital. He couldn’t figure out how he’d possibly wound up in a hospital.

  Did something happen to me in my sleep?

  Then a shape leaned forward, momentarily blocking the light above him, seemingly distorted ... at first.

  Brad’s eyes stared in disbelief, telling himself that he must be dreaming as dread coursed through him.