Valentine's Billionaire Bad Boys

by M. S. Parker

  The soft gray eyes he loved to gaze into were gone, replaced by dark, dark blue pools so like his own. And when her mouth opened, the words that came from her throat weren’t the low, melodious tones of Emory’s voice, but rather, a deep, raspy voice.

  “Hello, lover…” she purred, ignoring Joel as he gaped at her.

  “You…” Vincent rasped out, lifting the gun and leveling it at her.

  Joel tried to lunge for him, but something had frozen him. Battling against the invisible bonds, he struggled to get to Vincent before he could shoot Emory.

  “Damn it, I killed you, you fucking whore!” Vincent screeched and his voice was high, wild.

  She laughed, and it wasn’t Emory’s laugh, wasn’t Tracy’s laugh. Joel reached up, scrubbing at his eyes, relieved to find that he could move a little. As he tried to focus on Emory’s face, the image seemed to shift, like a heat mirage, flickering from Emory one moment, to Carly the next.

  “Yes…you did. And I’ve been waiting a long, long time to return the favor.”

  Her eyes moved over Vincent, unconcerned by the gun he held as she met Joel’s gaze. “I tried, a few times, to do it this way with Marc, but I couldn’t ever penetrate his head.”

  “Marc?”

  Vincent wheeled around, shifting the gun from Carly to Joel, and back again. Then he stared at Joel as though seeing him for the first time and his face twisted into a mask of hatred. “Marc…you’re the little fuck who got away from me. The slut’s sister,” he snarled.

  Joel smiled. “Yes,” he said simply.

  Vincent howled and Joel watched as his finger tightened on the gun, dodging out of the way as Vincent pulled the trigger. The loud, booming thunder of a gun firing ripped through the air, but he never heard an impact. All he heard was Carly laughing. Glancing around the wall, he watched, in shock, as the bullet seemed to slow in midair and finally clatter to the floor.

  “Vincent, sugar, you don’t really think I’m going to let you hurt him, do you?” she whispered, shaking her head. The blue eyes, so foreign looking in her face, sparkled merrily and she wagged her finger at him.

  “Bitch!” Vincent screamed out, wheeling around and aiming the gun at her face.

  He squeezed the trigger, again, again, and again, and each bullet fell harmlessly to the floor. His eyes got larger and more terrified as he stared at Carly.

  She laughed, a merry, happy sound in the cold, silent house. As she moved toward Vincent, Joel felt his heart stutter to a halt inside his chest.

  She blinked, when her eyes opened, they were gray, but unseeing. As Emory fell unaware to the floor, a white mist seemed to launch itself out of her, and Vincent screamed as the incandescent streamer of air wrapped around him and started to squeeze.

  Joel lunged for Emory, shouting her name. The strong, steady beat of her pulse under his fingers reassured him, and he dragged her away from Vincent as the force that was Carly slowly choked the life out of him.

  Emory shuddered in his arms, a soft cry escaping her. Joel pressed his lips to her hair, but he continued to stare at Vincent. He was suspended in the air now, his face turning a dark, angry purple, his eyes bugging out of his face, lips moving in a soundless scream.

  There was a violent, cracking sound, and then the lifeless corpse fell down to the ground, dead.

  Joel sucked air, his body shaking from the cold.

  There was a soft, sighing whisper in the air, and then the cold faded away, replaced by the warmth of the early spring day. Her voice, once more, was distant. I never understood why you didn’t kill him sooner…the others didn’t matter. Just him.

  “They mattered to me,” he said hoarsely, staring, stunned, at the broken, dead body in front of him. “He knew things I needed to know.” His voice trailed off for a moment. “Know your enemy…keep him close.”

  Carly laughed and it was the same carefree sound it had been in her youth, before she’d gotten entangled with Grainger. I prefer ‘Keep your enemies dead in the ground’.

  Let it go, Marc. The others don’t matter. I can’t say it hurts to know most of them are dead, but the others, they are useless without him to pull their strings. They’ll meet their end…soon enough. Just let it go, Marc. Be happy.

  “Happy,” he muttered, thickly, staring down at the pale face of the woman he loved. “I don’t think I deserve that.”

  I do…and so does she. Can you stop searching now?

  Emory started to stir in his arms.

  He stared down at her, and knew the answer to that. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, I can let it go.”

  He heard Carly’s voice…one final time…bye, bye baby brother…take care of her.

  When he looked up to try and find her, to say something, she was already gone.

  Joel knew in his gut she wouldn’t come back.

  A weak, shaking sigh escaped Emory and as he kissed her temple, the thick black fringe of her lashes started to flutter. Seconds later, he found himself staring into her eyes.

  “What happened?” she asked weakly.

  Joel just shook his head and held her tightly to him, hugging her as close as he could.

  A soft gasp left her and he glanced down, found her staring at Vincent’s lifeless body. “It’s over now,” he murmured. “All over.”

  Emory licked her lips. “Ummm, well shouldn’t we do something about his body?”

  That startled a laugh out of him and he hugged her tight. “Eh, might not be a bad idea.”

  A shuddering sigh escaped Emory and she whispered, “It’s really over…”

  Joel kissed her slowly, loosely cupping his hands over her neck, his thumbs resting in the notch of her collarbone, feeling the steady beat of her pulse. “Actually,” he whispered, catching her lower lip between his teeth and tugging. “It’s just beginning.”

  SEALionaire Book 1

  Chapter One

  Reaper

  Standing on the ridge, I stared out into the night.

  “Reaper.”

  I held up a fist, and he lapsed into silence while I continued to recon the desert stretching all around us.

  Behind me, the rest of my squad, all members of Seal Team 3, were gathered while we tried to salvage a mission that had been fucked up from the beginning.

  Fucked, rushed, and if I ever got my hands on the son of a bitch who had insisted–

  Stop! I told myself. Getting pissed about it now wouldn’t do me or the squad any good.

  “See anything out there?”

  I looked over at the lieutenant and shook my head. Big and lean, he ran the show out in the field, and I knew he had to be taking it personally, every last thing that had gone wrong. But if he could stand there and not look like he wanted to rip one of the scraggy little excuses that passed for a tree up from the earth and beat something with it, then I’d hold my temper in too.

  He told me once that if I could get my temper under control, I might one day step into his position. I told him, respectfully, that I’d sooner step into a river full of piranha – bleeding and buck naked with a red target on my dick.

  He laughed at me and said he could see my obituary.

  Adam Dedman, known to his friends as Reaper, chose death by piranha rather than command. Those who knew him best weren’t surprised.

  Under all my gear, I was tired, hot, and pissed off, but I managed a level voice as I said, “Nothing but night. Sand.”

  “Lots of sand.” He clapped me on the shoulder and went back to the others while I continued to keep watch.

  One recon unit was a little farther out, patrolling. The extraction team was still an hour out, and if we got pinned down, we were fucked.

  We might just be fucked anyway. The lieutenant – we all called him Dog, short for Bulldog – had been in contact with command, speaking in low, barely audible tones, but we all knew what he was doing. The extraction point would be almost impossible to reach in an hour.

  Especially considering how fucked up things had gotten.

 
; “Aw…fuck…” The last word was rasped out in a low, hoarse cry that was more whisper than scream, and it raised the hair on my arms. I didn’t let myself look away though.

  That was my friend back there on the ground, getting his tibia set by the medic. Rake broke his leg when our hostage had tried to take off running. Of all the dumb luck. He’d grabbed her and hauled her back just as she was about to fall down into a cave, deep enough to do damage, as evidenced by Rake’s injury. She was saved, but he’d crashed down into the dark hole and now the squad was effectively handicapped.

  “Easy, Rake.” I heard Duke’s soft, steady voice, the cadence of the Carolinas heavy in his words as he spoke to his patient. “Okay, buddy. It’s done. You with me? Come on, don’t pass out on me, you pussy–”

  “Fuck off,” Rake said, his voice thin.

  The retort made all of us smile a little. He was still solid. Rake couldn’t use any of the painkillers, not with us being this close to the hot zone and this close to being extracted. We needed to get his leg stabilized and get him back on the move.

  A low, whimpering sob rose in the air. “You killed them,” the woman cried. “You killed all of them.”

  It was the ninth – no, the tenth time. I was damn tired of it.

  “Look, cupcake, it was them or us,” Ice growled at her. “And if we died, you were probably next.”

  Ice, a cold son of a bitch, and while I might not disagree with his statement entirely, he didn’t need to antagonize the woman we’d extracted just hours before.

  “Ice, why don’t you take over?” I called out.

  He gave me a lazy smile. “I’d be delighted, Reaper.”

  We swapped out positions and I settled down on the rock closest to the civilian we’d been sent to rescue, one Kylie Hudson-Wallace. Kylie was pretty much what passed for royalty in America, the daughter of a senator and a former movie star turned philanthropist. She’d been visiting the Middle East on a goodwill mission – or so we’d been told. Personally, I had some doubts and I don’t think I was the only one.

  She’d been pretty damn cozy with the so-called kidnappers and had started screaming, not just in terror, but in rage when we hauled her butt out of there.

  One of them had charged after us, fury in his eyes, and all of them had very real weapons they’d been more than happy to use. They were all dead now, although the group of ten we’d been expecting had been more like thirty. Not bad odds for us, but the entire time we’d been getting shitty intel, and we needed to know why.

  “You’re going home,” I said bluntly, staring at her tear-stained face. Mascara and eye shadow had run to form a messy mask, but she was still beautiful. “Your mother and father are anxious to hear about you. In a few hours, this will all be over.”

  She stared at me, her lower lip trembling. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out when I lifted my hand and pointed a finger at her.

  “You’ve already reminded us that we killed them. Trust me, I know. That was the job.”

  Her face transformed into a mask of fury, and she swung out. I caught her hand before she could make contact.

  “Don’t try that again,” I said softly, deadly, meaning every word.

  She jerked back, rubbing at her wrist and glaring at me with a look that might have worked on her parents back home.

  Over her head, Dog was staring at me. I met his eyes only briefly, but in that look, we both shared an entire, unspoken conversation. Something was seriously fucked up here. The woman gets rescued, and you’d think she’d be happy, nearly gushing with gratitude. Instead, she tried to slap the hell out of me.

  Chapter Two

  Reaper

  For the rest of my life, I knew I’d remember that night.

  And her.

  Dog.

  Rake.

  The way those two looked at the rest of us.

  The helicopter was hovering overhead. We’d changed the extradition point to a closer location, making getting out even more dicey, and we all knew it. They’d sent down a rig for Rake, and the son of a bitch adamantly insisted that the majority of the team go up first. There was a mad light in his eyes, and we should have seen it, should have done something, but while his leg wouldn’t do him shit, nothing was wrong with his hands.

  He jerked up the Beretta M-9 and pointed it at his throat. “You boys get safe before you worry about me.”

  “That’s not how this works, Rake,” Dog said calmly while the rest of us swore at the dumbass. Like that would do a fucks worth of good.

  Rake gave us all a mad little smile. “I had this funny feeling, you know. Like this would be my last dance. But I’ll be damned if I let any of you get fucked just because that princess took a run.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I started toward him.

  For the longest time, Rake had insisted he’d die on a mission. I’d always told him he was wrong, that the two of us were going to retire, open up a bar in Chicago, and grow old and ugly together.

  His eyes slid my way. “You want me up in that helo, you all go first.” His finger tightened on the trigger.

  Swallowing hard, I looked at Dog. “He’ll pull it.”

  “I know.” Dog nodded and looked at the rest of us, his gaze stopping on Ice. “Get him rigged up. You’ll go up right before I do. I’ll go up with him.”

  “You son of a bitch,” I said, glaring at him while Ice and Roper escorted the princess over to the ladder that had been dropped down. She was really freaking out now, and I didn’t pity either one of them. Ice snarled something at her, and she lapsed into silence. Guess she’d finally picked up on just why he was called Ice.

  Duke and Dog were hustling around the gurney, strapping Rake in, getting him ready to lift up once they had him secured. Duke tossed a rig to Dog, and I moved in to help him fit it over his gear, muttering under my breath. “This is crazy.” A string of curses followed. “Crazy. Damn it, the skinny bastard doesn’t weigh much more than my gear. I’ll just strap him to my back and haul his ass up.”

  Dog chuffed out a laugh. “You might just make it, Reaper.”

  He punched me lightly before shoving me toward the ladder. “Get on up. It’s just the four of us.”

  I looked over my shoulder and up, saw that Ice had managed to hustle the civilian almost to the top. The wind kicked up from the helo was beating at her hair, tearing at all of our clothes. “Now or never,” I said, gritting my teeth.

  Giving Rake a quick look, I paused by his feet. “You and I are going to rumble over this, you dumb bastard.”

  He laughed weakly. “I’ll kick your ass any day of the week, pretty boy.”

  Sneering at him, I gave one more look out and then caught hold of the ladder and started up. It was smooth sailing, one hand over the next. Duke was making good time too and was only a couple yards behind me.

  But then…

  I sensed more than heard the shouts.

  Then the deep concussive boom of ammo echoed through me, bringing all five senses alive.

  Looking down, I saw men erupting out of the scraggly cover where we’d just been. Swearing, I went to draw a weapon even as Dog bellowed up at me, his powerful voice carrying over my mic. “Move your ass; that’s an order!”

  Had to move – they couldn’t pull Dog and Rake up while I was there.

  Had to move – had to move…

  I climbed those last few yards quicker than I’d ever managed before and swung my way into the helicopter, looked down to see Duke right on my ass. We laid down cover fire while the extradition team worked to haul Rake and Dog up.

  It was like it happened in slow motion, the bullets that blasted up through the gurney, tearing through Rake.

  I was staring into his eyes when they hit, staring into his eyes when he died.

  And Dog…agony twisted his face and blood bubbled out of his mouth.

  But he kept his eyes on us, even as he lifted his hand.

  “No!”

  I screamed. Duke scr
eamed. Maybe we all did.

  But none of us could stop him from drawing his combat knife and sawing away. We scrambled harder, trying to help the team get them up.

  It was a waste of time.

  The last I saw of Rake’s mutilated body and Dog’s pain-bright eyes was right before he made the last, desperate drag of the blade. And over the radio, we all heard his voice. “Go…you…sons of bitches.”

  His radio kept right on working though.

  He died before he even hit the ground, and we listened in grueling, excruciating detail to what those bastards who killed them planned to do. It wouldn’t happen because both Dog and Rake’s bodies were fucked up beyond all repair. They’d been tortured enough.

  Go you, Dog, I thought, dazed.

  As the helicopter sped off into the night, I looked over at the woman we’d been sent to rescue.

  She was smiling.

  Chapter Three

  Reaper

  Six Months Later

  A beautiful blonde was curled around me, her hand wrapped around my cock as she moved her head up and down.

  The body was willing, but the brain was disengaged. Even when she climbed on top and began to move, nothing other than my dick was interested. She made hungry little noises, and because it wasn’t her fault that my mind was a few miles – a few thousand miles – away, I rolled us over and began to drive into her, finding a rhythm that had her moaning, then mewling and finally begging me…don’t stop, don’t stop…

  When it was over, I slid away and grabbed my clothes, moving into the shower.

  She was lying on her side, smiling at me when I came out.

  She wasn’t at all bothered to see me sliding my feet into my shoes or grabbing my wallet.

  I couldn’t even remember her name, although I was sure she knew mine. I knew her type. She hung out at the bars nearest the base and looked for her type – SEALS, generally. I’d seen her before, and for the most part, avoided her. I didn’t have anything against her. She wanted a certain rush, the same way I did. I got mine jumping out of planes. She got hers by screwing the men she viewed as badass. No harm, no foul.