Dark Deception (DARC Ops Book 11)

by Jamie Garrett

  Moxie . . . who said that anymore? Maybe he really did imagine himself one of those gangsters. “I’m doing the best I can,” she muttered, her gaze once again riveted to the black computer screen covered with line after line of code, her fingers tapping, supposedly searching for another way in while leaving breadcrumbs herself, praying that someone from Asher’s team was monitoring, was looking into Guardian Knights, looking into the senator’s trail in the National Defense Committee. Had Asher told his boss about them? She could only pray he had.

  Until they found her trail, Ellie had to stall for as much time as possible. She continued to leave her snippets of code scattered within the encoded messages of the senator, while at the same time attempting to get through the second firewall of the Department of Homeland Security. She hadn’t been lying about that part. She really had passed through the first firewall. At any other time, she would have been impressed and proud of herself for achieving such an accomplishment. She didn’t know anyone who had managed that, but she had no one to share her sense of pride with. These guys didn’t care. They didn’t even seem impressed. They just wanted her to do it.

  She could only hope that Asher had been telling the truth about their side, his side. That there were some good hackers on his team, too, because it was the only way she would ever be found. The only way she’d manage to live through this. The only way they could find her and these guys from Guardian Knights. And it was the only way that she could get even in her own small way, for Asher. For Asher’s sacrifice.

  Thoughts of Asher brought up a surge of emotions, the queasy feeling in her stomach, cold shudders racing down her spine. Her fault. It had all been her fault. He’d been right. If she hadn’t been snooping where she didn’t belong, then she wouldn’t be down here, in an abandoned jail cell with a group of international mercenaries selling weapons to the enemies of the United States. Asher wouldn’t be dead, and . . .

  A distant rumble prompted her fingers to pause as she glanced up from the computer screen. Her fingers froze as she stared wide-eyed at the tendrils of dust drifting down from the ceiling, along with a small chunk of plaster and a strip of peeling paint. Mosby straightened, immediately tense, glancing up in alarm. He snapped his fingers, and two men standing in the shadows in the hallway outside of the jail cell raced toward the door at the far end, their footsteps pounding upward as they took to the stairs.

  Above them, sharp popping sounds erupted, as did shouts, and more popping sounds—gunfire? Gunfire! Was it . . . could it possibly be Asher’s team? Had they seen her code, figured it out, and located her? Was it possible? Did she dare—

  Mosby stepped forward, grabbed the laptop from the desk, and slammed it shut. With a curse, he left the jail cell, slamming the door shut behind him with a loud, metallic clang. Only then did he turn to glare at her over his shoulder.

  “Be right back,” he said, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  Ellie stood from the desk and stepped toward the bars, clutching them, white-knuckled with hope and desperation. Please, let it be Asher’s team! Another explosion shook the walls, prompting several more tendrils of dust to sift downward. Up above, pounding footsteps, automatic gunfire, shouts . . . what the hell was happening?!

  The firefight grew so violent that she cringed. Ellie stepped away from the jail bars and backed toward the corner, climbing onto one of the metal bed frames. She pulled her knees up to her chest, hands covering her ears, and tried to make herself invisible. Oh, God. It was loud, so loud! Dozens of shots fired, shouting, screams . . .

  How many men did Mosby have guarding their hideout? How many men in Asher’s team? If that’s even who this was. For all she knew—

  Another explosion, closer this time. A large chunk of plaster fell from the ceiling, clanging down onto the metal bed frame just a foot from where Ellie huddled. She squeezed her eyes shut and choked back a scream. A strange smell permeated the air, making her eyes water, prompting her to cough. Tear gas? A flash-bang? Her heart pounded, her ears rang with the sound of gunfire, and she trembled wildly, praying that the good guys would win, praying that she would be rescued, praying that—

  Suddenly, all was quiet.

  An eerie silence filled the space, after the cacophony of gunfire and explosions. She opened her eyes, watching the dust continue to settle, and then once again, the sound of pounding footsteps. Her heart thundered with dread. Were Mosby and his men coming down to kill her now? Had they figured out what she had done? What if—

  “Ellie!”

  Her heart jumped, launching into her throat as she stared, wide-eyed at the door to her jail cell. That voice sounded a lot like Asher’s. But he was dead—

  “Ellie!”

  Oh, God . . . she had to answer. “Here,” she cried out, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Dust filled her throat, emotion choking her. “I’m here!” She tried again, and then heard footsteps, closer, pausing every few feet . . . “I’m here!”

  And then, there he was, standing in front of her jail cell, bloodied but alive. She stared in disbelief for several seconds, taking him in, her body weak with relief, wetness on her cheeks. Oh, God, he was alive. Asher wasn’t dead, he was alive! She leapt from the metal bench and raced toward the bars, wanting to throw herself into his arms, to hold him, to feel his arms around her, but all she could do was reach through the bars and clutch at his forearms.

  “Oh, my God, they told me you were dead! They told me you were dead!”

  He grinned. “They’ll have to try a lot harder than that,” he said.

  Somehow, they were kissing, their bodies pressed forward against the bars, making as much contact as possible with the bars between them. Her heart raced with joy, with relief, her spirits soaring, her hope restored. His lips were on hers, so soft, yet so strong, and she returned the kiss with every emotion she had, ignoring the tears streaming down her cheeks as she reached up to grasp his hair in her fingers, relishing its texture.

  It was only after they broke off the kiss that she noticed a man standing behind Asher, an amused expression on his face. She uttered a gasp, and Asher glanced over his shoulder, then back at her.

  “Ellie, this is Jackson. My boss.”

  Ellie stared at Jackson, at his pointed gaze, and offered a small smile. “Your guys figured it out. You found my breadcrumbs.”

  “We did more than that, Ellie,” Jackson said. “We’ve got Mosby, the senator, and the aide from the Department of Homeland Security.”

  Asher glanced at him, and then back to her. “What say we get you out of here?”

  24

  Asher

  Asher smiled as he woke. He rolled onto his side and lifted himself onto his elbow, propping his head up on his hand. His other hand caressed Ellie’s smooth hip beneath the blanket.

  “You awake?”

  “No,” she mumbled, snuggling deeper under the quilt on the bed in their room at The Notch B&B. The place was tucked deep into the trees of northern New Hampshire’s thousands of square miles of thick forest, hidden away from the entire world.

  He glanced around the room, decorated, according to Ellie, in what she termed pre-revolutionary style. Which he supposed to make sense, based on the plank walls, the all-wood furniture impressively fashioned from pine and birch; trunks, interwoven branches and twigs, right down to the rocking chair in the corner of the room. Small quilts and old-fashioned daguerreotypes hung on the walls.

  In the dull glow of the morning sun, which was softening harsh edges and chasing shadows away, birds twittered outside. Other than that, silence. It was beautiful out here. After the events he and Ellie had been through, Jackson suggested that he take some time off to recuperate. And, since Ellie had agreed to come work for Jackson, she could keep him company, if she so desired.

  She desired.

  After spending another day at the hospital in Keene, where Asher’s none-too-happy surgeon inspected his wound to make sure he hadn’t damaged it, a
nd Ellie stayed overnight for observation and hydration. He’d come up with an idea and, not surprisingly, Jackson had agreed.

  He wanted to spend more time with Ellie, not as her so-called bodyguard, not running from danger. Their bonding had been more than just adrenaline-based. He knew it, and he was pretty sure Ellie did, too. She was in full agreement with his proposed experiment, as he called it. Secretly, he just wasn’t ready to be apart from her. Asher doubted he would ever be.

  Plus, Ellie wasn’t sure she wanted to return to her Boston apartment, no longer as focused on her computers as she was on discovering whatever had bloomed between them while on the run. So, together, they’d decided to stay in New Hampshire for a vacation of sorts, a well-deserved vacation. They’d done some camping and had decided to stay the night at this cute little bed and breakfast just outside Franconia Notch State Park in northern New Hampshire. This late in the season, they’d been the only guests for the weekend. Today, they’d set out on a hike along a section of the Appalachian Trail.

  She rolled over, the warmth of her naked body beneath the sheets reaching for him, warming his body from head to toe.

  “Ready to go see the old man of the mountain today?”

  “Who?” she squinted up at him. “What old man?”

  “It’s a landmark. The Old Man of the Mountain. It’s on a rock face, but it collapsed years ago. I’ve always wanted to see it.”

  She frowned and looked up at him again, eyebrows raised in confusion. “So, the old man’s face fell off?” He nodded. “And why are we going to see it . . . if nothing is there?”

  He shrugged and grinned. “Because we can? It’s a beautiful hike from here. Besides, it’s still an iconic place, and very scenic, even if the old guy’s face is gone.” Memories flashed through his brain. His childhood. “I remember seeing pictures of it, from family friends. I remember staring at the photos of the side of the mountain, wondering what the hell they were talking about. And then I saw it, a cranky old face, a Roman nose, a strong chin, and realized that I saw more than just a bunch of granite rocks. I felt so thrilled, full of awe and wonder . . .”

  “Kinda like standing on the U.S.S. Constitution in Boston Harbor . . .”

  “Yeah . . . history. Anyway, after a collapse, and being such a great part of the identity of the state, someone came up with a unique idea. Not to restore the profile on the mountain, which was impossible, but to create a memorial down below. They put some kind of profile rods down at the base of the mountain from a viewing point. From what I’ve heard, if you step in certain places in front of those profile rods, you can look up . . . the top of the rods have outlines of what the face used to look like from different perspectives . . . .” He offered a half-smile. “Anyway, I guess it’s better than nothing, and it does keep the memory alive.”

  She twirled her finger around his nipple and looked up at him again, her breath warm on his chest. “So you just want to see where it used to be, is that it?”

  Her grin was infectious, and warmth flushed his cheeks. He knew that it was more than memories of the profile of the old man on the rock face that he saw up there. It was the memories of growing up, being surrounded by a loving family, laughter . . . and he wanted to recapture that again. With Ellie. “I know it sounds silly, but since we’re here, we might as well see it, right?”

  She nodded. “I may be a novice at hiking, and my legs are sore, but I’ll tell you, Asher, I’m enjoying this . . . spending time with you, not worrying about running from somebody.” She slid her warm palm down his chest, resting it right above his heart.

  He smiled. “What was this about feeling sore?”

  Her grin widened. “My calves, my hamstrings, even my back feels sore from all this hiking and fishing and outdoor stuff that you’ve been making me do the past few days.”

  “Hmmm,” he mused. “I wonder what I could do about that?”

  She slid her hand lower and lower . . . he sucked in a breath and chuckled to himself. “Don’t you think you should conserve your strength for the hike today?”

  “You let me worry about that,” she murmured.

  She shifted position, moving her hand. He almost groaned in disappointment until he felt her fingers gently brush against his jaw line. Her fingers gently traced down his neck to the base of his shoulder. His dick came to life, desire running through his veins. The air felt cool against his skin but inside, he burned with desire.

  They lay side by side, her fingers touching his body softly. He rolled onto his back and lay still, allowing her to take the lead. The only things that moved were his lengthening cock and his chest as he tried to calm his breathing. She was exploring, her fingertips barely skimming the surface of his skin, light as butterfly wings . . . then she lifted her head, close to his, her breath warm against his cheek. Her lips, so soft as they left little kisses, their warmth lingering even after she moved on. His dick hardened, making a tent out of the sheet and quilt covering him. He wanted to roll on top of her, to take her, to press his lips against hers and thrust his tongue between them, but he held himself still.

  A surge of desire stronger than he’d ever felt before swept through him. He wanted to make love to this woman. Not just sex. Not just fucking. He wanted to make love to her.

  Despite his efforts at silent self-control, a groan escaped his throat. She placed her lips on his, and it was over after that. To hell with self-control. The moment their lips met, heat exploded in his body. Desire and passion . . . not just the so-called survivor sex, not just the desire to cling to another human being after a traumatic experience. No, this was something else. This was a yearning to meld, to blend, to disappear into her, to become a part of her.

  He had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but tomorrow was forgotten. He’d live in the moment, surrender for the moment, feel in the moment. They would take what each offered, and tomorrow would come soon enough. He wanted to give her everything she desired. To provide comfort, peace, support. Whatever she needed, he would give. It was a chance to reaffirm their survival, to feel safe, and even more importantly, alive.

  Ellie slid her hand back under the covers and wrapped her fingers around his shaft, stroking him leisurely. He gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to punch his hips forward and instead just enjoyed the feel of her hand on his cock, slowly and sensuously sliding along its length. Her thumb twirled over the top of his head, and Asher nearly exploded, but kept himself still, watching her through half-closed eyes. He forced himself to lie back, to allow her to set the pace.

  She threw the covers off as he lay on his back and she on her side, one hand still stroking his cock, stirring sensations that warmed every cell in his body. Several moments later, she grew bolder, lifted herself over him, and kissed him, her breasts brushing against his chest. Her lips caressed his just before her tongue dipped inside. Her tongue teased his, playing tag while she gently sucked on his lower lip.

  Ellie lay mostly on top of him now, her nipples pebble-hard as they pressed against his chest.

  With extreme will-power, Asher lifted his hands and folded them beneath his head, giving her access to all of him. She lay on top of him, the length of her hot, warm skin pressed up against the length of his. He resisted the urge to wrap his arms around her, to flip her onto her side of the bed, spread her legs wide, and dive in.

  Her hands explored his body, though she should have every inch of it memorized by now. His erection throbbed, and his balls grew heavy and firm.

  “Asher . . . touch me . . .”

  He did, his hands reaching for her shoulders, then sweeping down to cup her delicious breasts, thumbs skimming her nipples. She groaned and then straddled him, her wet pussy pressed against his lower abdomen as she leaned forward, offering him her breasts. He lifted his head and pulled one of those nipples into his mouth, suckling gently while his hands stroked along her back, down along her waist, stroking the soft flare of hips and down her thighs.

  Ellie ground against him, and her wet slick
ness made him nearly burst. She shifted her body again and slid downward. And she gave as good as she got. She nestled between his knees, pressing them wider as her mouth found his nipples, first one, then the other. Moments later, she slid lower, her breasts now jiggling against his belly. He continued to gently tug, stroke, and tweak those nipples until she slid lower still.

  Hot liquid oozed from the head of his dick, and his focus shifted to merely controlling himself. He wanted to come when he was deep inside her, but God, the vision before him had him hard as a rock.

  Her tongue traced a path down the center of his chest, aiming for his belly, and then lower still. His cock hardened still more, blood pulsing, making it wiggle against his belly. That gifted tongue of hers drifted down further, and he spread his legs wider.

  She slid further, her tongue nuzzling his hip, then slid ever closer to his groin, along the inside of his thigh. His balls tightened further, and he sucked in a breath and wrapped his fingers through her hair, holding back a groan of pleasure. Her mouth enveloped the head, and a hiss escaped his throat as her tongue swirled, prompting another surge of hot precum to leak from the tip. He held his breath and forced himself to hold still as she suckled, one hand wrapped around his shaft, the other cupping his balls, gently squeezing . . .

  Asher panted for control, and she chuckled, taking him deeper into her mouth. Her lips tightened, and she sucked harder, and dammit if his hips didn’t begin to move of their own accord. He couldn’t hold on, couldn’t . . . at that moment, she released him and looked up. It didn’t take a word for him to grab her shoulders and compel her to lie beside him, her lips still glistening from his wetness. In a matter of seconds, he had switched position and hovered over her, smiling down at her flushed face, grinning at her dilated pupils.

  His tongue traced the same path that she had taken on him, and though his cock pulsed with impatient desire, he held off as he took his turn suckling and worshiping her hard, round nipples. Low noises escaped her throat, and he reluctantly moved on, tracing a path down her stomach, her abdomen, then lower. She spread her legs, planting her feet, and offered herself to him.