Special Ops Exclusive (15 page)

Make that two targets. Both stationed behind the hotel, one hunkered down behind a row of Dumpsters, the other positioned on higher ground, trying to camouflage himself in the trees.

Nick maneuvered through the shadows and made his way to the farther target first.

“Son of a—”

That was all the dark-skinned soldier for hire managed to get out before Nick got him in a chest lock and dragged him backward into the brush. The man was struggling too much for Nick to get a solid grip on his neck, so he swiftly drew his knife from his hip and shoved the blade into the soldier’s chest, slicing up toward the sternum to penetrate the heart.

Two down.

Lowering the body to the dirt, Nick dislodged his knife, wiped the bloodstained blade on his pant leg and headed for the Dumpsters.

Three minutes later, it was three down.

Jeez, these men were making it too damn easy for him. None of them had even seen him coming, which said a lot about their piss-poor instincts.

As he stashed the third body behind the enormous garbage bins, a crackling noise filled the air.

Crap. The merc’s radio.

“Charlie, you copy?”

More static.

Stifling a sigh, Nick reached into the dead man’s pocket and pulled out the small, compact radio. After a beat, he pressed the talk button, covering the speaker with his hand to produce a muffled response.

“Copy,” he said briskly. “No sign of them.”

He held his breath as he awaited a reply.

Another hiss of static, then “Copy that.”

Relaxing, Nick shut off the radio and tossed it on the ground. That check-in ought to buy him some time, but not much. When “Charlie” didn’t answer the next call—not to mention the other two radio-silent mercs—their buddies would undoubtedly come to investigate.

Nick followed the brick wall at the side of the hotel where steam rolled out of the vents that ran along the bottom of the building. He heard the murmur of voices beyond the service doors and quickened his pace. This next part was going to be tough. The van was parked only forty yards from the bus shelter where that soldier was not so covertly monitoring the hotel’s entrance. If the men in the van made any noise, or managed to get a shot off, the bus shelter merc would be all over him.

This had to be fast. Like ripping off a bandage.

Drawing in a steady breath, Nick sheathed his knife, withdrew his SIG and sprang into action.

He rushed the back of the van and threw open the doors, eliciting shocked curses from the three heavily armed men sitting there. Before they could raise their weapons, he pulled the trigger. Once, twice, thrice. Three
pops
from his silenced SIG. Three kills.

There was no time to waste and no way to approach the brightly lit bus stop unseen, which meant it was time for a full-frontal attack.

Taking another breath, Nick bounded from the cover of the van and came out running.

The mercenary at the bus shelter instantly spotted him. Dropping his newspaper, the man flew to his feet and drew a black Glock from beneath his blue windbreaker. He proceeded to fire at Nick, who ducked and zigzagged as he sprinted forward, making it difficult for the soldier to connect with his target.

Nick was five feet from the bus stop when heat streaked through his left shoulder. Ignoring the sting of pain, he charged the mercenary before the man could take aim again and knocked the Glock out of his meaty hand.

In a heartbeat, Nick had the barrel of his gun pressed against the man’s temple. “Don’t frickin’ move,” he hissed.

The other man froze.

Nick knew he didn’t have a lot of time. Despite the late hour, the bus shelter was lit up like Fort Knox, and there was a chance that a bus would pull up any second.

Keeping one arm locked around the merc’s chest, Nick jammed the muzzle of his SIG deeper into his captive’s temple and said, “Let’s not waste time. I assume there are a few more of you up in my hotel room, right? Luckily for them, I’m not in the mood to kill anyone else tonight.”

With an angry curse, the soldier attempted to bring the heel of his boot into Nick’s groin, but Nick simply shifted and tightened his hold.

“But you need to know that if I wanted to, I could kill every last one of you bastards,” he went on. “And that’s the message I want you to take back to your boss.”

The other man released another dark expletive, but he had stopped struggling. “Go ahead and kill me. Carraway will only send another team.”

Carraway. Nick filed the name away for future contemplation, then let out a chuckle.

“Good. I look forward to it,” he said pleasantly. “I’ll enjoy eliminating them, too, just like I eliminated ninety percent of your buddies tonight. And if your boss decides to send another hit squad after that, I’ll take them out, too. And then the next hit squad, and the next one, and—well, you get the point. See, I’m getting damn tired of these games. Enough with this cowardly crap. Tell him if he wants me, he can come after me himself.”

With the lightest of touches, Nick swiftly moved his other hand to the man’s beefy neck and sought out the correct pressure point.

Then he chuckled again. “So when you wake up, please make sure your boss gets the message, okay, pal?”

“Screw y—”

He applied pressure on that delicate spot and the soldier went limp in his arms. Lights out.

Nick hastily lowered the man’s heavy body onto the metal bench, then holstered his gun.

As he walked away from the bus stop, he kept his gait casual, relaxed, just a man out for a late-night stroll.

Your move, Mr. X.

Chapter 14

R
ebecca launched herself at Nick the second he strode into the motel room. Their chests collided with a loud thump, and her panicked brain registered the sound of husky laughter and crinkling plastic.

Nick had barely been gone two hours, but she felt like she’d been waiting for an eternity.

She pulled back and searched his face, which revealed nothing. “What happened? Are you all right? Did you take care of the mercenaries? Was it—”

“How about one question at a time?” he cut in with a grin.

“Sorry. I was just worried.”

“No need for that, Red. I’m perfectly fine.”

“And the mercenaries?”

“Taken care of,” was all he said.

“I see,” she said warily.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. I told you exactly what I planned on doing, Rebecca. It was necessary.”

She released a sigh. “I know. Kill or be killed, right?”

Nick blinked in surprise. “And you’re okay with that?”

“I have to be.” Her jaw tightened. “Those men killed Jesse and Dave, and one of them probably slipped Harry some kind of drug that stopped his heart.” She frowned. “I should really get my hands on Harry’s tox screens. Shoot. I bet the hospital didn’t even run any if Mr. X had anything to say about it.”

Nick shrugged his holster off, then held out a brown paper bag she hadn’t noticed him holding until now.

“What’s that?” she asked suspiciously. “One of the soldier’s heads?”

He burst out laughing. “This isn’t the medieval times, darling. Jeez. I stopped at an all-hours deli and grabbed us some sandwiches. I know how much you hate those MREs, and I was worried that if I didn’t put something tasty in your belly, you’d starve.”

Warmth trickled through her. He’d actually stopped to buy her food? At four-thirty in the morning? God, this man was too thoughtful for words.

As if on cue, her stomach grumbled, officially betraying the fact that she had indeed forgone that MRE.

Rolling his eyes, Nick reached into the bag and said, “Ham, turkey or tuna?”

“Turkey,” she said, holding out her hand.

He slapped a foil-wrapped sandwich in her palm.

Rebecca sank on the edge of the second twin bed and hurriedly unwrapped the food, then brought the sandwich to her mouth and took a big bite. The flavors instantly suffused her taste buds—lettuce, tomato, honey mustard, mayo. She chewed fast and swallowed faster, enjoying the first yummy meal she’d eaten in days.

On the other bed, Nick tackled his own sandwich. He finished it in no more than five or six bites, making Rebecca grin even as she chewed on a mouthful of turkey.

Nick stood up and grabbed two bottles of water, chugged one and handed her the other. She accepted it gratefully and took a long sip.

“I’m going to take a quick shower,” he told her.

“Go for it.”

He bent down and grabbed a fresh shirt, boxers and a pair of pants from his duffel bag, and he’d nearly made it to the bathroom door when Rebecca noticed the white first aid kit he’d tried tucking inside the pile of clothes.

“Stop right there, Nicholas!”

He glanced over, his lips twitching. “Did you really just call me that?”

Scowling, she hopped off the bed and marched up to him. “Did you really think you could hide the fact that you’re
injured?
”

“I’m not injured,” he protested.

“Yeah, right.” Her gaze swept over him, up and down and side to side. She gasped when she noticed the wet spot on his shirt right over his left shoulder and the flash of red skin where the material had been torn away.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake! Take off your shirt.”

He looked extremely reluctant, but he must have seen the flames of anger in her eyes because he peeled off his long-sleeved black shirt without a word.

Rebecca paled when she saw the nasty red burn mark on his shoulder.

“Just a graze,” he said gruffly. “It’s no biggie.”

She grumbled under her breath. “Why do men always have to act all macho?” She pointed to the bed. “Sit. Let me clean this up.”

“Let me take that shower first.”

“No. Because once you’re in the bathroom, you’ll lock the door and try to patch yourself up alone.”

His tiny shrug told her she’d hit the mark.

“Fine, you want a shower so badly? I’ll sit there until you’re done.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep.”

She grabbed hold of his uninjured arm and ushered him into the washroom. His tall, muscular body dominated the small space, and when she looked at their reflections in the mirror, she almost laughed at the difference in their sizes.

“Well?” She flopped down on the closed toilet seat and pointed to the shower stall. “Get in.”

Heat flared in his brown eyes. “And what, you’re going to sit there and watch?”

She lifted a defiant brow. “Sure am. Got a problem with that?”

“Nope.”

He unzipped his pants and let them drop to the tiled floor.

His boxer briefs were next, and Rebecca sucked in a breath when his erection sprang up and bobbed against his navel.

He was incredible. So hard, so male, so virile.

He spun around to turn on the water, providing her with the most mouthwatering view of his spectacular ass. She went on sensory overload, unable to focus on any one detail for too long. Golden skin, roped muscles, heavy chest, muscular legs.

Nick Barrett was the sexiest man on the planet.

Rebecca was suddenly hungry again. God, she wanted him. Wanted to feel his hot mouth on hers. His rough hands on her breasts. His male hardness filling her.

“What are you waiting for?” Nick said mockingly, tossing her a knowing look over his shoulder.

He stepped into the shower stall, but didn’t close the pink plastic curtain. Instead, he just stood there, his eyes locked with hers as water streamed down his naked body and clung to the defined ridges of his chest.

Rebecca knew she was supposed to be doing something important. What was it again? Um...letting him take a quick rinse so she could bandage up his shoulder. Right. That was it.

So why was she unbuttoning her jeans?

While her gaze stayed glued to Nick’s naked, soaking-wet body, her hands continued to do their own thing. Taking her jeans off. Pulling her shirt over her head. Unsnapping her bra. Wiggling out of her panties.

Throughout her striptease, Nick watched in silence, the fire in his eyes burning hotter and hotter as each piece of clothing exposed a new body part.

“Get in here,” he growled.

He didn’t have to ask her twice. Rebecca slid into the stall and into his arms, tipping her head to welcome his blistering kiss. Their tongues tangled, breaths mingled with the steam that was beginning to fill the stall.

As the hot water rushed over their heads, their bodies became slick, plastering to each other as Nick brought her flush up against him and cupped her bottom. The position caused his erection to slide over her mound, bringing a moan to her lips.

Everything about this man drove her wild with desire. The bad boys she’d dated in the past didn’t even compare to Nick Barrett—she’d thought those lovers were passionate, but she’d been wrong.

This
was passion. Nick’s heavy-lidded eyes. His features, taut with arousal. His deft fingers and talented tongue teasing her lips and breasts.

“Oh, that’s good,” she whimpered when he rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, getting them stiff, making them tingle.

Rebecca’s head lolled to the side, the pleasure so intense she could barely stay upright. Her breasts had always been particularly sensitive, and it thrilled her that Nick enjoyed focusing so much of his attention on them.

“You like that, huh?” he rasped, his warm breath heating her lips as he bent down to kiss her again.

He squeezed her breasts, sweeping his thumbs over those puckered buds until she was moaning in impatience.

“What is it? What do you need, darling?” he said roughly.

“Your mouth,” she squeezed out.

He gave her what she wanted without delay, dipping his head and capturing one nipple between his lips.

A jolt of hot pleasure seized her core.

Nick licked the distended nipple, then suckled gently. His tongue teased and explored, summoning moan after moan from her deep in her throat.

It wasn’t long before she was shifting in agitation, desperate for more. She reached between their bodies and encircled his shaft, giving it a long, languid pump.

Nick’s groan vibrated against her breasts. “Oh, that’s good, darling. Tease me a little.”

As she stroked him lazily, he brought one hand to the juncture of her thighs and did some teasing of his own. Rebecca’s entire body hummed with pleasure as he stroked her hypersensitive folds, teasing that swollen bud. When he slid one long finger inside her, she gasped with delight and rocked into his hand, all the while quickening the tempo with which she stroked him.

“I need to be in you,” he muttered, backing her into the wall.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, opening herself up to him, waiting for him to plunge inside. But he didn’t. Instead, he made a frustrated sound and met her eyes. “No condom.”

“I’m clean and on the pill.” She blushed. Sometimes sex was so darn awkward, yet she still had to ask, “Have you been tested?”

“I’m clean, too. Do you... Are you sure I should...”

His awkwardness was adorable, and for some weird reason, it succeeded in turning her on again. He was such a good guy. So very thoughtful all the time. Which made the times when he lost control so much more satisfying.

Like now, as he drove into her and filled her to the hilt, his hips moving fast and furious. A thrill shot through her, followed by a rush of excitement as he pounded into her in a relentless rhythm that made her breathing go shallow.

She watched Nick’s face through the haze of steam, loving the way his amber-colored eyes slitted with passion, the way the tendons in his neck strained, the way he muttered her name under his breath.

His mouth found hers again, his tongue sliding in with one greedy thrust and stealing the breath from her lungs. She clung to his strong shoulders, dug her heels into his firm buttocks and closed her eyes as a rush of pleasure consumed her body and sent her mind soaring. She felt Nick tense, heard him groan and knew he’d reached that same explosive pinnacle.

With a groan, he slipped out, then eased aside so she could duck under the spray, which had gone lukewarm. They quickly washed up before the water turned freezing, and then Nick shut off the water and pulled back the curtain.

Rebecca stepped out of the shower first, turning to shoot him a sheepish look. “FYI, when I followed you in here, that wasn’t a seduction attempt either. I really wanted to take care of that wound.”

“
Sure.
You keep saying that, but I don’t think I believe you anymore.” He slanted his head thoughtfully. “I think you’re in seduction mode 24/7, Red.”

“Well, it would be a lot easier to snap out of it if you weren’t so darn tempting,” she grumbled.

“You want to talk tempting?” He gestured to her naked body. “Because I’m pretty sure you’re the most tempting woman on the planet.”

She offered an impish smile. “I’m sorry?”

Nick offered a grave look in return. “Never apologize for your hotness. Ever.”

Rebecca laughed, then grabbed two towels from the rack and handed Nick one. They dried off in silence, and the air in the bathroom went from comfortable to uneasy, echoing with questions that neither of them voiced.

What are we doing here?
she wanted to ask.
Where will it lead?

Nick had insisted he didn’t do casual, and yet he’d stopped putting up resistance a long time ago. He’d pretty much commanded her to get into the shower with him just now, which told her he wasn’t trying to keep her at arm’s length anymore.

But where was his head at? She wished he would be more forthcoming about the way he felt, about what he wanted from this, but it was clear that Nick Barrett, as sweet and gentlemanly as he was, did
not
like discussing his feelings.

On the other hand, maybe that was a good thing. Because she had the sinking suspicion that if she asked him about the future, she wouldn’t like what he had to say.

So rather than force a serious discussion—at five in the morning to boot—she stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips over his in a casual little kiss. “Come on, Watson. Let’s bandage up this ‘graze’ of yours and get some much-needed sleep.”

* * *

“We’ve got a problem. A very big problem.”

What else was new?

With a sigh, he rose from his desk chair and walked over to the redbrick fireplace across the room. It was six in the morning, but he hadn’t been in bed. After another night of elusive sleep, he’d finally given up and gone into his study with a tumbler of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes that his wife, God bless her soul, would have been horrified to see. She’d forced him to quit years ago, insisting she wanted him to live a long, healthy life.

How ironic that he, the one who’d been smoking for twenty years, was still alive while the love of his life was buried under six feet of dirt in a New York cemetery.

And now he had to listen to Carraway inform him of yet another problem. Another mess he’d no doubt be forced to clean up.

“What is it?” He could barely muster up interest; it was too early in the morning to dwell on how out of control this situation had gotten.

“Six of my men are dead. Barrett took them out.”

Shock slackened his jaw. “Are you sure it was him?”

“Positive, sir. He passed along a message to one of the soldiers he left alive. He wanted us to know that he’ll kill any hit squad we dispatch to take him out.” Carraway paused. “And he had a specific message for
you.
”

“What is it?” he said warily.

Carraway sounded awkward. “For you to stop being a coward. If you want him, stop sending soldiers and come after him yourself.”

His lips curled in a sneer. Coward? Who did that young punk think he was, accusing him of cowardice?