by Angel Payne
“Garrett.” Her breathy inflection didn’t prevent the word from reverberating throughout the room like cannon fire. “Oh Garrett, thank you, baby.”
One second of total silence passed.
In the next, the air crackled from at least a dozen rounds getting chambered into rifles, along with the clicks of three hand guns. His, Zeke’s, and King’s.
“Shit,” Garrett muttered.
“Sounds about right,” Z returned.
Chapter Eighteen
Shit, shit, shit!
Sage dragged a hand through her hair as Garrett swung her next to him and whipped out a gun from under his pant leg. Thirty seconds. She couldn’t believe it. That was all the time it had taken for her senses to tumble from their cloud of satiation and endorphins into an ocean of dread, lined on the bottom by rocks of raw remorse.
I’m sorry. So sorry!
It was an apology Garrett would never hear aloud. He couldn’t afford the time or the distraction now that he and King glared down their gun barrels at each other. There was just one huge discrepancy in that. King and his .45 caliber were backed up by at least ten semiautomatic rifles brandished by guards who imagined this all as some grand adventure instead of a very real, very dangerous standoff. Sage gulped as she watched their untrained bodies twitching and their trigger fingers behaving worse.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Listen to me, King.” Garrett’s assertion pounded the air with shockingly calm command. “This changes nothing about the deal.”
He grabbed her and tucked her tighter behind him, but not before Sage got a longer look at his profile. Between the ruthless granite of his gaze, the rugged set of his mouth, and the maturity added by the false facial hair, he really had been transformed into a different person. Yes, she realized that was the whole idea of undercover work, but this makeover was different. Some parts of him weren’t makeup and costume glue. Some parts were wholly the man he’d become—the man who, crazily enough, had to be in disguise for her to see clearly for the first time. Gone was the reckless soldier boy who’d battled bar drunks for her. This was Garrett the man, sitting in front of a madman’s gun for her. Who might still take a bullet from that gun for her.
The man she loved so deeply, now more than ever.
King’s hyena laugh sliced her thoughts apart. The man poked his gun harder at Garrett in emphasis. “This changes nothing?” he barked. “Is that so? On what fucking planet does it change nothing for you, Sergeant Hawkins?”
Garrett’s composure stayed as resolute as the heights of Rainier. He nodded at the briefcase. “You have your money. We have what we came here for. This doesn’t have to get messy. Take your payoff and go.”
Sage expected another of the man’s smarmy chortles. When King’s response was a glowering silence instead, she admitted a jolt of bafflement—and terror. She didn’t like being wrong or scared about a monster like him.
“Is that what you think?” asked the bastard. “You truly deem that I got what I came here for?”
“He’s on the straight up, dickwad.” The intrusion came from Zeke, who also looked five times more menacing despite a beard and nose that must’ve been stolen from an Abraham Lincoln costume set. “The money’s all there. And it’s all real.”
“Oh ho, no doubt it is!” King rebutted. “Just as it is all marked, no doubt, by the—how did you put it—asshats who supplied it to you.”
“Guess I should take that as a compliment,” Wyatt spoke up, likely as a calculated move to swing King’s head around to where he still stood between Josie and Rayna. “The wrapping job is mine. Took a long time too, when we got all that flow from the bank after selling off Garrett’s condo.”
Sage’s heartbeat seized again on the stunned setting. Garrett sold the condo to do this? He loved the condo even more than she did. Stupid, sacrificing, amazing man. She would’ve battered him raw if he wasn’t sitting there with nearly ten guns aimed at his beautiful heart.
Damn it, she had to help fix this! But how? She was sitting here, literally a sitting duck, trapped naked in nothing but a flannel blanket, and—
Wait.
Naked. Blanket.
She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. She had more than what she needed, didn’t she?
King’s distraction with Wyatt gave her the ideal opportunity to start repositioning herself, inch by inch. Garrett felt her shifting and tried to grab her ankle in the guise of soothing her, but she dug her heel into his fingers with rebellious resolve.
“So should I now call you the rubber-band man?” King cracked at Garrett’s uncle. “Surely you don’t still prefer Gustav? Or maybe you’ll just tell me who the fuck you really are.”
“No need to get testy. The name’s Wyatt Hawkins. You won’t mind if I continue to call you Mr. Cocksucker, right?”
“Hawkins,” drawled King. “So big daddy bear has come to save the wee one?”
“I’m his uncle. And he hasn’t needed saving since the days I was balls-deep in your mama, assface. I came for her.” He cut Josie out of her blindfold and cuffs and then did the same to Rayna. “And her.” He nodded toward Sage. “And her. And needless to say, my trigger finger gets awfully twitchy when it’s covered in rubber-band burns. So if you don’t mind, we’ll be toodelooing now.”
King responded to that by raising a hand. As Sage expected, all the guards jumped to high alert. Three of them lurched toward Wyatt, Josie, and Rayna. There were two dedicated to Garrett alone. The rest lurched into the same raised hackle mode, covering both doors, ready to shoot an ant on the wall if it moved.
None of them were paying attention to the naked girl in the blanket.
Which made it completely easy to sneak along the back of the couch. And surprisingly effortless to take a stance on the armrest as she peeled the blanket loose, spreading it outward, exposing her nudity in full glory. And outright fun to watch at least three of the soldiers turn to her with worshipful gapes.
And completely awesome to leap forward on a wild yell as she tossed the thing onto the idiots.
She jumped down to advance on the other guards, who struggled to comprehend that bare tits, ass, and other accessories were coming after them like a banshee on a vendetta. That was fine by her. She was a banshee on a vendetta.
She veered to the left, back into the dungeon area where Garrett had taken her to the moon and back. The whip rack lay two steps in. She grabbed a couple of the shorter single tails before turning back to face the three goons who’d followed her.
“Who wants a crack at me first, gentlemen?” She braced her legs and snapped the poppers on the floor, splitting the air with a pair of frightening cracks. “Huh. That was pretty cool, huh? Must’ve been beginner’s luck. You know, these things take practice. I’ve only played around with one, years ago. I’m not very good at all. God only knows what I’ll hit in my current delirium.” She flicked the leather lengths again. The soldiers scampered backward.
“Sage. Holy fuck!” The bellow came from Garrett, but she didn’t take her sights off the three henchmen in front of her.
“Do not listen to the bitch!” King screamed. “Take her down, damn you. Take her down!”
“The only things going down are your weapons, assholes.” She took a second to pray before cutting one of the whips at the closest guard. The lash came nowhere near her intended target, the guy’s gun hand, but it did flick into his crotch, making him fall to the floor in groaning agony. His gun slid away as he grabbed his balls and sobbed. Her heartbeat roaring, the heat of her terror burning behind her eyes, she bared her teeth at the remaining pair of goons. “Who’s next?”
The guards vacillated. They looked to King, only to discover that Zeke had used her antics as the ideal distraction. Their boss’s glare had a distinct new accessory—the butt of Z’s pistol.
“That’s such a pretty forty-five, cocksucker,” Zeke murmured. “I think my buddy would dig getting a closer look at it.” He dipped a glance at Wyatt. “Why don�
�t you set it down on the floor now. Yep, right there is fine. Do me a favor and slide it over to him.”
When King obeyed the first part of the demand but defiantly kicked the pistol in the opposite direction from Wyatt, Z let out a chuckle. “Ooohhh, you’re so cute, King. I love how you make me giggle in girlish delight.”
The guards in front of Sage huffed in frustration. “Screw this,” one of them blurted. He bolted from the building. The other three, including the guy she’d just whipped in the balls, rushed out after him. King roared in rage when the sound of a started car came from the open door. The engine purred, likely that of a Jag, BMW, or high-end Mercedes. Obviously, the goons had chosen King’s personal car for their escape.
If a human could breathe fire, Sage was certain King would spit full explosions at Zeke. The man glared like a caged dragon, lips twisting, skin mottling. “This shit is not done!”
Zeke barked in laughter. “Oh yeah, fuck-nugget, it’s done.” With his free hand, he pulled out a pair of fast plastic cuffs. Before he moved again, he looked around at King’s remaining minions. A couple of them still wrestled with the blanket, though Wyatt had already fished out their guns and now stood with the pile stacked between his spread legs. “I’m gonna put these on your boss man now, okay?” Zeke stated. “You know that if any of you try to stop me, my friends will put a bullet in your chest.” He nodded in Sage’s direction. “Whip girl will be happy to cut your crotch open for good measure too.”
Garrett glowered at his friend. “Are you encouraging her?” He stomped over and jabbed a finger at the corner where he’d left her skimpy outfit. “Put your damn clothes on, woman. Now.”
Zeke chuckled again, leaning over to King with the cuffs. Sage was about to give a sarcastic “Yes, Sir” to her fiancé when she witnessed the same crazy incident that everyone else did.
King greeted Zeke with a hug.
No. Oh God, no.
King didn’t give Z a hug. It was a knife. A big one, which he drove right into Z’s gut.
“It’s not over,” the monster said with a gritted smile.
“Nooooo!”
Rayna’s scream filled the room. Garrett lunged, slamming King away before the bastard could pull the knife free and make Z bleed out. Sage dashed over, trying to help Garrett pin King down, but the monster whacked a solid backhand to her cheek and she fell away. Seconds later, King scrambled clear from Garrett too. He stumbled to his feet, wrenched open the door—
Then crumpled against the jamb and slid down it.
A streak of blood followed his descent, flowing from the bullet wound in his forehead. There was a nick in the wood, clearly made by another bullet that had missed.
Sage gasped in shock. Still didn’t give her enough air. She tried again. Then again. She hadn’t even heard the shots.
“Wh-What the…” The words died as she stared back across the room. She’d pictured Wyatt standing there with the smoking gun—but the weapon was braced in Rayna’s trembling hands instead.
“You want over, asshole?” Her friend’s voice wobbled. Her teeth were bared in rage. “Now it’s over.”
Chapter Nineteen
“God, I’m glad you didn’t really sell this place.”
Sage’s husky murmur resonated against Garrett’s chest as the last rays of the sunset disappeared over the lake. They left behind a sky that looked like a watercolor too good to be real. Whipped-cream clouds danced with shades of lavender, orange, and amber over the silhouetted trees and were reflected in the calm ripples along the water outside.
Inside the condo, where they nestled on the couch with each other, Garrett chuckled quietly while twirling a strand of her hair. He’d never get tired of ending their days like this. Though the last week had been an insane whirl of debriefs at the base, another round of media for Sage, and checking in at the hospital with Z at least once a day, they’d made sure to slot this time together at or near sunset.
Okay, so most nights, the couch cuddle hadn’t been exactly the end of their day. It led to ways that formed an even better conclusion for them both. Way better. Garrett and his new alter ego, who’d fast earned the title “Sir G” from Sage, were becoming fast comrades in the quest of bringing their woman a world of submissive pleasure. The stockpile in the nightstand now included a couple of mini floggers, nipple clamps, a remote-operated vibrator, several anal insertables, and lots of scented lube. And he wanted more. Much more.
He only hoped she could handle more—because tonight, she was going to get it.
Just the thought of his little surprise made Garrett shift a little, concertedly commanding the rocket between his legs to hold on to its fucking fuse. Sage pulled away from him a bit, crunching her brow in a frown. “I’m sorry, baby. I walked in here and instantly started talking about my visit with Ray at the hospital. I spaced on dinner. You’re probably hungry, right?”
“Nope.” Garrett smiled softly at her. “Not hungry. I grabbed something late this afternoon. Figured you’d be eating with Rayna. How’s she doing?”
Sage shrugged. “She’s talking to the counselors every day. She’s in the business of saving lives, not shooting people, no matter how much she hated King. It’s a lot for her to deal with right now. But focusing on Z is helping her, for sure.”
“That’s good. Real good. And how is Sergeant Hayes himself coming along, besides grouchy as fuck?”
“He’s still grouchy as fuck.” She giggled. “He’ll probably be out tomorrow in time to wreak hell on Rayna’s weekend.”
The affectionate tone of her voice shifted him into a serious mien. “Z doesn’t say too much to me about her, you know.”
“About Rayna?” When Garrett nodded, she pressed, “So what does that mean?”
“That he’s ass-over-elbows nuts about her.”
“Oh.” She flashed an adorably girlish grin. “Awesome!”
The smile dropped when he didn’t deviate his gaze. He could keep up the cover on a mission for days if he had to, but keeping this surprise from her tonight was damn near killing him. Maybe it was because his cock had been invested in the fun since about three this afternoon.
“Are you sure you aren’t hungry?” she insisted. “You look really hungry.”
Garrett answered with a small, wolfish grin. He tangled his fingers deeper into her hair, using the hold to dip her head back, exposing her neck to him. He leaned and gently scored her skin with his top teeth. “Oh, I am hungry.”
“Mmmmm.” She brought her hands up to his head too. “I think I can help out with that craving, Sir G.”
Garrett shook his head. He pulled up so he could gaze into her brilliant green eyes again. “Uh-uh. No ‘Sir G’ tonight, sugar.”
Sage stuck out her lower lip. “What? Why not?”
“Because I want you to call me something else.”
“All right. Ummm…what?”
He shook his head again, intentionally slow and wicked about it. “You don’t get to find out until you go upstairs.”
Her answering huff was a tantalizing tease of its own. “Garrett!” she protested. “Not even a hint?”
He twisted his hold harder in her hair. “Every second you sit here sassing me, sugar, is another second of discipline I get to take from you later.”
That caused her eyebrows to jump. “Di-Di-Discipline?”
Garrett forced back his smile this time. He set her free before rising to his feet and folding his arms. “Still wasting time on sass?”
Sage popped up from the couch. “All right. Okay. I get it!”
“Bedroom,” he called as she sprang for the stairs. “Follow every instruction on the note I left for you.”
“Yes, Sir!”
He finally bared the smile as he walked down the hall to the guest bedroom. During the trip, he cracked open a door in his mind, enough to let Sir G slip into the fray. Hell, this was going to be fun.
Chapter Twenty
Sage stood at the door of the guest bedroom, shifting a little on
her bare feet, nervous as hell.
“This is ridiculous,” she groused beneath her breath. “You’re being stupid, Weston. It’s just Garrett. You know him. You love him. You’re getting married. In June. You have a date and a church already, and—”
She stopped herself on a rickety moan. Oh God. She was surely going to hell. Had she actually just talked about walking into a church to get married when she stood here dressed in nothing but a black leather bra and a pair of matching thong panties? And did the tissues between her thighs actually quiver as she looked again at the note in her hand? Granted, the words were now a little smeared because she’d picked it up and read it about a hundred times since finding it on their bed…
Use the fresh razor in the shower. Shave yourself…everywhere.
Put your hair up. When you’re done, come to me in the guest bedroom.
Wear only what I’ve placed here.
Master
She ran a finger over that last word in open amazement…and growing, heated arousal. “Master,” she whispered.
Shit on a gigantic platter. She had to be dreaming this, right? She was going to wake up on the couch, having fallen asleep on Garrett’s chest, embarrassed because she’d drooled all over him. This couldn’t really be happening. This was surreal, insane—a manifestation of her deepest sexual fantasies…
Nope. Wrong.
He was a manifestation of those fantasies.
He was leaning in the doorway to the guest bathroom, waiting for her in sensual silence. Oh, who was she kidding? Sensual was the world’s hugest understatement for the creature who stood before her now, with smoke in his eyes, half a smile on his lips, and soft black leather sheathing his huge, chiseled legs. From the waist up, he was sinfully bare, every striation of his golden muscles gleaming in the light of what seemed a thousand candles.
Candles.
After noticing how their light danced on Garrett’s body, Sage noticed the votives themselves. There seemed to be thousands, all lighted and placed on frosted glass shelves that had been mounted at various heights along the perimeter of the room.
