The Enforcer (9 page)

Watching her set her elbows on the sandbags, thumb off her safety and set her sights on the bulls eye at the other end of the field, Toby could see why she hadn
’t wanted to show off her skills. She really didn’t have any. Her form was bad. Her aim was off. But then again, she’d served with Mortuary Affairs units, not on front lines—at least not while a battle was raging.

Crack!
A chip of plywood went flying off the corner of the target, and Toby’s eyebrows shot up. Well, well, she’d actually hit the mark.

“
Bravo,” he called, applauding her effort and saving her from further embarrassment. “Well done.”

Her cheeks turned pink as she put her gun away and pushed wordlessly past him.

Later as the shooting progressed and his squad emerged victorious, he sensed her approving gaze on him and it ratcheted his self-awareness. Shooting doubled his testosterone levels. Firing in front of Dylan turned him on.  

But then she put him in charge of the ambush training and suddenly, he became too busy to notice her noticing him. Each NCO drilled his squad according to their role in the L-shaped ambush. Ackerman
’s squad practiced concealment and using alternate radio frequencies to communicate. Sergeant Lee’s squad practiced providing support fire, while Toby and Morrison’s squads enacted their role as the assault group.

Dylan neared Toby
’s group just as he was illustrating how to grapple a target into submission without causing bodily harm.

“
Sergeant Burke, I want you to take down the target on our first ambush,” she informed him when he rolled to his feet.

He just stared at her. So now
he
had to do the dirty work?

“
You already know how.” She gestured to the soldier whose face he had rubbed in the dirt. The man looked thoroughly humiliated. “It’ll save us time and ensure success.”

He was still mulling over the role foisted on him when the CPX ended. Collecting their packs, they formed loose lines and tramped back to the farmhouse to turn in their rifles. But then, instead of leaving, the soldiers toted coolers from their vehicles, and everyone flopped down in the front yard for a picnic, while June Lee served lemonade from a giant, glass dispenser.

Toby chugged down his drink while wishing it were a tall bottle of ice-cold lager. There were sixty-odd soldiers in the yard and not a single beer can in sight. Not only was Dylan the enforcer of her forefather’s liberties, but she was also, apparently, a prohibitionist.

If I weren
’t working undercover, I would be so gone, right now
. He’d had his fill of the militia life; he wanted to be a normal citizen again.

Thank God, tomorrow was his day off. Of course, he
’d have to rendezvous with his colleagues at the NCTC. But after that, he was going to his apartment to do laundry, kick back with a few beers and watch football. The prospect of looking up one of his regular playmates teased his imagination briefly.

But it was really Dylan who aroused him, he realized, watching her pick her way across the yard. She paused here and there to share a word with her soldiers, to lay a concerned hand on them. Strands of her hair had worked loose from her braid, framing her face in fiery tendrils that drew attention to her sweet smile. God, she was pretty when she smiled.

As loony as she was, it was hard to imagine her plotting Secretary Nolan’s demise. He’d found nothing yet to suggest her innocence or her guilt, which meant that his undercover job was far from over. He might have the day off tomorrow, but he’d be back tomorrow night for another whole week of insanity.

If he didn
’t want to be here a month or more, he needed to take this relationship to the next level, tonight.

***

With her back against her headboard, Dylan read from her Bible taking comfort in the words of Matthew. Out in the hallway, the bathroom door swung open, claiming her attention. Stealthy footfalls headed toward the attic, telling her that Tobias Burke was done showering. She’d left her door intentionally ajar, hoping to waylay him on his way to bed. “Sergeant Burke,” she called.

He filled her open door with his bare shoulders, and her mouth went dry. His chest was completely bare and breathtaking. He wore plaid pajama pants, and his hair was damp and spiked.

“Ma’am?”

“
Please, come in,” she requested, setting her Bible aside. She remained seated as he edged into the room. His ocean-blue gaze held hers captive. When he closed the door unexpectedly behind himself, her heart kicked into a gallop. She froze in astonishment.

“
What?” he asked as if he hadn’t just shut the door, giving them all kinds of privacy.

The lamp beside her bed cast just enough of a glow to highlight his raised pectorals and the rippling muscles of his flat abdomen. A mat of dark hair fanned between his dusky nipples, narrowing to a line that ran toward his naval, disappearing past the waistband of his low-slung sleep pants. Dylan
’s head swam. She’d forgotten what she even meant to tell him.

If you want to lean on me from time to time, that
’s okay, too.
The inference that he’d like to deepen intimacies kept her pinned to the bed like a fearful virgin, even as it brought a warm flush to the surface of her skin. Recalling his perfect kiss the other night, she found she had no desire to eject him from her room just yet.

“
You wanted to ask me something?” he prompted, looking completely at ease with himself.

She finally remembered what it was.
“You didn’t look pleased to be tasked with the take-down of the target. Is there something about the mission you object to?”

His faint smile disappeared. Thick lashes obscured his eyes for a moment as he glanced down at her threadbare rug.
“Not at all,” he said flatly.

He was lying. The concern that he might leave her militia after proving so useful propelled Dylan off the bed. Drawing her robe about her, she searched for loyalty in his dark-blue gaze as she approached him, but it was hard to concentrate on just his face with his chest so broad and bare, the dark thatch of hair so distracting.
“I hope you’re not questioning your decision to join the militia,” she said, revealing her sudden worry. 

“
Not at all,” he assured her, his gaze falling to the gaping edges of her pink velour robe.

“
Will you come to church with me tomorrow?” she pleaded. If anyone could inflame his willingness to battle injustice it was her priest, Father Nesbit.

Her question wrested Tobias
’s gaze upward. “What time?”

“
I like to attend the early service at oh-eight hundred.”

“
Hmmm.”

His less-than-enthusiastic answer made her wonder which he deplored more—the early hour on his day off or the destination. Did he not believe in God?

“Please,” she added, persuaded that his attendance would assure his commitment.

His sexy mouth quirked.
“Tell you what,” he said in a gruff voice that had an immediate tingly effect on Dylan’s nipples. “Why don’t you give me a reason to confess my sins, and then I’ll go?”

She was still making sense of his words when he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her gently but forcefully into his arms. Her indrawn breath filled her head with the scent of soap and clean man. His naked chest, like warm silk beneath her fingers, caused them to unfurl. As soon as her palms made contact, she longed to explore further. 

And that was her excuse for offering him her lips. His eyes glinted with triumph as he ducked his head. With little restraint, this time, he covered her mouth passionately, slipping his tongue between her welcoming lips, and conveying the determination to possess her completely.

Dylan
’s mind went blank. The worry of what it would cost to be caught fraternizing evaporated. The delectable feel of his lips melded to hers, his tongue delving, his aroused male flesh branding her thighs preoccupied her every thought. Desire pooled low in her belly spreading to her extremities like a drug, so that her body felt heavy, her head light.

The belt at her waist went slack, and cool air wafted up under her nightshirt as he gathered it in his hands. His palm, warm and slightly calloused, grazed her thigh, her hip, and her waist, drawing a trail of gooseflesh behind it. Her heart thudded in anticipation as he closed in on her left breast and gently palmed it. A moan escaped her as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a spark of pleasure both there and below. 

Her back hit the wall. At some point, Tobias had turned them around without her realizing. He pressed her against it, kissing her unceasingly. She buried her fingers in his thick, damp hair, responding to him mindlessly, only half-aware that his other hand had found its way beneath her gown. It breached the elastic waistband of her panties to rake the trimmed curls at the juncture of her thighs. She broke the kiss and gasped in surprise. “You shouldn’t.”

But he did. Gazing intently into her eyes, he slid a finger into the moist cleft within her curls, seeking the silky nectar seeping there and using it to coat the nub that swelled at his touch. She closed her eyes against a torrent of pleasure, her protest silenced. 

What they were doing was wrong, and yet, when she clutched his shoulders, it was only to draw him closer, not push him away. Dear Lord, how could something so illicit feel so good? Her thighs quivered, her chest heaved as tongues of pleasure lapped at her.

“
Let it happen, beautiful,” Burke whispered against her lips. Then he plundered her mouth with a kiss that mimicked the actions of his clever fingers, and…

Oh, God
. She had never been so conscious of her femininity, especially when he thrust a finger into her aching center, covering her mouth to absorb the cry that issued from her throat.

Yes!

He added a second digit and thrust again, using his thumb now to tease the pulsing knot that ruled her pleasure.

“Burke!”

He spoke against her lips.
“Call me Toby.” 

But she was unable to speak again. She came in a rush of pleasure so powerful and pure it brought tears to her eyes as she rode his thrusting fingers until the episode ended, right where it had begun.  

Tobias’s burning regard bespoke of a hunger that kept her heart beating irregularly. But, instead of pressing his advantage, he withdrew his hand reluctantly. A bittersweet smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.

“
Don’t look so horrified,” he said, straightening her nightshirt almost tenderly and retying the sash of her robe as she weaved on her feet, too overcome to speak. “Think of it this way. Now I
have
to go to church to repent for my sins.” He gave her his patented wink, dropped a lingering kiss on her slightly parted lips and let himself out of her room.

A second later, Dylan heard him climb the stairs to the attic. Still, she couldn
’t bring herself to move. She throbbed in places she hadn’t given a thought to in over a year. Her knees jittered. Despite what she knew she ought to do—banish that aberration from her mind forever—she relived every intimate detail of it, savoring every forbidden pleasure. 

Alive!

But then chagrin burned her face as she considered what an easy conquest she must have seemed.
I ought to be ashamed of myself.

Only, it wasn
’t shame that made her insides quiver. It was the unholy thought of Tobias possessing her with his entire body. With a moan, she covered her hot face with her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. Thank God she was headed to church tomorrow, so she could atone for her sins.

Toby lay back on his bedroll staring at the patches of moonlight as they floated across the attic’s eaves. He ought to be feeling smug at his accomplishment. He’d made Dylan Connelly orgasm in less than five minutes. And yet, despite his own throbbing hard-on, he felt strangely upset with himself.

What for? It wasn
’t as if he’d forced himself on her. Having read her subtle willingness, he’d taken decisive action, following his standard operating procedure:  arouse the target and then back off. The technique practically guaranteed that the woman made the next move. It had to be that way. Perceiving herself to be in control, she was likelier to share her secrets in a timely fashion, and he didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary.

Still… He felt mildly ashamed.

Initiating the information game had never bothered him before. Nor had it concerned him whether the women he’d seduced—mainly discontented housewives and girlfriends of small arms traffickers—found out that he’d used them to get to the truth because they’d all been tramps. Not one of them held a light to Dylan Connelly. 

Oh, shut the fuck up
, he told the poetic voice inside him.

The fact of the matter remained that he was here to do a job. Whatever it took to discover the truth, he would do it. He just couldn
’t help thinking what a hypocrite he’d be sitting in church with her tomorrow.