by Em Petrova
Shouts sounded. In his pocket, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. It could be Carissa, but he wasn’t in a position to answer it right now. He was sorta busy.
He surged forward, aiming to take down but not kill. He kneed one guy in the balls and flipped him over his shoulder, then stepped on his fingers, crunching them around the weapon so he could no longer shoot.
Another guy thought to catch him while his hands were full, but Roades smashed his pistol across the asshole’s face and when he stumbled, Roades put a shoulder beneath him, lifting and heaving him into a wall.
“Anybody else want a piece of this? Trust me, it won’t be pretty,” he called out. When nobody took him up on his offer, he said, “I’m looking for Hernan.”
A younger male had plastered himself to the wall as if to blend in with what appeared to have once been a beautiful mural of the harbor. “He’s not here,” the kid said in a faltering voice. By Roades’ guess, he had wet pants.
Roades braced his legs wide. “But he was.”
The kid nodded.
“When will he be back?”
“He doesn’t tell us. We just do the business while he’s gone.”
Roades pointed to the men lying around, some whimpering in agony. The kid blanched. “Make sure Hernan sees this. If he doesn’t return in time, you send him pictures. Understand?”
He gave a hasty nod. Roades walked over to the boxes and looked inside several. There was everything from flour to a silver tea set, obviously traded for necessities. Jesus, this was the worst possible situation as far as Roades could see. He was certain now that he couldn’t talk Hernan out of being this dictator over the town. This wasn’t some naïve kid with weak parenting that he was dealing with. He couldn’t even promise Carissa he wouldn’t kill him, because if it meant Roades’ life—or hers—Hernan would die.
He took the crate of narcotics and tucked it under his arm. “This is my trade for letting you all live.”
Walking out into the sunshine after that was a shock. The rich scents of frying meat from a street vendor reached him, and the normalcy washed away the blood and echoes of bullets in his ears.
He quickly walked to the end of the alley and into the street. Zigzagging into crowds in case anybody was following him and sure they weren’t, but his training wouldn’t allow him to casually walk away from a fight like that and not believe there would be revenge.
As he made his way back to Carissa’s clinic with the crate, he put some quick in his step. Also, someone had called him during the tussle. He took out his phone and saw the unfamiliar number that wasn’t Carissa but an unknown which could only be the Knight Ops team.
He couldn’t speak out here in the open and humped it faster to reach the clinic. When he found the door locked, he went to the house. The spice of cooking food, dinner, was in the air, and he realized how long he’d been out on the streets searching for Hernan. He walked farther into the house.
“Carissa?” He pushed open the bedroom door and stopped dead at the sight of her, shapely leg poised to slide into some loose black pants she held. Freshly washed, her dark hair wet around her shoulders and trailing to her black bra.
Fucking hell.
She looked up, surprise flitting over her pretty face, followed by something else. Then she directed her stare to what he held.
“Where did you get that?”
“Earned it.”
She slipped her toes into the pants and then the other foot. When she drew the fabric over her hips, he had the insane thought that she was sexier clothed than not. His chest burned, and he realized he was holding his breath.
Turning her back on him, she donned a tank top before facing him again. “Earned it how? With your fists?” She dropped her gaze to his knuckles, which were splattered with blood.
He shrugged. “Give me the keys to your clinic and the storage room and I’ll lock it up.”
She breezed past him as if she encountered special forces in her bedroom every day of her life. She opened a box on her nightstand and drew out a set of keys. She tossed them to him, and he snagged them from the air.
It took everything in him not to drop the crate and take her in his arms. The bed was alluringly close, and it had been several hours since he’d tasted her. That one little kiss had done nothing to satiate the extreme craving for her.
As he went out to the clinic, he battled to find his wits. Besides a dozen ways to make Carissa scream with pleasure, one major thing was on his mind—he couldn’t stick around here because Hernan would come looking for him, and there was no way in hell Roades was bringing that to Carissa’s doorstep. Also, he needed to call his brother and see what was happening.
After replacing the crate in the clinic and locking everything, he paced the small yard and made the call.
“Didn’t know if you’d call back,” Ben drawled into his ear.
“What’s happening?” Roades asked. In the background, the noise of a celebration sounded. Music, the clink of beer bottles. “You at a bar?”
“Nah, out at the cabin.”
Nostalgia and severe homesickness swept Roades. He was far from the bayou and the family cabin there. The place he thought of as a safe haven, a place he’d gone several times between missions to get his shit together after things he’d seen or done.
His eyes cleared and he stared at his true surroundings—the storm-weathered house, a shaft of sunlight on the yard and the plants Carissa had potted. He touched one and it released a medicinal scent. Must be some herb she used for her clinic.
“Tell me what’s been happening,” Roades said.
“I can’t disclose much, and especially over the phone. But we took some heavy blasts and we’re all lucky as fuck to be alive.” Ben didn’t sound very concerned about anything but celebrating their lives, and Roades couldn’t blame him.
He should fucking be there with them though, dammit.
He shoved his fingers through his hair and stared at the small window to the house. It sat over the kitchen sink, where earlier Carissa had washed the eggs for their lunch. He was fucking worlds away from where he needed to be, and yet he didn’t want to leave either.
A cheer went up in the background, coupled with a splash that could only mean one of the guys had gotten shoved off the dock into the bayou. Ben chuckled. “We miss the fuck outta you, bro.”
Roades’ chest was tight. “When am I being reinstated?”
“Dunno. Jackson’s being a prick, as always.”
“Well, he’s your father-in-law. Can’t you pull some strings for me?”
“Where the hell are you, anyway? Maman said you hadn’t been home in a few days. You holed up with that little redhead you were seein’?”
Roades had to shake his head to even figure out what the hell Ben was talking about. All he could see was a dark-haired beauty, soap and water fresh.
“Nah, man. I’m in Puerto Rico.”
A beat of silence. “What are you doin’ there? Cohen mentioned he’d seen you. He fly you down, bro?”
Roades probably shouldn’t have said anything to Ben. His brother wasn’t one for gossip, but he wouldn’t keep any information about Roades from the Knight Ops team—or their family.
“Yeah, he did. I’m takin’ Maman’s advice and doing something that isn’t focused on me.” Like playing with a pair of beautiful breasts, if he had his way.
Ben laughed. “Well, she’ll be proud. We did miss you, man. You shoulda been there with us. I’m sorry as hell that you’re in this position, but I think you could do some good down there after the hurricane.”
“Me too,” he said quietly.
They ended the call after a few more words, leaving Roades standing alone in a yard in a foreign land, feeling about as lost as a man could.
Then Carissa came to the back door and everything came crashing back at him. Carissa, his reason for being here—and yeah, it was much bigger than himself.
* * * * *
“Are you injured?” Cariss
a’s question didn’t only extend to the blood on Roades’ knuckles. She could see by his face something was wrong.
She dropped her gaze to the phone in his hand. “You got a call out?”
He gave a rough nod. “My brother.”
“Is everything all right?” She stepped up to him, tipping her head to meet his stare.
After a second, his eyes cleared. “Yeah, it’s all good.”
“Doesn’t sound so convincing. What about these? Is this your blood or not?” She took his hands.
“Not.”
She shouldn’t be shocked, yet she couldn’t help but be. The man before her was trained to kill—had he? Wouldn’t he be covered in more blood than a few specks if that was the case?
“Come inside and wash it off then. I’ve fixed dinner.”
“I told you not to expect me back.”
She snorted. “You aren’t the only person who gets hungry, you know.”
He gave a huff of amusement and followed her back into the house. She was aware of his heated stare on her as she moved through the rooms she’d tidied to keep her hands busy today and went into the kitchen.
She went to the sink and plucked up a bar of soap, holding it out to him. He nudged her aside and used the clean water from the jug to scrub up. “When do they hope to fix the water supply so it isn’t tainted?” he asked.
She couldn’t pull her gaze from his hands as he lathered, the veins and tendons giving her visions of other ways he could use his hands. Her pussy pulsated at the memory of his fingers buried there.
He was looking at her, and she realized she hadn’t answered his question.
“Oh. No word. They just say to keep getting the fresh water.”
“Ah.” He rinsed and dried with a clean towel. He turned from the sink. “Dinner smells fantastic. Asopao?”
She smiled. “I didn’t think you’d remember that dish.”
“How could I forget? Your mother’s specialty.”
“And you said it’s similar to your maman’s gumbo.”
“You can still use the Cajun.” He smiled at her accent.
Feeling a warmth deeper than the heat of the day or his rugged presence, she pointed to a chair. “Sit and let me get you a plate.”
Having the big man in her house gave her a sense of peace. She didn’t love being totally alone, and that had been her lot in life the past few years since Hernan had gone his own way. And if she was honest, she was glad to know Roades was safe.
She spooned the thick rice, shellfish and chorizo onto the plates and carried them to the table. She paused. He dwarfed her furniture and looked like a grown man seated at a child’s table for pretend tea.
He smiled at her, a light back in his eyes that had been absent when she’d found him in the garden. Her heart gave a little bleep of excitement and she took her seat.
“It looks as good as it smells.” He placed his hands on the table, giving her a chance to admire those long fingers, now clean.
She wanted to ask what had happened to put the blood on his hands, but she didn’t want to seem she was attacking him either. She wasn’t going to preach pacifism to a man who did the job Roades did. There was a time for taking care of business, and if he hadn’t been in that alley with her, God knew what her fate would have been. But she couldn’t help but wonder if that blood was her brother’s.
She was torn, and there was no remedying that. So she asked him another question.
“Did your brother say something to upset you?”
His chest expanded to what seemed to be an impossible size, and then he blew out his breath. “They are just back from a mission.” His jaw clamped on the words and he picked up his spoon.
“They are special forces as well?”
He met her gaze. “I guess you wouldn’t know because I didn’t tell you. I always assume because… well, it feels like I’ve known you forever.”
She nodded, not wanting to feel the old butterflies of love taking flight in her stomach, and yet they were flying around in a mad swirl.
He went on, “My unit, it’s made up of me and my four brothers and one other guy.”
Her brows rose. “All five of you?”
“Yeah. And I hate like hell that they face this shit without me. I should be there.” He shoveled in a bite and chewed.
“Did your brother call because someone was hurt?”
He shook his head. “Thank God, no. But I guess it was close.”
She didn’t want to pry and ask why he wasn’t there with them. Either he’d share the reason in his own time or he wouldn’t.
He held up his spoon with spiced broth and chicken on it. “You make this dish better than your mother.”
She laughed. “She would be proud then, but I think you’re just flattering me.”
He lowered the spoon to the plate and stared at her in a way that had her stomach fluttering all over again. His eyes grew soft and the pulse in his neck hammered fast.
“Carissa, mon coeur, there’s so much to flatter about you.”
The endearment would never get old if he said it hourly until she was a hundred. She hadn’t touched her meal, because she couldn’t stop thinking about taking him to her bedroom and doing unspeakable things to that brawny body of his.
Their past, their chemistry, it all ripped away anything her brain was telling her about dealing with Roades.
He set down his spoon and reached a hand across the table to her.
And damn if she didn’t take it.
She didn’t remember getting to the bedroom—only his kisses once he swept her up in his strong arms. The feel of being wrapped tight against him and his mouth slanting over hers made her weak.
Clinging to his shirt front, she stroked her tongue against his, gathering groans from him. Passion spread through her until she couldn’t have stopped if another category five hurricane hit.
He skimmed his hands down her torso, grazing the sides of her breasts. When they landed on her hips and he tugged her against his hard cock, she gasped.
“I need to taste you,” he grated out. “Then I’m going to slide my cock into your pussy and stretch you so good.”
She yanked at his shirt, and he broke free of the cotton with a move of his arms like an untamed beast. God, this man was so beautiful, so wild. The violence he was capable of didn’t frighten her at all, if she was honest, because she knew it would never be directed at her. No, he had only tenderness for her.
She coursed her palms up his chest, over his hardened nipples. He flicked a bad-boy grin her way, so she did it again, running her hands back down over them to his chiseled abs—and lower to his waistband.
When she dipped her fingers into his boxers, she met the spongy tip of his swollen shaft. He growled and turned her to the bed, rolling her down to the mattress and simultaneously pulling off her tank top.
The bra followed, and he sucked one nipple into his mouth while seeking to touch more of her. As he one-handedly shimmied down her loose gauzy pants, her hips rose and fell on their own, the tight band of need across her groin growing to an unbearable ache.
He lifted his head long enough to shoot her another smile she felt all the way to her curled toes. He pressed a kiss to her breast below her nipple. Then one directly below it. He continued a path, placing each little kiss in a perfect line over her ribcage and to her hipbone.
He swirled his tongue in the hollow there. Liquid heat hit her pussy, and she bucked upward without willing her body to move. Then he cut across to her mound. Stretching out between her legs, he thumbed apart her pussy lips. The wash of warm breath over her exposed, wet folds made her cry out.
She couldn’t even find a single word in her head to beg him to lick her. So she tangled her fingers in his hair and guided him down.
The first brush of his lips over her sensitive folds had her twisting the sheets in her fists. He opened his mouth over her pussy and glided his tongue up her seam, very slowly. So slowly that she could count the seconds that
she didn’t breathe. When he reached the top and her stiff clit, she rocked upward with a cry.
“Roades!”
“Mmm.” He planted his hands on her hips and drew her up and into his face again and again, his tongue working magic up and down her slit even as the rhythmic brush of her pussy against his face drew more pleasure from her. A million nerve endings blazed to life. Her first orgasm was so close, just within reach. She could see it in her mind’s eye, a burning ember she wanted to wrap both hands and her entire body around to see if she got scorched.
While sucking and teasing her clit, he eased two fingers down her pussy to her soaking entrance. He tormented the edge of the opening, drawing circles around and around it until she thought she’d die of desire.
His eyes were dark with wanting too, and he held her gaze captive as he slid those fingers home.
Deep.
Angled upward against her inner wall and stroking her G-spot. Pressing on it now as he sucked hard, taking control of her body like never before. She flooded him with juices and tossed her head on the pillow, unable to do anything but feel.
A spear of sensation hit her groin, and a heavy throb of her inner walls had her clamping around his digits. He groaned against her, and she pushed down on him, taking his fingers as deep as possible as the orgasm ripped through her.
Her body unraveled for him in hard jerks of her hips and loud cries. Before the final tremor left her, he was back at it, licking, his fingers pumping fast in and out of her body, over that one spot. That pleasure center that, at this moment, totally belonged to Roades.
* * * * *
How many nights had Roades fantasized about Carissa since leaving her? He wasn’t about to look away from her beautiful face now. Lips curled into a satisfied smile of pleasure, a dusky glow over her cheekbones. Right now, the only thing that would make him tear his gaze from her would be the click of a weapon at the back of his head.
Even then, he wouldn’t pull his fingers free of her tight, wet channel.
She thrashed on his hand, and he pressed deeper. When her walls started to pulsate, he zeroed in on her eyes. Her stare burned into him, and damn if his heart didn’t react, feeling like he’d just hit that high. The same high he got leaping out of planes or taking his Ninja at high speed on the back roads of the bayou.
