The Mercenary (12 page)

sweet-smelling grass above her head.

“Marc?” she whispered.

He stared into her eyes, the tendons in his neck rigid as he groaned through clenched teeth. “God,

you’re wonderfully responsive.” Again his fingers moved inside her, creating a tension that had her

moving restlessly, hungrily, against his hand.

She bit her lip as he moved his hands around her to pull her more tightly against him.

Her hand tangled in

his hair. It felt silky smooth as it skimmed his broad tanned shoulders. A wash of intense emotion gripped

her—she wanted to absorb him totally. Parting her lips, she drew in a ragged breath.

Marc rocked his hips against hers. Her body felt swollen and ready to burst as he kept up the steady

rhythm.

“Please…” She tightened her fingers in his hair. “Oh, please. I…need you…inside.” He ground the rock-hard ridge of his arousal against her pelvic bone again and again.

“You’re not

ready.”

Not ready? Feelings she had no control over shimmered through her body. Her cry, as she climaxed,

ricocheted against the cave walls and echoed deep inside her.

Dimly she heard Marc whisper her name as he entered her. The pain was brief, her need greater. Tory

wrapped her legs around his waist, thinking she would die of pleasure. She rose and fell with him as he

moved in and out in a maddening rhythm that had her moaning his name.

Her mouth open, wild for his kisses, Tory dug her nails into his back. His hands came down to cup her

bottom, lifting her so he could thrust more deeply inside her. Tory caught the edge of the wave, her hips

countering his until he stiffened, and with a final thrust, carried them both over the top of a tidal wave.

Tory wrapped her arm around his sweat-drenched back and felt the muscles tense as she held him. She

welcomed the heavy weight sprawled on top of her as she struggled to regulate her breathing. She could

hear water dripping somewhere in the cave. Marc’s breath tickled the side of her neck, cooling her hot

skin.

A lump formed in her throat as she caressed his skin, exploring first one ridge of scars, then another. She

tried to soothe those long-ago hurts. Emotionally drained as his weight pressed her into the soft sand, she

closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep to avoid the cold look he’d give her once he realized what he’d

done. Slept with Alex’s sister.

Marc was livid. What a dammed idiotic thing for him to have done. He stood, looking down at her,

sprawled seductively against the sand and emerald ground cover.

He scrubbed his eyes and then dropped his hand when he smelled her there. “Damn.” Tossing the other blanket over her tempting body, he poured a cup of water and drained it. He’d hauled

her unwilling ass here to find her brother. Her brother—his friend. Having sex with her was against the

friend code, the T-FLAC operations code, and his own code of ethics. She was a civilian

—yet another

code, damn it!

Marc rose and pulled on his briefs, keeping his gaze firmly averted from the woman pretending to be

asleep. He was dying for a cigarette and he didn’t even smoke.

What in the hell was going on here? His training made it possible for him to clear his mind of the sexual

fog, although to his annoyance it wasn’t that easy.

T-FLAC had been after the terrorist group called Spider for more than seven years. Only after Lynx had

gone in undercover had they discovered that two men ran the organization—Samuel Hoag and Christoph

Ragno.

Hoag had appeared out of nowhere. No one knew anything about him.

The Spider group was into any illegal activity that offered a quick profit. From Prague to Pretoria the

group was small and almost invisible.

But not invincible.

T-FLAC intel had showed that Ragno was a ruthless psychopath. He had been a drug dealer in South

America when he’d disappeared several years ago. Before Marc’s early retirement he’d been hot on the

son of a bitch’s trail. In the course of his investigation into Ragno’s operation he’d captured a dozen of

the tango’s key people.

Ragno and T-FLAC had been on each other’s hit list for years.

Marc thought about it. Once the tangos connected Lynx to Phantom, they had set the trap. Made sure

that the mutilated body of the T-FLAC operative was found by the right people.

There were only three people who knew who Phantom was. Himself, Lynx, and now Victoria Jones.

He’d recruited Lynx himself. He’d trained him, and Marc knew without a doubt that nothing, up to and

including death, would make his operative turn.

Victoria Jones, on the other hand, had been on the island for two weeks. She was bright enough to have

taken what her brother had told her in his letter and with some intelligent thought come up with something

damn close to the truth. It wouldn’t have taken much for Spider’s henchmen to breakher.

Whether she’d

meant to or not, there was a good possibility that Tory had given Spider exactly what they wanted—

Him.

Marc picked up the Uzi and headed outside. Heavy rain poured from a charcoal-gray sky. The air

smelled fresh and clean. Resting the weapon on his drawn-up leg, he gazed out across the open expanse

of rain-tossed ocean. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought with his balls. He ground his teeth

and fingered the trigger of the Uzi.

Angry with himself for succumbing to his desire for her, he wanted to let go and spray the rain with

bullets. One of those Alpha male efforts in futility. He wanted someone to come around that corner so

that he could pound his fist into their bones and feel their flesh split.

The scent of Victoria Jones had seeped into the membrane of his nostrils, blocking out the smell of

ozone. Blocking out common sense. This was not good, not good at all. He had to make sure this didn’t

happen again. Thinking about her was going to get him killed if he didn’t start using a more rational part

of his anatomy.

Just how far would she go to save her brother? Stupid question. She’d do anything to ensure his safety.

Just for a moment there, when he’d looked down into those clear green eyes, just before he’d buried

himself in the warmth of her body, he’d felt a flicker of emotion. Which just went to show what an idiot

he was.

What he had to do was confront her, not screw her. They would both be safer that way.

She was

already nervous as hell around him, hell, he’d done everything he could to scare her back in Montana.

Why wouldn’t she be scared of him? Fine. If he made her nervous she’d back off if he made another

advance…

Damn. He rubbed his hand over his face. He was putting the onus of abstinence on the shoulders of the

very woman whose body he lusted after. He’d lost his frigging mind.

He heard her coming long before she spoke.

“What are you doing out here?”

She was wearing one of his black T-shirts which hit her midthigh and left the mouthwatering length of her

pale slender legs bare. He knew damn well she was naked underneath. Her small breasts molded the thin

cotton. He steeled himself. This was do-or-die time. He pressed the ugly mouth of the gun between her

breasts.

Tory’s eyes widened. The delectable, pale pink lips curved into a tentative smile. “I’m sorry,” she

whispered huskily. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Marc hardened his heart and forced the rest of his body to relax. “You scare me, all right, honey, but not

in the way you think.” He lowered the Uzi. He turned away to look out at the churning ocean. He felt her

tentative touch on his bare arm and shrugged it away. “Go back to camp.”

“Are you coming to bed soon?”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” His voice was flat. “I’ve had my sex for tonight.” Marc hitched his bare foot on

the rock behind him and rested the gun on his knee.

She frowned, confused. “Wh—why?”

He could give her a long list of nasty answers. “Spit it out, honey.” A wave shot thirty feet in the air in a

burst of white spume. “Why what?”

“Why are you talking to me like this?”

Marc turned to look at her. There was a crease of confusion between her brows and she was biting her

lower lip.Make it good, pal. “You think because I took your virginity I should give you a promise and a

ring? Get a life, lady. Sex is sex.”

Her hand flashed out with surprising speed, connecting with his cheek. His face stung.

He deserved a

hell of a lot more than a slap on the cheek from her. He narrowed his eyes and gave her his meanest, get

the fuck out of my way look. “Don’t ever hit unless you expect to be hit back.” He kept his eyes cold

“You seem to be under the mistaken belief that I’m a gentleman. I’m not.”

“No one,” Tory countered, “would ever mistake you for anything other than what you are.” Her cheeks

flamed with obvious fury. “You’re hard and cruel and a…a bully. Why don’t you go ahead and hit me

back? Maybe it would make you feel more like a man.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he said tightly, leaning against the rock, the marks of her fingers a burning brand on

his face.

“You’re despicable.” He saw the way her hand trembled as she suddenly realized that he was aroused.

Her eyes shot from his erection to his face and stayed there, her cheeks scarlet.

“Despicable? Lady, you ain’t seen nothing yet.” He laughed unpleasantly.Tell me what a prick I am, and

walk away Victoria Jones ex-virgin. Just fucking walk away while the going is good.

Her eyes flashed,

and her soft pink lips, still slightly swollen from his kisses, tightened. He rubbed at the raised scar on his

shoulder—just to remind himself.

Then she made the fatal mistake of tilting her chin at him. With a smoothness that belied his jerking pulse,

he pulled her hard against him. “You liked it.” He looked down at her tense face. “Is that it, baby? You

want more?” He trailed his hand down the damp satin of her hair, pulling her hips into the cradle of his

own with a jerk that caught her off balance.

He kissed her hard, roughly forcing her mouth open and thrusting his tongue into the remembered

sweetness. She tried to close her mouth and he used his free hand to squeeze her jaw.

The other hand

pressed her more tightly against his arousal.

“Like that? Is this what you want? Does it turn you on to know that just looking at you makes me hard?”

Kick me in the nuts, damn it.Where the hell was her self-preservation? She struggled in his arms.

“Let…me…go!”

He let her go with a suddenness that surprised them both. She rubbed her arm over her swollen mouth

and glared at him. “Don’t ever come near me again—except to save my brother, which was my focus

and the reason you dragged me here in the first place.” Her voice was rock steady.

The fact that she was behaving exactly as he wanted her to pissed him off. Christ. She was turning him

into an emotional pretzel. Marc picked up the gun he’d dropped and pulled out the clip to check for

sand. He looked at her over his shoulder. “Was it worth losing your virginity to save your precious

brother?” The metallic clink as he snapped the clip back couldn’t smother the sound of her gasp.

“It wasn’t like that,” she said furiously, stepping toward him.

Anger and resentment flared through him—how easily she got under his skin and past his defenses. “I’ll

give you ten seconds to get your butt back to camp.” He said it coldly, his gaze running the length of her

legs, then lifting to focus on the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.

“All I want to know—”

“Three.”

“—is why you’re—”

“Four.”

“Stop count—”

“Five.”

“Stop doing that! Tell me what I—”

“Seven. Eight. Nine. Go!” Marc cocked the gun and pointed it at her heart. She wasn’t afraid of the

damned gun, but her eyes widened as she saw what was in his eyes.

She ran.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SHAKING WITH THE RUSHof adrenaline, Tory pulled on bra, panties and borrowed clothes with

jerky movements. If she had a flak vest she would have pulled that on, too. Her teeth were clenched so

hard her jaw hurt. Anger, confusion and embarrassment made her stomach churn.

“Don’t yell at me, you—you…Neanderthal!” She was pretty brave when there wasn’t anyone listening.

She wasn’t used to being yelled at. Other than on the subject of Alex, there’d never been an argument in

her home. Certainly there’d never been a raised voice, never a clash of opinion. A shy, quiet child to

begin with, she’d been so afraid her grandmother would send her away as she’d done with Alex, that

Tory had toed the line with no complaint. Even to herself.

As for being touched,she thought with annoyance.Touched? Marc Savin didn’t justtouch. He

manhandled. He grabbed, he stroked, he fondled. The man put his big hands on her whenever he felt the

urge, and she resented him for it. Especially if he was going to react likethat about it afterward.

She had no frame of reference, but their lovemaking had been nothing short of spectacular. Apparently it

had only been spectacular forher . “Rude, irrational…jerk.” Her wrist ached. Her ribs hurt. But the most uncomfortable injury was her bruised ego.

And she guessed

her arm would heal long before her heart knitted back to normal. She tried to rationalize his sudden

anger. After thirty seconds she gave up. It made no sense whatsoever. Not only did it not make sense

after what they’d shared, there was no point trying to interpret the male mind.