by Low, Gennita
“That’s a distinct possibility.” Then he planted his hands on either side of her and kissed her neck below her ear. “First, I want to make you as crazy as you make me.” He brushed his lips along the curve of her shoulder and skimmed the tips of her nipples before dropping lower. “I want to make you scream.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“That’s a promise.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it?”
He chuckled, his breath warming the skin beneath her breasts as he inched lower down her body. “I do believe I’m up to it. And then some. Hold onto your vocal cord, you’re in for a treat.”
Chapter Five
‡
Mitchell arched her back, her body and soul on fire, ready for anything Remy had to give her. Free for the moment of worry about Hatch and his henchmen dogging their steps, she let go of her fear, pushed back her guilt and opened herself to the man she hadn’t been able to forget.
As Remy worked his way down her body, tension built at her core, sending shivers of delicious anticipation throughout her body. When his lips reached the narrow mound of curls at the apex of her thighs, she parted her legs, letting him slide his broad shoulders between. Sighing, she wove her fingers into his dark hair, urging him lower.
When he spread her open and tongued her there, she whimpered, her breath catching in her throat.
Again, he touched her with the tip of his tongue, flicking the nubbin packed tightly with highly sensitive nerve endings. And he paused, blowing a hot stream of air over her damp entrance.
Mitchell gasped and dug her heels into the mattress, lifting her hips. “Oh, sweet Jesus. Don’t stop now.”
“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“All of it. Give it to me.” She tried to breathe, but her lungs were locked down. “Please.”
He scooped her bottom in his palms and parted her folds with his thumbs. “How much do you want it?”
“More than I want to breathe,” she said. “Please.”
He tongued her entrance, swirling the tip around before rising to the spot that had her entire being wound into a knot. When he flicked her clit once, then again and again, she came apart, her senses shattering into a million sparks, shooting from her center outward to the tips of her fingers and toes.
Her breath released on a scream. She stiffened, riding the crest of his assault to the very last shudder.
Spent, shaking, her insides throbbing, she dragged at his shoulders, craving the ultimate fulfillment only he could give her. “Inside me,” she demanded. “Now.”
“Bossy, aren’t we?” He climbed up her body like a Conquistador claiming his riches and thrust into her channel.
After the initial stretch, her muscles contracted around him, claiming him, suctioning him back when he pulled out to ram into her again.
She jammed her heels into the mattress and met him thrust for thrust. “Harder, frogman. Give me all you’ve got.”
He powered into her, slamming so hard, the headboard banged the wall and the bed frame squeaked in protest.
She held on, her fingernails digging into his skin, desperate to bring him closer, as if she could make him a part of her. Mitchell flung back her head and cried out as Remy thrust one last time, burying himself deep inside.
As she floated back to earth, he dropped to the mattress beside her, turning her with him, maintaining their connection, his cock still hard and stiff inside her body.
She lay for several minutes in his arms, savoring the warmth of his embrace but knowing she couldn’t stay. “I have to go.”
His arms tightened around her. “Stay with me.”
“I can’t.” Mitchell pried his arms loose and stood beside the bed, staring down at his naked male form, tempted to hop back in and cuddle against the warmth of his brawny body. But she couldn’t. “If Hatch or one of his snitches is watching my place, they’ll begin to wonder why I haven’t come home. I need to be there.”
Remy leaned up on an elbow. “I have your GPS data. You’re not running this op alone.”
She nodded. “I don’t want you hurt in the process.”
“I can hold my own.”
“These guys are dangerous.”
“And Al-Qaeda isn’t?” He chuckled, his face ruggedly appealing, the sparkle in his eyes making her want to kiss him again.
Her chest contracted and she squeezed her fingers into a fist, refusing to give in to desire again. “You do realize that I can’t text, call or contact you. Too risky.”
“I understand.” He stood and brushed a strand of hair from her face then pulled her into the circle of his arms. “Take care of yourself, darlin’. I don’t want to lose you, now that I’ve found you again.”
“Goes both ways.” She leaned into him, reveling in his heat. His hands were so big, rough and yet gentle. Mitchell could get used to having them all over her body, all of the time. If everything went according to her plan, she hoped she’d get that chance. Soon. “We have so much to talk about when this is all over.”
“Damn right we do.” His kissed her lips and whispered, “I’ll see you at the club tonight.”
She frowned, pushing him to arms’ length. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Didn’t Hatch’s men warn you to stay away from me?”
“I’ll think of something. Maybe a disguise.”
After grabbing her clothes from the floor, Mitchell strapped her bra in place and slipped her shirt over her head. “Be careful. I’ve seen some of the corpses his men left behind.” Her belly knotted. “They weren’t pretty and forensics tells me they died painful deaths.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got this.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Having been up against the Al-Qaeda who are as ruthless to their women as they are to their enemies, I think I can deal with a few thugs.”
Mitchell paused in pulling on her skirt. “Don’t go playing hero. If I disappear, you take that information to my boss. Let the NCIS call in the FBI and whoever else they have to contact.”
“I will. But I can’t let you go alone. If I show up at the club tonight, I can be close enough to provide backup should you need it.”
“Unarmed?”
An eyebrow winged upward. “Honey, I’m trained to fight with or without a weapon.”
She propped a fist on her hip. “Cocky much?”
He shrugged.
His sexy nonchalance made her pulse hum at the same time as a chill slithered across Mitchell’s skin. His casual indifference about the threat worried Mitchell. “These men have weapons. Big, bad, ugly guns.”
“They’re not the only ones.” Strutting naked across the carpet, his ass tight and sexy, Remy flung open his closet. “SEALs like guns so much we collect them.” Inside the closet was a gun safe taking up most of the space. He twirled the tumbler right, then left and back to the right and opened the handle. Inside was an arsenal of weapons from several handguns to an AR15 semi automatic.
Holy crap! “Okay, so you have weapons. Do you have a concealed carry license for the state of Virginia?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Still, I’d feel better if you just turned everything over to my supervisor and let him handle it.” She adjusted the collar on her shirt. “He’d be mad I started this, but he’d know who to call in for support.”
“What was it you said? In the case of kidnappings, the more time that passes, the less likely you are to find the victim.” Remy shook his head. “I’ll call them, but I won’t wait around for them to respond.”
Mitchell gnawed on her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything stupid. I’ve lived through six deployments to hostile countries. I know how to conduct myself to stay alive.” His brows dipped into a frown. “I’m more concerned about you.”
Mitchell zipped up the back of her skirt and grabbed her high heels. “I’ll be okay. It’s Kelli I’m worried about.”
Remy stood in front
of her, his naked muscles rippling with every movement, tattoos laced across his bulging biceps. He was beautiful, rugged and sexy as hell.
Intending a quick goodbye, she leaned up on her toes and planted her lips on his. “I really have to go.” As soon as her breasts pressed against his chest, she melted into him.
He returned the kiss, his arms clamping around her as he crushed her in a tight embrace. His member nudged her belly, stiff and hot, reminding her of what she’d be missing by leaving. “I’ve got your back, babe.”
Dragging herself away, she let herself out the front door and ran barefooted down the back steps where she paused to slip into her heels.
Tomorrow, she had to push the envelope. The days were passing and she still hadn’t found Kelli. The sooner she did, the sooner she could get on with her life, which, if she played her cards right, and cut herself some slack, could include the strong, sexy presence of one Navy SEAL.
Chapter Six
‡
Mitchell hitched up the corset as much as it would go, afraid if she bent over at all, her breasts would pop over the top, escaping the tight confines. Thankfully, she had a mini biker jacket to wear over the corset and high-on-the-thigh panties. As much of her as was showing left little to the imagination. That plus the impossibly tall heels of her thigh-high shiny black boots completed the spectacle. Though the outfit made her feel completely feminine, she couldn’t do this on a regular basis. She didn’t know how the strippers did it, except that the tips they made were sometimes more than what Mitchell earned as a fulltime employee of NCIS.
Time was ticking away. She’d arrived early at the club, hoping for some alone time with the boss. Maybe if she offered up herself, he’d take the bait faster and he’d be tempted to add her to the collection of women he’d accumulated over the past months. Assuming he was the one responsible for the disappearances. All Mitchell had to go on was what the FBI had, the testimony of one woman who’d seen Kelli before she left, and a gut feel that Kelli’s date with Rocco Hatch had something to do with her disappearance.
If she was wrong, all this time would have been wasted. At least Brendan was working the case from his direction. Between them, hopefully they’d find Kelli. Too often lately, she’d let despair edge into her conscious thoughts. A week had already gone by. A week may as well be a lifetime.
“Nice, CC.” Dixie Lee nodded at the outfit Mitchell had chosen for her performance that evening. “I made a thousand dollars in tips on the night I wore that costume. Had an entire fleet of bikers ride in that time.” She leaned toward the mirror in front of her and drew on an eyebrow, darkening it with several strokes before moving to the other one. She lowered her voice. “Look, sweetie, I like you. You don’t try to steal the stage, you don’t push the rest of us around and you’re not judging us.”
Mitchell quit tugging at the corset and stared into the woman’s eyes in the mirror’s reflection. “I’m just here like the rest of you. Trying to make a difference in my life.”
“Some of us are here to make a living. Others…” she snorted and rolled her eyes, “want the attention. You, I haven’t quite figured out. But I like you.”
“Thanks.” Mitchell stared hard at the woman who had at least seven more years of hard living on Mitchell. “I get the feeling there’s a ‘but’ in there.”
“No but—a warning.” Dixie Lee lowered her voice to the point only Mitchell could make out her words. “Be careful. People have been known to disappear from here.”
She widened her eyes. “Disappear?”
“You know…gone.”
“People don’t just disappear. Don’t their families notify the police?”
“Only if they have someone who cares at home. Not many of us have that luxury.” A shoulder lifted in a shrug. “If we did, we might not be working here.”
“Who do you know has gone missing?”
Dixie Lee glanced over Mitchell’s shoulder and turned to check the area behind her. “There was a girl, I think she was only nineteen. Lied about her age and told Rocco she was twenty-one. She danced here for maybe a week and then poof.” She snapped her fingers. “Gone.”
Mitchell’s pulse quickened. “Rocco say anything about it?”
“No, the rumor was she left to go back home. But she told me she didn’t have any family. Her parents were killed in a car wreck and she didn’t have no brothers or sisters.” She leaned forward and squinted into the mirror. “On her own, she was. I offered to let her stay with me. She moved her stuff in and slept there a couple nights, but then nothing.”
Mitchell applied lipstick to her mouth, pretending the information meant little to her. “Are you sure she didn’t lie about her family?”
“That’s just it. She left everything there. A picture of her and her parents. I looked them up on the internet. There was a news article about the crash and the names all matched.” Dixie Lee turned and spread out her hands. “Why would she leave all her stuff? And she had a wad of cash from her tips in a bag beneath her mattress. No way she’d go off without that.”
Mitchell touched Dixie Lee’s arm and lowered her voice. “You think Rocco took her?”
Dixie Lee shrugged, glanced over Mitchell’s shoulder and froze. “You should use some of this body glitter. The customers like it when our cleavage sparkles.” The older woman pressed a bottle of glitter into her hand.
Candi walked by, her eyes narrowed. “I’m on first tonight,” she announced with a flip of her hair. “You two will dance together. And give the audience a little girl-on-girl action.”
“Who made you queen bee?” Dixie Lee stood with her arms crossed over her full breasts.
“Look, Rocco tells me what he wants and I pass it along. You know…pillow talk.” She looked down her nose at Mitchell and Dixie Lee. “He likes me.”
“For now,” Dixie Lee muttered under her breath.
Mitchell caught her words and apparently so did Candi.
“What do you mean for now?” Candi demanded, planting both hands on her hips.
“Just that.” Dixie Lee’s chin rose. “He’ll keep you around until he’s bored or annoyed. I think he’ll hit annoyed first.”
Candi lunged for Dixie Lee’s platinum blond hair and pulled hard, jerking back the woman’s head. “Take it back, bitch!”
Training kicked in. Mitchell, grabbed Candi’ hand and bent back her thumb. “Release Dixie Lee or I’ll break it.”
Holding onto the fistful of hair, tears welling in her eyes, Candi sank lower. “Let go of me, you fuckin’ whore!”
Exerting a bit more pressure, Mitchell smiled at her grimly. “You first.”
Sweat popped out on Candi’s forehead and finally, she let go of Dixie Lee’s hair.
Mitchell released her hold on Candi’s thumb. As soon as she did, the woman swung.
Mitchell dodged, gripped her arm and dragged it up behind her, shoving it high between her shoulder blades. Then she pushed her up against the wall. “Try it again and I’ll break your pretty little nose. You won’t win with me, Candi, so don’t even try.”
“Rocco will have something to say about this.”
“I hope so. Then he can take it up directly with me. I don’t take orders from his whore.” Mitchell gritted out the last word and shoved the woman away from her. “Now, get out of my face. I have to apply body glitter.”
Candi rubbed her arm, glaring.
Mitchell darted toward her as if ready to attack her again. “Go!”
“You’ll be sorry you messed with me.” Candi scooted away, cursing all through the dressing room until she slammed the door at the end.
Dixie Lee dragged a brush through her hair, shaking her head, her lips pinched into a sad frown. “Honey, you just made yourself an enemy in Miss Candi.”
“And I should be worried?”
“That girl has a mean streak, and she plays dirty.” Dixie Lee held up her hands. “Just saying. If I was you, I’d watch my back and carry a big stick. Or better yet, a nine-mill
imeter Beretta.”
Maybe now I’m getting closer. Mitchell edged toward the older woman. “Dixie Lee, is Rocco involved in anything other than this club?”
Dixie Lee’s eyes widened and she shot a look over her shoulder. “Sweetie, some questions we just don’t ask around here. And that’s one of them. Excuse me, I got tables to wait.” The woman left her standing in the dressing room.
Mitchell’s heartbeat banged against her chest. This was it. She was in the right place. She could feel it in her bones.
Based on Dixie’s warning and her reluctance to point any fingers at Rocco, he had to be at the bottom of the disappearances. She squared her shoulders and resolved to make her move that night.
The first dance music of the evening started. Candi would be on stage, which would keep her busy while Mitchell set her sights on Rocco.
*
Remy sat in the back seat of Irish’s SUV surrounded by Fish, Irish, and Nacho. “You all know what’s at stake.”
“Got it,” each man said, one at a time until all in the vehicle had sounded off.
“We’re online,” Swede called out through the radio headset. “Comm check.”
“Fish, here.”
“Irish.”
“Nacho.”
From the group in the second SUV parked twenty feet away came voices across the radios.
“Tuck, here.”
“Dustman.”
“Big Bird.”
When the last member of the team reported in, Remy added his. “Gator, here. I’ve got a visual on the van and, Swede, I read you loud and clear.”
“Good. I have the target up on the monitor. She’s approximately forty yards to our east, which places her in the rear of the club.”
“The commander isn’t going to be happy when he realizes we appropriated all this equipment from supply,” Tuck observed.
Remy fought against a wince. “He will probably be pissed we didn’t include him on the operation, more so than for using the unit’s toys.”
“Especially if he hears we were at the Naughty Ladies Lounge,” Big Bird added.
