by Kallie Lane
Skip pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the engine. He lowered the windows. "What did you do to help him?"
"I crawled through a basement window and let him in by the back door."
"He needed you to gain access to the house?"
"I guess."
Skip slid his arm across the back of the seat and touched her nape. "Tas, do you hear how ridiculous this sounds?"
Goddamn, she hated it when he was right—and her eyes filling with tears made it that much worse. "He used me, didn't he? Even then?"
"What do you think?" He brushed a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
"I think I was a child, and he was almost an adult. He needed me to squeeze through that window; that was all he cared about. Heck, he probably didn't turn me in because he knew our folks would be furious and he'd be blamed." Natasha took several breaths to fight the tears. "I think he played me for a sucker, and he's been playing me ever since."
Skip kissed her forehead, and then moved on to her lips. He started the engine, and pulled back on the highway. "No more guilt about your brother, or I'll put you over my knee and spank you."
Skip recognized Blue's Harley parked near Wilder's kitchen door.
"Come in. It's open." Max, Gordo and Blue sat at the table, eating dinner. Gordo pointed to two empty chairs. "Take a seat and dig in. Max's lasagna is to die for."
"Never say the 'D' word when leaving on a mission, Wilder." While Skip wasn't one to wear the same socks or underwear on every op for good luck, neither did he believe in tempting fate. Still, the lasagna smelled delicious. He grabbed a serving spoon and heaped the pasta on his plate.
Natasha did the same. For a small woman she could sure pack it away. "Nice spread, Max. Thanks."
Blue wiped his mouth and stood to clear his dishes. "Did you pick up everything on the shopping list? We can’t go without the essentials."
"Yeah, we stocked right up." Skip ran through the list. "Kevlar vests, assault rifles, plenty of ammo, flash bangs, night vision goggles, satellite headsets, tasers, and flashlights. Am I missing anything?"
"Looks like you've got it covered." Blue poured coffee all around and sat back down with his java. "I'll be riding with Max and Gordo tonight. Once Gordo shows us where Deuce came out of the canyon, we'll plug in the longs and lats and start a grid search."
"Are we working this op on our own?" Natasha asked.
Blue shook his head. "Only at this end. Emergency Response is standing by with a warrant. They'll wait for our signal to move in at Trailblazer's."
His gaze traveled the room, studying every face. "Is everyone good to go?"
Natasha pushed her empty plate away, jumped to her feet, and strode to the door. "Let's do it."
Once outside, Skip searched the sky. Too many clouds, no stars to speak of, and too little moon to conduct an optimal grid search. At least the rain had held off, but how long that would last was anyone’s guess.
Blue dropped his go bag in Max's SUV and then walked to the pickup with the others to divvy up supplies. Natasha stood in the box, handing down equipment. "Don't carry anything too heavy, Gordo. Remember your head wound."
"Don't you worry about me, kid. I'm feeling lucky tonight."
Actually, Skip wondered about Natasha's foot injury. He had noticed her limping a little more than usual today. The race to get Wilder out of the barn last night probably hadn't helped. After tonight, she should rest, on the beach in Maui with him, or in his bed. Either way, they would be together. He'd make sure of it. Blue could make them keep their distance on the job, but not in their private lives.
"Turn off your cell phones and remove the batteries." This was for Gordo's and Max's benefit, standard procedure for Blue. He didn't want them tracked with the internal GPS function. Not to mention a ringing phone could get them all killed.
Blue turned to Skip. "You and Natasha circle the canyon and make your approach from the opposite end. Gordo says there is a dirt road that enters the gorge on the east side. I'll call you with grid coordinates when I know the starting point."
Waiting for Blue's call got to Skip, that and the scent of Natasha's shampoo. She smelled of clover and sunshine, the same scent he'd fallen for when he had first met her. He was desperate to touch her, but knew his timing couldn't be worse. He should be scanning the horizon for scumbags. Deuce might not be holed up at Trailblazer's like they thought.
But, goddamn, his wet dream was sitting only a hairsbreadth away. Too many nights without her made it impossible to control the need building in his groin to volcanic intensity. He needed a diversion before he embarrassed them both. "Tas, give me your foot."
She glanced his way and rolled her eyes. "And why would I do that?"
He bent down, grabbed her booted ankle, and tugged at the laces. "I noticed your limp is getting worse."
"Ow! Quit twisting me like a pretzel." She tried to straighten and get her foot back on the floor. "Cut it out. Blue's gonna call us any minute. I need both my boots on."
Skip wrestled it off her and tossed it out the window. He wished teasing her was enough for him, but no way in hell. Not when her tight little body sat so close to him, and she played the leading role in his X-rated fantasies. For sure not when he needed her more than the air he breathed. They belonged together, plain and simple, in so many ways it made his head spin. "Maybe later."
"Hey! Give it back!"
"Let me see your wound first. Then I'll get it for you."
"This is too uncomfortable. There's no room in this truck to move."
"Then we'll do it outside." He exited the cab, opened the passenger door, and scooped her up in his arms. The feel of her against him caused his heart to jackhammer.
A glimmer of hope surfaced when she curled into his neck and sighed. Hot. Breathless. Aroused. Tugging his shirt up, she smoothed her hands across his chest. Branded his skin with her touch. And it no longer mattered if his timing was off. He would not be using his hand to get off tonight.
On a slow breath, he gazed at her incredible mouth. Walked to the back of the truck, dropped the tailgate, and set her down. He pulled off her other boot, making his intentions clear. Whether she picked up on it or not was up to her.
"Do what outside?" The look in Skip's eyes drew her. He wanted her. She wanted him. Natasha shifted to the edge of the tailgate. He didn't sit beside her. Instead, he paced back and forth like a dog marking its territory. She wrapped her legs around his waist on the next pass, pulling him close. She breathed him in. Touched his face with her fingertips. Kissed him, her tongue flicking in to taste his.
“You getting frisky with me, bluebird?”
“If you let me,” she said, nipping his chin.
"Honey, I'm putty in your hands." Grabbing a bedroll off the bed of the truck, he tossed it to the ground, lifted her off the tailgate and laid her down.
Nuh-uh, this was her party, Natasha decided. She had waited too long for this moment. She would control the moves and set the pace. She pulled him on top of her, then rolled and straddled him. Slipping her T-shirt over her head, she unfastened her bra and tossed it, shivering in the night air. Her nipples tightened. She arched her back, cupping her hands along the undersides of her breasts. "See Skip? I'm not wearing a hair shirt."
He watched her, laughing. Desire lighting his hungry gaze. "Let me take a closer look."
He sat up and caressed her back, the rock-hard feel of his biceps rippling along her sides. His lips closed on her nipples. Suckling. Nipping. Sending shockwave after shockwave of blistering heat straight to her core. If she didn't slow him down, she would climax before the party began.
Pushing him back down on the bedroll, she admired the view of his leanly muscled frame, trailing her hands down his amazing chest to his belt buckle. She unzipped his pants and eased them over his hips. And took him into her mouth, tasting this beautiful man. She stroked his length, giving herself as much pleasure as she gave him. He was everything to her. The feel of him, his un
ique scent, his need to protect, and the love for her he couldn't hide. He curled his fists in her hair. Sighed out her name. "Tas...I'm going to explode if you don't ease off."
She couldn't stop. Just couldn't get enough. Exploring, tasting and touching, loving the only man who completed her in every way. Somehow shifting to his knees, he managed to wrap his hands around her waist and stand her on her feet. And with a slow glide, he removed her jeans and panties, kissing her mound, taking his time and looking his fill as his eyes travelled up her body. "My God, Tas. You're so beautiful."
He settled her in his lap and wrapped her legs around his hips. Suited up with a condom, and slid a thick finger inside her, trailing it across her nub. He brought it to his lips and tasted her cream on his tongue. "You taste so goddamn sweet, baby. You're so wet."
"You do that to me," she moaned, wishing he'd touch her again. Needing him to finish what she had started.
He took her wrists and pinned them behind her back with one hand. Guided his shaft into her with the other and thrust to the hilt. He was so big, and so, so fine. He pulsed inside her and thrust again, stroke after stroke, smooth and slow. The pace making her beg for more. "Skip, please..."
His hips began to move like pistons, building the rhythm, opening her to a world of sensations she had never experienced before. The few sexual encounters she'd had with other men had been polite and pleasant, but nothing sweaty and out of control. Not like this. She met him thrust for thrust, and breath for breath. His teeth grazed her jaw. He moved to her mouth, his tongue plundering with the same tempo he pumped deep inside her body. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Her muscles clenched and unclenched in a wild rush of blazing heat. She came with a drawn out scream, and Skip? Well, his sound was more like a roar.
She slid boneless against him, trembling and gasping for air. Pushed him down on the ground and folded her arms along his pecs, resting her cheek there. A breeze blew across her, chilling her skin. Skip wrapped her in his arms and held her close. "I wish we could stay like this, Tas, but we should get our clothes on."
"Ah ha, so you're one of those love'em and leave'em guys," she teased.
"Never with you, bluebird." He flipped her onto her back, trailing a hand between her thighs. He kissed her cheek, and stared at her with an intensity that spoke volumes. "We belong together, so get used to it. I'm not letting you go."
"Skip, if you don't move your hand, I won't be putting my pants on anytime soon." God knew, she didn't want to.
He bent low and brushed his mouth across her curls, licking her folds. She rose to meet him, wanting so much more. He got to his feet and pulled her with him, pressing her against his bulging package. "When we finish tonight, I'll love every adorable inch of you. Now quit being a cock tease and put on your panties."
She laughed then stumbled for her clothes. "Oh yeah, about my injured foot."
"A bandage will have to do for now." He waggled his eyebrows as he zipped up his cargo pants. "I'll kiss it better later."
"Darn right you will." She reached up on her toes and laid her head on his chest, her hands circling his waist. "I love you, you know."
He sighed, cupping her face in his hands. "I love you too, more than life."
The sat phone beeped in the wrinkled bedroll. She swooped it up and answered.
Blue's voice was at the other end, sounding tense and focused. "We're ready to start searching the grid. I want you to sweep a five-mile radius. Here are the coordinates—"
Skip wrapped an arm around her neck as they hurried to the truck. He kissed the top of her head, and the sensitive spot behind her ear. "Later, bluebird. Let's go catch the bad guys."
Chapter Eight
"We've found something." Natasha held the phone to her ear, gazing into the dark. She gave Blue their location and disconnected the call, nodding to Skip. "They're on their way. Only a few minutes out."
"Glad to hear it." Skip parked the pickup behind an outcropping of rocks. Grabbing the handle, he popped the door open and beat feet to the back of the truck. The tailgate squeaked as he laid it flat and started to gear up. He grabbed night vision goggles from his go bag, primed an assault rifle, and stepped into the open. Thank Christ, thermal imaging worked even on moonless, starless nights. If anyone was around, he'd pick up their heat trace. He took his time, his gaze sweeping from jagged outcroppings and overhangs to the scrub brush tumbling along the valley floor. Nothing was out there other than foxes, jackrabbits, and a band of distant coyotes. He and Natasha were alone. "Let's rock'n roll, babe."
Natasha packed extra ammo into the pockets of her cargo pants, adding a KA-BAR combat knife to the sheath in her boot. She checked her Glock, slipping it into a webbed holster at her waist. Secured flash bangs, a taser, and flashlight on her belt before shouldering an assault rifle. "I'm ready when you are, babe."
Skip laughed. A lethal adversary in the body of a pint-sized woman, she filled him with pride. He prayed the night brought her positive news about Zach, but knew the odds were against it. Either way she would handle it, because no one lasted on Blue's squad unless they played the cards God dealt them and came out a winner. Training was rigorous and constant. Falcone insisting his agents re-qualify every year, on all aspects of the job, including psychological testing. Blue believed Natasha could cut it, and so did Skip.
"Hey, are we waiting for a bus, or what?" She tapped her foot, clearly anxious to move out.
"We hold until the others get here." A smart play, particularly since he needed to breathe in and out for a while to steady his nerves. Working the mines as a teen, he’d lost his father during a cave-in. The trauma of that had hit hard and was a mountain of bad juju to overcome when entering a freaking mineshaft. For damn sure, he never imagined becoming a mine rat would end up as part of his RCMP job description. But, if Natasha could do her job, knowing she might find her brother's dead body, the least he could do was stand by her.
"Blue's here." Natasha elbowed him in the ribs. "There's the SUV."
After it rolled to a stop, they helped Max unload equipment while Blue handed the keys and Natasha's Colt .380 to Gordo. "This is as far as you go. Take the SUV back to your place and wait for my call. And Gordo, keep the gun by your bed tonight in case there's trouble."
"No worries." Gordo stepped into the vehicle and keyed the engine, rolling down the window. "I've got a couple of ex-army buddies bunking in with me tonight for insurance."
Blue's voice rumbled through Skip's headset as they watched the SUV disappear into the night. "You're taking lead, Big Dog. Time to go."
Skip led with his Glock with the flashlight mount, easing into the jaws of his personal nightmare. His soles crunched beneath him, bits of coal and rotting wood littering the ground. The stench of rancid air and feces hit him like a freight train, bat guano heaped in front of him on the path. He didn't raise his light to the black shapes hanging above him. Better not disturb the animals. He fought back his fear, focusing instead on dripping rock walls and black slimy crevices. But, not a sign of human life. If he didn't know better he'd swear no one had used the tunnel in a millennium.
Following the rock face, he rounded several bends in the passage before his light caught the outline of an elevator. Crudely built, it looked like it hadn't worked in years until he approached it. Replacement boards lined the floor. New cables were bolted to the support beams, and the small electrical box looked shiny and new. He moved into the enclosure and shut the gate, nodding to the others. "I'm taking this baby for a safety check. See you at the bottom."
Before anyone could stop him, he hit the button on the panel and a generator kicked on. A motor whirred, and he descended into hell, the mineshaft closing in around him. Dark. Suffocating. Sweat broke out on his skin. Fear gripped his balls like talons. His airway shut down, his heart slamming into overdrive. Squeezing his eyes shut, he conjured up Natasha's lush scent. How she had pleasured him a few hours ago. How much he loved her. And the steel band circling his chest miraculously loosened, allo
wing him to suck in air as the lift shuddered to a stop at the bottom of the shaft. He stepped out and sent it topside again, sweeping the beam of his flashlight in a wide arc to see his surroundings.
One glance was all it took to get the lay of the land. Deuce Kingman was one dangerous motherfucker. "Black Hawke, this is Big Dog. You're not going to believe this."
Natasha couldn't believe her eyes. Two converted golf carts squatted on a railway track with keys in the ignitions. Six souped up motorcycles stood in a row off to the side, covered in tarps. A built in gun rack loaded with everything for the discriminate killer took up the far wall; the glass cabinet hermetically sealed to prevent dust and rust pollution. Metal crates stood next to the cabinet, EXPLOSIVES stamped in big red letters across the fronts.
Blue dialed the sat phone to contact the Emergency Response team waiting to move in at Trailblazer's. "Damn, there's no signal. I'll try again when we get to higher ground. Mount up."
Natasha trailed a finger over one of the golf carts. "Looks like we're riding in style, Skip."
"You drive. I'll ride shotgun." He piled into the passenger seat, taking her rifle with him. She started the engine, hit the lights, and eased her foot on the gas pedal.
Falcone and Max took the other cart, her CO's voice coming through the headset. "Bluebird, you can't turn the wheel on that thing to steer. Just use the brake and gas pedals."
"Roger, Black Hawke." Since the cart was almost soundless, Natasha floored the gas pedal, bringing their cruising speed to an easy 20 km/h, the soft clickety-clack and side-to-side sway eating up the distance to Trailblazer's. Adrenaline zinged through her bloodstream, forcing the dread lining her stomach into her throat. The end of the line meant finding her brother, dead or alive. If he survived, he'd do jail time. She wouldn't protect him anymore. But what if he was dead? How in God's name would she handle that?
"Slow down and cut the lights." Skip touched her thigh, dragging her out of her head and back to the here and now. "The tunnel should end soon."
There was so much she wanted to say to him and couldn't, not with Max and Blue sharing the airwaves. She placed her hand over his, threading their fingers for an instant. He tipped his chin in her direction and smiled, mouthing the words "love you" before scanning the tunnel for Deuce's badasses again. She felt the warmth of his smile...the promise of his words...the strength of their meaning. She grinned, hip-bumping him, an inexplicable weight sliding from her shoulders.
