Storm: (Blood Legion MC) (Bad Boys of X-Ops Book 3) (24 page)

T-Zone

BLAIZE HOPPED OFF THE back of my Harley, unstrapping her helmet. “You know what I was going to say that night at your mamere’s when you wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise?”

I dismounted the bike and rested my brain bucket on one of the ape hanger handlebars. Snatching Blaize’s chin between two fingers, I guided her to me for a quick hot kiss that left my pulse thrumming.

“Something about how good I am in the sack? Or maybe how much you love me?” I said.

“Yes.
No.
Stop making me flustered, Storm.” She gathered her leather satchel as I chuckled. “I was going to tell you I thought we should move in together.”

“Well, that’s a good thing since we’re already shacked up,
huh
?” With a hand settled low on her back, I escorted her toward T-Zone HQ.

“
And
, you will treat me absolutely no differently at work than usual.” She swooped through the big tinted glass doors of the unmarked building ahead of me.

I watched her, chewing on my lip. The tight suit pants she wore left little to the imagination—and I had a wild imagination where she was concerned. The navy blue jacket over the very proper, completely crease-free, cream-colored blouse also only served to accentuate her lush figure.

“Awesome. So I can just sit there, staring at you while fantasizing about getting you naked?” I started unholstering my Sigs, unsheathing my KA-BAR, glancing at her through a sweep of black hair. “Not a problem.”

“Storm!”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“That is exactly what I’m talking about,” she hissed.

“It’s not my fault when you dress like that,” I whispered, going through the usual high-tech security rigmarole.

Eyeing her backside but keeping my hands to myself like a good boy—for a change—I did the thumb-scan thing. I stepped behind her—but not too close—as we navigated to the stairwell.

“I could wear a paper sack and you’d get hard.”

“Guilty as charged.” I watched her ass bounce. “Add in those heels and I’d probably—”

Her eyes glittering, she turned to clap a hand against my mouth. “Behave.”

“Try my best,” I mumbled around her hand.

She snuck up to kiss me, a soft, sweet taste of her mouth. “Let me go in first.”

“You got it, boss.”

I gave her all of about twenty seconds before I rolled right in after her.

She glared.

I winked.

The guys—Walker, Justice, Bane—whistled.

Blaize and I had been back in DC exactly three days. The dudes had returned a week ago, after sorting out the Blood Legion shit and truly fucking that MC into the ground. Kudos to them for cleaning up our mess.

It seemed Slade had had a change of heart. Instead of trying to get in good with Blaize on the chance she might offer him a job, he’d quietly ended his CIA contract and decided to stick around New Orleans. He was gonna help Angel make a fresh start at a new Blood Legion. A legit one.

Two days earlier I’d jumped ship from my small, pretty much neglected apartment, and moved into Blaize’s place, which was definitely a step up. Not that I didn’t have money. Fuckers like us liked to squirrel away our danger pay—unless you were Walker, who bought a freakin’ horse ranch in Wyoming, or Justice, who had his mommy and daddy’s trust fund if he ever wanted to dip into it.

Or, like me, I guessed, who purchased a decent house in New Orleans for his maw maw. Even if she preferred the backwoods cabin by the bayou.

What did Bane do with his hazard money? Who knew? Probably bought implements of torture. And hookers.

Blaize’s brownstone was old money and well maintained. She had a place for
everything
. I enjoyed fucking it all up, just a little bit. Because getting under her skin was my new favorite pastime. And make-up sex was the best.

Besides, she needed to loosen up, which she definitely did with me. In fact, I’d been working on getting her
real ready
to take my cock in her ass.

Almost had her begging for it, too.

The best part about living with her—besides the epic fuckfests? She was sweet as hell early in the mornings when I brought her breakfast in bed just like I had at Thunder Road. And she was feisty as hell when I came at her all hours of the day—always ready for a quick tumble or a long sweet lovemaking sesh.

It didn’t hurt that the woman was so smart she made me goddamned goggle eyed.

Yep. Love was good. Life was friggin’ perfect.

Rubbing my chest, I took my customary seat, as far away from Bane as possible.

And as usual, the idiots tag-teamed with their crude comments.

“Looks like someone’s finally getting laid on the regular,” Justice mentioned, all
har-har-har
.

“Not him.” I glanced at Bane who sent his perma-scowl in my direction.

“Told Jade you and Blaize hooked up. She sent this text.” Walker shoved his phone at my face. “Not sure what that emoji means.”

“Knocking boots.” Justice coughed behind his fist.

So that might’ve been going too far because Blaize immediately looked like she wanted to rain fire down on each and every one of us.

She stomped to the head of the table with that damning pointer finger raised—the one she used to teasingly trail up and down my cock.

I sat back in my seat.

Waaaay
back.

“Listen up. I am well aware you like to talk shit, bust each other’s balls, and bring the battlefield into
my house
—but make no mistake, men. This.
Is
. My. House. I own you. Your lives. Your missions. And I have enough shit to ruin all of you in a second with a press of my finger.”

Fuck.

Why’d she have to make me hard like that?

“When we’re in this room you will
not
act like this is a frat house.”

Sweat broke out on my forehead, and I tried not to stare at her tits shaking against her blouse with each strident breath she took.

“I am still in charge of each and every”—her mean stare—“one of you”—landed on me.

I almost blew my wad in my pants.

That shit had always and would always make my cock hard, and she knew it.

Low whistles and
yes ma’ams
filtered out of us.

And
yes, sir, ma’am
from Walker.

Natch.

Which of course earned him an extra fierce glare from Blaize.

And I could tell the assholes were biting their tongues, trying to quell the comments about who might be the boss in the boudoir.

“We have work to do, soldiers—”

“I was a marine, ma’am.” Justice stared straight ahead.

“I know that. I wasn’t insulting you, Justice. Think I can continue, or should I just give all you fuck-ups one more free day so you can go get laid and waste more of my time?” Blaize walked toward the door.

“We’re mission-ready, Blaize.” Walker—wiseass
numero uno
—waved his hand for her to carry on.

“I’m bringing someone else into play for the next op.” She pressed the door open and . . .

Kiki fucking-
Baby-Spy
Damage stalked inside.

Everyone reacted like a live grenade had been tossed into the center of the room.

We jumped from our seats, a seething outburst of shouts reverbing from every corner. Blaize stationed herself in front of Damage, her arms crossed over her chest.

Fuck. We were like a pack of wolves on the scent of a traitor, and Blaize was not impressed.

“Are you serious?” She ranged forward. “Did I not just read you the riot act? Fucking loose guns. Get out of my face right now.”

We backed up.

Kiki stepped out from behind Blaize, her knee-high, black-leather, big buckled boots ringing on the floor. “Haze me much?”

“More like
hate you
.” Walker snarled.

“SETTLE THE FUCK DOWN. NOW.” Blaize marched to the head of the table.

I seated myself.

Justice dropped into a chair.

Bane slouched in his, rubbing his chin, sneering at Damage.

“You fucked up my op. Almost got my woman, my wife, killed. You are on my shit list.” It appeared Walker had no intentions of backing down.

“I am not
your
damage, Walker.” Kiki pulled up a chair and lounged back like she suddenly owned the place.

I sure as hell hoped Blaize knew what she was doing throwing us all together, because tempers were running high.

“Funny. Pretty sure you have no true allegiance to T-Zone, Baby Spy.”

I’d never seen Walker more pissed off or ready to kill.

“And you have no allegiance to the United States, right?”

“Shut up, girl,” Bane warned.

Blaize dragged in several deep breaths while I watched her.

She turned her back, flicking through her folder.

Scanning across the table to Kiki, I wanted to kick the woman’s ass myself.

She was either dressed ready to join the MX circuit . . . or assassinate someone. Black leather from her jacket to her pants to her boots, right down to her fingerless gloves. And that
janky
hair—half-shaved, light pink-streaked, blond faux-hawk. Her face was beautiful, but she masked her gorgeous features with a hard edge, starting with the heavy eyeliner and ending with the bad attitude.

If we didn’t suspect her of ratting out Walker and Jade, she’d have fit right in. As it was, her first time in the war room with our elite team and she was nobody’s friendly.

“If you all think you can behave now?” Blaize tugged at her sleeves then pressed a button on the table.

All our computer screens rolled up and went live, showing the carnage at the New Orleans train depot from the night Blaize had been taken hostage. We got a good look at the action from a night I never wanted to relive again.

“Things are heating up. We never figured out why the intel was wrong about your mission for Majedah Chehab, Walker. And we don’t know who sold you out. Storm and I were made, too, in New Orleans. That could’ve been our fault.” She pressed her knuckles down on the table. “I understand you don’t trust Kiki. That has to end
now
.”

“What are you saying, Blaize?” Jus punched forward.

“This stinking shit goes a lot deeper, and a lot higher up, than the Blood Legion. American gun smugglers, the Los Reyes drug dealers, and the terrorists—they’re all in bed together. We can’t let it escalate, and we have to find out why.”

“I for one would like to know how the Feebs tracked Jade and me down in Hell’s Kitchen.” Walker still looked ready to pounce on Kiki.

“And we’ll figure it out, Walker. But now is not the time for insider suspicion.” Blaize looked ready to blow a gasket.

I should’ve been concerned, but when she got all riled up that always meant smoking hot sex.

I almost wanted Walker to keep shooting off at the mouth.

Almost
.

“I didn’t have jack shit to do with whatever went down on your op, Walker.” Kiki got in on the action with her own verbal warfare. “And all I heard about it was you screwed up big time.”

Aaaand
so much for being civil.

I almost wished for the deadly days at the Blood Legion.

Not.

A low growl reverberated from Walker’s chest as he sneered at Kiki.

“This is how it’s going to happen.” Blaize’s strict tone commanded immediate attention. “We’re busting the Los Reyes de Guerra cartel. Bane. Kiki. You’re up next.”

Aaaand
cue the immediate rebellion.

“You what?”

“No way.”

“Shit. I’d rather be teamed up with Storm.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,
brah
.”

“If I have to keep reminding you I’m the boss here”—Blaize’s sharp eyes snapped furiously—“I’ll just fire you all and start up with new recruits.” She stepped out from behind the table and cruised around it. “But I like you. I respect you. I don’t think you want go back to working for the CIA or the military . . . or the fighting cage, Bane. Am I correct?”

Disgruntled mutters of
yes, ma’am
followed in her wake.

“Full briefing tomorrow, 0700 sharp. And I expect
everyone
to be here.”

Blaize turned her back, effectively dismissing us, but no one moved. Maybe Bane and Kiki were hoping she’d do a little
jazz hands
routine and shout
Just Kidding!