Viper: A Hitman Romance (10 page)

Then, my thoughts fly out my head, as I'm overwhelmed by the sensation of his hungry lips on mine.

The smell of smoke and his scent fills my nostrils and I moan as he kisses down my neck to nip lightly at my collarbone.

I bite his ear hard enough to make him growl and he roughly slides the straps of my dress off my shoulders.  I bite his ear again as he frees one of my breasts, cupping it before teasing the edge of my areola with his tongue.  I shiver as he takes my nipple in his mouth and flicks it with his tongue.

I bite his earlobe again.

“You want it rough?” he growls at me.

I slide my hands around from his back to the front of his chest, working at the buttons to his shirt one by one.

“I want
all
of you
,”
I reply, smiling as I undo the last of his buttons and free his bare, muscled chest.

I reach for his belt.

And he takes my hands and twists them behind my back.

“You're still
my
captive, remember?”

“Oh?” I say, and I can't look away from the mischief and passion that's burning behind his eyes.

He slides his belt off and gives it a loud snap.

“That means,
I'm
in control.”

He yanks my hands forward and quickly binds them with his belt.

“But trust me, I'm good to my captives.”

Those same hands that just seconds ago pulled me forward to tie me up, are now pushing me back against the door of his car.  And then pulling my panties off.  I shift my hips, doing my part to help hitch my dress up.  I know what he wants.  And I want it too.

The first kiss on my thigh sends a shiver up my spine. 

The second kiss, just a bit higher at the junction of my hip and thigh, makes me sigh.

The third kiss, just an inch away from my aching pussy, has me saying “Please.”

The fourth kiss makes me moan.

The fifth makes me shut my eyes and struggle against my bonds.

I'm dying to break free already.  I want to run my hands over every inch of his muscles, I want to knot my fingers in his hair.

I want.  I
need
every inch of this man.

His tongue caresses my labia, a gentle tease around the edges that slowly gets firmer, that slowly pushes me closer to the brink.

A gentle glancing brush against my clit makes me start.  A shock runs through my body, I'm so sensitive to his touch, and my legs clamp tight around his head.

He looks up at me and chuckles.  “I told you I'm kind to my captives.”

“Stop talking.  Your tongue has better things to do.”

“Is that so?” he says, and then his tongue is on me again, running one long slow lick up my pussy until it's hovering just a millimeter from my clit and I feel every nerve in my body firing and begging for him.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

We lock eyes.

“Please make me come.”

My words cut off in a moan as his lips wrap around my clit, pulling on it with a gentle suck, while his tongue starts a gentle rhythm that has me shaking. 

I feel this tension and tightness and need building between my legs and every inch of me is growing hot.  Every lick pushes me closer, and I'm a shivering, shaking mess as his hands wander up my body, caressing me from my toes to my tits.

“Holy fucking –“ I start to say, but my voice just shuts off as I explode.

My legs clamp on his face like a vice and I hold him there, buried face-first in my pussy, as I come. 

I'm a shaking wet mess.

And I want more.

“Fuck me.  Please, fuck me,” I beg.

I'm still on cloud nine, but I know I'm not going to be complete until he's inside me.

His pants slide off and his cock is at full attention.  That big, throbbing cock is just calling my name.  I grab him with my bound hands and I push him back against the seat.  He's sitting down like a passenger as I slide up and over and start to ride him.

Out the back window, I can see that same mom from before.  She's got the same angry expression on her face and she knows what's going on.

I smile at her and flip her a double bird.

Then I turn back to Ryker.

I lock my lips on his and shiver as he gives me a hard slap on the ass.  I writhe and grind on his cock and explore his mouth with my tongue.  He's so deep inside me, I can't tell where I end and he begins.

“Harder,” I beg.

I want all of him.  I want more.

He lifts me up and swivels me around, and I have my face against the passenger side window and my ass back and presented to him, with one knee on the back seat and the other leg standing on the floor.

It's cramped, it's tight, and when he fills me from behind, it's bliss.

He smacks my ass again and I yelp.  I yelp loud enough that I know that angry mom who's probably still watching in the parking lot can hear.

His breathing starts to pick up, fast and deep and I can tell he's ready to pop and I want that.  I want to feel him let himself go inside of me.  I push myself back against him, rocking my hips and putting every bit of my body into getting him over the edge.  A deep, low rumble and then a gasp erupts from him and then his hands dig into my hips and I feel him twitching inside me, filling m, and I shiver because it feels so
fucking good
.

I savor every moment.  Every twitch, every drop, all of it.

I look back over my shoulder to see him smiling, his eyes half-closed.

“Jessica Roan,” he says, his voice almost breathless.  “I've been all around the world, I've seen many beautiful things, but none of them can hold a candle to you.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

RYKER

It's Monday.  Day of the break-in.

I have a job to do and a life to leave behind.

The night before, I spent the time reviewing my mission, my target, getting every bit of information about FBI headquarters out of Jessica, and then fucking her senseless.

It's the day of Kylie's recital, too.

I know there's only one of those I can go to.  Just seeing Kylie yesterday hammered that home.

I have to finish this.  For her.  She's given me purpose.  She's why I do what I do.

Jessica and I are in the parking lot of federal building and, thanks to her help, I have a mental map of the FBI's offices.  I know where the flash drive is going to be, I have access codes, I have passwords, and I have the replacement flash drive in my pocket.

Rock and fucking roll.

I'm wearing my best suit.  It's handmade, Italian, and worth more than any federal agent makes in three months.  I call it my 'Fuck you' suit, because it's so goddamned ostentatious that it makes even
me
sick thinking about how much it cost.  Its the kind of suit that's going to make some sorry front desk worker shit themselves when they see me.

It also means that no one's going to question me being there, because there's only one type of person who wears this suit: rich, asshole lawyers.  The kind that represent mobsters and tax-evading CEOs.

Today, I'm playing the part of a lawyer.  A very, very expensive lawyer.  The kind the hell-raisers hire when they need to spit in the law's face.  I'm going to walk right into the federal building and thumb my nose at all their security.

"Are you ready?"

I can hear the tension in Jessica's voice.  And I'm amazed there's any tension there at all.  I thought I'd fucked it all out of her last night. 

I nod.

"Give me your phone," I say, and she does right away.  I program my number in there, the same number I've given to Kylie.  "Anything goes wrong, you call me, ok?  This goes right to my emergency phone."

She takes her phone back.  "Got it."

"There's just one other thing I need you to do," I say.  I pull a small, sealed envelope out of my pocket and hand it over to her.  "I need you to go to Roosevelt Elementary tonight.  Find Kylie, and give her this.  Let her know that I want more than anything to be there."

Jessica nods, and I give her the keys to my Jag.  She drives off and I'm left alone in the parking lot.

It's morning.

It's time.

I walk with purpose.

The cavernous lobby echoes with the clack of my leather shoes against the tile floor.  A tired security guard —  'Phil' by his nametag — looks up at me.

"Can I help you?"  His voice is exhausted and bored and it's only 9 AM.  This is a man who hates his life.

I roll my eyes and let out an impatient sigh, like this guard is a bug that I wouldn't even bother to step on because it would dirty my incredibly expensive Italian leather shoes. 

"I doubt it.  I'm Michael Goldstein, here on behalf of my client, Giovanni Tucci and his appeal with immigration."

Phil isn't hearing a word that I'm saying.  He just gestures to a clipboard.  "Sign here, please."

I sign my name.

My destination is actually Immigration.  They are a small part of the floor that houses the main FBI field offices.  But I'm not headed inside.  There's a bank of maintenance closets separating Immigration from the FBI offices.  They're barely watched, they're crowded, and, according to Jessica, occasionally interns will hide there for a little covert stress relief with their coworkers.

It's the perfect place to hide.

The first closet I come to is empty.  Stepping inside, I remove one of the ceiling panels and climb up, and then slide the panel in place.

Time to wait.

I once spent two days, motionless, in a blind in the Angolan jungle, waiting for one perfect shot.  Twelve hours until this government building shuts down for the night will be a piece of cake.

Time comes and goes.

I check my watch.  It's well past nine.

According to Jessica, even the most dedicated evidence analysts head home by eight.  Aside from the security patrols at regular twenty-minute intervals, I'll have the evidence offices to myself.

I take a handkerchief from my pocket and tie it over my face.  Then I slip on some gloves.  I've not made it this far in the business only to have my picture wind up on some wanted list just as I'm about to get out.

It's a cakewalk to time the guard's patrol, and then use that window to stroll right into the offices of the FBI.  I keep an eye out for the cameras — I know I can't avoid them all, but I can do enough that unless whoever's watching is paying absolute attention, they won't notice me.

And if Phil was any indication, these guards aren't too serious about their job.

It takes me ten minutes to find the drive.  It's sitting in a box of evidence labeled 'Unprocessed – DraxCorp – 2 of 8', in a neat little baggie.  I swap it out.

Which means I have ten more minutes to celebrate before the guard makes another loop and I make my escape.  Independence is in my gloved hands and it feels good.

So good, in fact, that I take the next five minutes to stroll into the FBI regional directors office, case his desk, and help myself to a glass of fine bourbon that I find in a decanter in his top drawer.  Freedom tastes like vanilla, caramel, and oak, and smells like honeysuckle and spice.

I pour a second glass of freedom. 

In my head, I've turned over the flash drive, flipped the bird to Michael Drax, and I'm at the airport, on the first plane heading towards the Florida keys. 

I'm going to buy a beach house in Key Largo.  I'll buy one that needs some repairs so I can spent the next few months working with my hands.  I'm going to pick up surfing again, maybe tend bar at some wayside tiki bar for tourists, and then I'm going to have my daughter out for a visit.

Everything is falling into place.  The guard makes his loop, I nip at his heels, and each time sneak my way a little bit lower in the building. After three more times, I'm on the ground floor, sneaking up behind the front desk guard.  I slip my forearm over his throat and choke him senseless.

His keys in hand, I unlock the front door, and step on out into the parking lot.

I'm so close to freedom I could scream.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JESSICA

It's six at night and I'm sitting by myself in a school auditorium that is just packed with doting and helicoptering parents.  I've spent the entire day doing everything I can to occupy my mind and keep myself from thinking about just what is going on at the FBI offices right now.  I have total faith in Ryker; I've given him every single scrap of information about the offices and how to get inside, and if he's even half as good as I know him to be, he'll do just fine.

But his mission isn't the only thing that I'm trying not to think about.  There's also the matter of what comes after. 

We're so close to the end that I'm wondering: does Ryker just get to enter into my life, upend everything, and then disappear like a ghost?  That's where the smart money would be.  And that's what it sounds like his plan is.

I'm an analyst, it's my job to put two and two together, and he's given every impression that he won't be sticking around.  And it kills me.  Knowing that a man that I've connected with on a deep level — even though it started out as a nightmare — is going to just disappear.  It isn't fair.

But if he's going to do that, why send me to his daughter's talent show?

The man basically set me free, and took a huge leap of faith in trusting me to come here to support his daughter.  Does that mean there's more in store for him and I?  Or is his daughter so important to him, that he'd do whatever he could to make sure she feels taken care of?

Anyways, I'm so lost in my head that I miss most of the actual talent show.  And I still can't see Kylie anywhere in this auditorium, which is strange.  There's only three more acts until she's up, she should be here.

It's in the middle of some kid's dance routine that I finally spot her.  She's in a side hallway just off the auditorium, pacing back and forth.

"Kylie," I call out, catching up to her.

She turns around.  Recognition dawns on her and she smiles at me.

"Hey Jessica.  Is my dad with you?  Is he going to watch me perform?"  She sounds so hopeful. 

"I'm sorry, Kylie.  He wishes he could be here, but he couldn't make it.  He's back undercover," I say.  I take the envelope out of my pocket and hold it out to her.  "He sent me instead.  And he wanted me to give you this."

She takes it from me and opens it.  Inside is the picture of Ryker and Eleanor on the beach, all smiles and holding their surfboards.

"Who's this?" Eleanor asks, quizzically.

I kneel down, getting myself on her level and I place my hands on her shoulders. 

"That's your dad and your mom.  Way back when they first met.  That's the only picture of her that he has.  He told me to give it to you because he wants you to know that even though he's not here tonight, you are the most important person in the world to him.  He's thinking about you, and he really can't wait until he can be a part of your life."

Those might not be Ryker's words, but, even I can see by the way he acts around her that she's the brightest thing in his life.

And, by the way Kyle's beaming, she
gets
it.  She's holding that photograph like it's as delicate as a Faberge egg.

"I've never seen her, before.  And dad never really talks about her.  But she's pretty."

I hug her.

Then, Kylie looks from the picture back to me.  "That's not exactly true.  I know a couple things.  I know she was murdered."

"Who told you that?"

"Uncle Rick.  Dad told me mom died, but not how… so… One day, I asked.  Uncle Rick didn't want to tell me at first, but eventually, he did…  Not much, but enough," she says by way of explanation.

"I'm sorry, Kylie.  Your father has a lot that he wants to tell you.  And I know that once his undercover work is over, he is looking forward to spending a lot of time with you."

"He likes you, you know," she says, after a short silence.

"What do you mean?"

She shrugs.  "Jessica, I might be only nine years old, but I'm not blind.  He's had other girlfriends.  I know.  He left his phone unlocked once.  I've seen the texts.  But you're the first one I've met."

Now it's my turn to beam.  I feel like it's freshman year and I've just heard that the star quarterback is crushing on me.  Only this star quarterback is the most lethal, stunning, jaw-dropping specimen of man ever to grace this green earth.  This man twists my stomach in knots and makes my body clench and quiver in ways I've never dreamed of.

Thinking that he might feel for me the same way I feel for him is overwhelming. 

I want to respond, but a voice is calling "Kylie!  You're up next after Brittany!" and Kylie is dashing off down the hallway to stage entrance after giving me a rushed "goodbye".

I find my way back to the stage.  I even sing along — quietly — to Brittany's rendition of Taylor Swift's "You Belong with Me".  And when Kylie comes on for her magic act, I'm the loudest one in the room.

The show ends.  Her and I share a quick wave before I sprint out to the parking lot.  There's somewhere very important I have to be and someone very important I need to be with.