Catching Red (13 page)

But she wouldn’t talk about what happened. She refused to tell him why she was tethered to the cult like a dog on a leash. They were holding something over her, but he didn’t know what. For both their sakes, he needed to break her silence.

The kidnappings had drawn insane amounts of media attention to the WOLF. Every general with a star pinned got an hourly report on their progress. Casualties weren’t acceptable. The brass wanted the cult taken down without spilling a drop of blood. Marcus didn’t envy Dane Prince the poster boy role in this impossible mission. The WITCH was armed to the teeth and had land mines buried along every approach. It didn’t matter if their disciples were once kidnapping victims. They were all trained to kill.

With a low whistle, Marcus called Gold. Grabbing fistfuls of mane, he braced his weight on the withers and hoisted himself up. His long legs circled the horse’s thick torso, allowing his body to respond to the animal’s movements. He squeezed his legs and urged Gold to trot.

An illogical part of him hesitated at leaving Red behind. He couldn’t explain the sick feeling in his stomach as the distance between them widened. The cottage was as secure as any bunker. The four windows were boarded up. A heavy crossbar safeguarded the door. He had left through the basement, which was now chained and padlocked. Red was asleep. No undead were getting in, and he had convinced her to stay the night.

But he wanted to be inside the cottage, not racing into the dark woods on horseback. All that once mattered—the FMA, his mission, and the city—they paled in comparison to keeping her safe. Muttering a low curse, he moved his right leg back and kicked. The signal sent Gold into a fast canter. The effort it took to remain seated distracted him from his frustration.

Dismounting less than three feet away from Dane, Marcus hissed, “Let’s get this over with.”

The agent seemed unfazed by both Marcus’ approach and his surliness. “You’re the one who has some explaining to do. The faster you talk, the sooner you can go back.”

Though he hated to admit it, Marcus needed an ally. Dane happened to be the single friend he had in the vicinity. “No one lays a hand on her, and that includes you.”

Dane snorted. “I got that message a while back. I bought you some time, but you’ll have to hand her over to your esteemed colleagues soon enough. The team has a mission, and your little redhead is squarely in the enemy camp. Unless she gives us something useful, she’s going straight to the stockade.”

“Or we can disappear,” Marcus snapped. The joined pronoun rolled off his tongue with ease. They were a unit. She just wouldn’t admit it. “I never could stomach the city.”

“Don’t be stupid. Washington, D.C. is one of the last bastions of civilization. Abandoning your home for her isn’t the answer.” Dane sounded sincere. It was surprising since neither of them had ever held the city in high regard. Long before they were born, freedom had fallen victim to survival. The FMA ruled the city with an iron grip, and even those born to privilege could feel the stifling weight of a heartless legacy.

“Fuck civilization. I don’t need it.”

“I once thought that,” Dane replied, “and then I started wanting what was best for my family. There is nothing out here but day-to-day survival.”

Marcus sighed. Now was probably not the best time to fixate on worst-case scenarios. “It won’t come to that. She has as much reason to take the WITCH down as we do. She’ll help us. I just need to figure out what’s holding her back.”

“What exactly do you think she can do?” Dane’s eyes narrowed. “We’re ready to go in now, with or without her intel.”

While Marcus was loath to reveal the extent of Red’s value, convincing Dane to help him was more important. “There’s a way to get in and out undetected, and she can show it to us. It’ll improve our chances of completing the mission with minimal casualties.”

Dane looked skeptical. “What makes you think she knows a secret way in? It’s not something she’d advertise.”

“The two refugees who escaped—I’m pretty sure she’s the one who got them out. If she can pull off a rescue, the reverse should apply.” He was basing this conclusion off what she once blabbered while delirious, but it was best to keep the questionable origins of that information to himself. If he told Dane he had put a tracker on Red, then he’d have to confess to knowing the location of the tunnel.

“Then what’s the holdup?” Dane asked. “She can’t be loyal to the WITCH if she betrayed them before now.”

“I don’t have a fucking clue.” The memory of Red’s shredded back tore at Marcus. Countless other wounds covered her body. Most of them weren’t from fighting undead. No one who suffered as she did should feel an ounce of loyalty. “But I’m going to find out. You know better than most the people we’re about to fight are victims themselves. If there were a way to end this without dropping a body, wouldn’t it be worth the wait? All I’m asking for is some time.”

He saw a flicker of hesitation in Dane’s dark eyes. The agent’s wife—the woman who had killed the cult’s prophet—was a member of the WITCH. She had also been a prisoner in one of the cult’s sniper towers for eleven years. “How much time?”

Marcus grinned. “Give me three days with her. If she stays stubborn, we’ll go with the original plan.”

Dane shook his head. “If you didn’t shut off your radio, you’d know the timetable just shifted. We go in tomorrow night, with or without your girl’s help. By the way, your boss already knows about what happened. She’s breathing down my neck to have the prisoner transported to one of her secret prisons.”

Marcus swore a blue streak. He had forgotten overt agents staffed the WOLF. The badge-flashing idiots weren’t known for their discretion. Red’s capture might as well have been blasted all over the coms.

“You could always give Her Highness a call,” Dane suggested with an innocent expression on his face. “You’re going to have some explaining to do either way.”

Something resembling a growl rumbled in Marcus’ chest. “If I did that, she’ll be curious enough to helicopter in and take Red away herself. I’ve got my hands full with one stubborn woman. I don’t have time to deal with another.”

His friend snorted. “Judging from the way you acted tonight, you’re going to have to introduce them sooner or later.”

Marcus would rather bash his own head against a wall. “Right now, I need to focus on getting Red to cooperate.”

“Then work fast,” Dane replied. “We have orders to complete the mission by midnight tomorrow.”

* * * *

With a tired sigh, Marcus approached the bed. He shrugged off his heavy leather jacket and draped it over the rickety table. Red didn’t move or say a word, but he knew she had woken the moment he came in. People who spent most of their lives in the undead wastelands slept lightly. He had made a lot of noise walking up the basement steps.

He peeled off his T-shirt and dropped it on the floor. Once more he waited for her to speak. She didn’t.

Not bothering to muffle his movements, he sat on the lone chair and yanked off his heavy ankle boots. They made loud thunks as he dropped them on the wood planks. His socks joined the heap, followed by his jeans. Red lay on her side facing the opposite direction.

He sat on the corner of the narrow bed. “If you want me to sleep on the floor, I will.”

After a long moment, she shifted closer to the wall and gave him just enough space to lie down. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. They were making progress.

Tucking her small body against his, he rested his chin on her head. She made a satisfied sound in her throat—one he had missed every night they’d spent apart. He pillowed his head with one arm and circled her waist with the other. Their bare legs tangled. Her unique scent filled his lungs.

It suddenly occurred to him she wasn’t wearing much beneath the T-shirt. All semblance of coherent thought flew out the window. Every male instinct was focused in one very inappropriate direction. Blood rushed to his groin. His dick turned rock hard.

He felt her body tense. He closed his eyes and tried to conjure thoughts to shut his lower body down. Even recalling his last conversation with his mother—a ball-buster by any measure—had no effect.

Red cleared her throat. “Umm…Are you going to stay like that all night?”

If he were being honest with himself, he would have nodded. “I’m working on it. Just give me a sec.”

She let out a surprised yelp. “What do you mean you’re working on it? With what?”

His choice of words may not have been the wisest. “I mean…I’m trying to think of something else. I’m not fantasizing…or anything.” It would serve no purpose. His wildest dreams didn’t come close to matching the effect of having Red’s body pressed up against his.

His bed companion snorted. An eternity seemed to pass. His damn boner didn’t diminish in the slightest. If he were lying next to the wall, Marcus would have been tempted to bang his head against it. There were only a few things in life he had no control over. His penis was one of them.

“I could give you a hand.” Her voice held a hint of amusement.

He muttered his reply through clenched teeth. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” she countered. Then her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “And neither am I.”

Marcus froze. His mind struggled to interpret her words. When it succeeded, his erection became even more pronounced. “Damn it, woman. You are not helping the situation.”

“But I could fix it altogether. I’ll do us both a favor.” Her response was a challenge.

He almost believed her, but a slight tremor in Red’s voice gave her away. She sounded more alert, but she was far from full strength. She wasn’t in any shape to have sex—not the kind that would take place if he slipped the leash off his control. It had been too long, and he didn’t have the restraint to be gentle.

He closed his eyes and started counting backward from one thousand.

“Marcus, I’m not sleepy,” she chirped.

He grunted. “Just close your eyes and count sheep.”

After less than five breaths, she asked, “What do they look like? I can’t seem to remember. I’ve only seen a few pictures.”

“Red…” he warned.

She didn’t pay his tone any heed. “Now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I have an idea.” He brought his hands to her shoulders and positioned his thumbs at the base of her neck. Digging in, he drew concentric circles over her nape until she purred. “Massages always make you sleepy.”

She squirmed, shifting her firm butt over his groin. He was certain she had done it on purpose. “You little minx. I’m trying to give you a massage.”

“That’s nice and all, but it doesn’t solve your problem.” Her words were slurred by drowsiness.

“Let me worry about that.” His breath came out in a hiss when she moved again. Knowing she could be stubborn, he flipped Red onto her back.

He bent down until his breath grazed her earlobe. “You’re being naughty.”

She turned and gave him a bleary-eyed look. “It’s working.”

He shook his head in exasperation. She could be impossible sometimes. “I want you to get some shut-eye. If you feel up to it, we can discuss other activities tomorrow morning.”

She undulated her hips, which hiked his arousal up another notch. Pouting, she argued. “But I can’t sleep like this.”

Good to know he wasn’t the only one suffering from sexual frustration. He considered their predicament before deciding on the most satisfying solution.

Leaning forward, he closed his lips over the sensitive spot behind her ear and flicked his tongue. A low moan was his reward. She flattened her hands against his chest before moving them lower. When he realized where they were heading, he caught both her wrists and pinned them above her head. “You don’t get off that easy. Keep them there or I’ll put the cuffs back on.”

She made a frustrated sound. “Why?”

“Because I’m still pissed.” He cupped her breasts and felt her nipples harden under the T-shirt’s worn fabric. “Don’t move. Tonight you get a glimpse of what I went through these past six weeks.”

He drew a hot wet path along the column of her neck. When he reached her collarbone, he lifted his head. Pale moonlight caressed her skin. The sheen of moisture covering it made her face appear ethereal. With her eyes closed, thick eyelashes fanned over her cheeks.

Her lips parted. Unable to resist the unspoken invitation, he devoured her. His tongue delved in and forced hers to retreat. Then he sucked her lower lip into his mouth and nibbled at her soft flesh. His hands left her face to close over her breasts. Without chest bindings, the small pert mounds molded to his fingers. Even through the jersey fabric, he could feel her nipples swelling in response to his caress.

He eased her thighs apart with his knee and lowered his body so his erection pressed into her pelvis. He caught her moan with his kiss and shifted his hips. He saw her arms move out of the corner of his eye. Voicing a warning growl, he pinned her hands on either side of her head.

“I want to touch you.”

“I don’t care.” He caught the hem of her T-shirt between his teeth and pulled it up. Easy access to her entire body was one of the advantages of their stark difference in height. “You don’t get to leave me in the middle of the night and act like nothing happened.”

He hiked the shirt up past her head but left it circling her arms—a reminder for her to stay still. Aside from a pair of plain cotton panties, she wore nothing underneath. He closed his hands around her tiny waist and marveled at the muscle tone beneath.

He closed his hands over her breasts and rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “You want my mouth here, don’t you?” He watched her face. Though she didn’t reply, her pearly teeth closed over her lower lip. Her eyelids fluttered.

He tightened his grip on the swollen nubs.

She yelped.

He didn’t relinquish his hold. She squeezed her eyes shut and arched her back even more. It was all the invitation he needed.

Once enough time had passed, he loosened his fingers so blood could circulate and color her nipples a darker shade of pink. Her breath came out in a hiss. He repeated the process thrice more. By then, her nipples were so sensitive she whimpered at his slightest touch. Satisfied, he closed his lips over one swollen bud and bit down.