Wet For Her Warriors (Book 5 of the WILD -- Warriors Intense in Love & Domination -- Boys of Special Forces)

by Angel Payne

  It was simple to locate the same rock their predecessor had used for the entrance. Kell hoped that whoever awaited the guy inside didn’t have the thing rigged to any additional sensors. If they did, then he and Tait would have a very short visit here, Bowies or not.

  The door opened with nothing more than a whisper of sound, forcing him to give Benson and his penchant for the high end at least one approving check mark. Once inside, they found themselves in a passageway illuminated by top-of-the-line camp lanterns, though a maze of wires ran along the walls in indication there’d be an upgrade to electrical fixtures soon. That was the place’s only nod to the modern world so far. Giant tufts of moss still hung from the ceilings, and the air was damp and musty. Kell would’ve given a kingdom for his mission vest right now, outfitted with all the tools they’d need to collect more evidence. In its place, he locked his mind into experiential memory mode, all five senses engaged to commit as much of this place to his mental recall as possible.

  Tait held up a fist, ordering a full stop to their progress. The reason was clear. Voices penetrated the air from up ahead, where the lighting also amplified. Kell thanked fate upon finding an alcove big enough to squeeze into, with Tait snagging a matching nook a few feet ahead. They took up their vantage points and went into complete stealth mode: breathing shallow, ears open, senses alert.

  “Mr. Tan. What a pleasure to meet you in person.”

  Before Kellan could get a visual bead on the speaker, the shaving cream commercial voice gave him away. Benson, in all his I’m-better-than-you-because-of-the-suit glory.

  “Forgive me for not dwelling on pleasantries, Gunter.” The man who stood opposite Benson now, looking on as haircut boy melted back into the shadows, eschewed a full suit in favor of a crisp white button-front shirt and custom-tailored pants. He also had a better haircut than Benson, spoke in a London-educated accent, wore one of the nicest watches Kell had ever seen, and called Benson by his first name. He was definitely a heavy hitter for the Koreans—whatever the hell it was they were hitting at. “As you can well imagine, the general’s time is valuable, so I am here on his behalf to act as final emissary for our country. He seems to think your set-up here is impressive; I am here to support or deny that theory. We know how emotional generals can be.”

  The last sentence bugged out Kellan’s eyes. Generals could be emotional?

  “Of course,” Benson responded, again smooth as Gillette foam. “We have, as you know, enjoyed enthusiastic patronage from the general over the years. He has…interesting tastes in his leisure pursuits.”

  “I’m not here to discuss where the man prefers to put his dick.” Tan straightened and crossed his hands, again every inch the London gentleman. “I’m here to discuss where he can store his arsenal.”

  Kellan grinded his knuckles into the stone wall, focusing on the pain in place of cutting loose a roar of outrage. This was worse shit than he’d ever suspected from Benson, even after his revelatory phone call to Forte.

  “What would you like to review first?” Gunter asked Tan.

  “You know the answer to that,” the Korean returned. “My sources state that you have already met with the delegation from Tehran. How much have they offered?”

  “Seventy million.”

  The man re-crossed his hands. “Which means they’ve only offered sixty.”

  Kell took a chance on angling his head out far enough for a clear view at Benson, who stood deeper back in the cave. The guy was in his Armani finest, choosing a dark gray suit despite the humidity of the night, keeping his red tie knotted. His face was a mask of smooth impassivity, allowing it to crack in just the slightest smirk at Tan. “Why don’t we return to that pice of the conversation after you’ve viewed all the details?” He stepped back and flipped a switch, turning on another sizable light over a wooden camp table. “For now, please step into my office.” He motioned haircut boy over. “Chris, grab us some drinks. What’s your pleasure, Tan?”

  “Alacrity,” the man snapped. “Get on with it.”

  Benson swept a diplomatic arm toward a table covered with giant sheets of paper that were weighed down with rocks. Kell stole enough of a glance to see that they were architectural blueprints and geological surveys. His eyes also adjusted to notice the extra people in the chamber, taking care to stick to its shadows. In addition to Chris and another pretty boy from Benson’s team, Kell recognized Casey, the Abercrombie model wannabe who’d led the group sack on Tait’s drunken ass last week. Tan had a henchmen with him, too: a giant who almost had to duck to fit inside the cavern. The big bastard had Kell more concerned than all three of Gunter’s boys. Unlike the fashionistas, it wouldn’t be pleasant to take him on.

  Benson ran a finger down the middle of a map close to Tan. “Here’s where you met Casey on the beach. As you have likely already learned, most of this side of the island has more rugged terrain, dominated by the half-dozen state parks and the Na Pali range to the north.”

  “As well as the Pacific Missile Range Facility at Barking Sands to the south.”

  Kellan drilled his hand harder against the stone.

  Benson lifted a smooth smile. “Yes, sir. There is that.”

  Tan braced both hands to the table. For the first time, he seemed to relax. “It is an ideal insertion position.”

  “Hmmm, yes. You must admit, it’s a more discreet alternative to launching a full-bore assault on the west coast of the U.S.”

  Tan chuffed. It was probably the closest thing the man came to a laugh. “We all recall how well that worked out.”

  “No one clearer than my partner.”

  Kellan was certain every hair on the back of his neck jabbed straight up. Before better sense could stop him, he looked over to Tait. His buddy glared back, clearly wrestling with the same gut-punching rage. Benstock’s elusive silent partner was once again the burr under both their saddles—but this time, the guy was drawing blood.

  Tan tapped a finger to his mouth, deep in thought. “Tell me again about the logistics of mobilizing transports on and off the beach.”

  Benson cocked another confident grin. “Disguise your vessels as night fishing fleets, use only the quiet skiffs, keep to the darkest hours of the night, and I guarantee you won’t even encounter curious seagulls. The neighbors go to bed early.”

  “Including the Army captain who lives to the immediate south?”

  “My, my. You are thorough.” Benson began a slow stroll around the cavern, forcing Kell and Tait to duck back into their alcoves. “Take John Franzen off your list of concerns. He is indeed with the Army—in their Special Operations Forces.”

  “Ahhh.” Tan’s tone resonated with relief. “That means he’s likely in my country more than yours.”

  “Beautifully phrased,” Benson offered. “And if I may add to it, consider that most of the locals have trusted the Franzen family for generations. Very few will suspect that the nocturnal comings and goings of their ‘new neighbors’ are anything more than a corporation’s eccentricities in building up their new island resort.”

  “Brilliant.” Tan peered again at the big sheets with their intricate plans. “But do any of those ‘loyal locals’ know about this cave? And its connection to Hale Anelas?”

  “The last time the family stepped foot in here was to wait out Hurricane Iniki, in nineteen ninety-two,” Gunter explained. “Before that, the passage wasn’t actively used for over a hundred years, since the days when pirates ran slaves, jewels, gold, and other illegal contraband up from the beach and into the original mansion.”

  “‘The original mansion?’” Tan echoed. “So Iniki wiped out the property?”

  “Only part of it. The mansion’s had several additions and renovations since then. After a freak lightning strike took the east part of the house in the early nineteen twenties, the owners rebuilt a sizable new kitchen and boarded up the entrance from the cave for good. A few years later, they had the tunnel closed from the beach side, as well. The good little prohibitioni
sts were aghast at finding the passage being secretly used for illegal whiskey storage.

  “When the Kails bought the house in the sixties, I doubt they even knew about the tunnel, though it’s remained structurally sound. You can imagine how intrigued we were to find it, while looking at the property as a potential resort commodity for the main company. Requesting architectural surveys and geologic studies is a normal part of that process. My partner recognized the strategic importance of the discovery, and has led a very quiet project to clear the tunnel once more. He’s been vital to the process of securing a legal purchase of the ranch.”

  Kell bared his seething teeth at the wall now. No wonder Benson had been able to cause such a major cluster-fuck with Lani’s efforts at securing the new permits for the B and B. He had help. From the goddamn partner.

  “And that deal is happening soon, then?” Tan queried.

  Benson straightened his stance and folded his arms, clearly more confident in the conversation’s direction. “Every building permit official, down to the minimum wage clerks, is in our pocket. Our lovely friend Miss Kail started playing with the notion of going all the way to Honolulu with her case but everyone in that office is on our payroll now, as well.”

  “Your thoroughness is impressive.” The Asian picked up one of the paperweight rocks and turned it over in his hand. “Yet so is Kail’s determination.”

  Kellan stared at that rock and envisioned using it to clobber the man. Something in the way Tan referred to Lani, the sensual stress he put on every syllable of “determination,” was a reminder of how a cobra danced before sinking its fangs into prey.

  “She’ll be out of the picture within a few weeks.” Benson tapped a thigh with a nervous index finger. “The woman’s not going to have any financial choice but to take our offer.”

  “Hmmm.” The man’s mien changed in such a subtle way Kell doubted anyone noticed it but him and Tait—but damn did they notice, especially when Tan shifted his stance to disguise the small jerks of his cock. “What a pity,” he murmured, “that she can’t be part of the package.”

  Red. It gained terrible meaning when it became the color of a man’s rage. Kellan had never known such a violent version of the feeling, lashing its way through every drop of his blood, tethering itself to every tendon in his limbs. He didn’t have to look at Tait for the assurance that his friend shared the fury. He felt the energy of it spewing from T’s hiding space.

  Mr. Tan, you officially just signed your kill order.

  “Fascinating.” Benson had the nerve to sound like the guy had simply asked for fries with his burger. “So you’ve seen her?”

  “We have been performing our own surveillance of the ranch for the last few days. Discreetly, of course.” Tan set the rock back down, and kept his gaze fixed on the blueprints. “So yes, I’ve seen her. Her beauty is…extraordinary.”

  Another sensation joined the anger. It wasn’t so easy for Kell to identify. In many ways, it was similar to the acrimony, burning and unforgiving, but now it gained a strange urgency, relentlessly gripping the center of his chest.

  The Koreans had been watching the ranch. For several days. That meant watching all of them. Him and Tait. Lani and Leo. He suddenly wished for the ability to sprout wings, jet plane himself to the school, scoop them both up and take them far, far away from Tan and his oil slick of a stare—and his disgusting way of drawing out every syllable of “extraordinary.”

  Benson shifted toward the man by one careful step. “A word of advice, my friend? That beauty comes with a bite. A lot of bite.”

  Tan gave a subtle chuckle. “I like biting. It’s always nice, for a start.” He traced a finger along the edge of the table. “Let’s say I enjoy things on the rougher side.”

  Benson shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that. You’re a man who enjoys working hard then playing hard.”

  “Yes, well…playing hard tended to land me in spots of trouble, so I’ve been on the wagon for a while now. Used to have a bloke who kept me supplied with plenty of fresh toys for ‘play’ but King managed to get himself killed. In Seattle, of all places. I actually think it was a sting of some sort, involving those bothersome Special Forces boys.”

  Unbelievably, the turn in the conversation finally made Benson squirm. He visibly sweated in his Armani, though attempted a wry laugh at Tan’s comment. In the end, the guy appeared constipated more than anything, not lending a speck of charm to his comeback.

  “If it’s quality ‘toys’ you’re requesting, Tan, I’m happy to email a catalogue of our most circumspect ladies of the island. Hokulani Kail is regarded as a sister by Captain Franzen, making her a tougher add-on for the package.”

  Tan shot out another heavy sound that served proxy for a real laugh. “Saying things like that only entices me greater, Gunter.” He added a seamless shrug. “And weren’t you the chap telling me that the woman hasn’t given you a contract signature yet? Your plan might proceed more smoothly by lashing down the woman into a commitment, if you know what I mean.” The man turned, now fully revealing the erection punching at his designer crotch. “It’s astounding what a woman will agree to, once her own blood is flowing from your whip strokes.”

  Benson didn’t appear stopped-up anymore. He paled in blatant nausea. “That—that’s—”

  “Got to be one of the best ideas I’ve heard all week.”

  The statement wasn’t issued by any of the henchman, including Tan’s hulk. There was another person was in the cave, having maintained a shadow-silent presence until now. The guy didn’t emerge from the darkness yet, though his voice was eerily familiar to Kellan. The mystery was unsettling. Where had he heard that quarterback baritone before? And why, as he searched his memory banks for the answer, did all the possibilities make his neck hairs do the goddamn hokey-pokey with each other again?

  The moment the man came forward, both those answers dropped into place with disgusting certainty.

  The last time Kellan had seen that spiky blond hair, that rugged but youthful face, and that casual but graceful lope, he’d been watching Luna Lawrence blow Ephraim Lor to the terrorist hell he deserved. As Lor flew six feet across a Hollywood soundstage, the partner with whom the monster had been working, a demon who’d taken lots of Lor’s money to aid his attempt at turning the west coast into a nuclear wasteland, had fled the scene, never to be seen again.

  Until now.

  The reason for the latter half of the Benstock name. A fugitive on the FBI’s Top Ten Wanted list. One of the criminals responsible for Luna’s death, and now a man who didn’t flinch at the proposal of using Lani as a pawn in his next sick scheme, again taking money from more people who intended to seriously damage to the country.

  Cameron Stock.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Fury? Yeah, Tait knew the shit, all right—more intimately than he’d ever wanted. But nothing—nothing—in his life had prepared him for this raw, roaring craving to tear apart everything in sight with his bare hands, including the cave he’d just allowed a piece of walking dick lice to leave. The shit was so intense that it manifested through his body in ice instead of fire, giving him new understanding of why some people got locked in padded rooms.

  Kellan’s quiet footsteps approached the crevice where he still stood, frozen in place. He’d let the guy take care of a sweep through the cave after Tan, Benson, and Stock left, planning Lani’s captivity and extortion as if they were running logistics on a fucking fraternity prank. He’d admitted that if he moved, he’d chase the shits down and bury his knife in Stock’s throat before the henchmen put him down in similar fashion. That would alert the cocksuckers that Kell was likely nearby. He’d be killed, too. Then they’d declare it open hunting season on Lani, with Leo as their extra insurance policy.

  “Cut the fuse, T-Bomb.” Kell’s voice was a welcome salve on his senses. “You have to keep it together, man.”

  “I know.” His emphasizing huffs bounced off the walls, taunting him. “I—know.”

>   “Tait.” Kellan clamped a hand to his shoulder. “Eyes here, dude.” His buddy’s gaze waited for him, dark as moonless midnight with its steeled determination. “We will drop the bastard this time. I promise. Okay?”

  He forced a tight nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

  “Our priority right now is getting to Lani and Leo. We only have the rental car to use, since they took Lani’s jeep to the school.”

  “Shit. And the rental’s back at Franzen’s place.”

  They locked stares again, though it was only for a second. Thank fuck they were still on the same mental page.

  We need to move. Now.

  Though using the road would’ve gotten them to Franz’s faster, they knew the beach route would be less conspicuous. On the other hand, running without a hundred pounds of gear on one’s back did speed up the pace. And the thought of Stock getting to Lani first? Tait would have sprinted to the summit of Kawaikini and back to keep that disaster from happening.

  Every second was vital.

  Despite that fact, Tait commemorated their arrival at the house by tossing the keys at Kell. Though he was certain the guy already read his intention in the action, it was too damn important for the ether of telepathy.

  “Grab the Remington. And all the ammo you brought for it.”

  * * * * *

  Less than two hours later, it was back to head-banging-against-the-wall mode.

  Tait glared over at Kellan, who wore an empathizing look. The cause of their mutual ire was once again the growling baritone from the phone on the lanai table between them. This time, the phone was a burner unit they’d bought during a fast supplies stop in Kekaha, so Franzen was only represented by a string of numbers with the country code for Indonesia. That did little to impersonalize their exasperation at their captain, despite the strings he’d pulled to get them, along with Lani and Leo, into one of the beachside cottages at the Pacific Missile Range Facility base.