by Dawn Ryder
“You have company,” Dunn Bateson said. “Half a mile out.”
Vitus was on his feet as he muttered a “copy that” He discarded the phone in favor of his gun. He let out a low whistle that gained immediate reaction from Bram Magnus.
“Dunn says we have a visitor.”
They moved down the hallway, pushing in the door to the suite Thais was in. The bed was mussed, a body beneath the satin sheets. But Vitus felt the cold kiss of steel against his neck while he was looking at that unmoving form in the middle of the bed.
“Honest mistake,” Thais said as she identified him and holstered her gun.
Vitus sent her a glare. “You’re the bait,” he reminded her.
She offered him a flutter of her dark eyelashes before she stepped a few feet away from him. “Live bait can bite. Handle with care.”
“I’m a married man.”
“That doesn’t stop many of them,” she said with a hint of disgust that teased his curiosity. Thais didn’t talk about her past; in fact, she didn’t talk much at all, unless you counted her soft conversation that undermined most men’s control, but that was just practice. He knew the difference, had run with the Shadow opps teams long enough to know Thais was just refining her technique. Like sliding a blade along a sharpening stone, a wise man did it as often as he got the chance because he never knew when the shit was going to hit the fan, and he would need to call on all of his preparedness.
“Pardon the intrusion from reality…” Bram interrupted. “Company.”
“Dunn called,” Vitus supplied.
“Coming down the ridge behind us, on foot. Looks like it might be a single man.” Dare Servant filled in the missing information. “Dunn sure does like his privacy. The man has this place wired.”
“Let’s move.” Bram Magnus’s tone made it clear he was intent on intercepting their unannounced visitor.
“Maybe we should let him get his target,” Thais said.
The three men looked at her like she was insane.
“Did you miss the fact that he’s likely here to kill you?” Bram asked.
“No,” Thais answered. “I just can’t seem to overlook the slim opportunity that it might be Tyler Martin, and I would really like the chance to pay him back for taking out two of my teammates.”
The three men shared her sentiments. For a moment, they all let the idea breathe between them, craving the chance to actually let it become reality.
“Are you suggesting we allow him inside?” Dare asked. “If it’s Tyler, he’ll smell that trap a hundred feet off.”
“Tyler wouldn’t come out himself,” Vitus said.
“I agree it’s unlikely,” Thais said. “And my idea was to slip out of the window and let him stumble on me as I tried to escape in a fit of panic.”
“That’s risky,” Vitus informed her.
Thais rolled her eyes. “And here I thought I was working in such a mundane field.”
“Be serious, Thais.” Vitus reached out to grab her upper arm when she started to move toward her clothing that was laid out on top of a dresser.
She twisted with a motion that was graceful but deadly. She dropped her arm on the other side of his hand, forcing him to release her or have his wrist broken. Vitus curled his teeth back but it was half in respect because the woman knew exactly what she was doing. She was hand-to-hand lethal.
“I am always serious, Hale. I wouldn’t have lasted very long on your brother’s team if I wasn’t.” Her tone sharpened, as did her gaze. Vitus knew he was looking straight into the eyes of an agent who had as much resolve as he did when it came to doing what needed to be done.
He swept the other agents in the room, taking stock of his resources. “We’ll let him go after that lump you made in the bed. He stuck his finger in Thaïs’s face when she started to protest. “That’s as much of a risk as I’m willing to take.” He looked at his men. “Dig in.”
* * *
Sullivan lifted a pair of heat sensing goggles up and watched his cohorts progress through the forest. Decent enough fellows; too bad they were fodder. It was nothing personal, just a job, and sometimes, a bait and switch was called for. Besides, the guy was dim enough to think no response from the cabin meant he was sneaking in.
Bullshit.
No one with enough money to afford a luxury forest vacation home failed to make sure there was security on the place. What Sullivan wanted to know was where the occupants would go from here. Of course, he couldn’t be seen, so he’d found a man willing to sign on.
Fodder. Or maybe distraction was a better way to put it. No one was looking for him now.
* * *
Bram Magnus was at home in the darkness. Honestly, there were times he felt more relaxed under the moon than by daylight. He hated being hot. The desert was boiling by daylight, making it impossible to sleep.
But tonight he was wide awake, making his way carefully across the forest floor. He moved in controlled steps, closing the distance between him and their unannounced guest. The guy had purpose and knew where he was going. The moonlight shone off the pistol in his hand while providing enough light to show Bram that the guy was wearing a ski mask to conceal his features.
Bram quelled the rising excitement trying to distract him. If it was Tyler Martin, he needed all his wits if he planned to survive the encounter. Tyler Martin was one slippery fish.
The guy pulled up, contemplating the cabin. Bram eased into position, setting his shoulder against a thick tree trunk and leveling his gun.
“Hold it right there,” Bram spoke clearly, shattering the silence of the night.
“Fuck!” The guy jumped, whirling around and squeezing off a round in panic.
Bram grunted, dropping and discharging his weapon with the muzzle pointed at the guy’s thigh. It was over as quickly as it began, the echo of the gunfire fading as Bram blinked. The guy was down but Bram didn’t abandon his cover. It might just be a ploy. He waited, keeping his weapon trained on the figure as Vitus and Dare closed in and grabbed the guy.
A moment later, Vitus was frowning. “Dead.”
“Not a chance,” Bram tightened up. “I only popped him in the thigh.”
“Straight through the heart,” Vitus replied.
Bram replayed the fight through his mind, looking for the error in his judgement. It had to be there because Vitus was standing over the body, and he’d never be at ease if the guy had a pulse.
“No way,” Bram said as he holstered his gun. He took a closer look at the body and found another hole. He held up his hand, the slick presence of blood on his fingertips.
“Sniper,” Vitus hit the ground as his fellow agents took cover.
They were on the high ground, making them perfect targets. Vitus made the call for them to move.
Fuck.
* * *
Sullivan put his long range rifle over his shoulder and used the heat-sensing goggles again. He watched the three men pick up the body and take it back to the cabin. It didn’t take long for a pair of four-wheel-drive vehicles to emerge, making their way away from the cabin. Ricky pulled his phone out, watching a pulsing beacon on the screen. As he watched, it moved with one of the vehicles.
Fodder, but useful, because Sullivan could track the beacon he’d attached to the guy before setting him on his mission. The Feds were taking the body, which meant Ricky had a means of following them.
Yup. Useful. He couldn’t ask for more. Nope. After all, he’d killed the guy, so there was only so much use to get out of a corpse.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Saxon was back in mission mode. Ginger took a cue from him and spent the better part of the next few days looking at the scenery as they drove. He took her down winding mountain roads and then back up different ones, driving on what seemed an endless route until there were points she was pretty certain she’d seen the same tree twice. It was blending together because she was trapped in her thoughts.
She wasn’t going to distract him.
&nbs
p; She knew one thing for certain about him, and that was, Saxon would put himself between her and a bullet.
The horror of that idea nearly gagged her.
That left them in silence, the sound of the tires against the road the only noise. Saxon made good on his promise of no showers, as they made camp and packed it up again at the first glimpse of dawn. Two days later, when he pulled into a real campground, she felt like they had found one of the wonders of the civilized world. She happily disappeared into the showers. They were made of cinderblocks and had that musty smell of a locker room, but the water flowed from the calcium-encrusted showerhead, making them a small miracle.
The lukewarm water and shampoo restored her resolve to face down her husband. She found him tending to a small fire that welcomed her back with a cheery crackle. The deepening darkness brought a chill that was finding every bit of water left in her hair and turning it to ice. Saxon had made camp a good ways away from the other inhabitants of the campground. When she approached, she realized the spot was surrounded by a thick blanket of dead needles since it was so remote. They crunched under her boots as she crossed toward the fire.
“All right, I’ll talk.”
Ginger looked up to find Saxon lowering himself in front of her. He did it with all the strength she knew he had, stopping in a crouch just a foot from her, the mask he’d worn throughout the last few days cracking to give her a look at a man who appeared to be fighting to control his feelings.
“What’s bothering you, Gin?”
She let out a sigh and shrugged. “Reality?”
He snorted. “Now you’re the one who is going to have to explain, because that could mean a whole lot of things. So, talk to me.”
She bit her lip instead.
Saxon muttered a word of profanity beneath his breath before he reached across the space between them and pulled her against his body. He rolled back onto the sleeping bags, taking the impact of their bodies hitting the forest floor before he flipped them over, putting her on her back as he settled above her.
“This is not a talking position,” she informed him.
“It can be a very effective communications one,” he countered with a confidence that made her temper rear its head. She used her forefinger and thumb to press her bent finger into his sternum.
“I don’t need to hear about you using sex to gather information.”
He grunted and sat next to her. “Sorry.”
Ginger rolled up and realized she was being a chicken.
Pathetic …
“I know you’re used to facing the odds, but…”
He reached right over and cupped her nape, using the hold to keep her in place as he kissed her.
She wanted to say something else, but it slipped off her mind when she felt him shudder. He rolled over, taking her with him. He settled on his back and pressed her head onto his chest. It was so damned tender, she felt the teasing burn of tears in her eyes, which just fueled her determination to make sure he didn’t end up dead because of her.
“I don’t know how to deal with you, Gin…”
It was a confession, one that stilled her efforts to move away from him. Ginger let the sound of his heart fill her thoughts. So strong, so steady.
“We’ve got that in common.” The words just slipped out, like a dam overflowing. She seemed to have reached her limit for holding back her emotions.
“Yeah,” he said in a husky tone that sent a shiver down her spine. It was far more than sexual. The idea of intimacy hung between them, both burden and gift.
“Don’t love me, Gin.” He flipped over. Ginger landed on her back with Saxon hovering over her. “I can let you go if you don’t.”
“Maybe I don’t want to let you go,” she answered, reaching up to flatten her hand against his chest.
“You’re just reaching out to the only solid thing left in your world.” He sounded like he was fighting to push the words out.
She wanted him to lose that fight.
“So what if I am?” she gripped his shirt and pulled him closer. “Does that make our feelings any less sincere?”
“Less likely to last.”
“By who’s account?” she demanded. “So we didn’t meet at a church picnic. So what if you have a way of making me feel like the good girl who ran off with the bad boy?”
He chuckled at her, rolling onto his back as amusement shook his body. Ginger sat up and got caught in a moment of wonder as she watched him in that unguarded moment. When he finished and opened his eyes, merriment sparkled in them. The sight was so stunning, it overshadowed everything else.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.
Ginger shrugged. “I get the feeling not many people have been privileged enough to see you snickering on your back like a sugar-hyped-out teenager,” she offered. “It’s sort of adorable.”
“I’m bad, sure enough,” he muttered as he reached up and boldly palmed her breast, cupping the soft mound and fingering her nipple with his thumb. It felt good. So … damned … good. She took a quick look around them and heard Saxon scoff at her.
“I wouldn’t camp in the open, Gin.” He tugged her down and flipped one of the sleeping bags over them. “Not when my job is to keep you out of sight.”
She realized that he’d laid the sleeping bags out flat, making a bed of them. It allowed the one on top of them to cover them both as he settled next to her on his elbow and tugged the buttons on her shirt open.
“You planned a seduction?”
“And you sound like you enjoy knowing I did.” He pegged her correctly.
He was stroking the swells of her breasts above the cups of her bra, sending ripples of sensation across her skin.
“Hummmm…” she offered as he leaned down and kissed one side of her cleavage. “I could be brought around to your way of thinking.”
He lifted his head, locking gazes with her. “I’ll have to convince you?”
She shifted, excitement making it impossible to lay still. Her clothing was bugging the crap out of her as she felt the rise of need inside her. Reality was, it had never truly been banished, no matter how hard she’d applied herself to suppressing her need for him. It didn’t seem like she could separate it now. It felt like her hunger for him was merged completely with the very fibers of her being.
So there was nothing to do but let him lift her back as he went searching for the hooks of her bra strap. It was a relief to be free of the undergarment but she needed more. She found the buckle that secured his chest harness and worked it free.
It was a challenge to do it all under the cover of the sleeping bag. It was also ridiculous. Ginger felt her cheeks bulging out as she tried to contain her giggles while they twisted and turned and tried to keep the covers over them.
But everything vanished when they were both bare. Saxon settled on top of her, the skin-to-skin contact as mind blowing as it had been the first time. It swept away reason and the very foundations of thinking, reducing her to a pile of cravings that Saxon seemed to be the only one who could satisfy. It was in every stroke, every touch of his lips, all of the details of the way he held just enough of his body weight off her to keep from crushing her while letting her feel just how strong he was.
She cradled him between her thighs, lifting her hips to make sure his thrusts slid smoothly into her. It was hard, yet gentle, his pace slow until he felt her heart rate increasing. Still he maintained control, driving her insane as he refused to let her buck beneath him. He caught his weight on his elbows, lowering enough of it onto her to pin her. The result was a mind-shattering ride that left her gasping. Every thrust applied just enough pressure against her clit to keep her on the edge of climax, but kept her a hair’s breadth from it. She withered beneath him, lifting up, fighting his grip as she tried to take what she craved.
“Not … yet…” he growled at her through his teeth.
“Saxon…” Her tone was pure pleading.
He moved his hands up, threading his fingers throug
h her hair and gripping it as he hovered over her lips. “Just … want to savor … this … and you.”
“Yeah.” Just, hell yeah. She wanted the release, but she needed to cling to him even more.
Only a dim bit of red glow made it through the sleeping bag, but she felt like she could see him because all of her senses were ultra-sensitive. He was the only thing solid in her world, and she clung to him, feeling everything shatter as climax burst through her. A moment later he was straining toward her, rocking his hips against hers as he lost control. Nothing else mattered. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t have noticed anything else anyway. She was too busy clinging to Saxon, too absorbed by the way he held her against him as though she was life itself.
* * *
Tyler grinned when one of his phones ran. He flipped it open and identified Ricky Sullivan’s burner phone number.
“I flushed them out of the cabin,”
“What?” Tyler demanded. “I instructed you to sit on them.”
“You told me to find the mouse, and she’s not the one at the cabin,” Ricky answered back with his normal jovial tone. One that irritated the hell out of Tyler.
“Someone switched out the bait,” Ricky continued. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m sending you some pictures and going to check in with Pulse. Tell him I’m getting close.”
Tyler killed the call and waited for the pictures. He fussed with the resolution for a moment until he could make out Vitus Hale.
“Problem?”
Tyler looked up to find Carl Davis watching him from the doorway. Carl looked around before aiming a pointed look at Tyler.
“Seems Saxon’s family ties are just as strong as they have ever been.” He turned the phone over to Carl.
“Who do you have on their tail?” Carl asked.
“The Hitman Marc Grog thinks is working for his son Pulse,” Tyler stated.
Carl flashed him a smile, one that chilled his blood. “Perfect. I’ll lean on Kagan. Pick out a good location for us all to meet.”
Carl’s meaning wasn’t lost on Tyler.
“Already have it. Bakersfield.”
Carl made a motion with his hand to get Tyler to explain.
