His hands swept up her tight ribs, cupping her breasts, and the contact was electric, her kiss stronger, hurried. He thumbed her nipples in slow circles, and her shudder tumbled into his mouth. Strong thighs clamped him and he broke the kiss, and held her gaze as he bent her over his arm and closed his lips over her nipple.
She threw her head back, moaning beautifully, then watched him take her skin deep into the heat of his mouth. “More good man skills,” she breathed.
He smiled against her skin, lifting her higher against him, his tongue sliding wetly over her breasts, his teeth deliciously scoring the plump underside. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted her screaming, he wanted her weak and panting and vulnerable—only for him.
Her fingers dug into his shoulder. “Now, right now, Sam.”
“Not a chance.”
“Spoilsport.”
He smiled and tasted her mouth as he cupped her behind and rose, carrying her to the bed. He bent one knee, hefting her onto the mattress.
Smiling devilishly, so natural for her, she crooked a finger at him.
Sam damn near leapt on her as he worked his belt, watching her twist with desire. He drank her in, her wild red hair, the ripe, round curves of her body. Her breasts were a thing for poets. But it was her eyes that trapped him, playful, sexy.
“Want help, cowboy?”
“You touch me and I’m all over like an eight-second bronc ride.”
She laughed softly and came to him, gripped his belt and jerked him close. “That was just too much of a dare.” She got it open, shoved the zipper down, then swept her hands inside. She cupped his tight rear, squeezing, then pushed the jeans down.
Sam kicked them off, but Viva wasn’t done.
“Eight seconds, huh?” He flinched when her hand closed over his erection, fingertips sliding across the tip. “So much of you is big, and strong.”
He chuckled but it never materialized. Her mouth was on him, taking him deep and he couldn’t breathe, and could only watch the slide of her warm lips over him.
“Five, four, three,” she teased, then licked.
“You talk too much.”
She looked at him. “Then I guess you better shut me up.”
His arms locked around her, his kiss driving her head back. He caught her knee, pulling it to his hip, and she rubbed against his erection as his mouth grew heavier, as if to drink her in, swallow her whole.
Viva loved it and said nothing. She couldn’t. He was taking her down to the mattress, his hands and mouth trailing over her throat, her breasts. He paused to suck her nipples, draw on her skin, taste the curves of her ribs. His hands were busy, everywhere, and Viva knew Sam had more skills than pulling a trigger and flying. Then he spread her thighs over his, baring her completely and met her gaze.
“No comments?”
“More?” she said, breathing heavily. The anticipation was enough to make her come right now.
Then his hands roamed from her knees to her center, and he parted her, his fingertips dipping lightly, and he smiled as she twisted on the sheet, drew her knees up a bit. Then he pressed a finger inside her and she arched, and thrust into his touch.
“Do that again.” He did. “Oh God, Sam.” She cupped her breasts, arched deeper and slid her hands down her thighs. “Come to me, inside me.”
“No.” He introduced another finger and stroked her.
She whimpered, but Sam wasn’t going fast, not when everything in him said take her right now like a thief in the night. This was just too incredible to rush.
Then he bent, slowly, his gaze locked with hers and Viva practically licked her lips as he lowered.
“Oh, goody.” His tongue snaked, and her breath hissed in.
Then he laid his mouth over her center, fingers peeling her wider as his tongue slicked wetly. “You’re not talking.”
“My mind is blank, a first,” she gasped, and he lifted her hips, his tongue flicking and circling fast, then slow. Viva gripped her thighs, her breath hissing through her teeth. “There’s nothing more erotic than a man’s head between my legs.”
He chuckled. “That all you want between there?” He tasted her again and again, drawing her to the edge and letting her dangle. Her hips fluctuated and her hands swept to cup her breasts, her feet on the mattress and pushing.
She was wild, and damn vocal, telling him everything she was feeling, that she wanted to feel him pushing inside her, that exquisite moment when they were locked. And that this was just the start.
She was coming, he felt the pull, her inner muscles working his fingers, and he withdrew and thrust.
“I don’t want this alone.” She rose up, climbing his lap and closing her fist around him.
“Condoms.”
“Don’t need ’em.” She turned out her forearm. Under her skin he could see a slim, faint mark of birth control. Then he wasn’t thinking as she stroked him. “And I really don’t want them.” She kissed him and whispered in his ear, “Yee haw.”
Sam’s erection flexed in her hand. “Eight seconds and counting, baby.” She pushed his erection down, sliding wetly across him, teasing him. “You’re killing me.”
“I was hoping to make you feel alive.”
She did, more than a hot jet ride, touching her was exhilarating, feeling her wet and hot against him mind-blowing, and when she rose up a bit and guided him, her lids fluttering.
Her expression changed, her eyes going glossy.
“Viva?” He held her as she sank down on him, her body shivering in his arms, and Sam thought, I’m falling apart for this woman. For a moment, they just stared at each other, and with his thumb, he brushed the tear escaping the corner of her eye.
“God. I—I can’t think.”
“Then don’t.” Sam gripped her hips and gave them motion, filling her, and Viva clung to him.
“Sam, oh Sam.”
“I know, baby. Kinda scary.” Opposite as they could possibly be, they fit, matched.
She met his gaze. “You’re the one thing that doesn’t scare me.” She moved and he cupped her behind, pulling her back. “Don’t hold a damn thing back. Don’t you dare.”
“Now that would be impossible.” He tossed her on her back, grabbing the headboard and pushing into her. He left her completely and slid back, loving the flare in her green eyes, the smile that never seemed to fade.
Tanned muscle and strength hovered over her, pleasured her. Her softness touching more than his skin, but also his soul. She reached up and smoothed her fingers over his jaw, let them dribble down his body to feel him plunge into her.
It didn’t get any more erotic, he thought, and then it did. She locked her legs around him, her hands on his chest as she pushed him back and she straddled him, never stopping. Her hips curled in a rhythmic wave, letting him feel every inch of his erection sliding in her. For a moment Sam was mesmerized, her stomach muscles contracting, her spine bending and pushing her hips into his. His hands closed over her breasts, thumbs circling slowly, and her lids lowered, the tempo increasing with her breathing.
He let her keep control. She seemed to need it. She gripped his arms, holding on and riding, faster and harder. She called his name, her look almost afraid. And Sam cupped the back of her head, forced her to look directly at him as his fingers slid over the bead of her sex. Her eyes glazed.
“More, more, more,” she whispered, and he laid her back, and drove into her, felt the claw of her body on his, the rage of passion sweeping over his skin. He was uncontrollable, mindless need to drive harder, and their momentum pushed her across the bed.
Yet she matched him, her hips pistoned to his. Then his world split, his climax exploding and she gripped him, thrusting faster as his body tightened and rocketed with hard, exploding thrusts.
Viva arched, her back bending so deeply he thought she’d snap. She gripped his hips, grinding him into her. “Kiss me, hurry before the world hears—”
He did. Eating her mouth, his tongue thrusting. She came, her scream mu
ffled and tripping into his mouth, her hot little center jerking and clawing his erection. He slammed into her, the rip of pleasure tearing over his skin, pulsing with her. They strained, held on, and let the sweep of it take them.
Sam groaned, the waves of pure ecstasy crackling through him for several moments. She collapsed on the bed and he’d barely caught his breath when she said, “Eight seconds, my ass.”
He chuckled and looked at her. Viva touched his face, pulled him down on her, and he rolled with her to his side, drawing her leg over his. For a long moment they just stared, damp, a tangle of legs and arms.
“You’re under my skin, Red.”
“An itch you can’t scratch?”
His hand slid over her hip. “I just did.”
Her eyes danced with a snappy comeback, but instead, she leaned close and rubbed her mouth over his. What a guy, she thought, and she didn’t even know why he was in Thailand. It didn’t matter, not now, and Viva snuggled closer, staring up into his dark eyes.
“Think your friends heard us?”
He arched a brow. “Do you care?”
“There’s little that could embarrass me, Sam.” She shifted on top of him, and Sam reveled in her soft, lush, completely sexy body on his, his hand sweeping up her behind. They stayed like that, sinking into the sensations, the tender moment, then Viva braced her arms on his chest, her chin on her hands. He smiled.
“Let me know when you’re ready to do that again.”
Sam laughed, clamping his arms around her and rolling her to her back. “Now good for you?” With his knee, he nudged her thighs wide.
“God, I love a man of action.”
A half hour later, a knock rattled the door.
“Go away,” she said sleepily, too content to move.
“I’m going to beat the hell out of whoever’s on the other side,” Sam groused, leaving the bed.
“Don’t answer it,” she muttered.
“I have to.” He pulled on his jeans. “We’re here for a reason.”
“And here I thought it was all for me.”
Words faded as he glanced back. She was sprawled on the bed, asleep, every inch of her beautiful skin exposed. God, he was a saint to leave that, he thought, then the knock came again. He opened the door a crack. Logan was on the other side.
“You’re walking a damn thin line right now.”
Logan arched a brow and looked like he cared less. “You have to see this.”
“It can’t wait?”
“I found surveillance photos, targets, satellite images.”
“Satellite? His connections are better than we thought.” Google Earth would only take them so far. Someone let Ryz into some classified material.
“He’s got a lot on the US and allies. And before you ask, no, I can’t find which satellite they used.”
Sam’s expression tightened. “We need to get that to the CIA and Washington.”
“Not till I get past the passwords and encryption. If I can get into his e-mail, we’ll know who he was in contact with.”
“The laptop was hooked to a webcam when I took it.”
Logan’s expression instantly changed. “Was it on?”
“Dormant, I think.” Sam’s eyes flared. “Crap, whoever was on the other end could have seen the whole thing.”
Twelve
Project Silent Fire
US–UK Joint Command
He’d been trading intel with the Pentagon all day, so much that each time the link was possible, they were in conference. Yet when Gerardo saw the captain moving toward him, he prayed it was good news.
“Ryzikov is dead.”
Gerardo’s brows shot up. “We have photos, proof?” His head on a goddamn platter.
“Some, sir, they are uploading now.”
The general addressed the assembly on two continents, then waved for the captain to take over.
He hit the remote for the screen. “These are photos taken by our surveillance of what we’d suspected was Ryzikov’s location.” The Oriental hotel popped on the screen. “Evidence later confirmed it. As near as we can tell there was a small explosion, three killed and little damage to the hotel, and these two men fled.” The camera, blinked four or five times, narrowing the focus. “We have no identity as yet. However, a man and a woman also fled, moments before, by the water.” Photos came up again. “CIA is loading up more.”
“Dead is dead, captain. What’s the point of this?” Lt. Colonel Maitland asked.
“Ryzikov’s body was removed from the building a short while later and taken immediately to the airport for transport. No papers, no official red tape to remove the body, nothing. In the air and gone.”
The murmurs in the room instantly stopped. Whoever had a hand in that had tremendous influence.
“Good grief, Thailand can’t close its airports, how the hell can we stop these people?” a British general said.
“NSA intel traffic snagged some signal intelligence just before the explosion.” The young man hit the speaker, and the Russian’s accented voice played. It was a coded discussion, and around the room, people made notes, heads together in quick discussion.
Of course, I have the stones and we will discuss the bargain at the appointed time.
After the conversation stopped, the officer said, “We intercepted it via a cell tower.”
“I don’t care how, who’d he call?”
“We don’t know. It’s sending over twenty thousand bytes per second and the nodes are not identifiable because of an encrypted onion router.”
Gerardo frowned at him along with half the men in the room.
In DC, the NSA director spoke up. “Onion routing provides anonymous connections that are strongly resistant to both eavesdropping and traffic analysis. It’s our biggest challenge. Ryzikov might have used a cell phone, but whoever he was talking to was calling through a computer. The call can be acoustically distorted, and sent to another computer with a router, then splits it off and fans it out.”
McGill put his hand up. “I get it.” Give him a missile to track or a tank to target, but computer speak just gave him a headache. “We have this technology?”
The NSA director nodded. “We can find the source if he’s not using a proxy server.”
“And if he is?”
“It will take more time.” The director leaned forward, looking solemn. “This information also narrows the field.”
“How narrow?”
“Start excluding some Chechen rebels, Colombian, Congolese, they don’t have this technology. It’s costly, rarely available to the public, mostly government and corporate use, some of the ones under our government contract. Plus they’d need an expert to set it up. And we’ve hired most of them on our team.”
“Apparently not all,” McGill said as he stood, racking his papers. Tracking the software sales was pointless. There were thousands of people out there skilled enough to recreate the processors. “Analysis on this in an hour. I want to know who has this capability and what the hell stones has to do with this.”
He looked at the screen and nodded to Gerardo. The man looked exhausted and considering it was pretty late in England, he silently commended Gerardo’s stamina. “Get some rest, Al. I’ll call you at seven your time.”
McGill turned toward the door, a group of men following him. He didn’t go to his office and stopped at Staff Sgt. Walker’s terminal. The man looked up, then stood.
“Sir?”
While the clearance for the information was the highest, McGill knew he could trust this young man above all. He had the ability to take the most inconsequential bits of information and make connections. He inclined his head, and Staff Sgt. Walker followed the three-star general. Walker knew he’d face a challenge when the general kicked everyone else out.
Ramesh Narabi was escorted into a room. His blindfold had been replaced with a hood, and strong hands led him forward, then pushed him into a chair.
Then the hood was ripped off his head, the l
ight faint, but no less startling to his eyes. Large hands held his head still. Before him was a large blank screen. His gaze flicked but in his line of vision, he could see nothing and no one.
“Mr. Narabi,” came from somewhere near the ceiling, and he strained his eyes to see the speakers. “You are curious as to why you are here?”
He said nothing. The voice held an accent he could not place.
“You are a craftsman, the finest diamond cutter in India.”
Ramesh wasn’t affected by the praise. He liked his job and therefore was good at it. Any less would make him unworthy.
“I want you to exercise your skills for me.”
“No.”
“I will pay handsomely.”
His expression hardened. “With blood money. If you had legal stones, you would not have played this game to bring me here. And now you will not show your face?” He tried to shake his head, but the hand on it made it impossible. “No, I will not.”
“Perhaps you might reconsider.”
The screen blinked on, and Ramesh’s eyes snapped wide. His breathing increased till he was hyperventilating.
“Calm down, Mr. Narabi. Your answer?”
“Yes.” The word came out broken, tortured.
“I thought so.”
The door security toned through the house, and Sam reached for his gun, then saw Max and Sebastian enter. “Oh, feel the love,” Max said and dropped a few shopping bags near the sofa. “She’d better like it.” He headed to the hall to get some sleep. Sam peered in one bag and thought, I want to see that on her, just so I can take it off. He looked up when Sebastian handed him an envelope.
“The film from the slave jet.” Sam took it, but before he slid the pictures out, Sebastian said, “I hope you have a strong stomach.”
Hit Hard Page 18
