Holding Fire

by April Hunt

  Vince cast a wary glance at Bea, who was now strategically shifting her top to maximize her cleavage.

  Trey finally found the right brand buried beneath all the others. He grabbed two and paid, making quick tracks back to the compound. The second the elevator doors slid open, the plastic bag was yanked out of his hand.

  “You’re welcome, sweetness,” Trey teased. He ogled the sight of Elle’s curvy backside scampering back to the kitchen. “You should probably know that Vince had to give Bea a mental lap dance for those two half-gallons.”

  “Thanks, Vince,” Elle called out as she eagerly pulled away the freshness seal.

  “Yeah, thanks, Navy.” Charlie pulled a potato chip from Vince’s hand and popped it into her mouth before gagging and grabbing a nearby paper towel “Ew. Yuck. What the hell bloody flavor is that?”

  “Salt and vinegar.” Vince glowered, but didn’t stop Charlie from swiping his soda and taking a huge gulp. “And root beer.”

  “Why the bloody hell would you get salt and vinegar chips and root beer?”

  “Because I thought you’d keep your grubby hands off them,” Vince retorted.

  Elle turned to Trey, grinning. “Aren’t they so cute when they get like this, baby? It makes me think back to all that sexual dancing around we did, and it gets me a little misty-eyed.”

  Vince and Charlie stopped arguing.

  “Sexual dancing?” Charlie eyes widened. “Hell, no. There’s nothing sexual or dance-like about Navy and me.”

  “That’s damn fucking right,” Vince agreed with a nod. “Violence maybe. Maybe a bruise-inducing sparring match. But definitely no fucking dancing.”

  “You know what? That sparring match sounds good.” Charlie grabbed Vince’s bag of chips and drinks and headed in the direction of the gym. “Let’s go, Navy. Winner gets the junk food.”

  “It’s my fucking junk food!” Vince bellowed, but followed.

  Trey chuckled as his friends disappeared. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he asked.

  Elle grinned mischievously, a spoonful of ice cream already perched at her lips. “A pregnant lady’s got the right to enjoy her ice cream without listening to them bicker. Besides, I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. They’d both be happier if they finally admitted what all the rest of us realized a million years ago.”

  Trey slipped his arms around Elle’s waist and palmed the gently swelling curve of her stomach. “You’re one dangerous woman, sweetness.”

  She popped the spoon into her mouth and hummed. “But less so now that I have my chocolate chip fix.”

  “When you’re done, can I have my fix? And just so we’re on the same page, it involves you naked and screaming my name.” Trey nipped her ear and enjoyed the feel of the corresponding shiver.

  “Too bad we can’t have our fixes at the same time.”

  Trey didn’t need to see the grin on her face to know it was a challenge. “Hold your bowl tight.”

  He scooped her up into his arms and started stalking toward their room.

  “Oh my God. You’re going to break your back!” Elle squealed. “What are you doing?”

  “Combining our two fixes—among other things.”

  Hard-nosed Charlotte Sparks’s last obstacle to becoming an operative is a trial mission—and six-and-a half-foot Alpha Security member Vincent Franklin. But when the op calls for them to pretend to be engaged, the heated action soon gets very real…

  Please see the next page for a preview of Hard Justice.

  Chapter Two

  Thump-thump. Wack. Thump-thump. Wack. Someone wailed hard on a sparring bag, the sound reverberating through Alpha Security’s corridor as if it was on the overhead communication system. The closer to the gym Vince got, the louder the low grunts became. Logan and Trey, two of his Alpha teammates, hovered outside the door, which left a handful of possibilities as to the owner of the serious aggression.

  “Why are you two girls hiding out here in the hall?” Vince smacked Logan on the back, and peeked into the training room.

  Since joining Alpha Security a year ago, Vince had been having this particular wet dream every damn night, but his imagination hadn’t a damn thing on the reality.

  Filling out a sports tank to perfection, the snug fabric hugging the ample curves of her breasts like a fucking glove, Charlie Sparks bounced on the balls of her feet in a hypnotic to-and-fro movement. A little blue jewel winked at him from her belly button as she pivoted her hips and turned her torso into a punch. And, as always happened when he laid eyes on the feisty Brit, his cock stirred to life.

  Frowning, Vince watched the way she attacked the sparring bag as if it had just insulted her mother, and she showed no signs of slowing down, despite the dewy glow sliding over her skin. “How long has she been at this?”

  “An hour.” Trey sounded just as displeased as he felt, offhandedly nodding toward the left. “And before that it was about thirty minutes of Scooter time—give or take.”

  Vince glanced over to the Scooter, the life-sized dummy they kept on hand for weapons training, and winced at the half dozen throwing knives sticking out of his neck. And his chest. And his groin, exactly where his dick would be fucking shish kabobbed if he’d been human.

  Logan’s gaze tracked the way Charlie drilled fist after fist into the sparring bag and added, “And she was in Stone’s office earlier. Five minutes after coming out, she was castrating Scooter.”

  “Door opened or closed?” asked Vince.

  “Closed. For half-a-fucking-hour.”

  Fuck. Nothing good ever came out of being summoned to the boss’s office. A former SEAL like himself, Sean Stone prided himself on keeping things within the unit as even as possible. Having a conversation with the man in his office, much less behind closed doors wasn’t exactly the norm.

  An hour and a half of aggression plus some Stone time and it brought her within a handful of minutes of when she’d disappeared with Preppy. Evidently something hadn’t gone the way she’d expected.

  “Did either of you ask her what happened?” asked Vince.

  The guys looked at him as if he’d sprouted a dick in the middle of his forehead, but it was Trey who spoke. “Does it look like we have a fucking death wish? Jesus. I have a kid on the way, one I’d like to see grow up and raise alongside my future wife. No way am I sticking my head anywhere near the lion’s mouth.”

  “She’s five-foot-nothing.”

  Logan shook his head, chuckling low. “Dude. You’ve been on the team for a while now and it’s like you haven’t learned a damn thing. Charlie makes some four-star generals look like domesticated pussycats.”

  He was inclined to agree. Though petite with that too-damn-hot English accent, Charlie was no wilting flower. He’d been on the receiving end of her sharp wit more times than he cared to count, not to mention her roundhouse. But that wasn’t where her edge stopped.

  Wearing a tight tank that ended above her navel, the most exquisite inkwork he’d seen in a damn long time wrapped around her right torso and slid beneath the band of her yoga pants. The understated beauty of rich brown tree limbs and pink cherry blossoms was as gorgeous as it was fitting. And if he wasn’t afraid of receiving a debilitating kick to his groin, he’d ask for a head-to-toe glimpse of the entire damn thing.

  Thinking about where that tattoo ended, and whatever else might lie beneath, Vince’s cock went from half-mast to full salute. He adjusted his pants and forced himself to concentrate more on Charlie’s body mechanics than the body itself.

  “You’re overextending your arm on the punch.” He stepped into the gym, completely aware of the fact his friends had high-tailed it in the opposite direction the second he opened his mouth.

  Chickenshits.

  “I don’t recall asking for your bloody advice, Navy.” She didn’t even look in his direction as she drilled another series of punches into the bag, no doubt envisioning his face floating in front of her.

  “The friendly thing to do would
be to say, ‘Thank you, Vincent. You saved me from having my arm in a sling for four weeks.’”

  “If you want friendly, go upstairs.” Charlie nodded above them where Alpha Security’s cover business, the bar Alpha, was in full midnight swing. “I’m sure there’s a blonde or brunette or redhead looking to be the next member in the Navy Boy fan club.”

  Thwack. Kick.

  Hell, she was right. He could go up to the bar and, within five minutes, have a willing companion for the night. Once upon a time, he would’ve done just that and the fleeting sexual release would’ve easily smoothed away the constant edge that always hovered beneath the surface. Now it just left him cold…and craving the woman in front of him even more—which is probably why he’d been as celibate as a fucking monk for the last six goddamned months.

  Vince took position behind the sparring bag and held it in place, knowing he was living dangerously but not giving a shit. “You almost sounded a little jealous there, English. Careful, or I may start thinking you actually care.”

  As expected, her brown eyes narrowed. She kicked precariously close to his right hand. “There’s absolutely nothing to be jealous about. I could get a bad dye job and fake boobs if I wanted, but I don’t want to fly around like a deflated balloon if something sharp pokes me in the chest.”

  At the mention of her chest, his eyes dropped to her cleavage. Hell, he couldn’t help it. He was a fucking man, and the two secured globes were fucking perfect. Unfortunately, she noticed his shifted attention.

  Charlie twisted her torso, winding up for another roundhouse, but this time didn’t pull back. Before he registered her aim, the top of her shoe connected with his ear, making it ring like a goddamn church bell.

  Vince released the bag with a growl. “Jesus Christ, woman. You’re a fucking nuisance.”

  Hands on her curvy hips, she stepped into his space, the top of her head barely hitting his chin. Mighty Mouse with a bad attitude. “Oh, please. You’re a big bad SEAL and you can’t take a little tap?”

  “You want to turn this into a hand-to-hand sparring match, my little English muffin? Fine with me.”

  She ducked his frontal assault and spun, her foot impacting two inches above his knee. The damn thing gave out and gave her the upper hand for about five seconds. Vince took his time, blocking each of her moves while he waited for the one that would let him gain back the advantage. When her eyes shifted left, he spun right. Now behind her, he pinned his forearm across her collarbone and anchored her back against his chest.

  “Are you done yet?” His lips brushed over the shell of her ear. Every internal alarm he had went ape-shit, including the one between his legs that was rock hard and nestled perfectly against the small of her back.

  Charlie stilled for about two seconds, her backside moving into a slight sway. And hell if she didn’t do it again, the second time pulling a low groan from his throat. His grip lightened to step away, but it was too late. Two small hands yanked down his arm and a set of teeth bit into the flesh of his hand.

  Vince released her on a howl.

  “Yep. I’m about done now.” Charlie ignored his colorful curses and swayed her ass over to her water bottle.

  “Vince.” Stone stood just off the mat, arms folded across his chest. And fuck, his boss didn’t look thrilled. “I need you in the meeting room. Now.”

  Vince nodded, not having any clue how much of the show the former SEAL had seen.

  “And Charlie”—Stone slid his gaze her way—“I want your ass in there in another ten.”

  Charlie wiggled her fingers at Vince as he turned to follow their boss deeper into the underground labyrinth that was Alpha Security headquarters. They had not only a training room, but a shooting range, offices, and a meeting room that made the Pentagon look half-assed.

  And all of it built into the Blue Ridge Mountain. To the outside world, Vince and his team were business owners and bouncers that had taken over the running of a much-loved neighborhood bar. To a select few topside, they were the men who got shit done when the government’s hands were metaphorically—or logistically—tied.

  The meeting room was empty when they got there. “You want a bag of ice for that hand?”

  “Maybe a fucking tetanus shot.” Vince glared at his boss’s smirk. “Look, about what happened in the training room, I—”

  “This isn’t about the training room, although it does involve Charlie.”

  Fuck-and-him. Stone wasn’t an easy guy to read—at all. But his silence spoke a thousand fucking words. “What about her?”

  “I’ve offered her a chance to take a primary assignment in a case.”

  Vince narrowed his gaze on his boss. “English has been champing at the bit to take on more field assignments, so I know there’s a lot more to it than that. What aren’t you saying?”

  “A lot.” Stone’s face was grim. “Starting with the fact that it’s a DHS case.”

  “Department of Homeland Security?” Vince’s eyes widened. That sure as hell wasn’t what he’d expected to come out of Stone’s mouth. “What the hell kind of case are you giving Charlie that involves DHS?”

  “Kidnapping with possible human-trafficking links from a ring based out of Miami. Possible corruption within the DHS ranks.”

  “Shit.”

  “Of the deepest and foulest kind.” Stone nodded.

  Vince’s gut tugged. Something didn’t quite feel…right. “Wait. Then why the fuck do you want to bring English into this as a primary? You think she can track them down electronically?”

  “That would be fucking nice, but no. It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

  The clearing of a throat had both men turning. Charlie stood in the doorway of what she and Penny had dubbed the Room of Testosterone. Her brown eyes shifted to him before traveling back to Stone. “What’s Navy doing here?”

  “I told you that if you decide to do this, that you’d have a partner.” Stone nodded toward Vince. “Franklin’s yours.”

  Charlie’s calculating gaze slid his way before returning to their boss. “No way in bloody hell.”

  “I told you before, Charlie, that if it isn’t with one of ours, it doesn’t happen. There’s no fucking way I’m letting you go back on the inside without someone we can trust standing next to you.”

  “What about Logan?”

  “Already scheduled for another detail, and since we don’t know how long this one’s going to take, I can’t chance sending him out.”

  “Chase?”

  “With him. And I’m not sending Trey out knowing that his mind would be back here on Elle and the baby. Franklin’s your second. You can either accept it and sit down to hear the rest or I can call DHS right now and tell them it’s a no-go. Your choice.”

  Her trying to pass him over in favor of one of the other guys chafed him raw. He might be one of the newest to Alpha, but that didn’t mean he was a fucking rookie. In his years of service, he’d seen and done things that would give a person’s nightmares nightmares. Fuck, he still woke up most nights in a goddamned cold sweat.

  Charlie sat down two chairs away from Vince, refusing to meet his gaze. He didn’t even know exactly what the assignment entailed, but he was suddenly hell-bent on making sure he was there for its duration, whether the little British bombshell liked it or not.

  “Charlie was approached tonight by a DHS agent looking for a new angle into one of their cases. They’re about two steps away from writing it off and calling it a loss,” Stone addressed Vince.

  It took him a moment to register what his boss was saying and to connect the dots together—toward Preppy Boy. Vince shifted his attention to Charlie. “That’s who that guy was at the bar? The dipshit with the fucking chinos?”

  Charlie barely gave him a nod.

  Vince turned to his boss. “Okay…next question. Why the fuck are they approaching English? That kid was barely out of diapers; there’s no way in fucking hell he’s high enough on the DHS food chain to know about Alpha.” />
  “They didn’t approach Alpha Security; they approached Charlie because they believe she’s the inside they’ve been lacking. I’m making it an Alpha Security issue. I contacted our department liaison and told him that if she decides to go through with it, it will be us taking point. Actually, taking the fuck over. Color me surprised when he actually looked relieved.”

  Stone leaned his ass on the edge of the table, his gaze bouncing between them. “I want to make sure I make one thing clear…neither one of you are under any obligations to do this. DHS can take care of their own housekeeping issues. Dennison’s going to give you both the rundown and if you don’t like it, we end the call and it’s over. The end.”

  As if perfectly timed, the video-comm beeped with an incoming call. Stone flipped on the secure feed, the screen pulling up a slightly disheveled older man, somewhere in his mid-sixties, who looked like he’d just come off a bender—or a stakeout.

  “Agent Dennison.” Stone nodded toward the DHS agent, the two men obviously having met before.

  “Stone. What were the fucking chances that our last play before I called your ass actually ended up being one and the same? I can’t tell you how much easier we’re all breathing around here.”

  “I know you meant for that to be a compliment, Rich, but really what it sounded like was that you were willing to put a civilian life at risk before you finally called someone who could maybe get the job done.” Stone glowered at the man through the video-comm. “Luck had it that the civilian your man approached happens to be one of mine. And since she is such, her and her partner here have the veto power on this little operation of yours. If they don’t like what you have to say, they don’t have to do it.”

  Agent Dennison’s friendly demeanor instantly vanished, replaced by a growing scowl. “You realize this clusterfuck is growing to astronomical proportions, right?”

  “I do. And I also know that you’ve suffered some casualties along the way, and I’m sorry about that, but I’m not going to put my operatives on an assignment that they’re not one-hundred-percent on board with.” Stone gestured to Charlie and Vince. “These are the two you need to convince, and if either of them isn’t up for it, then it doesn’t happen.”