Delta Force: Crow (Wayward Souls)

by Kris Norris

  A soft flick of her tongue had him snapping his head down. All his focus zeroed in on her. On the way she looked up at him through lowered lashes. How her skin was much lighter than his, or how she couldn’t close her hand around his width. Barely fit it in her mouth when she sucked at the tip then slowly sank down his length.

  Home.

  He was definitely home. Not a place. A building. It was Devlyn. Wherever she was, whatever they were doing, he was home as long as he had her. And he wouldn’t let this chance slide.

  Having her take him to the brink with only a single pass of her mouth hadn’t been the plan, though. That single thought about actually having a home had distracted him, and she’d gotten past his defenses unchallenged.

  Crow closed his eyes, hoping the lack of visual reference would ease the burning pressure in his balls. Allow him to hold on. But it only heightened his other senses. How the floral essence from her skin hung in the humid air. Or, how her fingers dug into his skin ever so slightly. A stark contrast to the easy slide of her lips. The soft press of her tongue.

  Devlyn hummed, and he cracked. Gathered her hair in his hand, started moving his hips. Slow, then faster. Eventually claiming her mouth exactly how he’d claimed her body. With complete reckless abandon.

  She didn’t seem to mind, angling him to better fit in her mouth. Meeting each frenzied thrust, her hand covering the area she couldn’t swallow. Doing everything to take him over—bring him to his knees.

  And he was close. Thighs trembling, his fingers fisting and releasing around her hair. And, if he clenched his jaw any harder, he was sure he’d crack his molars. Just spit pieces of enamel onto the tile. Either he was going to come, or he was going to crush her as he fell in a heap on the shower floor.

  Having her pick that moment to release his dick and suckle his balls did him in. Sent the heat rushing down his spine then out his shaft. He had just enough sense to mumble something. It wasn’t even an actual word, more like a guttural form of the word shit. Or, maybe he just grunted.

  Somehow, she understood. Released his sac and took him in her mouth just as the first wave hit him, and he started jerking. Emptying down her throat. She swallowed a couple of spurts then angled the head toward her chest—shot the rest across her skin. Long white splashes that messed with his brain. Made him long to put a permanent mark on her. A warning to any other man that she was his.

  Primitive, but no less true. And not something he’d share because he liked the way things were. No reason to have her itching to stab him in the heart, again. Not when she could make him unravel, instead. Drain him to the point he wasn’t sure how he remained standing. Maybe he’d tensed his thighs. Or, the other hand braced on the wall had kept him upright. Hell, it was likely just years of training never to quit. To remain standing, regardless of what was happening, even pleasure. And he wasn’t about to argue since it kept him from falling on top of her. Giving her another concussion.

  Devlyn was grinning when he finally opened his eyes. Realized she couldn’t stand because he still had one hand locked in her hair. Was holding her in place. Took several tries to get his fingers to react. To actually let go of the wet mass when all he wanted to do was grab more of it. Have her unravel him all over again.

  She moved easily into his arms, mimicking their earlier position. Only, this time, it felt different. More intense. As if they’d both realized exactly how far they’d fallen. That it wasn’t just sex for fun. It went soul deep. The kind of attachment that transcended death. That was destined to happen over and over in every lifetime.

  Crow gathered her close, enjoying the simple pleasure of holding her. Feeling her chest press against his with every breath. The slight tremor that suggested she’d been equally affected by his release. “Christ, Dev…”

  She smiled against his skin. “You did accept my challenge.”

  “I know, it’s just…” It was so much more, and he didn’t have a clue how to say it. What words did justice to what he was feeling.

  Another smile. “It’s okay. This is new for me, too, Ryker.”

  God, his name. Not Crow. Not asshole or bastard. Ryker. Like before he’d screwed everything up. And it meant more than she knew. Not that he’d point that out because she was still the same fiery woman he’d fallen in love with. Wouldn’t hesitate to switch back to Crow just to prove she could. That he shouldn’t take her for granted, again.

  Never, but trust took time, and she’d given him far more than he deserved.

  He eased back, picturing how to make love to her against the wall, when a knock broke through the sensual atmosphere. He glanced toward the door as it swung open, a surge of cooler air swirling the steam around.

  “Crow.” Ice, and the man didn’t sound happy. “You need to come out here. Now.”

  He was gone before Crow could respond. Ask any questions, which meant it was serious. Defcon Two kind of serious, and he wondered if Slader was in the other room. If the asshole had somehow tracked them down—was holding his buddies at gunpoint. Had another army like at the warehouse.

  Devlyn was already moving when he released his grip. Had the water turned off and the door open, a towel heading his way. He took it, managed a hushed, “Thanks,” as he dried off then headed for the room. No pillow talk. No enjoying the afterglow of their releases. Just pulling on clothes, then making for the door.

  Crow stopped just shy of opening it, looking her in the eyes as he motioned toward the hallway. “We both know that Ice didn’t interrupt us because this is good news. In fact, it’s most likely as far as it gets from good. So, for just this once, will you please stay behind me until we know what we’re facing? If for no other reason than to be able to take out whoever’s threatening us?”

  He wouldn’t ask her to stay behind him in order to save his heart. To keep it from pounding through his chest at the thought of her getting hurt, again. To give him a chance to sacrifice his life for hers.

  Devlyn narrowed her gaze, looking toward the hallway then back at him. She opened her mouth, then sighed, giving him a small smile. “Okay.”

  And, just like that, he fell harder. Loved her even more.

  A nod, then he was moving. Walking down the hall, every sense honed in. The brush of his shirt over the weapon tucked into his jeans. The weight of the spare at his ankle. The fact that the loft was silent—not a breath, not a word coming from the living room—meant his buddies were on high alert. That they were using their damn skills to try and gain the upper hand.

  He stopped long enough to ensure Devlyn was behind him before stepping out—and stopping cold. Fucking frozen as he stared at the man standing a few feet inside the door. Dried blood marring his face. More on his shirt. His pants. Along with dirt. What looked like bits of debris. But it was his eyes that held Crow’s attention. Cold. Hard. The hazel color edging toward weathered steel. Extinguishing any hint of warmth. Of life. Definitely a man with nothing to lose. Someone on the brink of control.

  Crow managed to swallow, get his tongue to work. “Phoenix?”

  The guy grinned a second before leveling his gun at Crow. Finger inside the guard, already caressing the trigger. “Hey, Crow. Nice of you to join the party.” He motioned to one of the chairs. “Have a seat, because it’s time we had a chat, brother.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Phoenix? Wasn’t that one of the other members of Ryker’s squad? A Delta Force soldier? The reason he’d called Crow brother?

  Devlyn stood there, mostly hidden behind Ryker, unsure whether to step out or duck down. Because… Damn. She honestly didn’t know if this Phoenix guy was here to help them or was a one-man wet squad. Based on the fact he had a gun aimed at Ryker—a freaking huge Sig Sauer that looked larger than the one Ryker’s buddy, Six, carried—she was edging toward the latter. Though, if Ryker was concerned, he wasn’t showing it.

  Shoulders down. Muscles primed but not twitchy. His hand nowhere near the piece he’d stashed under his shirt. In fact, he’d just crossed his arms
over his chest, looking more disappointed than alarmed.

  She was alarmed. Was already sweating, once again, feeling like the odd man out. As if she’d walked in halfway through a movie and had no idea who the villain was. She glanced at Ice, but he had the same stoic expression he always did. The fact he wasn’t going for a weapon eased a bit of the jumpy feeling in her stomach. The one that told her this could very easily turn ugly. The kind that ended bloody with no clear winners because it came with a lifetime of grief. Of guilt.

  Ryker huffed, glancing at her—making it crystal clear she was to stay exactly where she was—before looking back at Phoenix. “I know it’s been a while, kid, but I prefer not to have your gun in my face. Besides, you look like shit. Ice—”

  “No!” Phoenix glared at Ice, stopping the man mid-stride. “No one fucking moves until I get some answers.”

  “You want answers? Put down the gun, and we’ll talk.”

  Ryker inched forward only to halt when the floor exploded an inch from his foot. A small hole marking where his next step would have been. He stared at the divot then drew his gaze up to Phoenix. “Did you seriously just fire at me?”

  “I told you not to fucking move, and I meant it.” Phoenix clenched his jaw. “Do I look like I’m bluffing?”

  “You, bluff? I know you better than that. Though, I’ll be honest. You look like you’re about to kiss the floor. What the hell happened…” He inhaled, stumbling back a foot. “Christ. That was you? The other day at the warehouse. You were the sniper, weren’t you?” He whistled. “How much of that building landed on you? How bad were you hit? Jesus, Vale, let Ice take a look.”

  Nothing. Not a twitch of his lips. A blink of Phoenix’s eyes. Just that cold, lethal gaze locked on Crow. Until it slid briefly toward her.

  Death. That’s what it felt like. Standing there, having the other man stare at her. As if she were facing the human embodiment of death.

  Ryker shifted slightly—covered whatever of her was visible. Broke the connection, and she hated the sense of relief that swept over her. Until Phoenix moved—matched Crow’s step—giving him an unobstructed view of everyone in the room.

  Ryker stiffened. It wasn’t obvious, but she noticed it. The way his shoulders rose incrementally. Or the subtle twist of his hips, as if he was getting in a better position to draw. And it immediately increased the tension in the room. Much like it had been when she’d first walked in with Ryker the previous day. Only now, there was way more firepower in the mix.

  “It’s Phoenix, right?”

  Ryker actually cringed at the sound of her voice, looking back to give her a hard glare, but someone had to break the silence. Try to talk the other man down before bullets started flying.

  She arched a brow, motioning for him to stand down, then focused on Phoenix. “We haven’t met. I’m—”

  “I know who you are.” Phoenix swallowed. Looked as if he might puke then steeled his expression, sliding the gun over until the barrel was pegged between her eyes. “Along with Crow, you’re the reason Anna’s dead.”

  “Whoa...” Ryker didn’t hide his movement, this time. Just lunged in front of her, putting himself in the line of fire. “Devlyn isn’t the reason anyone’s dead, buddy. Now, put the damn gun down before I take it personally.”

  “Good. About time you took this seriously because it’s fucking personal to me.”

  “For god’s sake, Phoenix, stand down.”

  Phoenix didn’t jump. Didn’t register Cannon’s booming voice other than shifting his gaze—a slight turn of his head. She jumped. Damn near squealed because she hadn’t heard the other man enter. Had been focused on trying to get clear enough she could back Ryker up if needed—take a shot even if it meant she might get hit—when Cannon had just appeared in the doorway. Next to Six, who she was sure hadn’t been there before, either.

  Cannon grunted, stepping farther into the room. “Not gonna ask you, again, kid. Gun. Down.”

  The muscle in Phoenix’s temple throbbed a second before he drew a second weapon. Pointed it at Cannon, and Devlyn swore she hadn’t seen him move. That his right hand had been empty one moment, then a nine millimeter resting in it, the next. She wasn’t sure if it was a Glock or a Beretta. Not that it mattered. It was only slightly smaller than the other one, and she couldn’t help but wonder where he’d been hiding it. How he’d moved so fast.

  And, just like that, any hopes of getting off a shot before he fired vanished. Went up in smoke because there was no way she’d outdraw him, especially with him already holding his weapons. And she had no doubt he’d drop three of his crew before any of the others could fire.

  Cannon’s eyes narrowed, then he crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Seriously, Vale? There’re five armed people in here, four of which were your damn teammates for years, and you think you can outshoot all of us?”

  Nothing. Again. Which only increased the jumpy feeling in her gut. Christ, if they all drew that fast…

  A clench of Cannon’s jaw followed by the cracking of his knuckles as he squeezed his fists. “Then, you’d better fucking make those first few shots count because if you do anything other than kill me on the spot, you’ll live to regret it.”

  A twitch of the corner of Phoenix’s mouth. The only tell that he’d taken Cannon’s words to heart. That he might actually lower the weapons when he coughed. Hard. Flecks of red dotting his mouth before he rubbed it on his shirt—all without moving his arms. Without straying from his targets.

  Cannon shook his head. “That’s blood, kid. Means you’re bleeding internally. Is this really how you want to go out?”

  His jaw clenched, followed by a step toward Cannon. “Do you think I care if I die? Have I ever cared?”

  “No. In fact, you often went out of your way to try and make it happen. I still haven’t decided if that made you dangerously good or a liability. Though, from where I’m standing, right now, I’m edging toward the latter. You plan on killing all of us?”

  “Haven’t decided, yet.”

  “Don’t take too long, or you’ll pass out before you get the chance.” Cannon leaned against the wall, any previous tension gone. “Did you really think you got in here undetected? That you got past Six and Colt without them knowing? You’re good, but you’re not that good.”

  Colt? Devlyn hadn’t spotted the other man until he edged out from inside the kitchen. Weapon trained on Phoenix as it probably had been the entire time without her even knowing. No way for the other man to get off a shot without Colt dropping him, first.

  Phoenix didn’t react, holding steady as he shrugged one shoulder. “I knew Colt was there. I just don’t care because I’m fast enough to get off at least one shot.” He glared at Crow. “And that’s all I really need.”

  Cannon nodded, as if they were discussing the weather or some kind of strategy. Wasn’t staring down the barrel of a gun. “Heard they’d called you up to Recon. Not that any of us are surprised. You always had great hands. So, you want to explain why you’re here? Why you think Devlyn and Crow hurt your…friend?”

  “She was far more than a friend, and they didn’t fucking hurt her, Cannon. She’s dead!” He banged one hand against his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a few harsh breaths—each of which rattled in his chest, sounding as if it might be his last—before refocusing on Cannon. “One job. That’s all I had to do, and they were gonna let her go. Give her back to me…”

  He turned to fully face Ryker, both guns aimed at his chest, now. “I had it all lined up. The perfect shot. All I had to do was wait for your girlfriend to give that CIA asshole whatever she’d found then drop her, him, and anyone else who charged out of that building. But, then, all hell breaks loose. Bullets are flying, everyone’s scattering, shit’s really hitting the fan, and who do I fucking see through my scope?”

  He laughed, banging his head, again, before moving forward. “You. And, just like that, the entire mission’s a bust, because I can’t kill my fucking brother!”


  Another step, then the guns clattering to the floor. Phoenix launching at Ryker, them stumbling across the room a bit as Ryker caught the other man’s weight. Kept them from continuing to the floor or into the furniture. Phoenix threw a few punches before tanking to one side. Tripping over his feet or, maybe his body gave out. Either way, he fell. Would have cracked his head on the corner of a chair if Ryker hadn’t grabbed him—caught his head in one hand. Cushioned his fall.

  Two more seconds, and Ice was at Phoenix’s side, ripping open his shirt, shouting at Colt to grab his bag from the room and for Six to get Brady. Took maybe a minute before Ice had gel spread across Phoenix’s chest—an ultrasound moving along his ribs.

  “Shit.” He looked over his shoulder when Coen appeared a couple of minutes later. “He’s got multiple broken ribs. Looks like there’s damage to his spleen. I can’t believe he made it this far with the amount of blood pooling around in there.”

  Brady knelt on the other side, doing his own sweep with the device. “It’s a fucking mess. Any idea what happened?”

  “Drone.” Ryker shook his head. “I can only assume Slader hit whatever building Phoenix was nesting on. Not sure how he made it out alive.”

  “Just once, I’d like to treat something easy with you guys.” He cursed at whatever he saw on the small screen. “Damn it. I’ll need more help than just Ice and Finley on this one.”

  Cannon edged forward. “He’s still active military. Possibly AWOL. Definitely into some serious shit. If you take him to a hospital—”

  “Someone’s gonna kill him or handcuff him to the gurney. I’m familiar with that scenario. Of course, if I don’t take him somewhere with more sophisticated equipment, he’ll die. So, pick your poison.”

  “Slader’s involved. And Vale’s the only reason Crow, Devlyn and Gibson made it out of that warehouse alive.”