Fast Vengeance

by Kaylea Cross

  Making her his once more.

  VICTORIA SUCKED IN a sharp breath as Brock pushed deep inside her, her eyes sliding closed against the burn of tears. Not from pain. From being connected with him as intimately as she could. From feeling like she belonged to him.

  But there was also pleasure. So much pleasure, emotional and physical as he pinned her beneath him and took her the way he needed to. The way she wanted him to.

  He moaned her name, his muscles bunching beneath her hands, her thighs as she twined them around his hips. “Love you,” he gasped out. “Love you so goddamn much.”

  Her heart split wide open. She had dreamed of hearing those words from him for so long, hadn’t dared to let herself hope she ever would, before. “Sweetheart, I love you too,” she answered, emotion clogging her throat.

  He growled and pinned her harder. Even then there was no fear, no pain. She stared up into his beautiful, scarred face, half in shadow and half in moonlight and fell impossibly more in love with him.

  Wrapping her arms around him, she cradled him close as he pumped in and out, the almost feral sounds coming out of him sending a thrill through her. He was working up to an explosion and she didn’t want to miss a moment of it.

  “Can’t stop,” he ground out, bowing his head to press his forehead to hers.

  Rather than answer verbally, Victoria smoothed a hand down his back and squeezed him with her core. He gave a deep, sensual groan, his face twisting with the strain of trying to hold back. She didn’t want him to hold back with her. Not now. Not ever again.

  Raising her head, she kissed the side of his flexed jaw. Flicked her tongue over the corner of his mouth.

  Brock buried a hand in her hair and fused their lips together, his tongue plunging deep along with the motion of his hips. Two more thrusts and he went rigid in her arms, his head falling back on his shoulders as his release hit.

  His raw, sensual moans filled the night as his big body shuddered against hers. Finally, he sagged onto his left arm and dropped his head to her shoulder, breathing hard.

  She slid her hand through his hair, ran the other over his broad back. “You okay?”

  He lifted up slightly to look down at her, his eyes worried. “I was going to ask you that.”

  God, she loved this man. “More than okay. What about your shoulder?”

  His grin flashed in the moonlight as he chuckled softly. “I’ll live.” He withdrew gently, leaned to the side to grab his shirt, cleaned himself up.

  She shivered lightly in the cool night air, her body aching with unfulfilled need.

  “You cold?”

  “A little.” Mostly dying of sexual frustration.

  He grabbed a blanket that had fallen from one of the deck chairs and spread it over them. “Well I’m about to make you hot,” he murmured, giving her a toe-curling kiss before disappearing under the blanket, tugging the top of it over her shoulders to keep the cool air out.

  She bit her lip against a smile as his mouth trailed across her breast, his tongue finding a sensitive nipple. He whispered something and kept going, sucking and stroking his tongue across both sensitive peaks before moving lower.

  By the time he reached where she needed him most her thighs were trembling, stomach muscles pulled taut, her entire body screaming with need and anticipation. She couldn’t help but cry out when he dragged his tongue across her swollen flesh, slow and tender.

  His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he teased and stroked, quickly zeroing in on the exact spot on her clit that made her mindless. When she whimpered and pushed against his mouth he eased a hand between her thighs and slid a finger into her, curving it to slide over the hidden sweet spot inside her.

  Over and over he stroked, licked, sucked. In no rush now, determined to take his time and make her lose her mind.

  It felt like her bones were dissolving. The pleasure swelled higher, faster, until she was teetering on the brink. He slowed his hand, kept the sweet caress of his tongue steady.

  Too much.

  She sobbed out his name as she started coming, her whole body shaking. She was soaring, his grip on her hips the only thing keeping her from flying apart.

  Gasping, weak, she sank back against the cushions at last, her heart racing. Sweat beaded her skin as he eased his way back up her body, trailing tender kisses in his wake.

  Moments later Brock’s head popped out from under the blanket. He came up on his knees and braced his hands on either side of her head to peer down at her, so gorgeous even with the scar he took her breath away. “Hi.”

  She smiled up at him. “Hi. I can’t move.”

  He grinned. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  She managed to summon the strength to lift a hand and trace her fingers down the length of his nose, over his sensuous lips. “So how long are you staying here?”

  “Depends. How long do you want to stay?”

  “Hmmm, I don’t know. Forever?”

  A deep chuckle reverberated in his chest. “It’s tempting, but this is a little isolated, even for me.” He paused, grew serious. “How did you make out in Bellingham?”

  “I was okay. Signed up to volunteer at the local library. And I started my new book.”

  “You did?”

  “Mmhmm. Outline’s all done and I’ve got the first three chapters written.”

  “I’m glad you decided to do it.”

  “Me too.” She’d never imagined feeling this way about anyone. Willing to put her life into his hands. Willing to do anything to protect him. “You know what name I chose for my new identity, when I was in WITSEC?” she said, changing the subject.

  He propped his chin in his left hand, watching her. “What?”

  “Tori Hamilton.”

  He stilled, staring down at her in surprise.

  “I wanted to take a piece of you with me. That was my solution.”

  He cupped the side of her face with his free hand, turned it so that she looked into his eyes. “Then I say we make it official.”

  She blinked, unsure she’d heard him right. “What?”

  “I want to make you mine forever.” His gray eyes were steady, full of a tender possessiveness and pride that stole her breath. “Marry me, Tori.”

  He was serious. A tremulous smile tugged at her lips, the sting of tears blurring her vision. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  His answering smile lit up his stormy gray eyes, filled her heart to bursting. “God, I love you.” He leaned over her to kiss her tenderly, lingered there for a long moment before sitting up and pushing to his feet. “We’ll pick out a ring when we get back to Virginia. Unless you want me to surprise you?”

  “I’d love that.”

  “Done.”

  Before she could say anything else he reached down to grab her hand and haul her to her feet. She squeaked and grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around her naked body as she glanced around, her face heating.

  He laughed. “Too late for modesty now. I’m sure everyone within a five-mile radius heard you when you came.”

  She gasped, clutched the blanket around her. “They did not.”

  His grin was boyish, making her heart turn over. Her future husband. It was too incredible to believe yet.

  “Come on.” He wound a strong arm around her shoulders, drew her into his body. “I can’t carry you just yet, so you’ll have to walk into the cabin with me. I’ll build us a fire and make us a bed in front of it. Sound good?”

  “Sounds dreamy.”

  “Yeah. I hope you don’t plan on sleeping much tonight,” he added with a wicked smile that made her toes curl. “Although you might be the cure I needed for my insomnia.”

  Much later, as she lay curled up in his arms in front of the dying fire on the bed he’d made for them, she noticed a change in his breathing. It was deeper. Steadier.

  Lifting her head from his chest to look up at him, she found him fast asleep.

  His face was so peaceful in the glow of the embers, his
body relaxed. Because he instinctively knew he was safe here with her on a deep, subconscious level.

  Victoria smiled to herself in the dying light of the fire. From now on they would always be there for each other. Ready to chase away the darkness and slay any demons that came back to haunt them. They were both survivors. Starting tonight, they would face the future together, side by side.

  Snuggling in closer to the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with, she closed her eyes with a sigh and followed him into sleep. Sheltered in his loving, protective arms, where the specters from her past could no longer hurt her.

  —The End—

  Dear reader,

  Thank you for reading Fast Vengeance. I hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like to stay in touch with me and be the first to learn about new releases you can:

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  Kaylea

  Excerpt from

  Guarded

  Hostage Rescue Team Series

  By Kaylea Cross

  Copyright © 2018 Kaylea Cross

  Chapter One

  Stretched out on her belly on a wooded ridge overlooking the valley floor, Briar stared through her night vision riflescope at the log cabin below. The scent of the forest surrounded her. Damp and earthy and fresh after a hard rain that had just eased to a light shower a few minutes ago. “I count five heat signatures in the house,” she murmured, careful not to let her voice carry.

  “I’m seeing the same.” Lying in supported prone position beside her, her boss Alex Rycroft studied the small screen in his hands. The image showed an infrared feed from a drone circling the area high above. “Command, can you confirm?” he asked quietly.

  The answer came through their earpieces a moment later. “Affirmative. Five tangos in target location.”

  Even though it was damp and cold, Briar was loving every second of this. It had been too damn long since she’d been out in the field. Even longer since she’d acted as a sniper.

  A health scare during an op more than a year ago was to blame. She had been hit with some kind of Taser that had triggered cardiac arrest due to an undiagnosed arrhythmia she hadn’t been aware of. Since then she’d mostly been working as an analyst.

  It felt good to be back in her element, though she wasn’t used to having a spotter with her. Back when she’d been a Valkyrie she’d always worked alone. Working with Rycroft was awesome, however. He was former SF and had more experience than anyone she’d worked with before. Tonight they were providing recon and acting as overwatch if a tactical team was called in for a direct assault on the target.

  The feel of the sniper rifle in her hands soothed her and gave her a sense of calm. She was good at this. It was what she did best, actually. When she got home, she would have to hit the range with Matt and get her fix. Because after this op, her sniping days were pretty much over.

  “There should be more of them,” Rycroft murmured to her.

  Briar never took her eyes from the scope, the cold and damp after being camped out in the rain for the past two days barely registering. Learning how to ignore physical discomfort was one of the first things that had been drilled into her in the Valkyrie Program.

  That, and to never trust or rely on anyone but herself.

  Reversing that ingrained programming had proven hardest for her since joining the civilian world. She still struggled with trusting people, letting them in. Sometimes it even came up with her husband, Matt, who thankfully still wanted to keep her around.

  Briar focused on the cabin, analyzing it. “Think anyone’s in a cellar under there maybe?” There wouldn’t be a basement; the structure was too old and crudely built to have one. But an old storage cellar was a possibility.

  “Maybe.”

  So far the five people in the cabin hadn’t come back out. She did another slow sweep of the area, making sure she hadn’t missed anything. This right-wing group had gained support and attention in recent months. They were reportedly planning a major attack on a soft, civilian target in NYC. Fucking hateful cowards.

  A flash of movement caught her attention.

  “Wait, I’ve got movement in the trees to the northeast.” She zeroed in on it. As she watched, adjusting the scope’s focus, three more figures emerged from the tree line to the right of the cabin. All men, and all dressed in tactical gear they’d probably bought at the nearest surplus store.

  They didn’t move like amateurs, though. They moved slowly, appeared to be alert and cautious as they scanned the area, each of them holding what looked like M4s. “Bodyguards?” she murmured.

  “Could be.” A pause as Rycroft switched frequencies. “Get me an overhead visual,” he said to the drone pilot.

  “Roger that,” came the response.

  “You recognize any of them?” Rycroft asked her.

  “No.” None of them matched the pictures she’d memorized of the group’s leader and other key members. Three of who were already inside the cabin. The NSA, FBI and DHS wanted them all captured.

  While Rycroft watched his screen, Briar kept her attention on the men emerging from the trees. The group’s leader was supposed to be here, yet he wasn’t one of the five men in the cabin. She’d watched each one arrive, and he hadn’t shown. These three newcomers moved like they were disciplined and had some kind of tactical training. Not a total surprise, since many members of the group were reported to be former military.

  But none of them knew she and Rycroft were up here, watching. None of them knew they were in her crosshairs, or that she could kill any one of them with a squeeze of the trigger. She had used this weapon for more than a decade. It was calibrated specifically for her frame and preferences, so perfect it was like an extension of her body.

  “Someone’s coming out the front door,” she said.

  A man stepped out onto the front porch seconds later, holding a flat object in his hands. He shook it out, reached up and attached it to something sticking out of the front wall.

  A freaking Nazi flag to mark their repulsive clubhouse.

  “Lovely,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Looks like they’re rolling out the old welcome mat for someone special,” Rycroft said.

  The leader. He had to be either on his way, or nearby. She scanned the trees again. Why couldn’t she see him? “The detail’s stopped moving.” The three men in front of the tree line all stood several paces apart, maintaining a secure perimeter. “Waiting for someone.”

  She adjusted her aim, centering her crosshairs on the middle guy. This had to be it. All the NSA’s intel said Dempsey would be here tonight, to plan the upcoming attack with the other high-ranking members. Home grown terrorists, every single one of them.

  “I’m alerting the team.” Rycroft contacted the commander of the FBI tactical team back at the command post fifteen miles away. An FBI SWAT team, not the Hostage Rescue Team. That was her sexy Matt’s territory, and God she loved that about him. “Your boys ready to go?”

  “Affirmative. Everyone’s on board, helo’s ready to launch.”

  “Might have found what we’re looking for. Stand by.” Then to her, “They’re at a field five miles from here. Be here in a few minutes if we pull the trigger on this thing.”

  Oh, how she loved to pull the trigger.

  Briar listened with half an ear, more interested in who the guard detail was waiting for. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  More figures appeared through the dense forest of trees. Two big men. A third trailing a few steps behind them, moving without as much caution. “You seeing this?”
she whispered to Rycroft.

  “Trees are too thick for the drone.” He picked up his spotter scope instead, located the men. “Can you ID any of the newcomers?”

  “Not the first two.” The third man finally came into view, and a flash of elation hit her. “It’s Dempsey.” There was no mistaking that bearded face.

  She adjusted her grip on her weapon, snugged her right cheek against the buttstock, her index finger on the trigger guard. She centered her crosshairs over his chest and waited.

  The difference was still jarring. In her former life she would already have put a bullet through him and be packing up to move out of the area. But the rules were different now. She could only fire under direct orders from Rycroft or if someone posed a direct threat to her or someone else on their team.

  She couldn’t help it if she hoped this asshole gave her a reason to fire. One less twisted human cockroach for the world to worry about.

  Rycroft contacted the team commander again. “Target confirmed. Move in.”

  “Roger that,” the commander responded. “ETA four minutes.”

  Briar kept careful watch as the security detail escorted Dempsey to the cabin. The guy on the porch was there to meet him. His four buddies inside came out to greet their leader with Nazi salutes.

  Her lip curled in disgust. Too bad the NSA wanted these guys alive, for questioning and prosecution. She would rather end this a different way. But that was just her, because she was savage when it came to stuff like this. Luckily, Matt loved that about her.

  Everything moved fast from that point. Onboard the incoming helo, the SWAT team leader conversed with Rycroft. She and Rycroft provided eyes for them on their final approach to the LZ.

  Moments later the sound of aircraft engines broke the quiet. The sky was dark overhead, the thick cloud cover blocking the moon. Perfect conditions for an assault.

  Through her scope, she spotted the two helos the instant they punched through the cloud deck and dropped into the clearing. The men outside the cabin barely had time to react before the SWAT teams began swarming out of the aircraft.