Stryker (Books 1 & 2) (Atrox Security)

by J. C. Cliff

  “Oh, my God. I’m coming.” We both come fast and hard, her legs shaking as I keep working her through her climax, pumping myself into her deep, slick heat.

  When she’s spent, I pull her into an embrace, pressing her body against my sweaty chest. She winds up settling her nose into the crook of my neck then decides she’d rather plant little reverent kisses along my jawline.

  “I so love you,” she purrs against my skin. I hold her tighter in my arms. Everything about her, about us, feels so right. It always had.

  I dip my head down and tenderly kiss her swollen and slightly parted lips, then whisper over them, "I can assure you, you've got all of me, darlin’.”

  Come hell or high water, I will fight anyone, or anything to keep what we’ve got. This woman owns my heart, down to the last beat.

  CHAPTER 38

  ~ Valerie ~

  Enjoying the space and freedom of a full-sized bed for a change, I stretch out my limbs and yawn. It feels good not to be squished on a twin-sized mattress with a man who is that very size to begin with. Although, looking back, it has been nice to be held every night in a tight embrace to keep either one of us from falling out of bed.

  The shower water turns off in the small bathroom, and I know Stryker will be out soon. I have no idea what his and Hunter’s plans are today, and true to my word, I’m not asking questions. I trust them to get us all home safely.

  I’m just glad Stryker and I have grown by leaps and bounds. I feel so alive when I'm with him, and I'm not talking about breathing to keep my heart beating. I'm talking about high voltage electricity running through my veins when he's near. I've never met anyone who has been able to compare to his dynamics. The man radiates energy, injecting it into any room the second he enters.

  There are so many sides and facets to Stryker it’s as if he’s a multidimensional phenomenon. He’s got this sweet and tender side he reveals to me, but also a certain level extends into his missionary work. His mysterious side always takes me by surprise, like when I saw firsthand how he changed like a chameleon, turning into this badass military man when we were in danger. Or when he showed his hidden intellect when he conversed with the Wanouan men.

  No wonder he’s able to work undercover. He can seamlessly glide from one persona to the next, and I, myself, didn’t even suspect it.

  Yet my favorite side to him has always been his wicked sense of humor. Sadly, I haven’t seen much of that lately, and it’s understandable as to why.

  My eyes immediately avert to the bathroom door the second he steps out, expecting to see him only in a towel. However, he’s fully dressed, and I deflate a little. He’s wearing his long cargo pants and a black fitted T-shirt that accentuates all his muscles, which is just as drool-worthy.

  Catching my gaze, he gives me a wink and a knowing grin. “Disappointed?”

  “A little,” I shamelessly admit.

  “Aw, c’mon, darlin’. Haven’t you had enough of me?”

  “Never,” I tell him, as he leans over me for a chaste kiss. He rests his hands on either side of my shoulders and leans in, his face growing serious. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve got to step out for a few with Hunter. We should only take about a half-hour, but I worry about leaving you alone for even a minute.”

  “We’ll be okay,” I assure him, then caress the rough stubble on his cheek.

  “Do not open the door to anyone. Do you understand?” His serious tone and piercing eyes give me goose bumps. He’s being highly overprotective, but I can’t say I blame him.

  “You don’t have to worry about me opening anything,” I tell him. “I will make sure Celia does the same.” His lips form a thin line at the mention of her name, and I don’t know why. “Where are you guys going?”

  He shakes his head, and I already know the subject is off limits. “Can’t go there. Just know I’m going to be as quick as possible.”

  “Okay,” I relent, not pushing him. I can respect his wishes, wanting to keep everything on the down-low.

  “That’s my girl,” he tells me proudly, before his eyes soften and he changes the subject. “I do love you,” he whispers in complete sincerity. His lips then curve into a lighthearted smile, and those sweet-as-hell dimples come into focus. His profession makes me go all tingly inside, and the way his green eyes dance with warmth and compassion makes my heart swell with happiness.

  “I love you, too,” I say, returning his smile, and wrap my arms around him. I inhale his freshly showered scent, and I don’t want to let him go. “Are you sure we can’t have a half-hour of our own before you leave?”

  He leans in, brushing his lips against mine, and it’s not nearly enough. He pulls back, giving me a grin. “I’ll never get out of here if you keep looking at me like that.” He peels away my arms from around his neck. “Hold those thoughts, yeah? I promise, half-hour tops.”

  “Hurry back to me, please,” I say with a pout.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He gives me one last peck on the cheek then heads for the door between our hotel rooms. One quick knock on Hunter’s door and it opens. Hunter is dressed and ready to go too. He half turns around and says goodbye to Celia, and then they leave out our side of the hotel room. On their way out, Stryker motions for me to engage all the locks and chains, and I blow him a kiss, acknowledging his wishes.

  Once they leave, I get up from the comfort of my bed and bolt the door then use the bathroom. Washing my hands in the sink, I’m cursing myself for not having paid more attention to my body’s monthly cycle. I could’ve asked Stryker to pick up some feminine items for me while he was out in the city, and now I have no way to contact him. I guess he will just have to turn around and go back out.

  I step out of the bathroom and go to the old, scratched, and worn dresser that’s seen better days, open the top drawer, and pick out a clean shirt along with the new floral skirt Celia and Hunter got for me yesterday. I slip them on then brush out my hair and put it in a ponytail using the small mirror above the dresser.

  Celia comes bursting through the adjoining door between our rooms in a hurry. “We’ve got to get out of here,” she says almost in a panic.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, perplexed.

  “I’m going stir-crazy. I’ve been cooped up in this damn hotel room for almost three days straight. I need to step out, even if it’s for a minute.”

  I arch a brow at her. I’ve never seen her act so weird before, but I’ve never seen her cooped up before either. “It’s not like we’re going to be trapped in here for the next week, Celia,” I admonish. “This is for our own safety. The guys will be back shortly, and then you can take that up with Hunter.”

  She puts her hands on her hips, acting indignant. “I don’t need a man telling me what I can and can’t do.” She rolls her eyes to the ceiling then takes a deep breath. “Look, honey,” she says, much calmer now, “please just humor me. There’s a store less than two blocks away. It’s where I got all your clothing, and they have a little coffee counter off to the side. I need a real caffeine fix. We would be gone and back all in the span of five minutes. I want to stretch my legs,” she pleads. “I could really use some fresh air, and God knows I’d love a real cup of coffee.”

  I chew on my bottom lip, debating. I do need female items, but Stryker would be pissed if he found out I opened the door, let alone leave the premises.

  “Five minutes. The guys won’t even know.” My stomach roils, reminding me my cramps are going to knock me to my knees soon if I don’t get some Tylenol too.

  “Fine,” I concede. “We’re not messing around, though. We get what we need as fast as possible then get out.”

  “Absolutely!” Celia claps her hands almost gleefully. I shake my head at her then slip on the cheap flip-flops she bought me.

  She goes to open the door, and I step back. “Wait. I don’t have a room key.” She waggles her eyebrows at me, producing one from the inside of her bra. “What about cash? I have no money.” Everything I have
is back at the camp.

  “Oh, honey, really?” she asks condescendingly. “Hunter gave me this cash yesterday so I could get us some clothing. This is what’s left over.”

  I roll my eyes at her. Only Celia. She opens the door, and part of me begins to panic. I don’t understand why. She gestures for me to exit, and when I do, the only thing that assaults me is the bright morning sun. “Oh, that sunshine feels good.”

  We leave the safety of our hotel and make our way down the crowded sidewalks of the city. I feel on edge, and maybe it’s because I’m going against Stryker’s wishes, but then I realize too we haven’t been separated from each other for almost an entire week.

  I feel like I’m able to hide within the crowds, which makes me feel remotely better. I don’t think there’s any danger here. There’s no way those men could have the first inclination of my whereabouts anyway.

  When we make it to the store without a hitch, I let out a huge sigh of relief. I know Stryker is going to find out about this little venture, and I’ve already resigned myself to a confession the second he gets back. The guilt is already eating at me. I’ve never been good at hiding a guilty conscience. A pang of remorse hits me, because I do have one thing I’ve been able to hide, and the secret has been eating at my insides. I know I’m going to have to come clean very soon about that too.

  I quickly get what supplies I need and check out with Celia. She loops her arm in mine, almost gloating. “See? Piece of cake.”

  “If you say so. My heart is still in my throat and beating like crazy.”

  “Ah,” she waves me off, “a little adrenaline rush is good for the soul.”

  Exiting the store with our supplies, we head back toward the hotel. As we approach the end of the first block, I notice a black limousine blocking the street. Pedestrians are having to walk around the vehicle to get to the other side of the street. I narrow my eyes on the car, because really? Get a parking spot. Just because it looks like they have money, doesn’t mean they own the street.

  We follow behind the traffic pattern of people as we all skirt to the left to go around the back of the limo. For some reason, Celia grabs my elbow, halting me. I look at her in confusion.

  In that moment, I catch sight of who I’m assuming is the driver of the limo. Oddly, he keeps his gaze locked on mine. My forehead wrinkles, and other than the fact Celia has me by the arm, I wonder why I’m so mesmerized, standing here watching him watch me.

  He opens the back door to the limo as if he’s been waiting specifically for me. It all seems to happen so fast. Celia nudges me toward the open door, and instinctively I fight against her, taking a step back. I wind up stumbling on the sidewalk, but catch myself.

  My eyes catch movement in the dark interior of the backseat. I squint my eyes, trying to get a better look, and I swear someone just drove a golf ball down my throat with a number three iron. I can’t breathe around the obstruction; any air that was left in my lungs is trapped inside me. My eyes widen. The panic is real. I drop my bag from the store onto the sidewalk and start clawing at my throat, but it doesn’t help.

  My legs begin to grow weak, and before I know it, they give out, dropping me to my knees. On my way down, I think this is how I’m going to die, or maybe I’m already dead.

  That’s why I’m seeing Graham.

  He certainly doesn’t look like a ghost. I can’t see through him. Do ghosts look like holograms, or do they look like they’re actual living humans in 3-D? I don’t know, because I’ve never seen one before.

  He sure as hell looks alive. Does he have a twin brother? I decide he doesn’t, because he looks exactly the same as he did twelve months ago. He’s dressed in his finest suit, the exact kind he would wear to work each day when he was living.

  He quickly unfolds himself from the vehicle, and as he takes a few cautious steps forward, I really begin to panic. He must see the wild look in my eyes, because he stops his advance, holding his palms outward as if he means me no harm. The gleam of his wedding ring catches my eye in the bright sunlight. Does this mean I’m still married?

  Graham’s forehead creases, his eyes full of torment; his entire expression screams of worry. It’s highly apparent to him I’m struggling for precious air, and at any moment, it feels as if I’m going to lose consciousness. The anxiety is so incredibly thick it churns in the pit of my stomach, making me break out in a cold, clammy sweat.

  “Breathe, Valerie,” he softly coaches me in that rich voice that could only belong to Graham. Only a foot away from me now, his image grows fuzzier by the second. Spots… millions of tiny bright spots blur my vision. One hand stays on my throat as I throw my other hand out in front of him to thwart his advance, but it doesn’t stop him. He’s careful not to touch me yet as he squats down on his haunches only inches away, and repeats, “Breathe, baby. You’re not seeing things. I’m not a ghost. I’m alive.” His voice is full of remorse, and worry shows on his face over the fact I’m still not able to take in air. His bold brown eyes pierce mine, willing me to do as he’s instructed.

  An odd, squeaky sound surfaces from my lungs, and I know it’s not enough air to keep me from passing out. The sight of my supposedly dead husband grows distorted as my eyes roll upward into the back of my head. The last thing I remember is seeing the look of sheer terror on Graham’s face as I fall into his strong arms.

  CHAPTER 39

  ~ Valerie~

  I stir awake to muffled voices arguing in the background. Disoriented, I think maybe it’s Stryker and Celia going at it, since she’s the one who talked me into leaving the hotel. I fight to open my eyes, but it’s as if they’re glued shut, and my head feels fuzzy. Did someone drug me?

  “What was I supposed to have done, huh? Fight off two big men in the middle of the jungle all by myself?” It’s Celia’s voice, all right, and it keeps rising in decibels. “You honestly think Valerie would’ve just handed herself over to a bunch of men with guns?” she scoffs. “I mean, what the hell were you thinking anyway by sending in an entourage of armed men? How stupid can you be?”

  “How I run my men is not your concern. You knew the exact date and time!” the man bellows. “You were being careless.” There’s a brief pause, before he adds, “Let me guess, you found a man toy to play with.”

  “That’s not fair!” Celia shouts back.

  “I want to know how in the hell the Darian Police were tipped off. You know anything about that?”

  “No, Graham, I don’t.”

  Graham? Oh my God. It all comes rushing back to me now.

  “She’s coming around,” Celia says.

  I fight against the foggy haze, making a real effort to peel open my eyes, and when I do, a flood of adrenaline courses through me. Graham is at my side, and I jolt back, reacting with a startled scream.

  The memory of seeing him on the streets of Panama and me passing out in his arms all comes back to me. I may be a little stoned, but I know crazy when I see it, and this is crazy. I fight like hell for my limbs to move with me, and I thank God when they do. I wind up in a haphazard, drunken crab-walk as I make an attempt to get away. The look on his face is one of surprise as I scoot backward, and despite me being tangled up in a set of sheets, I make it to the other side of the king-sized bed. I clumsily struggle to free myself, and in doing so, I fall right off the edge of the bed. My head hits the carpeted floor with a loud thud.

  I don’t have time to think about the pain as Graham immediately surfaces on the other end of the bed. I hold out my hand, stopping his advance, and I’m thankful he has the good sense to hold still.

  “Don’t come near me,” I croak out. I tightly close my eyes and shake my head in an effort to clear the doped-up feeling. “Did you drug me?” I half yell, or at least I think I do, because I’m too disoriented to tell.

  “Just a little bit,” he says in a soft, mollifying voice. “I only did it to help keep you calm until you could adjust.”

  “Adjust? To what? Ghosts and kidnapping!” I remember now
. It was in the car when I came around. I immediately started fighting against him and freaking out. That’s when he and another man held me down and stuck a needle in my arm, and that’s the last I remember until now.

  I’m gasping for air like a fish out of water. No matter what dosage of drug he gave me, the after effects are quickly dissipating because of the adrenaline coursing through me. There is no calm.

  I study Graham in silence, letting the reality of him standing before me sink in. My scrutiny begins to make him uncomfortable, because he starts to fidget, and the Graham I knew never fidgeted. He then squats down on the floor near the end of the bed, getting down on my level.

  “I had to play it this way,” he starts off in a voice as if he’s talking to a frightened child. “It hurt me like hell for you to think I was dead all this time. You have to know it gutted me.”

  “It gutted you?” I say incredulously, blinking multiple times in disbelief. “You poor thing. Do you even know the extent of the damage you’ve done?”

  The hateful glare I bestow upon him says he’s not forgiven for his deception. He’ll never be forgiven, and the man actually has the audacity to look hurt.

  Shifting his weight to rest on one knee, he grasps the end of the bedpost, and I can’t help but notice how he’s stayed in shape all this time.

  “I have a good idea,” he says, the deep tenor of his voice full of remorse. I take a moment to stare at him, really soaking him in. His tie is half undone around his neck and his blue button-up dress shirt is open at the collar. He looks healthy with his golden tan, and the way he’s dressed makes him look more handsome than the last time I saw him.

  I don’t know if I’m shaking from fury, drug withdrawal, or shock, but I do know I hate him. It just now dawns on me… if Graham is alive, then that must mean….