Sky's Lark (9 page)

Bright sunshine poured through the front windshield, warming the interior. Lark leaned back against the door, curling up in the cushy leather seat. Watching him, she decided he wouldn't run from any promises on her part, instead, he would meet her head on, giving as much as he took. The thought ramped up her libido all the more.

"Which branch?"

She knew what he meant and answered easily. "Army. I was a cheerleader at West Point."

His straight white teeth flashed. "Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

"That I was a cheerleader or in the Army?"

"Army. You have cheerleader written all over you down to that cute, perky rear."

Lark shot him a look, not bothering with the verbal reminder to keep his hands off her anatomy.

Taking the hint, he changed course. "What's in the black bag?" He gestured to the backseat.

"Tools of the trade."

The corners of his mouth hitched upward. "Do I get to play with your toys?"

"Maybe." She fought to keep a straight face. "If you think you can handle them."

He snorted. "Baby, I can handle anything you have and then some."

Her belly slowly flipped as she beat down a rush of desire at his words. The not-so-subtle innuendo sped her heart and set her mouth to watering. Any other time, she would challenge that statement, forcing him to prove his words in an intimate and elemental way, hopefully sending her on a trip to Nirvana a few times before they collapsed exhausted in a heap.

Bryce's dark eyes flashed with amusement combined with sensual interest. His long legs remained stretched out in the floorboard; his drool-worthy body lax. Yet, she knew he felt the strong sexual sparks flying between them. Men played a calm, cool, and collected game, but they caught fire easier and faster than women. It was almost worth reaching out to cup his groin to find out for sure. The only thing stopping her was the knowledge that some little old lady toddling by with her grocery cart would invariably look in the window and call the cops to complain about public nudity and indecency. Rumors and stories would fly and neither she nor Bryce would ever be able to live them down once their coworkers caught wind of their minor indiscretion.

Clearing her throat, she worked toward a topic change. "In the military?"

He smiled smugly as if he realized how much the byplay affected her physically and recognized a retreat when he saw one. "Spent a handful of years with the Marines before becoming a cop."

"Oh, good grief. Not another one." She threw up her arms. No wonder he possessed the attitude. All the Marines she'd ever met glowed with self-confidence and quickly shifted to cranky in a heartbeat.

"Another one?" His eyebrows arched.

"There's a Marine on the team. Irritable and bossy on his best days."

"And you adore him?"

The snort slipped out no matter how hard she tried to hold it back. "I tolerate him. Actually, he's a good guy deep down, hell of a soldier… err, Marine, but he takes some getting used to."

"Once a Marine…"

"Always a Marine," she finished for him. She'd heard that phrase more than she cared to count in the past month. "Been undercover before?"

He nodded. "A couple of times. I fly under the radar well. I'm on loan for this one because I look Hispanic and am fluent in Spanish."

Her gaze scanned his features. "But you're tall for a Hispanic."

"Not Hispanic descent, Spanish. My father is a tall blond with Irish ancestry. My mother carries the dark coloring of her entire family, all direct relations to Spanish royalty." A ghost of a smile covered his mouth.

"You're royalty?" She blinked. "Well, la-di-da."

He chuckled. "Not impressed, huh?"

"Nah. I'd be more impressed if you carried a sniper rifle and could hit a target a mile away." She glanced up at him through her eyelashes with an attempt at coyness. "Besides, I would hate for all that bowing and pleasing to go to your head."

He leaned in close, voice dropping an octave as he whispered, "The only thing going to my head is you. I'm hard as a rock and can't decide which I want more—to drag you into the backseat and see how flexible you are or to keep with the questions until I find out all your secret fantasies."

Scooting forward, Lark rested one hand on his thigh a few inches below where she really wanted to explore. Gripping lightly, she levered forward, closing her eyes as he lowered his mouth to gently cover hers. Their lips meshed, softly learning and testing until she opened her mouth, taking the aggressive role and sliding her tongue into his mouth to flick across his teeth and waiting tongue.

The sharp ring of her cell phone jerked her back into her seat, nearly panting from the brief encounter. Bryce shifted, obviously a bit uncomfortable in his tight jeans.

Talk about igniting an inferno. Shaking her head, she checked the caller ID then pulled the phone open. "Hey, Night."

He paused a second. "Why do you sound out of breath?"

Her dang boss was too observant for his own good.
Oh, no reason. Just Bryce and I were making out in the parking lot of a supermarket is all.
Yeah, right. "Um. No reason. So, do we have a plan?"

"Rendezvous in an hour at the West Side Gym. Know where it is?"

"Yeah. Listen, I've been thinking. I'm the key to getting into the base."

He cut her off. "Just be there. We'll discuss it then."

She sighed, but didn't argue. "Okay."

"Oh, and Lark?"

"Yeah?"

"Jump his bones later, after we send those demons to their maker." With that said, he clicked off.

"Good grief."

Bryce grinned at her. "He knows you were ready to mount up for a quick ride?"

"Shut up."

He broke into laughter even as he started the engine. "Where are we going and how much time?"

"An hour and West Side Gym."

"That will give us time to swing through for some fast food on the way. I have a feeling we may need the energy."

"Yeah, the team specializes in hard, gritty work. Even the best athletes are pretty much beat afterward."

"I meant after we take down Santora. When we get to come back and celebrate. Alone."

The expression and tone laced with promise sent her belly on another acrobatic act. "Oh, boy."

Chapter 13

Bryce eyed the other members of the team, taking in their builds, efficient movements, and detailed preparation. All wore desert camouflage from head to toe and carried a large duffel bag like Lark's in his backseat.

She stood at his side, looking petite and fragile compared to the burly men surrounding them, but she remained relaxed and tossed back teasing insults as friends and siblings do. Her belief in them carried over to him, settling his uncertainty while sending a spark of hope and determination through him.

Despite the obvious, he still couldn't believe she not only ran with such a motley crew, but held her own on the black ops assignments contracted by their leader. Night, the first one he met, carried his heritage with pride. With his long blue-black hair tied behind his back, he resembled a warrior preparing for battle. Listening to the man point out objectives and potential pitfalls, Bryce quickly came to respect not only Night, but every member of the small team.

A dark-haired man introduced as Spoon produced a blueprint of Santora's base camp from his bag, spreading it out across the hood of their SUV. Everyone gathered around, eyes flicking over it, while they considered available points of entrance.

"If this is a service door in the back, it's a way in." Cale, a former Navy SEAL pointed out.

"Security cameras cover the area. We don't have time to learn their normal delivery company and times. They'll spot us before we breach the door." The only Marine in the bunch, Loco, quickly discarded the idea.

"They have to have underground passages, but this doesn't show it," Night growled in frustration.

Bryce expected more orders and less diplomacy, mirroring a military unit with instructions from command. Instead, before him stood five individuals, all with skills and expertise, discussing and discarding possible ideas and suggestions of how to move into position, sneak into the compound, snare computers and any files of evidence, then escape before they blew the place to kingdom come. The group dynamics impressed him in the first few minutes and, in all honesty, he felt it would be only the first of many surprises they would dish out before the operation ended.

In less than an hour, they'd secured maps and blueprints, valuable information in order to progress with safety and organization. Off the top of his head, he couldn't imagine the highly confidential accesses they had to secure in order to have such immediate availability.

No wonder Lark had left the DEA. Hell, if they were half as good in action as they were in preparation, he'd seriously consider joining up given the chance.

He watched for a while as they struggled to find the precise fit only to consider then reject each and every option put forth.

"Too bad we can't march up to the front door and simply knock," Loco spit out.

"Actually, we can do that very thing," Bryce said. All eyes bore down on him. He met them unflinchingly, confident and sure despite not knowing any of them. "Lark is our ace in the hole. Santora's bounty still exists. Rodriguez assigned me the task to bring her in a couple of days ago. He was pissed, snarling that he would do the task in a snap once I failed, which led me to believe the request came from someone above him. Probably Shark."

"You want to just march into a compound full of hardened criminals and one psycho hell-bent on torturing Lark to death?" Spoon asked.

"Since we don't have any other option right now, I think we should consider it," Bryce fired back without malice.

"Once you have her in hand, who do you contact?" Night inquired, glancing up from the map.

"I'm supposed to call Shark, got his number on a piece of paper. My guess, he'll want to meet someplace and take her in himself to collect the bounty. I'm not that stupid and can easily demand to hand her over personally. Either that gets us in the door or he'll want to set up a trade away from the compound."

Bryce glanced at Lark, trying to read her expression.

"He's right. We're the only shoe-in. Santora won't dare hurt Bryce because he's a loyal follower, although a greedy one. If word got out that Santora didn't pay his debts or simply reneged on his promises, other employees would either turn against him or simply leave. He will pay up, his pride and self-preservation demand it. Bryce should be safe."

"But you won't be," Cale pointed out.

"That's where you guys come in. Figure out how to get inside the base and blow it up before Santora gets frisky or Bryce sets up a meeting at some vacant place to make the exchange. Beat him there, conceal yourselves, then jump in before things get too out of hand."

Night gave a quick nod. "If Santora doesn't have a body double, we would have him in hand, but the rest of his operation would remain intact. I'm not leaving that bastard or his operation alive to flourish once more."

"Setting up a meeting sounds like a better option in my book," Loco muttered.

Bryce agreed. "More things we can control." He tapped his chin for a second. "If I remember right Santora always rides in a limo with fully tinted windows."

"He does. All the windows including the front windshield," Lark said, shifting her weight and rotating to face him.

"If we take him and his ensemble out without them getting word back to base, then we can use the limo to get us inside." Bryce thought for a moment. "Too bad we need those damn computers or we could rig the limo with explosives, put the car in gear, let the car ram into the compound, and set the night on fire."

"You still have that anesthesia gas?" Spoon asked.

"Some, not much. Not enough to take down even half the area." She frowned.

"How badly do we need evidence?" Cale stepped forward, his jaw tense. "Santora will be beating on the gates of hell as will the rest of his followers."

"The mole. Thomas and a couple more. We have to either take them out or have foolproof documentation that will show guilt in court." Lark crossed her arms over her chest.

"We can get his work computer. Get some computer whiz to break through to his files," Spoon said.

"Yeah, but what judge will sign a search warrant for that without initial proof?" she reminded them.

Night met her gaze. "Got any strings you can pull?"

She shook her head and sighed. "Not without something concrete."

Loco scrubbed a hand over his face. "Looks like we're doing this the hard way."

"You okay with that?" Night asked still focusing on her face.

She smiled wide enough to show teeth. "I can't wait to get my fingers wrapped around his balls once more. This time, he won't get off so easy."

Bryce noticed the other guys cringe before shaking their heads in amusement. He grimaced right along with them. She had guts, he would give her that. More than any other woman he'd met. Good. She'd need them. If they were forced to carry their act inside the iron gates of Santora's hellhole, she required all the courage, tenacity, and blessings from above to come out unscathed.

"Make the call."

Chapter 14

Bryce glanced at his watch for the fourth time in two minutes. "Are you sure about this?" He swiveled in the seat of his car, facing Lark.

She borrowed a convenience store bathroom to change clothes and modify her makeup using supplies in her duffel bag and purse. Her hair stood in all directions, mussed from her hands, and new jeans and a plain blue shirt appeared wrinkled and stretched. She even scuffed up the knees of her pants, adding a bit of dirt to seal the deal. Everything pointed to a difficult struggle, which she lost.

"Yeah. If we wait, Thomas will get suspicious and run or shred documents. We can't have that. Besides, I'm in the mood to explode something." Her smile reminded him of a mother bear warning tourists away from her cubs. He saw lots of teeth and little amusement.