Bang: B-Squad Book Two (17 page)

He went lower, lazing drawing circles around her nipple with his tongue. "Not yet. You have to let go first."

It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she trusted him in this…and in everything.

Before she could process the realization, he reached between their bodies and sank a single finger between her wet folds. Her back arched in reaction to his touch, so pleasurable it nearly broke her. Eyes clenched shut, neon ribbons danced across her mind's eye, their hues becoming more vibrant as he stroked her clit and dipped first one, then two, then three fingers inside her.

Trying to anchor herself to reality, she reached for him. Her fingers dug into his broad shoulders, but instead of bringing her back to the real world, the feel of his skin increased her need. It pushed her forward and brightened the colors behind her eyelids until they were nearly electric. The vibration built deep inside her, ratcheting up with each stroke of his fingers, in and out. His fingers twisted within her, pushing her closer to release until the colors exploded and her orgasm overtook her.

Watching Tamara come down from an orgasm was almost as good as seeing her have one. Her entire body relaxed back onto the bed. Her eyelids had fluttered shut and a small smile played across her lips. Sated and in that weird place between totally conscious and blissed out of her mind, she wasn't just beautiful. She was breathtaking.

She cracked her eyes open. "Why are you looking at me like that? It's the hair, isn't it?"

"No." Still leaning over her, he swept one of the light brown strands away from her face, and he felt like he was seeing her for the first time. "It's like I'm finally getting to see you, not the ice princess."

Tamara let her hands drift across his chest, following the lines of his body like she was trying to memorize it. "I've been here all along."

"I know." And he did Deep down in a place he didn't ever think about or consider, he'd known.

Ever since he'd been exiled from the Marines, part of him had been searching for something to fill that hole—she hadn't been wrong when she'd called him out on that. With Tamara, there was a connection, a sense of belonging that was far stronger than any other he'd ever experienced. If he didn't know better, he'd think it was love.

"I'm not sure I like that look."

"What look is that?" he asked, leaning down to nibble along her neck. A little distraction never hurt.

"The one that says you're thinking too hard when you should be doing other things." She smacked his ass, still covered by his jeans. "Get these off and come show me that the other night wasn't just a fluke, cowboy."

He stood up, planting himself between her splayed legs, and tipped an imaginary cowboy hat. "Yes, ma'am."

He grabbed his wallet from his back pocket. After taking out a condom, he tossed the wallet onto the table next to where her bra had landed and shucked off his jeans. She was all sensual moves and tempting curves as she stood up and took the condom out of his hand.

"Here. Let me." She ripped open the foil package.

Arguing wasn't on his agenda. So he closed his eyes and recalled football stats as she gripped his cock in her cool hand, giving him a few leisurely strokes, before rolling the condom on. Even that small touch from her was enough to make his balls tingle.

"You promised me a turn on the table."

He glanced back at the little table littered with cards, her bra and his wallet. It had wobbled while they'd been playing cards. Fucking on it might mean the end of the thing. "Next time." He sat down on the bed and curled a finger at her. "Come here."

She did so without argument, swaying her hips with ever step. It was a sight he wouldn't ever get tired of seeing.

"You're beautiful."

"You ain't so bad yourself." She pushed a finger against his shoulder, pushing him so he was flat on his back on the bed. "Now behave yourself and I'll show you how much fun I can be."

He couldn't fucking wait.

She got on the bed, straddling him, and lowered herself down onto his cock, taking him as deep as he could go. He had half a breath to enjoy her tight hold before she rotated her hips and rode his cock like they'd both been made for this, for each other. She pressed her palms against his chest and her arms framed her generous tits. The temptation to touch was one he wasn't about to deny.

Reading up, he took her nipples between his finger and thumb and rolled the hard flesh, eliciting a low moan from her parted lips. Wanting to hear that sweet sound again, he tugged them gently and curled upward so he could circle one pink nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth.

"Oh God, yes," she cried out, leaning back and pressing her hips into him.

The move allowed him to sit all the way up. He slid his hands around to her back to help her maintain her balance as she continued to ride him, picking up her pace and doing a figure eight thing with her hips that made his balls tighten. God, he was close. He wanted her there with him.

He pulled her close, angling his hips so that her clit hit his pubic bone with each downward stroke.

"Fuck yes," they called out together.

She ground her wet folds against him, clinging to him, massaging his cock with every stroke until he was on the edge of coming. He grabbed her full hips with the intention of slowing her down and making it last, but instinct took over. He lifted his hips and pulled her down hard on his cock again and again as she undulated, rubbing herself against him.

He couldn’t wait. He already had played on the edge for too long. Already his balls were tight, ready to spill.

The slap of their bodies meeting filled his ears and a musky scent surrounded them. Her body, so warm and smooth underneath his palms, pushed him to go faster but he wanted to draw it out a little bit longer, just a little bit longer. He could make it last. Hold her longer. Bring her closer. Make her his. But then her body stiffened and her wetness squeezed his cock as she came. Her orgasm milked his cock and he gave in. His climax hit him and everything went black. He held onto Tamara like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

They collapsed together on the bed. Too tired to do more than wrap her up in his arms and brush a kiss across her forehead, he did just that before drifting off in the way that only a man who'd found his home could.

T
he arm
around Tamara's waist tightened, pulling her closer to the warm, long line of Isaac's body as she tried to orient herself in the dark room. The first rays of dawn were peeking through the blinds. It wasn't bright enough to wake her up…but something had. There wasn't any movement in the room beyond the rhythmic rise and fall of Isaac's chest and his deep, steady breaths were the only sound.

Nerves? Anxiety? Stress? Probably all of the above.

It'll all work out. It has to. She repeated the mantra and relaxed back into Isaac's arms, the springy curls of his chest hair tickling her back.

That's when she heard it. The soft buzz of her phone vibrating. Heart hammering against her ribs, she jackknifed into a sitting position. Completely awake and utterly terrified, she grabbed the cell off the bedside table. Only one person would be calling the burner phone.

"Essie," she answered. "Are you okay?"

"Oh she's fine," a man said.

A cold shiver worked its way up her spine. "Jarrod, you bastard. How you get this number?"

"You've given my little girl some very devious ideas." He didn't sound happy about it. "She actually managed to hide her phone up until now. One of the ladies helping her get ready for her big day found it and handed it right over to me."

Isaac sat up next to her, scooting in close. She tilted the phone out far enough for him to lean in and hear both sides of the conversation.

"Let Essie go," she said, fighting to keep her voice as neutral as possible.

"Don't worry, I will. First thing tomorrow afternoon after the minister pronounces them man and wife. She'll be on her way out of the country right after the ceremony."

Fear shoved her stomach down to her toes. "You can't."

"I surely can. You two have caused me quite a bit of trouble. My followers expect a show of strength."

And the bastard would give it to them. It didn't matter what happened to Essie. For Jarrod, it was all about doing whatever it took to maintain his control over the Crest Society. It always had been. He could have his little cult. She just wanted Essie safe. There was bargaining to be done or else he wouldn't have made the call.

She glanced over at Isaac. He was still naked, his hair was going every which way and a shadow of dark stubble on his jaw, but he was the picture of focus. She could practically see him memorizing every syllable Jarrod said. No doubt a plan was already starting to form in Isaac's head. She just had to do her part—and she would.

"What do you want, Jarrod?" she asked.

"You. Here. "

"I'm in Texas."

He laughed. It wasn't a nice sound. "Don't lie to me. Bryson, your waiter at the diner, told me you only wanted coffee. The brown hair was a nice touch, but you never were skilled enough to pull of any kind of role beyond that of gold-digging beauty queen."

"Why wait until now to reach out?" Her pulse sped up in alarm and her palms became clammy, making her adjust her hold on the phone. Did he know about Marko and Elisa? Where they in danger now, too? "You know I've been here since yesterday."

"This might come as a shock to you, but you are not the center of the universe. Anyway, I have nothing to fear from you and your latest idiot boyfriend," Jarrod said, the confidence in his tone bordering on self-delusion. "Now get your ass up, ditch your latest sugar daddy loser and get over here. I want my followers to come to breakfast this morning and see you sitting by my side. You will confess your wrongdoing. You will beg for mercy."

"I suppose you'll be in a generous mood." Like he even had a clue what that meant.

"Always. In fact, I'll announce that I'm so glad to have my daughter back in the fold that I just can't bear to let her go just yet. The bridegroom will be disappointed, I'm sure, but he'll have no choice but to accept it."

She glanced over at Isaac, the calm look in his eyes settling her and making it easier to think. Jarrod hadn't mentioned Marko or Elisa. If he'd known they were in on the rescue mission, he would have used them for extra leverage. That meant they'd still be able to get Essie out of there this afternoon as planned. All she had to do was let Jarrod think he had all the power. The megalomaniacal jerk already thought he did so it wouldn't take much convincing. She just couldn't give in too easily.

"And if I say no?" she asked.

"You don't want to say no. I know Essie's hoping you won't. Her groom will be thrilled though, he can't wait to take her home…wherever in the world that may be. You know, he was really hoping for a morning wedding. I told him no, but I could change my mind."

She couldn't let Essie get taken out of the country. "Fine. I'll come"

"One of my followers will pick you up in front of the diner in five minutes," Jarrod said. "Be ready."

The phone went dead.

She bounded out of the bed, grabbing her clothes from the floor and pulling them on—a real trick when her hands were shaking as badly as they were.

Isaac grabbed her arm as she was pulling up her jeans. "You can't be serious about going. There's got to be another way."

God, she wished there was. Dread sat like a chunk of concrete in her stomach. There would be more coming her way when she stepped inside the compound. She knew it. Isaac knew it. Whatever Jarrod had planned for her would be, at the very least, a lesson in public humiliation.

"We don't have a choice." She shook his hand off and yanked up her jeans. "Anyway it's just a delay until Marko and Elisa get back and you three make your move. I wasn't part of that plan, remember. This changes nothing, but if it keeps Jarrod from forcing Essie down the aisle before you guys can get there, then I have to do it."

Isaac stood up and tugged her T-shirt out of her hands before she could put it on, anger making his body rigid. "You have no idea what he's really up to. It's a trap."

She peeked around the corner of the window blinds. Across the gravel parking lot, a dust-covered sedan sat idling in front of the diner. Turning back, she drank in the sight of Isaac. He looked like a naked avenging angel, all righteous fury and determination.

"It doesn't matter what Jarrod's up to." A calmness slid through her at the sight of him. "I trust you. I know you'll come for me."

And she did. As surely as baton twirling would always get mocked as the most useless of beauty queen talents, Isaac would always be there for her. Just like she would be for him. That's just how love worked.

She slid the T-shirt from his grasp and slipped it on before raising up on her tiptoes and brushing her lips across his. "I'll see you soon."

He didn't like it, but he didn't stop her when she walked out into the early morning quiet.

The sound of gravel crunching under tires was the first good thing to have happened since he stupidly let Tamara walk out of the motel room fifteen minutes ago. He picked up his nine millimeter and went to the window. Part of him was hoping for some of Fane's men. Busting heads sounded really fucking good right about now.

He didn't recognize the truck, but there was no mistaking the couple who got out and headed straight for his room. He hustled across the room and yanked open the door.

Marko had one hand up as if he'd been about to knock. He was wearing jeans, a western-style button-down shirt, and a baseball cap advertising some kind of corn seed. He looked like a good old boy farmer. Elisa looked like she'd just walked off the set for a movie about pioneers.

"Where in the hell have you been?" Isaac asked, standing to the side so they could come in.

Elisa drew her sunglasses down and peeked over the tops at him. "I thought we were smack dab in the middle of crazy town, but it looks like that's actually here."

They strode inside and he closed the door. "Tamara's gone. Fane used Essie's phone to call her. She's on her way there. You probably passed her on the road."

Marko and Elisa jolted to a stop and turned to face him.

"What the glorious fuck," Elisa muttered.

Yeah. That just about summed it up. Half-grateful for having something to do instead of sitting her twiddling his thumbs like an asshole, Isaac hit the highlights and brought them up to speed. By the time he was done, he was jacked up and ready to go in and tear Fane apart, limb from limb.

"We have to go in," he said, fisting his hands. "Now."

Marko and Elisa just looked at each other. He didn't like that look. He knew for sure he wasn't going to like what came out of Marko's mouth when the big man drew himself up and stiffened his shoulders as if he was expecting a blow.

"The Feds will be here in an hour," Marko said. "We can move up the exfil timeline, but not to now."

Fuck 'em. Isaac would take care of it himself. Bianca had called him a lone wolf. Well, maybe it was time he really lived up to the reputation.

"Fine. You wait." The words exploded out of his mouth. "I'll go now."

"You can't do this on your own." Marko's voice was calm but firm. "You need us. You need the team."

Fury rushed like lava through Isaac’s veins. He wanted to roar in frustration. Hammer his fists into Jarrod Fane. Take out anyone in his way. He did not want to wait.

"We have to operate under the assumption that it's a trap," Elisa said as she started to pace the small room. "Fane may not realize who we are or who you are, but if he does then he's expecting us. That place has enough firepower to blow us out of the water. Marko's seen it. The Feds totally want in on this. We have to do this smart. We need to give Blackfish's ATF friends a heads up about what to expect on the ground. The last thing we want is for everything to go south and Tamara or Essie to end up getting hurt—or worse."

The idea of a world without Tamara sucked the air out of Isaac’s lungs. Goddammit, he did not want them to be right…but they were. He took a deep breath, trying for that yoga calm his mom was always talking about. He failed miserably. The urge to bust open Jarrod Fane's head was too strong for anything else. He'd have to content himself with knowing that he'd get his chance to take the bastard down—soon.

"I'll get Blackfish on the phone." He pulled his cell out of the back pocket of his jeans and scrolled through the contacts. "You two work on diagraming the compound so we can nail down a plan that will get us in and get Tamara and Essie out."

"Listen to you, sounding like a team leader," Elisa said, peeling off the dress to reveal a snug black T-shirt and pants underneath.

"Got a problem with that?" he retorted.

"Negative." Marko shook his head and shot Elisa a dirty look. "Stop busting his chops just because you always get nervous before a mission and need a release."

She flipped him off. "Stop acting like you know everything about me."

"More than you wish I did, sweetheart," Marko said before handing Isaac a list of illegal firearms that he'd spotted in the Crest Society's armory.

The insults and banter were the familiar sound of a team getting ready for battle. He'd heard it a million times before. It was a mix of nerves, adrenaline, and bravado, along with big dose of fuck-yeah-let's-do-this. He'd missed it—needed it—more than he'd ever allowed himself to admit.

Finally, he found the number he was looking for and hit dial.

The DEA agent in Fort Worth answered on the first ring. "Blackfish."

"Hey Clay. We need to get word to the ATF guys. They aren't backup. We have more than enough firsthand information about the Crest Society's armory that says they're going to want to go in with us."

"Talk."

He did and it felt good. They would get Tamara and Essie, and they'd do it as a team.

The Crest Society compound was surrounded by a tall chain link fence, the kind usually found around prisons, which seemed fitting. Bryson, the waiter from the diner, turned out to be the driver of the sedan. He'd gone the entire 30 mile drive without saying a word to Tamara. Fine by her. The silence gave her time to get her icy defenses back up.

By the time the guards stopped them at the gate, her back was ramrod straight and her eyes as bored as a teenage girl listening to a lecture from her parents. After a quick look in the car, the guards waved them though. They looked mean with their semiautomatic rifles, but they obviously weren't trained and didn't expect even the tiniest bit of resistance from her or they would have searched her.

It was just the kind of mistake that Isaac and the others would take advantage of when they arrived.

That thought kept her calm as Bryson drove through the compound. He passed four rows of buildings and single-story homes lined up one in front of the other and headed to a two story log cabin next door to a rustic chapel. Another set of armed guards were stationed outside the cabin's front door.

Both men were built like brick houses, but only one came down the steps. He opened up her door, watching her with the cold empty stare of professional muscle. She stepped out, but the guard blocked her path.

"Turn around," he said.

She did and he patted her down like he'd been trained to do it. Vivi had started to teach her some of the basics and Tamara recognized the technique. Looked like Jarrod kept his paid muscle closest to him. The man was a crazy jackass, but he wasn't dumb.

The guard stepped back. "You can go in now."

Even though her stomach was doing that fluttery thing that it always used to before she went on stage, she kept her movements smooth as she strode up the three steps to the porch. The other guard knocked on the front door.

"Send her in," came the muffled reply.

The guard opened the door, revealing a small, empty foyer. The smell of bacon, cigars, and musty books wafted out. It wasn't overwhelming, but it was more than enough to make her already nervous stomach do a quick flip-flop. For half a second, she was frozen to the spot outside the door. But then an image of Essie in a wedding dress flashed in her mind, and then Tamara was walking—strutting—into Jarrod's house with one of the guards following close behind.

The living room was right off the foyer. Jarrod was in front of a fireplace. Standing tall and confident in his crisp white shirt, dark tie, and conservative haircut, he looked like an accountant or a school board president or some other trusted figure. The guise suited his purpose well and he played it to the hilt, giving her a big smile and reaching out to her for a handshake.