Cold Day In Hell

by Monette Michaels

Just like a leaf sucked up into a maelstrom, she was buffeted on currents of never-ending pleasure—hers and his as their pleasure fed upon each other’s. And just when she couldn’t scream anymore, she fell back to earth.

  *

  Risto shot his seed into Callie’s body as her inner muscles continued fisting him even as the rest of her body went lax. He brushed kisses over her face and hair as his hips continued to undulate, drawing this closeness and contentment out for as long as possible. The climax was the strongest he could ever recall in his long sexual history. Callie responded to his every move so beautifully, just the right mixture of sass and compliance. He could see long years of equally mind-boggling, dick-wrenching sex—that is, if she didn’t get her stubborn little ass shot first. He lips curled into a silent snarl. She whimpered and he brushed a kiss over her pouty lips. She settled at his touch.

  “Not gonna happen, baby. Not on my watch.” He nuzzled the side of her neck, licking over the pulse throbbing just under her creamy skin. “I’ll protect you any way I can.”

  Callie moaned when he pulled his cock from her sex. He rolled off her body then lay on his side. Murmuring soothing nonsense, he pulled her back into the curve of his body. Surrounding her with his bulk and heat, he stroked her stomach, his hand dark and rough against her pale smooth skin. Brushing a kiss over one pale shoulder, he smiled as he visualized their child nestled safely within her.

  She murmured in her sleep and snuggled into him, her rosy pink ass rubbing against his cock. He groaned and promised himself to make sure to add the erotic spanking into their regular sexual repertoire. She’d enjoyed his hand on her ass—and he’d enjoyed doing it to her.

  He whispered words of love and appreciation over the sensitive flesh behind her ear, taking the lobe gently between his teeth. She shivered and muttered. “Shh, baby. All done. Sleep.”

  He frowned as he noticed dark circles under her eyes. He traced a gentle fingertip over the one closest to him. Had he pushed her too hard? No, he wouldn’t second-guess himself or belittle her strength. She’d been with him one hundred percent, giving him everything he asked for and more. He—they—had needed this time to bond, become closer. He knew he hadn’t hurt her, had only given her pleasure. And his Callie was a strong woman who would’ve told him if she couldn’t handle what he gave her in bed. His lips quirked. Besides, she’d enjoyed every second of the sexual encounter. Her screams of pleasure attested to that fact. Thank God he’d had the foresight to put the men in the guest cottages. He laid her flat on her back and leaned over to kiss her belly where his child grew before getting out of bed.

  After cleaning both of them up, he tucked her under the covers. He made the security rounds one more time, then grabbed a bottle of water for both of them and a sleeve of Saltines for Callie. After drinking his water, he took the other items to the bedroom. He placed the morning sickness precautions on the bedside table so Callie would see them when she awoke.

  Once he was satisfied that he’d taken care of ensuring Callie’s safety and comfort, he climbed into bed and pulled the love of his life into the curve of his body, spooning her, sheltering her for what was left of the night. Burying his face in her silky hair, he sighed and fell asleep, vowing to protect her precious body and the child it bore with all that was within him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Before dawn, Thursday morning, Osprey’s Point.

  Callie sat at Big Earl’s counter and ate small bites of his home-cooked oatmeal, allowing each spoonful to settle before chancing another bite. So far the Saltines Risto had hand-fed her before she was even completely awake were doing the trick. The oatmeal wasn’t triggering any morning sickness, either. It looked to be a good day on the hormone front. The heat of the soothing breakfast staple did double duty and warmed her up after the cold, wet boat ride from the island. The pre-dawn morning was overcast, just below freezing and windy with snow ranging from flurries to white-out conditions. A typical northern Michigan winter’s day. She smiled. Cruz and his crew, used to hot, third-world hellholes, would hate this. She, however, loved it.

  “You okay?” Risto’s arm curled around her waist. He nuzzled her neck, right over the spot he’d sucked, licked and teethed this morning as he’d cuddled her awake.

  “Just fine.” She angled her head and kissed him. “Baby is happy with crackers and oatmeal.”

  He swiveled the bar stool around so she faced him, then looked her over with a critical eye. “The Kevlar vest seems to fit okay.”

  “Yeah, if you like the Poppin’ Fresh Doughboy look.” She looked down at the extra-layer of protection Risto and the Walsh twins had insisted upon. “Good thing I’m tall and busty or it would fall off my shoulders.” She plucked at the bulky bullet-proof vest and the thermal underwear beneath it. Both items belonged to Tweeter and had been left behind after he and Keely had helped Risto set up the security array on the island. “Tweeter’s ski underwear is just the right size, though.” She stroked his cheek. “Yours would’ve swamped me.”

  Risto’s dark eyes glittered with simmering sexuality. “But you like me big, dontcha, baby?”

  “Yep, I love the fact you can lift me as if I were as tiny as Keely.” She touched her forehead to his chest. His heart beat slowly, his breathing slow and calm. He acted much less stressed this morning. Guess the mind-blowing sex last night was worth it. Just the memory of the orgasms he’d given her had her heating up from within, shoving away the cold of the day.

  “Hey, Smith, leave my sniper alone.” Loren came over to stand next to them. He scanned her face. “No nerves there.”

  Yay, I’ve got him fooled. Risto was another matter. He’d sensed her nerves and had come to distract her with his always present sexuality. It had worked.

  “Reminds me of my baby sis.” Loren patted her shoulder. “Ready to get set up?”

  “Yeah.” She kissed Risto, letting him hold her close for a few seconds more, since her next chance might be some hours away. Loren snorted in the background and a couple of hoots from the other men didn’t dissuade her from taking her time. When she broke away, she licked her lips, tasting his morning coffee, mint and him, then fixed him with a stern look. “Protect that ass of yours, Marine. I still have a use for it.”

  Risto hugged her tightly and muttered against her hair. “Don’t take any chances.” He leaned back and shook her, his hands gentle on her arms. “Stay safe—you hear me?”

  “I’ll be fine.” She shot him a cheeky grin. “Trust me, I don’t want to get shot. Plus, I’ll be in the safest spot next to Loren’s. It’s the rest of you I’ll be worrying about.” Running gun battles on streets and around corners of buildings could be tricky at best and lethal at worst.

  Conn came over, captured her hand and squeezed it gently. “Don’t hesitate to take your shot when you have one, Callie. You’ll have the best view of the battleground. Don’t warn us, just take it. All of us have been in battle with sniper protection before, we’ll know where you are and stay out of your line of sight the best we can.”

  She nodded then frowned. “I just don’t want to take my first shot too early, tip them off and allow them to get cover.”

  “That’s my call, Callie.” Loren squeezed her shoulder. “As your spotter, I’ll give you the cue to take the first shot and feed you intel as to crucial shots as I see them.” He picked up her rifle bag and his. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s go. You got your communications headset?”

  She held it up and slipped it on, then pulled a thermal-lined balaclava over her head followed by a wool ski cap. Risto tucked away an errant strand of hair, his finger sweeping over her cheek in a loving caress, then helped her into Tweeter’s arctic-weight parka, which was the closest they had to fit her. A trip to a ski town in the U.P. was needed to outfit her more properly for winter weather until she could get back to Chicago and pack up her clothing. Whether they lived here or in Sanctuary, she would need heavier outwear.

  Risto pulled her into his arms for one last quick kiss, th
en turned her over to Loren with a pat on her bottom. “See you soon.”

  Risto’s lips might be smiling but his eyes were sober with worry. She sighed. She couldn’t take away his fear—he would always be overprotective and a worry-wart about her safety—she could only survive and prove yet again she had what it took to be a warrior’s mate.

  She waved at the other men who shared a similar look in their eyes to Risto’s. Sheesh. She had to survive intact to prove her worth to all of them. No pressure there … much. She followed Loren out the back of Big Earl’s. He had Big Earl’s set of keys and the security codes to the private residences they’d be using for their designated posts. They made their way along Osprey’s Point’s main street in the frigid pre-dawn air, flurries blowing all around them on the stiff breeze coming off the lake. She scanned the empty marina area as they walked up the hill to the Victorian they had chosen for her position. The quiet was preternatural; nothing moved in the early morning darkness except for the snow, the wind and the waves on the lake. The new snow under her booted feet crunched slightly, evidence there had been a temperature shift overnight. It was colder than a witch’s tit now.

  When they reached her shooting site, she stood guard on the front porch of the two-story house, a Glock in her hand, her back to Loren, as he got them inside.

  “We’re in.” His monotone carried no farther than her position. Sound would travel easily on the brisk wind.

  She turned and followed him into the house, closing and locking the door behind her. Both of them used small Maglights to light their way up the stairs. Big Earl had told them the door to the widow’s walk and the rest of the roof was through the attic. The access to which was a set of stairs at the back of the house from the second floor. Once in the attic, the door to the widow’s walk was at the front of the house between two huge dormer windows.

  The view from the walkway was fantastic. She had a panoramic view of Osprey’s Point’s main street and commercial area and all of the marina, but for the part blocked by Big Earl’s building. Behind the house was an impassable crag which had gone a long way in reassuring Risto that it would be hard to sneak up on her position from behind. She eyed the steep cliff. Well, maybe not totally impassable, a determined bad guy could rappel into the backyard. She could do it with the proper gear and a climbing buddy, so Cruz’s hired help could possibly do it also. Worst case scenario to her way of thinking would be if someone knew to climb up there; they’d have the same shots into the town she would. They wouldn’t be able to shoot her, though; the pitch of the roof protected the front of the house and the widow’s walk where she would be.

  Standing next to her at the west corner of the house, Loren eyed the cliff, also. “The front of the house is well-protected from the bluff. Let’s get you situated.”

  She headed for the place she’d chosen to set up her rifle. “Here look good to you?”

  Loren moved to where she’d left her rifle bag and eye-balled the view. “Perfect. I only hope my position is as open and all-encompassing. I want to check walkway access from the back of the house.” He moved off and she began to unload her bag. The guys had partially assembled the Lapua so she didn’t have much to do but check over their work.

  Several minutes later, Loren came at her from the opposite direction from which he’d started. “There’s another walkway egress than the one through the attic.” He motioned her to follow; they walked around toward the rear of the house. “See?” He pointed to something attached to the side of the house. “The owners installed a series of external drop-down ladders from the attic-level to the ground. Probably an alternate fire escape in case the residents are trapped above the first floor.”

  She nodded. “The ladders would also give an enterprising person a chance to get up from the ground. All they’d have to do is get into the backyard and then pull down the first ladder and then again for the next one. Maybe with a grappling hook?”

  Loren took her arm and urged her back to the front of the house and her setup. “Yeah. I’ll keep a close eye out on the top of the crag. My roof is so flat I’ll have a three-sixty view.” When they reached her position, he turned to her and tapped the end of her nose. “Okay. Headset on?” She nodded. “Listen for my cue on the first shot. After that, take any you feel are necessary. I’ll alert you to any others I see that are dire.” Meaning one of their guys was in danger of getting his ass capped.

  “I’m worried I might miss and…” Shooting live humans was far different than hitting targets. The kill shots she’d taken at Conn’s had been different—she’d been in direct danger then. Sniping was planned, not reactive—more a calculated choice to take a life, not an instinctive one. If she froze, if her brain decided to rationalize the shot … someone, Risto, could die because she got wussy.

  “I’m not worried. You’ll hold it together. What did our dads always tell us about shooting in battle situations?”

  “If you’re going to shoot, shoot to kill. If you aren’t going to shoot to kill, then what the fuck are you doing on the battlefield?”

  “This is definitely war. Cruz and his men are coming here to kill your man and take you. We have been sanctioned to take them out as enemies of the state. You have the skills, use them. Don’t think, just shoot. If it helps, picture them as targets, not people.” He leaned over and brushed a brotherly kiss over her chilled forehead. “Take care—and good hunting.”

  She kissed his cheek. “You, too. Go. I can handle my set up.”

  “I know you can.” He nodded. “There are five pre-loaded magazines and enough ammo to reload. I’ll use the emergency ladders at the back of the house so no one sees me leave.”

  She nodded and hoped to hell twenty-five shots would be enough. The Lapua mags she was using held five .338 cartridges. Re-loading magazines in the cold and while a battle ensued would be tough; she was used to indoor shooting and had trained in a warmer climate. She waved at Loren as he disappeared around the corner of the house. She listened carefully and couldn’t hear the ladders drop. But then SEALs were trained to be swift, silent and deadly.

  She laid her rifle aside on the bag, then cleared a spot on the widow’s walk on which to spread a waterproof tarp. She sat on the dry surface and attached the bipod to the rifle since she didn’t plan on moving around to take shots. The bipod would give her the maximum stability for her shots and was much more desirable than using a bean bag or some other mobile positioning device some snipers used when changing their sniping positions. She also checked the butt pad for proper spacing as compared to the length of her arm from her hand to her shoulder and for comfort. Loren or Paul had guessed correctly and she would not have to make any adjustments to the butt pad spacing.

  Finally, she looked over the three scopes the guys had put into the bag. She attached a scope that could deal with the unique glare provided by cloud cover and snow. The Weather Channel had predicted the snow would not end for the next twenty-four hours; so clouds were assured. If the sun peeked through for a bit, well, the scope could handle it also with a slight adjustment. Then she plotted and tested distances against her hand-held targeting computer and her scope’s site.

  The gusting winds were tricky and would have to be accounted for. The Lapua was made for cold-weather shooting and had been used in much harsher weather than today’s. She patted the stock.

  It didn’t take long to get the rifle positioned, and only a few minutes more to locate targeting points and find their ranges. To check her scope sightings, she plotted every nook and cranny of Osprey’s Point within her direct line of sight into the computer. She sighed with relief when the computer data matched her skills with the scope. Every shot she might need to take was less than the maximum range, upping her chances to make a lethal or crippling shot.

  Everything done, she had time on her hands until Loren gave her the word. She lay on her stomach and sighted through her rifle scope toward the roof where Loren should be setting up. She couldn’t see him.

  She tappe
d her headset, putting her on the private link to Loren. “You set?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Roger that. I can’t see you.”

  “Good. I can’t see you, either.”

  “Should we go to the group frequency?” she asked. She suddenly needed to hear Risto’s calm voice.

  “No, not until we see the bad guys. Then we’ll need to talk to the guys and let them know who’s on their asses. Right now they’re scouting and it would be distracting for them and you.” She heard the emphasis on you and knew if she hadn’t been there, Loren would be on the group frequency with the guys, sharing in some sort of pre-battle ritual bullshit. “I don’t see any bogies yet,” he said.

  “Okay. Since I don’t have to shoot yet, I’ll put my hand warmers on.” She had Thinsulate shooting gloves made specifically for cold-weather shooting. She slipped on her ski gloves with built-in battery-powered heating units to keep her joints limber. “It is frigging cold up here.”

  Loren’s chuckle came over the headset clearly. “Yeah, my dangly parts aren’t happy, either.”

  “Way too much information.”

  He snorted. “You’re not shocked. I can remember we boys used to moon you and Imp to get you to shriek and giggle.”

  She laughed. “That you did. But my marine would cut those puppies off if you did that now.”

  “That he would. Just checked your six. Didn’t see anyone on the cliff behind your position. This flat roof does have a nice view.”

  “Appreciate that.” Her gut clenched at the thought Cruz might have found local help who’d know all the various approaches to the town. “Going to silence.”

  Callie could hear Loren’s slow, calm breaths and the whistle of the wind over her headset. She rechecked her set-up once more and was happy with it. Bored and needing to do something, she picked up a set of mini-binoculars to scan the road leading in and out of Osprey’s Point. Yeah, that technically was Loren’s job, but two sets of eyes were always better than one.