by Honey Jans
"Jeb, damn it all, answer me. If you hang me out to dry I'll let everyone know you were too busy getting a blowjob to do your duty.” She let out a shriek when the cell phone was snatched out of her hand. She shot a startled look up at her scowling captor. How the hell had he gotten the drop on her so quietly? Well, she'd been preoccupied fighting with Jeb and her captor was a ghost ... some kind of spook. The forbidding look on his ruggedly handsome face told her how pissed off he was at her. He lifted the phone to his ear and gave her a shrug.
Ace heard the phone click as the poor bastard she'd been reaming out hung up. “He hung up on you,” he said, watching her disgruntled reaction. She was pissed but she wasn't surprised ... interesting. He should have never left the cell phone in her vicinity, stupid move, but then he'd underestimated her. She ought to be sleeping, but instead she was glaring up at him like an angry angel. To her credit, she didn't freak out as he scowled down at her. Was it possible she was CIA? “Were you chewing out Jeb Mason?” he asked, watching her eyes widen with surprise at his guess.
"No,” she said, glowering up at him as she crossed her arms across her breasts.
It only succeeded in drawing his focus to her voluptuous cleavage. Melanie couldn't lie worth a damn and idiot that he was; he found it charming. His brother, Clark would laugh his ass off if he knew how easily the innocent had played him, not that he was going to tell him. The flutter of her eyelashes, and the racing pulse in her throat gave her away when she tried to lie to him. Honest women were a novelty where he came from, but he told himself not to be a fool.
He noticed her sympathetic glance linger on his scar for a moment and his gut tightened in reaction. He knew it wasn't pretty—hell, his ex fiancée had left him over it, but he didn't care about his looks. He met her tender look with a determined one of his own, wondering what the hell the CIA were doing setting him up. They'd always had a cordial, if competitive relationship.
"Great, that's all I need, the CIA involved in my business.” He waited for her reaction but she didn't so much as flutter her eyelids to show she was upset. Instead, she focused on the steaming cup of coffee he'd brought her.
"That smells good."
Her comment made him smile, even as his fascinated gaze roved over her semi-naked body. Just the sight of her was enough to get him going all over again. Her boobs tumbling out of her lacy white bra, and the old-fashioned panties she wore looked virginal and provocative all at the same time, making his pulse throb and his cock twitch. He watched her nipples harden in reaction as she eyed him back and groaned. She was so damned responsive. Down boy, get out of the kill zone, he told himself. She's a spook or some other replica, even if she is green as grass, and she's not on the menu. Even knowing it, he couldn't stop staring at her charms. The worst part was when she stared back at him, her violet eyes darkening with lust. What would it take to make her look at him like that when he plunged deep inside her honey walls? The treacherous part was that he wanted to find out. Was it possible she was still turned on from the drugs, he wondered as he gazed at her pretty blush, or were her reactions real? Didn't matter, he wouldn't touch her. Anyway, she was way out of his league, way too pretty.
"I made the coffee for you,” he said gruffly, probably sounding more pissed than he felt. When she reached up for the cup, he saw her hands shaking and gave her a curt shake of the head. To his relief she let her hands drop to the mattress, obeying him. He pressed the cup to her lips cautioning, “Careful, it's hot."
He watched her take a deep breath of the bracing aroma before taking a sip. She drew back to smile at him and he felt his gut, and something that felt suspiciously like his heart, twist. This is not good.
"Delicious,” she said in a husky voice. “Thick, dark, and strong enough to give me a buzz."
His cock twitched as her honeyed voice washed over him. “Easy,” he cautioned, frowning down at her. Although who exactly he was warning, he didn't know.
"No cream or sugar?” she teased.
"I thought you might upchuck,” he said, deliberately tearing his gaze off her alluring body. She was trying to play him mirthlessly and he had to nip it in the bud. This time when she reached out for the cup, he handed it to her, seeing her hands were steadier, and backed off. He watched her drink the coffee, catching her peeking at him over the mug's rim. He couldn't help staring back. Shit, this was getting him nothing but a bad case of blue balls. Firmly pulling his horny mind back on business, he scooped the electronic gadget from the dresser. He'd found it tucked between her spectacular boobs a moment before she'd wakened. “Tell me about your little gizmo, Melanie,” he said, dropping it onto her lap.
"I don't know what you're talking about,” she said, shifting to the left.
He barely restrained his urge to take her over his knee, guessing they'd both probably like it too much, and flicked an impatient glance at the hardware. “Don't try to play me, you won't like the results."
"So now you're threatening me with violence,” she said, glaring.
"No, but I am threatening to paddle your sexy ass, don't try my patience."
"I don't have to tell you a thing,” she said, her eyes narrowing as a blush covered her. “I know my rights, rank, name, serial number."
Her spunky answer told him all he needed to know. She was CIA and was turned on by the idea of being spanked. His cock throbbed heavily in his tuxedo pants. “Then you are a spook.” He watched her bite her lip in reaction.
"The way I see it, you're the only ghost around here."
Her words made him suck in a startled breath. How did she know he felt like a specter lately? Fading into the background on missions had become second nature. “Stop stalling.” When she thrust the cup out at him instead of answering, he took it and watched impressed as she shoved the covers back and managed to sit on the edge of the bed. She was a feisty little thing, he had to give her that; most men would still be out for the count.
She slanted him a demanding look. “I need to go to the bathroom."
"Do you now?” he said, watching the flare of outrage on her pretty face. “Come on then.” He reached down to tug her off the bed. She let out a grumble of protest, but clung to him when her knees buckled. He held her a moment, liking the feel of her in his arms, while she got her bearings. When she grew steady, he steered her toward the shack's bathroom. He grunted when she elbowed him in the ribs to make him let go.
"You can let me go now,” she snapped. “I can walk on my own."
"Tough,” he said, hanging on tight and marching her toward the bathroom. She was the key to this fucked up mess and he wasn't about to release her. Besides, he kind of liked holding her. The sappy thought made him grumble. Damn, he was getting soft, or maybe he was just tired of being alone. As they entered the tiny rust-riddled bathroom, he slanted an amused glance at Melanie, seeing her appalled look. “It's not exactly the Ritz."
"No kidding,” Melanie said, glancing around.
He stopped feeling as uneasy with this situation as she did. As soon as she peed, he was getting some answers, even if he had to romance them out of her. Then he was shipping her back to the CIA and getting on with his life.
Melanie eyed the rusty bathroom, taking in the sink, toilet, and dripping shower. Then she saw the open, Melanie-sized window and her heart skipped a beat. An escape route if she could get rid of her sexy captor, who clung to her like a jungle vine. He didn't trust her out of his sight she knew, especially since he'd caught her with his phone, but she had to convince him to leave. She cast a sour look his way when he just stood there, not budging or giving her privacy. If he thought he was going to stand there and watch her pee, he had another thing coming. “Get out ... now,” she added when he hesitated.
He grinned. “Have it your way, Sugar, but I'll be right outside the door."
"I don't care if you're on the next planet,” she said, tracking him the wobbly two steps it took to get to the door. When her captor stepped outside, she slammed the door in his face, hearing
his chuckle. The damned spook probably thought she was still crazy for him, but he was wrong. So why were her erogenous zones still sizzling? Didn't matter, she knew her duty and she had to escape, report Jeb for being incompetent, and get on with her life.
The lock wouldn't keep him out for long, but it did make her feel a little more secure, and it would buy her some time. She was feeling stronger by the minute and she knew she had to act fast. He hadn't said what he was going to do with her and she wasn't about to stick around to find out.
Rushing to the sink, she turned on the taps to mask any sounds she would make, and then crept to the window. Going barefoot did have its advantages, as she moved silently across the chipped tile floor to the window. It was partly open and a warm breeze blew in through the screen. All she had to do was push out the screen and jump. Easier said than done, she decided gazing up at it. Think Melanie, she scolded herself, lowering the toilet seat and climbing up on it. She only hoped the darned thing would take her weight. Holding her breath, she clambered up on the toilet tank, taking a grip on the towel bar, and winced when they groaned but held. She waited for him to pounce...
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Chapter 4
Ace paced outside the bathroom door listening to the sound of rushing water inside the bathroom as Melanie turned the taps on full blast. He felt like a jerk for listening, but monitoring unwilling subjects went with his job description. Feeling as restless as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, his gut told him something was about to go down. Had she been pretty bait to draw him into a trap? If she was CIA, that meant this whole thing was a set up from the word go, but who was pulling the strings?
No matter who was behind this betrayal, he knew better than to trust anyone, especially his captive. She'd already outplayed him once, getting his cell phone—he wouldn't make the same mistake again. Thinking of her succeeded in reviving his hard-on. Hell, he was still primed from sweet Melanie coming all over him, and he knew he'd never forget her hot response. The scent of her arousal still hung in the air, and the primal part of him wanted to plunge himself in her until they were both spent. He knew better. He had to keep it in his pants.
Suddenly, the sound of a vehicle approaching his jungle hideout startled him, putting him on red alert. He hadn't checked in, and his handler didn't know about this place, so who the hell was coming to visit? He rushed to the front room to peer out the window at the winding mountain road leading to the shack. Headlights cut a swath through the jungle and he knew in a heartbeat they brought death. One of them was compromised, probably him, he realized grimly. She'd used his sat phone ... had Vance bugged it? The possibility made him want to tear the weasel apart. Then the headlights shut down and the four-wheel drive vehicles kept coming. Shit. He turned and moved like a bat out of hell toward the bathroom.
* * * *
Melanie wobbled on the bathroom windowsill poised to jump into the pitch-dark jungle below. She prayed there wouldn't be snakes. A shudder went through her, and she told herself to suck it up. A moment later, she thought she heard the sound of vehicles in the distance. Jeb with a search party? She wondered, hesitating. The wild burst of hope that bloomed inside her died in a microsecond when she thought about it. Based on his reaction and the fact he'd hung up on her and didn't know her location, she knew he wasn't coming to help her. That meant her captor had friends, nefarious friends, and the time had come to make her move. She had to get out now.
As she hesitated, the bathroom door was unceremoniously kicked open. She screamed, turning a horrified look at her captor as he ran toward her. Their eyes met and she was startled by his approving look. Then he hit her like a linebacker, propelling them both out the window. She hit the soggy turf below with a splat and tried to suck in a breath. Sprawled face down on the wet grass, she hardly had time to think before he landed on top of her. If she had the breath, she'd have screamed, instead she lay under his massive frame, trying to suck air into her starved lungs.
A millisecond later, an explosion rocked the shack with a boom, shaking the ground, her, and the silver-eyed fiend on top of her. Melanie managed to gasp out a whimper as her captor pressed down on the turf, cocooning her as he spread out to cover her from head to toe. She heard his grunts, felt debris rain down around her, and knew he was taking the brunt of it. Why was he protecting her? And why would his accomplices try to blow him up? None of it made sense. Then, in the distance—male voices speaking in Spanish. He stiffened on top of her, pushing her even deeper into the tall grass.
She grimaced and followed his lead, trying not to make any sounds to alert them. Hell, they'd tried to blow her up too, and she wasn't stupid enough to cry out. If they were looking for him, and he wanted to hide, that couldn't be healthy for her, either. Was there a falling out among thieves? That must be it, if it had been Jeb, he wouldn't have tried to kill her.
As the voices moved off in another direction, her kidnapper wrapped his arms around her and rolled them both under some prickly bushes. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see what kind of night critters might inhabit this place, and waited, knowing that a sound from her would bring the men down upon them. It could be a rescue party, but deep in her heart, she knew it wasn't.
She opened her eyes to look up at her captor. His silver eyes glittered with a keen hunter's awareness as he looked down at her, looking dangerous in the moonlight, like a jungle predator. She opened her mouth, whether to speak or cry out she didn't know. In a heated rush his mouth covered hers, blotting out all thoughts of rebellion.
* * * *
Ace burned as Melanie's mouth softened under him, her lips flowering open, her body seemingly welcoming his weight. He nudged her legs apart until his aching cock pressed up against her soft mound. She let out a breathy gasp and he took advantage, slipping his tongue into her mouth. She moaned, kissing him back, driving him a little crazy with her fevered response. Hell, it was undeniable. He wanted her.
The part of him that was mission-oriented noted the sounds of the search party had faded, but he didn't stop until she was panting under him, her legs parted wide so his cock nestled against her cunt, and she arched up at him. The sweet friction damned near blew his mind, and his load, as his swollen cock rubbed against her. When he broke the kiss, he was gratified to see the sultry, if shocked look on her face. What they'd just shared didn't have anything to do with the drugs, let her deny it. Amazing, but he wasn't about to argue. Instead, he watched her give him a thoughtful look.
Her brow knitted as she whispered, “Who's out there and why are they trying to kill you?"
Her perceptive response took him off guard and told him to get his mind back on business. Apparently, she wasn't as turned on as he'd assumed, and he'd do well to follow her example. Who had sent the death squad that had just hit them? His thoughts that it might have been Delta setting him up could be wrong. Judging by the way she'd yelled at Jeb Mason, and the fact he'd hung up on her, told him the man hadn't been happy to hear from her. He remembered the clod from other missions where they'd passed each other in the night. Jeb Mason was a womanizer, with a bad comb-over, and an inferiority complex. Gazing down at the strong woman now frowning up at him, he wasn't surprised Jeb couldn't handle her. “Who says it's me they're trying to kill?” Her startled expression told him the question had surprised her. “Your pal, Jeb didn't sound too happy to hear from you."
He watched her jaw drop as the intimation sunk in and his gut twisted until he wanted to call back the words. But if she was as new to the game as he guessed, she needed to know the facts of life and apparently, Jeb hadn't filled her in on the pitfalls. Mason would screw her over to get ahead, and he wasn't the only one playing that game. The fact someone had thrown her out in the deep water for him to kill made him furious, and at the same time brought out his protective instincts, but this wasn't the time to go over it. “In our line of work there are shades of gray, Sugar. You need to know that."
"Our line of work,” she muttered.<
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She thought he was a thug and he didn't bother to change her view. Ignoring the semi hard-on he'd had since she'd come into his life, he sprang to his feet and reached down to tug her up beside him. “Come on,” he said gruffly, raking a glance up her nearly bare form. She looked like a sex goddess in the moonlight, making him smile despite the danger they faced.
They were so screwed, but he couldn't tell her. “Let's go,” he said, tugging her deeper into the bush, and to his relief she followed him without complaint. At least she had the good sense to know he was her only ally right now. He led her about forty clicks uphill to his hidden egress. As usual, he'd given himself a back way out. Some might call it paranoid, but he called it being prepared. By the time they reached the spot at the top of the hill, Melanie was out of breath and he was a little winded himself. The cuts on his back were stinging, but the shirt sticking to the wounds told him his cuts had scabbed over, so he had no fear of bleeding out. He ignored his wounds and pulled back the camouflage net from his second hand jeep saying, “Get in.” When Melanie didn't immediately move to obey, he turned to see her mutinous expression. She stood there glaring at him, half-naked and barefoot, as she faced him down.
Her chin rose obstinately. “I don't think so, Buster. I don't take orders from kidnappers who don't even give me their name."
"You've been kidnapped before?” His lips twitched when she glared at him harder, looking like an avenging angel. Night blooms perfumed the air, and birds called in the trees around them. Somewhere in the jungle, an animal cried out. His feisty Amazon didn't even flinch, gaining his grudging respect. He stalked up to her, his body tightening, with mingled arousal and fear. Delaying tactics would only get them killed. “You'll take orders from me, Melanie, or else we're both toast. Got it?"
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