Carter stopped the truck in a small parking area off to the side of the main compound. It was an impressive setup. Similar to the Colorado compound, it sat on about twenty acres surrounded by hills and a forest. He’d found out some fanatical cult had owned the place prior to disbanding after its leader was sentenced to life in prison for sexually assaulting several minors and arranging “marriages” between older men and preteen girls. He remembered hearing about the case a few years ago and knew the men were now getting what they deserved by being someone else’s bitch in a cell block.
A huge meeting hall doubled as the dining room and could hold up to 150 people at once. The main house had been the cult leader’s and now housed Wexler, his wife, and two young sons. Carter hoped once their father was in prison, the boys didn’t follow in his footsteps.
The rest of the compound was dotted with a few multi-bedroom cabins, some bunk houses, and storage facilities. There was a shooting range, obstacle course, and a combination gym and game room. He knew where all the weapons, ammo, and explosives were stored, but still hadn’t gained access to Wexler’s inner lair—the locked office in the main house. That was where the doomsday plans had to be and without on-site backup, breaking in hadn’t been a risk he could take. With Mic and Phillips here, they would be able to run interference for him.
Purposely dragging his hand across Mic’s thigh, Carter winked at her again. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t know if it was because she was an operative on his side that he could relax with for a moment, or if it was the woman herself that had him in the mood to tease her. A brief flash of annoyance appeared on her face, but disappeared when he said, “It’s show time.”
Throwing the truck into park, he turned off the ignition and opened the door to climb out. He grabbed Mic’s wrist and stopped her from exiting behind Phillips through the passenger door. Dragging her across the seat, he took hold of her hips and pulled her out of the vehicle, letting her slide down his torso. He stared at her face and was pleased to see a mask of indifference with a bit of sexy attitude tossed in, which was perfect for her cover. Good girl.
Footsteps approached and he turned to see Strauss, Robisch, and Harmon walking toward them. Phillips came around the hood and stopped next to Carter, dropping his and Mic’s duffels on the ground.
“Lieutenant Carter.” Strauss eyed Phillips and then Mic. “Are these the new recruits?”
“Yes, sir. This is Phil Robins and his sister Mikayla. Phil this is Colonel Strauss, Major Robisch, and Sergeant Harmon.”
The men shook hands with Phillips and engaged in light conversation, while barely sparing Mic a glance—except for Harmon. The dirtbag was eyeing her like she was tonight’s main course, but Carter didn’t need to worry. Harmon was a scumbag and any moves he tried to put on Mic would result in the guy’s balls ending up in his throat. Mic would have no trouble handling him, if it came down to that, but it would be best if Carter laid his claim.
He waited for a break in the conversation and then clapped Phillips on the back. “Phil, Sergeant Harmon will show you to the bunkhouse you’ll be staying in. Mic’s sleeping with me, and right now, if it’s all right with you, Colonel, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen my lady, and I’d like to get reacquainted.”
Strauss leered and nodded. Picking up Mic’s duffel, Carter put his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward his cabin. While she followed willingly, he could feel the tension in her body. Leaning down to whisper in her ear, he tried to get her to relax. “Easy, Mic. I’m not going to attack you. We’re just going to talk.”
She snorted, but at least her shoulders relaxed. “I’m not worried about you attacking me. Care to explain how we’re supposed to talk in your room? Liam said it was wired for sound.”
“Trust me. It’ll be fine. We’re going to take a shower together.”
“What?” she hissed. Her shoulders tensed again, but this time it was in anger. “You’re fucking insane if you think I’m showering with you.”
“Yes, you are, sweetheart . . . at least, whoever is listening in on our conversation will think that. The only bugs are in the main room. I’ll check again before we start talking, though.” Opening the cabin door, he let her go in first, then closed the door behind them. Gesturing to the left, he led her to his room. Once they were alone—as alone as they could be with people listening in—he let her bag drop gently on the floor. Her eyes were darting everywhere at once, taking it all in—probably trying to figure out where the bugs were, in addition to eyeing the single queen bed. He tapped her arm and rolled his eyes—a signal to play along. “Baby, have I missed you. But I need a shower before I fuck you for the next few hours. Why don’t you take one with me? After you get my dick nice and clean, you can blow me.”
Mic’s eyes narrowed, and she made a gagging gesture with her finger and mouth. “Sure, babe. I’ve been thinking about you and your cock all day. But do you think you can keep up with me? I want you hard and fast.”
Carter strangled a hearty guffaw. There was the Mic he knew, beneath the nervous woman on her first black ops assignment. Grinning, he pointed to the bathroom, indicating they needed to go in there. “Oh, I’m sure of it, babe. When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to walk.”
They entered the small bathroom, and he shut the door. Holding up a finger, he pulled out his cell phone and ran the CIA app to search for listening devices. It looked like any standard app that came with a phone most people didn’t bother using. The response was the same as the last time he checked—they were clear. Reaching into the shower, he turned on the water as Mic leaned against the sink and crossed her arms. “Okay . . . talk.”
Adopting a similar stance, he propped his shoulder against the wall. “Nice to see you, too, sweetheart. How’s Steel coming along?”
She shrugged and let the endearment slide, which was good because there would be plenty more of them when others were in earshot. “It’s coming. Phillips is the only one who’s reported for duty so far, but Jackson and I have a few others we agreed upon. If they accept the offer, then they’ll be at the compound by the time this gig is over.”
“That’s great. I know Liam went over a lot of stuff with you, but there are a few things I wanted to be the one to tell you. First off, we need to be a convincing couple, which means there’s going to be some kissing and grab-ass when other people are around. Problem?”
“Nope, just don’t get carried away. Keep your tongue in your own mouth as much as possible.”
A snort escaped him. “Well, I guess that answers another one of my questions.”
“Which is?”
“Sex.”
Her eyes narrowed. “If you think I’m fucking you for a cover, think again. We can have a fight or just have a lot of shower sex.” She gestured toward the running water.
“Or . . .” Damn, if looks could kill. “Relax and hear me out. We can have a simulated sex session in there.” He tilted his head toward the bedroom. “You know, lots of moaning and groaning, get the bed squeaking, and a few shouts of ‘Oh my God’ and ‘Hallelujah.’ I’ll tape it and get a copy to Liam. He’ll give it to our outside support team, and they can play around with it . . . make up a bunch of sex sessions. It’ll come in handy if we need to be in two places at once.” She gaped at him and his brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”
“That wasn’t the answer I expected.”
Running a hand through his short hair, he released a weary sigh. “Mic, I’ve done a lot of things in the line of duty, some of which I’m not thrilled about. While I wouldn’t mind one bit taking you to bed, I would never demand it for a cover. Besides, you’re not exactly my type.”
“Fuck you. And here I thought anything with a pair of tits and a pussy fit the bill for you. I’m relieved to know you have standards.” The sarcasm was hard to miss on her sharp tongue.
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, that came out wrong. What I meant is I prefer to take charge in my sexual encounters and with your alpha personality, I
highly doubt you would submit to me.”
“Submit?” A lightbulb seemed to go off in her head, and her eyes widened. “Holy shit. That’s what Jackson was fucking laughing about when I said I refused to call you Master or Sir.”
This time, he couldn’t hold back a bark of amusement as a grin spread across his face. “And that’s exactly why you’re not my type, but if you ever want to give it a whirl, let me know. I’d be more than happy to show you the ropes, so to speak.”
“I’ll pass, thanks anyway.”
“No problem. It’s not for everyone.” He checked his watch—they had to be in here for at least a ten-minute blowjob. “Now, speaking of your alpha personality, I need you to walk a fine line with that. There are a bunch of women here, and you’re going to have to establish your place in the pecking order. I want you to be on top, which means going head-to-head with a chick named Brittany. She’s the leader of the group and makes sure all the women know it. You’re probably going to have a physical fight with her, so forget your training and channel your high school self. It’s got to be a catfight—slapping, hair pulling, screeching, the works. Feel free to fight a little dirty, but try not to use any self-defense moves that will give away your training.”
“Okay, that should be easy enough. What else?”
“This next one, I’m not thrilled with, but I think it’s necessary.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. With what he knew of her childhood, he really hated to do this and wouldn’t suggest it if he could think of an alternative. But time was running short, and he needed every advantage he could get to show his allegiance to the New Order. “You have to smart mouth Wexler, or do something to piss me off in front of him, and then I need to hit you. Slap you across the face. It will show him I’m on his side and won’t tolerate anyone mouthing off to him, regardless if it’s my woman. I need you to be submissive to the men afterward. I’ll try not to hit you too hard, but I have to give you something that will bruise a bit. We’ll tell Phillips it’s coming, and he’s going to stand up for his ‘sister.’” He made quotations with his fingers. “Then I have to put him in his place, as well. Did Liam tell Phillips to walk that fine line, too? He needs to be a leader to the flunkies around here, but a follower when it comes to Wexler, Strauss, me, and one or two others. Okay?”
“Phillips knows what he’s supposed to do unless anything has changed since the last update Liam had. And it’s not as if I’ve never been hit before. I think I can handle a slap. Where do you stand with Wexler now?”
“I think by the end of the week I’ll be pulled into his inner circle. That’s when I’ll be able to find out the details of the attacks . . . I hope.” Pushing off the wall, he pulled his shirt up and over his head.
Mic’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Not letting the hot water go to waste—and we both need wet hair when we leave here in a few.” He dropped his shirt on the floor and stuck his hand under the water to test the temperature as he toed off his boots. “Either join me, sweetheart, or go unpack your duffel and take your shower after mine—and watch your mumbling about what a dick I am in there. Dinner is in about thirty minutes over in the mess hall. Oh, and one other thing, you’ll be sleeping in my bed—and no, I won’t be sleeping on the floor. I may be a guy, but I can control myself. Just don’t freak out if I have morning wood. It’s not something that can be helped—especially around a warm, female body that has all the guys drooling.”
She opened her mouth to say something more, but a raised eyebrow from him and his hands going to unzip his pants had her giving him the finger as she headed for the door. He chuckled as he finished stripping and stepped into the shower. She sure was a firecracker and would make an excellent Domme if she ever explored the lifestyle. He would love to meet the man who broke through the barriers she had around her heart. The guy would deserve a fucking medal—a big shiny one.
But Carter understood where she was coming from—his childhood had been as shitty as hers, albeit in a different setting. He didn’t know his biological father and his mother had left him at a Walmart when he was six years old. After that, he’d been bounced from one foster family to another.
It had been a long time since he thought about his mother—what little he could remember about her. For years, he’d tried to figure out what he’d done to be discarded like yesterday’s trash over and over, but those events and the ones during his late teenage years helped define the man he was today. He may be a lot of things most people would frown on, but that didn’t matter to him. He was a man of integrity, loyalty, and honor, and those were the reasons he could hold his head up high every morning. The day that no longer happened was the day they would have to bury him.
5
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I clutched my head in my hands. The rushing of the shower was loud, even with the door closed. I wanted to scream and break things. A growl built up in my throat, but I swallowed it down.
I knew where Carter was coming from. And I agreed with him. I needed to curb my attitude and let him take the lead here. The role of the subservient woman, taking a slap and the humiliation that goes with it, was going to be much harder than I’d let on.
Memories that I’d fought hard to keep buried rose to the surface in my mind. I felt the angry blows, and the hard wooden floor under my knees where I’d fallen. I heard the deafening click of the closet door lock, and the hot, close stench invaded my nose. The closet was so tiny I couldn’t stand or lay down, even as small as I was. It was a jail cell in more ways than one.
My hands were trembling against my scalp, my fingers curling into claws as I was assaulted by my past.
“You stupid bitch.” Pain exploded across my cheek from his backhanded slap. “You’re a whore, just like your mother.”
I wasn’t sure what I’d done this time—it never did matter. Anything could set him off, from dinner being late to the sound of my shoes on the floor.
His grip was strong, biting and pinching the skin of my arm as he dragged me down the hallway. Flinging open the closet door, he tried to throw me inside. I twisted and pulled against his grasp. The darkness was absolute in there, oppressive and hot. Each time he locked me in there, it seemed smaller, the walls closing in, stealing my air—crushing me.
I was breathing too fast, my head spinning as panic assaulted me. Fear was a heavy weight in the pit of my gut. Sweat was running down my face and into my eyes, blurring my vision.
“No! Please don’t!” I was begging him, as much as I hated it, the words forced out against my will. I loathed giving him the satisfaction of knowing he scared me.
“Get your fucking ass in there or I’ll kick you inside like a fucking soccer ball!” Spit landed on my face from where he was screaming, inches away. I barely noticed the next slap. Fear was a living, breathing thing inside me. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and flung me like a doll. I landed on the floor of the tiny space with a thud. The wood was rough under my hands, I dug my nails into the wood. Knowing that when he shut and locked the door . . . I would disappear.
“Mic!”
I was jerked back to the present with that one hissed word. Carter’s hands were gripping my shoulders and shaking me. I touched my cheeks and found my face was slick with tears. Dark wet spots dotted my shirt. He leaned close, and I jerked back, not wanting to be touched, but he followed me down, and I found myself flat on my back on the bed with him on top of me. His mouth brushed against my ear.
“Whatever is going on in your head right now, it was long ago. Let it go. I’ve been there, sweetheart. Don’t lose yourself in the past—especially when the present is so much nicer.” Not giving me a chance to respond, he kissed me, his lips hard and demanding on mine.
I forgot everything for a moment and let it all go—who I was, where we were, and why it was a horrible idea. His weight pressed me down into the bed, and my hands clutched his bare shoulders. His skin was velvety and cool from his shower, and he tasted fresh and clean
. Gone was the tight space of the closet and the painful slaps. In their place was the masculine smell of Carter’s skin and the smoothness of his cheek against my own as he nuzzled my jawline.
“Carter . . .” What I wanted to say stuck in my throat and remained there. He was kissing my neck and palming my ass, pulling me tight against his hardness. His back was cool and firm with muscle, as I rubbed my palms down his skin. He felt amazing—it all felt amazing. The kiss was just what I’d needed to snap me out of the past and pull me back to the present, which I was sure had been his intent. I froze when my fingers reached the damp terrycloth of the towel at his waist.
“What, sweetheart?”
His hands were under my shirt and hot against the skin of my stomach. It felt incredible, and it would have felt so good to give into the moment, but reality crashed into me like a cold shower. I put my lips close to his ear, taking a small amount of pleasure in his shiver. “We can’t. I-I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Placing his forehead against mine, he squeezed my waist one last time before pulling my shirt back down. He kissed my cheek and rolled to the side, flinging an arm over his eyes and taking gulps of oxygen into his lungs. I took advantage of the moment, eyeing every exposed inch of him I could. I wanted to know just exactly what I was missing. To say he was cut and in shape was an understatement. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, and other than the foul, black tattoo on his upper arm, his skin was unblemished and perfect. I traced each well-defined abdominal muscle with my gaze, slowly working downward. The towel was falling off. His modesty, if he had any, was preserved by only a few scant centimeters of terrycloth.
He rolled back to his side, facing me. His blue eyes were full of more understanding than I expected. His lips were full and red from our kiss, the corners of his mouth pulled upward in a small, self-satisfied smirk. Snaking his arm around my waist, he pulled me tight against his chest. He was so much larger than me, I had to look up at him. My head was a few inches under his chin. My hands were again against his bare chest, the fine, blond hairs there tickling me.
No Way in Hell: A Steel Corp/Trident Security Crossover Novel (Steel Corps/Trident Security Book 2) Page 4
