Sky's Lark (2 page)

His hand reached out to caress her backside, rubbing and compressing as if testing out the goods before he bought.

Fondled like a frigging ripe cantaloupe in the produce section.
She set her back teeth and forced herself to press into his questing hand, pretending she couldn't get enough of his touch. Forcing a small moan from her throat, Lark sidled closer to the man.

Santora's thin lips curved into a wicked smile as his hand delved between her legs, cupping her femininity from behind.

Automatically, she sidestepped, grabbing his wrist but in a deliberately weak hold, as she blinked up at him. "I'm not into performing for voyeurs. Perhaps we could go somewhere to be alone…?" She sweetened the deal with a quick lick over his earlobe and a rub against his crotch.

"You do anything I wish?" he whispered loudly in her ear, over the thump of music in the background. The small dark hairs of his moustache brushed over sensitive skin, irritating rather than enticing her.

"Anything, baby. Anything you want." She brushed her fingers over the bulge in his trousers. "Just you and me, though."

He yanked her to him, covering her lips with his and aggressively shoving his tongue in her mouth.

Lark resisted the urge to fight, instead concentrating on pulling off the best acting performance of her life. Opening her mouth, she submitted to his assault, rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat just begging for attention.

Santora withdrew from her mouth, his respiration accelerated. "Carlos." A taller, bulkier henchman, dressed in a somewhat faded suit that molded to his wide upper body like a second skin, immediately appeared by his side. His bald head completed the intimidating appearance. "Have someone cash out my markers then get the car. Now!" He wrapped one arm around her waist and guided her along.

With a nod, the guard led the way from the main floor of the casino to a side door, simply nodding at the security man who blocked the exit. The door opened before them just as a black stretch limo drove up.

Lark's mind whirled with possibilities while she tried to tamp down the horrible dread and doom that shadowed any decision to get into the car with a known killer. Once inside a vehicle most victims were never seen alive again. She shuddered at the thought.

"Cold, baby?"

She nodded, leaning closer to him. "It's freezing." Well, at least that was the truth. Goose bumps erupted all over her arms and she couldn't quite still the shivers.

"Get in. The car is warm." He opened the door, ushering her toward the spacious seating.

"I know you can warm me fast, make me so hot…" Her gaze flickered from Carlos to the driver. "But I can't with them standing there watching."

Santora's eyes sparked, even as he waved his hand dismissively. "Both of you go," he ordered them in Spanish.

"But, boss…"

"Go. Stand against the wall or something. Just get away from the damned car," he growled the orders as he shoved Lark over and climbed in beside her.

She scooted nearly to the opposite door, wanting to put some space between them, and prayed the Wind Warriors arrived before she had to scrub even more of her body with lye soap to get the feel of his grimy hands off her.

"All alone, baby. Get over here and get to work." He stared at her through dark eyes, his pinched nose flaring with each breath.

With a grin full of promise, Lark scooted closer, taking her time to unbutton his pants, a slow motion that smacked of teasing but related more to buying time than increasing pleasure. Once the fly flopped open, she tugged downward on his boxers. Santora lifted his hips, allowing her to shuck his clothing enough to sit back down butt naked with his pants around his knees while his shirt and jacket still covered his top half.

"Very nice," she purred, using her short nails to tease the hairs on his legs as she moved closer and closer to his erection.

He slumped in his seat, allowing her more room and access to his sensitive parts. "I don't like women that tease." The warning vibrated from his throat while his eyes snapped in annoyance.

He asked for it.
With a mental shrug, she plunged her hand between his legs, wrapped around his scrotum, and squeezed for all she was worth. He screamed and writhed, unable to jar loose her strong grip.

Both doors of the limo flew open at once; men dressed in black with guns at the ready stuck their heads in. In a flurry of motion, they dragged him out of the car, threw him on the ground, and hog-tied him in record time.

As Carlos and the driver walked over with a gun to their backs, their hands bound and handkerchiefs tied across their faces, a jail transport vehicle pulled up. The guys hurriedly threw the captured men into the back, shut and locked the cage door, then banged on the side as a signal for the driver to head out.

Fast and efficient. Easy work. For the guys.

Lark climbed out of the limo, pulling at her tiny skirt. "What took you so long?" Relieved at finally being safe, she felt compelled to release her built-up annoyance.

Night shushed her. Loco grabbed her and dragged her to a waiting black SUV. Spoon unlocked the doors as he watched the area for anyone straying their way. They all tumbled in before Spoon hit the accelerator, heading out into the black of night.

Chapter 2

Men suck.
Lark vented bottled-up annoyance as she pulled into her apartment's parking lot.
I'm covered in gangster cooties and there isn't enough alcohol hand cleaner in this town to get it all off.
A shower would be her first stop. Only once she resembled a wrinkled-up, scrubbed-red prune would she consider what the rest of the night's plans might be.

A good part of Lark's irritation was due to the fact that, rather than do their typical seek-and-destroy, DEA weight-throwing had resulted in the Wind Warriors turning the drug kingpin over. In all fairness, Night had argued futilely about consequences of leaving such men alive, but all his common sense had fallen on deaf ears. Lark empathized with him. She, along with the rest of their team, understood the ramifications of not cutting off the head of the snake to ensure it would never rise up to strike again. Most times they had to sever multiple heads and gut the body because the well-established drug enterprises rivaled Medusa in the number of arms and players that could regenerate and take over. Unfortunately, her old division didn't share the same sentiments.

All managers weren't created equal, unfortunately. This time fell into under that category. More than once, she had fallen under the command of a fluff-for-brains DEA supervisor named Thomas. Everyone knew he had gained the prestigious position through family connections and outright butt kissing. His know-it-all attitude and penchant for firing anyone who disagreed with his flawed views made every agent beg and plead to be free of his tampering. Rumors ran amok about money flowing under the table to his bank account. She could believe it. Otherwise, how in the world could such a moron hold a powerful and key post?

The quiet ride back home after the mission allowed her time to ponder her new job. It proved exciting and far more lucrative in pay, not to mention she had the luxury of declining any mission or job she didn't want, no questions asked. As rough and tumble as the pack of men were, she saw through their toughness, and secretly congratulated the girlfriends and fiancées for catching such quality guys in a deep pool of few keepers and an overwhelming number of tadpoles. A pool she hadn't successfully navigated yet.

She parked the baby blue Mustang in the usual spot, directly in front of her apartment so she could check on it now and again. Not that she had trouble with break-ins or thieves. The neighborhood consisted of a more upscale class of people plus the expensive, high-level security system on her car stopped most criminals in their tracks. A slight bump was enough to set off a screaming alarm that could be heard for a good two blocks away, ensuring a quick dispatch of a local police officer and the intended criminal long gone with empty hands.

Grabbing her purse, she stepped out of her leather-cushioned seat, back into the chill of early winter, her miniskirt and sheer blouse little protection from the wind. "Brrrr." Once again she chastised herself for not bringing a jacket. Not like it would have done any good since the whole point of the mission was to put her assets out there and let the target bite.

"Oh, great. The pole light is out again." She glared up at the main source of illumination across the large lot and scowled. "I guess I'll call the landlord in the morning." Not that she worried about her own safety. With her extensive training, she felt almost as at home in the deepest night as she did in bright sunlight. However, other women lived in the building and wouldn't be nearly as capable of fending off an attacker.

Spinning around, she clicked her doors locked and car alarm on as she strode toward the entrance to her building.

"What do we have here?" A low male voice caught her attention.

Pausing, she quickly scanned the area before locating the dark shadow standing next to a Suburban between her and her destination. As she watched, he stepped into the dim light thrown from a basement apartment window. Her sharp eyesight allowed her to make out his features despite the near blackout conditions.

He stood at least a foot taller than her, with short, dark brown hair that appeared to possess a natural wavy curl. Brown eyes full of intelligence and interest raked over her body, taking in every inch of her. A heavy frame held more than enough muscles to get the job done, but they weren't too bulky like men who spend hours at the gym each day to do nothing but increase and form their body. No, he reminded her more of an athlete, a strong man, familiar with his body and abilities, who kept in shape with hard work. He could easily be a cowboy off the range or a bull rider with his easygoing appearance, maybe even a coach or a baseball player.

Unfortunately, appearances often deceived, and a confrontation was the last thing she needed after a night of being felt up all in the line of duty.

Talk about a scene from a snore-worthy horror flick. Big bad guy steps out of shadows, confronts girl, promises freedom if she just cooperates, she does, he drags her away, and she becomes another zombie to walk the streets at night. Or maybe he turns her into a vampire. Same difference in her book.

Just what she needed tonight. Not. With a bored sigh, she moved forward, determined to ignore the guy.

He moved quickly, faster than she would have imagined. One second he lazily crossed his arms across his chest, standing a good distance away, the next he wrapped a hand around her wrist, holding her with very little effort on his part. "Now, that's no way to be."

She wiggled and shoved, which only made him wrap both arms around her and mold her against his honed body.
Damn.
From what she felt, he didn't possess much body fat, only sheer lean muscle, six-pack abs, and a bulge lower down that could prove to be even better than the rest of him.

You're being assaulted and all you can think of is how yummy he is?
Reason rushed back into her brain, as did anger. She'd had more than enough manhandling for one night and refused to accept any more.

"Listen, pal, let me go." Perhaps he would be rational.

He grinned down at her, not devious or scary, more like a country boy with seduction on his mind. "For a kiss."

She rolled her eyes. "No way. Besides, you're assaulting a federal agent. Not smart."

His head tilted as if he were perplexed.

"I'm DEA, you lump on a frog. So, let me go and we'll forget this whole thing happened."

His mouth opened, but no words came out. Instead, he stared down at her with those dark eyes before easing his hold a bit. "Come on. Play nice. Just one kiss."

Lark contemplated the various martial arts moves she could use to break from his grasp, earn her release, and use him as a tension-releasing punching bag. She could disable him in seconds, temporarily or permanently, depending upon which means she chose.

"One kiss and you'll be free. Promise," he whispered against her ear, sending little shivers coursing through her body.

The response confused her. Here she stood in a stranger's arms, literally being bullied into kissing the heathen in order to gain her release. After tolerating a night of the worst of mankind's attentions, it only made sense she would knock this Neanderthal to the ground, kick him in the kidneys, and get to the highly anticipated shower. She despised playing the damsel-in-distress role and would much prefer to serve the big lug up for supper. Instead, she was still and complacent, not even putting forth a simple struggle in bid for release, looking into his eyes, and wondering what those full lips would feel like against hers.

"Fine, cowboy. Get this over with. I'm tired and it's been a long, hard night." She put forth all the disdain and malice she could muster into her voice, realizing with a grimace that it also carried a nearly breathless component, producing the slightest subtle hint that she actually wanted this.
I've lost my ever-loving mind. That or my ass is so frozen no blood gets to my pea-sized brain.

She prepared a show of force, gearing up to put the lout in his place after messing with the wrong woman. Instead of the hard meeting of flesh she expected, he took his sweet time, meshing his lips over hers, gently coaxing and encouraging, without a hint of aggression or demand. But this whisper and tease of affection slipped through her barriers, muddling her brain, even as it dawned on her that she actually liked his brand of kissing. In stunned silence, she found herself giving back, pressing closer, and actually sharing the brief interlude.

He pulled back first, flashing a mischievous grin that popped a dimple in his cheek, even as his hold loosened. "Damn."

"You can say that again." Lark groaned when she realized the words slipped out before she could bite them back. Giving men that kind of ammunition only inflated their egos, made them all the more difficult to bear, and set a woman on an all-too-familiar path of continually attempting to please the man in order to keep him at her side so he didn't stray. Something she absolutely refused to do.