Intense: A Dark Billionaire Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  And then there was Mason. My son. I didn’t know what I wanted with him, what he meant to me, but when I held him in my arms and fed him that bottle, I felt something inside me that I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. I’d thought that part of me had died out on the battlefield, but apparently it hadn’t.

  I’d become hardened over the years. Battle after battle and countless deaths, many of them by my own hands, had scarred me. And those scars had healed hard, making me tough, making it hard to really injure me. You could hurt my body, but I thought nobody could hurt my soul.

  Until I held that baby and fed him at least. And then I was beginning to question absolutely everything.

  It was getting late as we sped down the highway. I hadn’t seen Travis in about an hour, but that meant he was just scanning along in front or behind us. I wished I had a less conspicuous car, but I had to admit that I loved the speed and the power at my disposal.

  I checked the clock. “How about a rest stop?” I said to Tara.

  She looked up at me, almost surprised that I had spoken. “Uh, sure. I thought we were driving straight there?”

  “I need to make a call. We’re close.”

  “Fine. Whatever you need.”

  I kept my eyes on the road. “I know this is hard. Just trust me.”

  “I keep saying that I do.”

  “I know what you say, but I really only care about what you do.”

  “And what am I doing wrong?”

  “Nothing. Yet. Sooner or later, though, you’re going to want to disobey something. Resist that temptation.”

  “I’m sorry, but is this the part of the night where you’re an asshole for no reason?”

  I grinned at her. “Everything I do has a reason.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Why?”

  “What about earlier then? Was there reason behind that?”

  “Sure. I wanted your fucking nice little pussy, so I took it.”

  She made a face. “You didn’t take anything.”

  “You’re right. I gave you what you wanted, too.”

  “Now you’re just lying.”

  Suddenly, going around eighty miles an hour, I pulled off the highway and headed down to a rest stop off-ramp. The ramp was designed for cars going much slower, and so we were pulling pretty fast and hard, tires screeching along the pavement. Tara clutched onto the dash, eyes wide as I took the ramp going way too fast, screaming toward the lot.

  “Holy shit!” she said.

  I hit the brakes, cutting the speed, and swung easily into the parking lot. She stared at me as I parked, her eyes wide. “What the hell was that for?” she asked.

  “If we are being followed, hopefully that threw them off.”

  “Warn me next time.”

  “And miss that look on your face? No, thanks.”

  She shook her head. “Asshole.” She climbed out of the car and checked on Mason, who seemed totally fine.

  I watched her head off toward the building. I pulled open the center console and pulled out another burner phone. I flipped it open and dialed a number.

  “Blackfire.”

  “Sir, it’s Emory.”

  “I hear you had some trouble.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “Three white American nationals, radicalized, part of Omar’s cell I assume. I tried to keep one alive for questioning, but things got out of hand.”

  “They tend to with civilians around.”

  “Sir, we’re currently headed toward the safe house in Indianapolis.”

  “Good. Keep me informed.”

  “One more thing, sir. Permission to speak freely?”

  He laughed. “When did that ever stop you?”

  “I think something else is going on here,” I said. “I find it hard to believe that Omar would waste three valuable assets like that just to attack me.”

  “So do I,” Blackfire said. “There’s a reason he’s in America, but we just don’t know that reason yet.”

  “I’d like permission to follow this up,” I said.

  “What about the girl and the child?”

  I paused. What about them?

  “They can be assigned to another team member,” I said slowly.

  And they’d probably be better off.

  I was just too compromised. I was getting in too deep with Tara, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I had to distance myself, if not for her sake, then for Mason’s.

  It would be best for everyone.

  “Permission denied,” Blackfire said.

  “Sir, I don’t think I’m the best man for this job.”

  “You’re the best man period, Emory,” he said. “You know that as well as I do.”

  “I’m too close to this.”

  “Even better. You’re on American soil, soldier. You’re not in Pakistan or in the jungle. You can’t think like a normal SEAL right now. You need to be smarter.”

  “How does being too close to this help?”

  “It means you’re going to think before you react. Son, you and your men are all highly trained fucking killing machines. You usually don’t think; you just react according to how we’ve shaped you. But in this situation, I need your head on your shoulders. Do you understand?”

  I paused, not answering at first. That made sense, to a degree. He was right that we typically reacted to situations based on what our training dictated. In almost every situation I’d ever been in, my training had been absolutely correct.

  And he was right that this situation was unusual. I was a combat-trained, special forces operative, not a domestic counter-terrorist. I was meant to operate abroad, killing America’s enemies with righteous fury.

  “Yes, sir,” I said grudgingly.

  “Stay with the girl and the child,” he said. “Continue the mission. That’s an order, soldier.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He hung up the phone.

  I let a slow breath out and tossed my burner out the window.

  Blackfire knew what he was doing. He’d been a SEAL back in the day, and now he was one of the most respected commanders in the entire military.

  Maybe he had a point. Maybe being close to Tara and Mason was necessary to do this job correctly. At least, if he really thought that I were compromised, he would pull me out of this mission in a second. Blackfire wasn’t the type of man to take chances.

  I sat in the car, thinking over the next few days. I knew what needed to be done. I just needed to figure out what to do with Tara.

  Other than what I wanted to do. If I could have it my way, I’d take her to this safe house and fuck her mindless every single day. We’d take care of Mason until he fell asleep, and then we’d fuck until he woke up again. I’d do that day in and day out, and I knew I’d never get tired of her tight pussy wrapped around my thick, hard cock.

  But I couldn’t have that. I had a mission, and that mission was simple. I had to keep them safe. But more than that, I had to stop Omar Hooth from doing whatever it was he was going to do.

  Finally, Tara and Mason came back from the rest stop building. Tara opened the door and wordlessly got Mason back into his car seat. She climbed back up front and sat down next to me.

  “Not going in?” she asked.

  “Don’t need to.”

  “Do they train you SEALs to have magic bladders or something?” she asked.

  I grinned at her. “That’s right. They teach us to have full mastery of our cocks.”

  That got a small grin from her, but it quickly disappeared. “Let’s go,” she said. “Mason is going to start getting cranky soon. I want to get him down.”

  I fired up the engine. “You got it, princess.”

  I pulled out and headed back onto the highway. I heard anther one of my many burner phones buzz and saw that it was a message from Travis.

  Omar followed, but I lost him. Proceed with caution.

  “Fuck,” I said out loud.

  “What?” Tara asked.

  I clenched my jaw. “Not
hing. Don’t worry about it.” I tossed the phone back into the console and shut it.

  So Omar really had followed us. I’d expected him to, but I wasn’t sure.

  It would have made sense if he’d stayed behind in Dayton. It seemed as though there was something important there. But maybe all of this really was just some cheap revenge ploy, a way for him to regain some of his lost honor.

  The night stretched on ahead of us as we drove. We were only a half hour away, but I needed to be careful. I couldn’t lead Omar back to the safe house, otherwise it wouldn’t be safe anymore.

  As we pulled into Indianapolis, I knew our journey wasn’t quite over yet.

  “We’re going to need to drive some more,” I said to Tara.

  “What? Why?”

  “That message earlier, it was from Travis. Omar followed us.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Shit.”

  “We can’t lead him right to the safe house. We’re going to have to drive around, make sure nobody is tailing us.”

  “Yeah, okay. Fine. How long will that take?”

  I smirked at her. “Got somewhere to be?”

  “Sorry. I just want to make sure Mason is okay.”

  “I get you. Shouldn’t be long.”

  And so we went on a nice tour of Indianapolis. I pulled out every trick in the book, did every possible maneuver I could think of. I couldn’t spot anyone following us, but I likely wouldn’t if it were Omar doing the following. He was too good to be spotted even by someone with my skill level.

  No, this was the best that I could do. I could sense Tara’s anxiety next to me, but I couldn’t acknowledge it. I wanted Mason to be as comfortable as possible, but I also wanted Tara to remain alive as long as possible.

  Who knew what would happen to Tara if Omar got his hands on her.

  Finally, after another half hour of fast turns, running lights, and basically insane driving, I pulled up outside the safe house. I parked the car and we climbed out.

  “Home sweet home,” I said.

  “It’s a dump.”

  I laughed. “You’re right.”

  The safe house was a crumbling row home in a line of crumbling row homes in a pretty bad neighborhood, but it was safe and presumably furnished inside.

  “After you, princess,” I said to her.

  She reached into the car, got Mason, and headed up the stoop.

  I followed, my stomach a knot. I was worried I was too close to this, worried that Omar had followed, and worried about what was going to happen with Mason.

  I was going to have to pull my shit together.

  I had work to do.

  17

  Tara

  I woke up with a start, thin light spilling in through the unfamiliar window.

  I looked around the room. White walls, ceiling fan with a bare bulb attached, closet door.

  So this was the safe house. I was chased from my home just to stay in some run-down, empty house in a shit neighborhood. My back was aching from sleeping on an uncomfortable mattress, and the place smelled strange.

  And suddenly I felt a stab of panic. Where was Mason?

  I sat up and sighed. His portable crib was set up on the other side of my bed, and he was sleeping soundly.

  Last night had been a long night. As soon as we got to the safe house, Emory started checking out the place. I scoped out a room and started setting Mason up. Fortunately, he went right to sleep.

  And I wasn’t too far behind him. I hadn’t realized how incredibly exhausted I was, how absolutely tired down to my bones I felt. From the moment all of this started, I felt like I was constantly on the move, getting yanked in every direction.

  Just as I started to stretch and really wake up, I heard Mason begin to stir. Instead of letting him start his usual morning cry, I got up and picked him up.

  “Good morning, little man,” I said, giving him the sniff test. “Let’s get you changed and fed.”

  It didn’t take me long to get him into a fresh diaper and some clean clothes. I envied him a little bit and wished someone would just take my body and put fresh, clean clothes on me.

  Instead, I carried Mason downstairs in the same clothes I’d worn the day before and slept in. I felt gross and worn down, but at least I was safe.

  It was empty downstairs. The living room was wide with a door leading to the kitchen in the back and a short hallway leading toward the basement door and the downstairs bathroom. There was a single blue couch, a coffee table, and an old, enormous television resting on a big, wood TV stand.

  I carried Mason into the kitchen. The wallpaper was yellow and peeling, but it looked relatively clean. The back door was covered in locks, each one firmly shut, which made me feel a little bit better.

  I sat down at the kitchen table. “Hungry?” I asked Mason, and I lifted up my shirt.

  He wasn’t eating long before I heard a creak in the other room. Emory appeared in the doorway, staring down at me, his eyes slightly wide.

  “Never seen a woman breastfeed before?” I asked him.

  “I didn’t realize you did that,” he said.

  “How did you think Mason ate?”

  “Formula, I guess. It was always in a bottle.”

  “Breast milk,” I said, smiling at him. “Don’t tell me you’re squeamish about this?”

  “Not squeamish,” he said, coming into the kitchen. “Just surprised me. Isn’t he too old for that?”

  “How old do you think he is?”

  Emory made a face. “Not sure. Five months?”

  “Close enough. You’re supposed to breastfeed babies for the first six months, or until they want to start eating real food. I think he’s probably almost ready.”

  “He’s in luck then,” Emory said, opening the refrigerator, “because I’m making breakfast.”

  “With what?”

  He pulled out eggs, bacon, pancake batter, orange juice, and coffee. “Well look at this,” he said. “Someone went shopping late last night.”

  I laughed. “Where’d you get all that?”

  “After you fell asleep I found an all-night grocery store.”

  “Thanks. I’m starving.”

  He started cooking then and put on a pot of coffee. Mason finished eating, so I held him in my lap, bouncing him slightly.

  The smell of delicious breakfast food filled the kitchen. I took a deep breath and smiled to myself. Nothing made me feel better than a big mug of coffee and a bunch of delicious breakfast foods. Nothing in the world was better than some nice, thick bacon fried crispy.

  Except for maybe the way Emory could make me feel with just his fingers.

  I sighed, shaking my head. I couldn’t let myself think about that. Sure, we were alone in this house, but the house was pretty bleak. It looked like nobody had been in it in a long time, and the dust was pretty thick. I planned on cleaning it up soon, if at least to make it livable for us.

  Because who knew how long we were going to be staying there.

  “Where’s Travis?” I asked after a bit.

  “Around,” Emory said. “Bacon?”

  “Please. But where’s he staying?”

  Emory put a big plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes in front of me. I could feel my stomach rumble, and I started eating while trying to keep Mason from stealing all my eggs.

  “In his car,” Emory said. “He’s going to stay out in the field, act as our screen.”

  “Screen?”

  “Sure. Outward defenses. Make sure nothing slips through.”

  “I feel bad. Can’t he come in and eat?”

  “Maybe,” Emory said, “but why risk it? He’s fine out there.”

  “He’s sleeping in a car.”

  Emory sat down with a big plate heaping with food and smirked at me. “We’re SEALs, Tara. We’re trained for this shit.”

  “Training or not, we could make his life easier.”

  “Trust me, he’s fine. Sleeping in his car is easy compared to living out in Pakistan for months at
a time.”

  “Do you do that often?” I asked him.

  “Sure. It’s the job. I’ve spent more time abroad than I have in America since becoming a SEAL captain.”

  I cocked my head. “Where have you been?”

  “Afghanistan, Pakistan, a few other places I can’t tell you about. Most of my shit is top secret.”

  “Of course,” I said. “You’re so mysterious.”

  “Not me, princess,” he said. “The government. I just follow orders.”

  “You don’t seem like the type that’s good at following orders.”

  He grinned. “Maybe when they’re coming from lesser men, but I trust my superiors.”

  “Like I’m supposed to trust you?”

  “Exactly,” he said. “Except I don’t want to suck my superior’s cock.”

  “Who said I did?”

  “The way you look at me is more than enough. You don’t need to say it. We both know you keep thinking about my cock deep between your legs.”

  “Can you at least try to pretend like you’re not a crude jerk for one morning?” I asked him, annoyed.

  “I could, but what’s the fun in that?” He dug into his food, eating with a voracious appetite.

  I watched him for a second, curious. If he went out last night to get this food, and he was awake already, that meant he couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep, and yet he seemed completely alert and awake.

  Maybe that was part of being a SEAL. You were more than just a regular person. You had all the training and all that, but just to start out that training, you had to be special, better than other people.

  Emory never seemed to get tired, never seemed to question himself. He could do things I’d never seen anyone else do. Not to mention he could make me feel things I’d never imagined. He was a crude asshole, but he was also more than that, so much more than just that.

  “Got something to say?” he asked, smirking at me.

  I realized I’d been staring. “No,” I said, getting back to eating.

  “Just enjoying the view. I get it.”

  “What are we doing here, Emory?”

  “Eating breakfast right now, I thought.”

  I made a face. “You know what I mean. What’s the plan?”

  “The plan is, the rest of my squad shows up eventually and they capture Omar. Meanwhile, we lay low and keep you safe.”