I Spy a Dark Obsession (22 page)

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Authors: Jo Davis

Tags: #Intelligence Service, #National Security, #General, #Romance, #Erotic Fiction, #Suspense Fiction, #Suspense, #Erotica, #Fiction

BOOK: I Spy a Dark Obsession
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“G
o home, boys. This op has been a huge bust,” Bastian said under his breath, loud enough for the team to hear. Three weeks, and nothing. Not one sign of Dietz. The man just wasn’t going to bite, and they’d all have to come up with a different way to get him.
He’d think about that tomorrow. Right now, he was off-duty, and his primary goal was to get a piece of Cory’s pretty little ass. It wasn’t love, and they both knew it. But it was hot skin and breathy sighs. A way to not be alone for a few hours, with someone who understood what it meant to be on the outside looking in.
Using the key card, Bastian let them in to the motel room he’d rented for the night. Since they’d been hooking up, he hadn’t invited Cory to his condo. That wasn’t about to change, no matter how sweet the kid might be. Taking him home would imply a progression in their relationship that wasn’t going to happen.
But he fully intended to enjoy the lithe, compact body he shoved against the wall when they got inside. The gasp, the innocent, wide blue eyes, went straight to his dick. He pressed himself into the smaller man, letting him get a taste of his arousal. His erection pushed insistently into Cory’s belly, demanding satisfaction.
“Get naked,” he told the younger man.
“Back atcha.”
Bastian stripped, not concerned about the camera or the sound feed. His colleagues would have called it a night, not being eager to hear or see more than they possibly had to, especially Michael. The man had done some major avoiding these past three weeks, as though Bastian had a disease and it might be contagious. Bastian had told the man he needed some distance, but if Michael really cared . . .
He wondered whether Katrina had told Michael about her and Bastian’s steamy interlude in her office. Neither of them had let on, and Bastian hadn’t asked.
I guess I really don’t matter that much to either of them. Not enough to fight for me.
Whatever. Tonight he was going to lose himself in a hot, willing lover. No expectations, no fear, no broken heart. Just forget his own name and drown in wicked sensation, no promise of tomorrow.
Undressing, he laid his clothes on a chair and hid his backup weapon among the folds of his jeans. Cory had glimpsed it once and though it had made the kid nervous, he’d seemed to accept Bastian’s highly edited story of being in law enforcement. He’d even made the requisite joke about handcuffs. Maybe Bastian would bring some next time—if he continued to see Cory.
The younger man climbed on the bed and turned his head to glance at the digital clock on the nightstand before spreading himself on his back. His cock was only at half-mast, but Bastian planned to fix that in a hurry.
Removing a condom and lube from his jeans pocket, he joined Cory and laid the items on the bed. He crawled between the younger man’s legs, wanting a taste of the silky, salty flesh. Cupping his hands under the firm bottom, he lifted his lover slightly and enveloped the thin shaft. Under the skillful stroking of his tongue on the sensitive underside, Cory’s cock hardened and the kid made a helpless sound, thrashing some.
Since he loved being in control almost as much as he loved the actual fucking, he sucked until Cory was babbling mindlessly, skirting the edge of release. Then he pulled off and flipped the kid over, hauling him to his knees. Quickly, he ripped into the small packet and sheathed himself, then spread some lube over his shaft. He prepped Cory, working a finger into the tight ring of muscle, loosening him.
“Come on, fuck me,” he said hoarsely. “Just do it.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He frowned. Cory loved ass play, usually liked for him to linger there, and most of the time begged to be rimmed.
“You won’t. Fuck me, please.”
“Okay, if hard and nasty is how you want it, fine by me.” Bastian gripped Cory’s slim hips, lined up, and pushed inside. So tight and hot, just the way he loved it. The inner walls clenching around him, squeezing his cock as he slid in to the balls and out to the tip. Plunged in again. Out.
“Damn, so good. You like being my dirty slut? My whore?”
“Y-yes! Harder!”
He obliged, pumping hard and fast, enjoying the staccato slap of their skin. Their balls smacking together. The friction sent him higher, little shocks rippling along his cock. Already close. Reaching around Cory’s hip, he grasped the other man’s cock, surprised that it had lost some of its hardness. He stroked it in time with his thrusts, bringing it to life, hoping to bring Cory as much pleasure as he was getting.
His orgasm hit hard, and he released Cory’s erection. Buried himself to the hilt and emptied his balls into the kid’s ass. When the last shudder went through him, he carefully withdrew and removed the condom. Tied it off and tossed it in a nearby trash can. Climbing back onto the bed, he saw that Cory was stretched out on his stomach. He turned the kid over and arched his brows.
“You never came.”
Cory flushed, not meeting his eyes. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Happens sometimes. I’d be glad to finish sucking you off.” He grinned and licked his lips suggestively.
The younger man glanced at the clock. “N-no, I . . . that’s okay.” “You have somewhere you need to be?”
“What?” Those baby blues were startled. Guilty.
“You keep looking at the clock. If you’ve got somewhere to go, I won’t keep you.”
“N-No. I mean, y-yes.” Cory closed his eyes.
“Is this thing we have going becoming too domestic for you?” he asked. “If you’re ready to move on, just say so, kid. I’ll be sorry because I really like you, but I’ll wish you nothing but the best.”
“You like me?” he asked in a small voice.
“I do. You’re sweet-natured, cute, adventurous in bed. What’s not to like?”
“Oh, no.” Cory’s face paled, his eyes enormous.
And with that, the warning bells that should’ve gone off about twenty minutes ago began to clang in his head. “Cory,” he said calmly. “Tell me what you’ve done.”
“I think they l-lied to me. They s-said you were a d-dangerous criminal. But you’ve been so nice to me. Nothing at all like a criminal.”
Ah, fuck.
“Who said this?”
Cory sat up, wringing his hands. “A couple of men. They claimed to be undercover FBI. But they weren’t, were they?”
“Unlikely.
I’m
the one who’s undercover, and you got played. Get dressed and hurry.” Bastian jumped from the bed and reached for his jeans, removed the gun, and laid it on the chair close at hand. He began yanking on his pants. “Was one of them a big Mexican with a pockmarked face?”
“Yes,” Cory whispered, pulling on his own jeans.
“Shit. What did they offer you to lure me here tonight?” He tried to keep the betrayal and bitterness from his voice. He wasn’t lured, precisely, but was a willing participant in his own downfall. Cory was a victim also, too innocent for his own good.
“Five thousand. I wondered about that, but they claimed the FBI could expense the cost of paying me. But the real FBI couldn’t do that, could they? Jesus, I’m so stupid!” Hands shaking, he pulled on his shirt.
“How much time do we have?” He jammed his feet in his shoes, palmed the gun.
“Five or ten minutes. They said they’d take you into custody, then pay me the money.” Cory swallowed hard. “But they planned to just kill us both, didn’t they?”
“That’s exactly right.” Digging his phone out of his pocket, he placed a call to Michael, cursing when it went to voice mail. “It’s me. I’m at the motel and things have gone FUBAR. They got to Cory and set me up, but he got suspicious of their story and confessed to me. We’re going to try and make it to the compound, but it could be too late to make a clean break out of here. Could use some backup. See you.”
He pocketed the phone and dug a card from his wallet. Handed it to Cory. “If we get separated, you find a place to lie low and call that number. One of our men will pick you up and take you somewhere safe.”
“Thanks. I don’t deserve that much.”
“We’ll discuss who’s the bigger idiot later. Let’s go.”
Easing the door open, Bastian peered into the night. Nothing moved in the dim light under the awning that covered the row of rooms, nor in the parking lot. He waved at Cory to follow, and stepped out, half expecting to be greeted by a hail of bullets. Even that scenario beat being trapped in the motel room, though, like pigs waiting for slaughter.
Grabbing Cory’s arm, he took a couple of steps toward his new car—and two forms rounded the corner not twenty feet from them. Both men were big and carried guns. One of them jogged wide, cutting off his route to the car.
Tio.
“Run!” Bastian shouted, shoving Cory in the opposite direction. Bracing his feet, he brought his arm up, knowing in his gut that he was so fucking dead, but someone was going with him. Making a split decision, he fired at the closest man, the one under the awning, as the pair fired back. A bullet whizzed past his face to embed in the stucco of the motel wall, and a punch hit his thigh, burning. The man he hit went down, a dark stain blossoming on his chest.
As Tio fired again, Bastian turned and bolted in the direction he’d sent Cory. Rounding the corner of the building, he spotted Cory hauling ass across the lot next door, heading for the shadows. Bastian had to buy the kid time to find a hiding place and make the call for help. Using the wall as cover, he lunged around the corner and popped off two shots at Dietz’s favorite lapdog, gratified when the man dove for the ground between two parked cars. If he hadn’t hit the bastard, he’d at least slowed him down.
Bastian took off, the pain in his leg beginning to register. With every step, agony ripped through his thigh, but he pushed on. Across the street, into an alley next to a dry cleaners that was closed for the night. Emerging from the other end, he limped more than ran across the next street, into another alley, footsteps gaining from behind. His foot snagged something in the darkness and he tripped, landing on his hands and knees in slimy garbage. Lost his gun as it went skittering into the gloom.
Gunshots erupted at his back and he lurched up, stumbled on, shards of brick exploding to his right. Sweating, breathing hard, he reached the end of the alley—a corridor that ended in a tall, high fence.
Panting, he braced one hand on the fence and laid the other on his jeans, over the wound. His pants were soaked with blood and now he could feel the warm liquid squishing in his shoe. Dizziness assailed him, and he knew the bullet had probably nicked an artery. He was trapped.
It was over.
Putting his back to the fence, he leaned against it, determined to die on his feet. Tio jogged up and stopped a few feet away, gun pointed squarely at Bastian’s chest, crooked smile glinting in the scant light.
“Where’s your traitorous boss?” Bastian asked.
“Close. Not that it will matter to you in a moment.”
“Figures, since you two are practically married,” he taunted. “Do you scream his name when he fucks your ass raw?” His hope was to incite Tio to deliver a quick death.
The taunt backfired. The big man crossed the space in two strides and slammed the butt of his gun into Bastian’s head.
The night shattered around him and he fell. Hit the ground and rolled to his side, instinctively trying to protect himself. A boot connected with his stomach and he gagged, tried to scramble away. Another blow caught his ribs, another his chest. They rained down until he stopped moving, strength gone, floating somewhere above the intense pain.
As though conjured from his worst nightmare, Tio’s silhouette loomed over him. Slowly, he raised his arm, aiming his gun at Bastian’s skull.
“
Adios
, Chevalier.”
Distantly, Bastian heard a shout, the deafening explosion of a gunshot.
Then nothing.
 
Thank God he hadn’t sent the team home when Bastian called an end to the op.
“Hang on, buddy,” Michael said, as Ozzie whipped the surveillance van in a sharp turn toward the motel. “We’re coming.”
They’d listened just a while longer, grumbling but respecting Michael’s sixth sense. His crazy instinct not to call it so soon. To wait. The kid’s confession had chilled their blood, and when he said Dietz’s men were on the way, Michael and his team had burned rubber.
Four minutes. That’s all the time it took to reach the motel, but it was four fucking minutes too long. He’d listened to Bastian’s message on the way, having just missed the call. God help him, he hadn’t heard it ringing because they were already roaring toward the motel by then. As they skidded to a stop at the back of the place, behind Bastian’s car, Michael spotted a man lying on the sidewalk.
“One of Dietz’s.”
“I’ll check him,” Willis said, climbing out and walking over. Two fingers to the man’s throat, and he shook his head. “Dead. I’ll check the room, too, and get a cleanup crew here.”
Michael climbed out and ordered Ozzie to keep the van running. Quickly, he walked over to where an exchange of gunfire had obviously occurred. “From the way this guy is positioned, Bastian had to be standing close to the door of his room.” His gaze followed the path from the dead man to the spot where his friend might’ve stood. Crimson droplets were scattered on the walk near the motel-room door, and led from the scene to the corner of the building. “He’s been hit and he’s running.”

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