Wild Card (47 page)

Smooth pale thighs tensed. Swollen, hard-tipped breasts glistened in firelight. And he watched

as she took him. A little. Then pulled back. And watched with each downward stoke, then saw

the slick, heated syrup clinging to his cock as she lifted.

She took him slowly. Relishing every penetration, every stretch as her tight pussy enfolded

him. Released him.

He could feel the sweat beading his body, feel her nails digging into his chest. And he felt her

take him to the hilt on a long, slow downward motion of her body.

He felt the moment she lost herself in the pleasure, because he lost himself with her. He pulled

her to him, easing her onto him as she straddled him fully now, her knees on the floor, her back

arching.

His hands gripped her ass as she moved. Each thrust pushed him deep inside her as she did just

as she had promised. Rode him. With quick hard motions of her hips. Long slow shifts and

slides, then quick and hard again. His hips lifted to her, his hands covered her breasts, palmed

them, then as he felt her building, climbing to her pleasure, he let his fingers grip the hard little

points and apply just enough pressure to send her rocketing over the edge.

Noah felt himself unraveling. Staring at her face, the exquisite ecstasy, the sweat running in

rivulets down her neck, her breasts, he lost that last hold on reality. He poured himself into her,

pumping hard and deep, feeling his come spurting, jetting from the head of his cock as he

groaned her name and pulled her to him.

His lips on hers. His tongue licking her, tasting her, loving her.

Until the pleasure left her limp, exhausted. A drowsy little kitten against his chest. His Sabella.

When he could breathe again, when he could think, he turned, laid her back on the floor, and

pulled from her. She mumbled a protest as he grinned and lifted her into his arms.

He carried her to their bed, tucked her in then moved downstairs to smother the fire and close

the glass doors to the fireplace.

Naked, ravaged by her loving, he watched the glowing embers for long moments before

returning to her. She was sleeping. One arm thrown over her head, her left hand lying on her

stomach, atop the blanket. The wedding band winked back at him, mocking him.

She belonged to Nathan Malone. That wedding band reminded her of that. He knew why she

had put it back on again, to remind her where her heart belonged, even if another man did touch

her body.

He lay down, sliding beneath the blankets, watched her sleeping face and knew she was lost in

slumber.

He lifted her hand, kissed the ring he had slid on her finger eight years ago, and closed his eyes

against the pain rising inside him.

"Go síoraí." He whispered the vow against that little gold band, and felt the helpless, gaping

pain in his soul. "Forever, Sabella. Always yours. Forever."

He held her hand in his as he laid his head on the pillow beside her, and let sleep have him as

well.

He didn't see the tear that fell from the corner of her eye. He didn't see her lips move, see the

word "forever" pass the trembling curves. And he didn't understand, Sabella knew, that no

matter where he went, how hard he ran, that vow would always follow them both.

By Monday morning information was amassing. The team was called to the apartment over the

garage for a before-dawn meeting after Noah received another call from Jordan. Jordan was in

attendance with pictures transferred from the field laptop Travis was using above the ranch, as

well as satellite images obtained through a commercial satellite Tehya had managed to hijack

during the night.

There was definitely something going on at the Patrick ranch.

"We have Federal Judge Carl Clifford as well as Marshal Kevin Lyle in attendance." Jordan

pointed out the pictures Travis Caine had taken from his vantage point above the Patrick ranch

house. "We also have several other ranch owners in attendance." Several other pictures snapped

into view. Grant Malone wasn't one of those ranch owners.

Noah didn't let himself feel a sense of relief that Grant wasn't there. At this point, he was

finished with the man who should have been his father.

"We also have this."

This was a picture of a black van parked behind the house. A figure was being dragged from

the vehicle by two cowboys. The face was covered by black material, hands bound.

"Chuck Leon," Noah stated. "Our missing mechanic."

"Try our missing undercover FBI agent," Jordan snorted.

"He was a lower-level member of the militia, working his way up the ranks. He's been in the

area for over six years. Kept a low profile, worked a few of the ranches. His cover was blown

two days ago and no one knows how. We have a leak between here and Washington, and we

can't tap it, we can't find it. It's like a disease, and it's starting to piss me off."

Jordan's expression was brutal.

"Four FBI agents, all using completely different undercover identities," John Vincent pointed

out, his steely gray eyes flickering between the men in the team. "It's not a leak you have, it's a

rather good eye."

Noah slid the other man a curious look.

Dressed in camo pants and an olive green T-shirt, Vincent leaned forward in his chair and

tapped at the pictures of the four agents. "College student, car salesman, pharmacist, and

mechanic. Those were their covers. They were all in different areas, in different jobs, but all

those jobs were public rein some manner. Now, I don't know 'bout you blokes, but I can smell

an agent, foreign or otherwise, a mile off. Your mechanic was better than most." He nodded to

Noah. "But we all suspected him as a plant. He had that feel, that air of an agent that only

another agent or trained eye would recognize." He tilted his sandy blond hair and stared at the

pictures. "Are we certain the sheriff's clean?"

"The sheriff is clean. We know it." Jordan nodded. "Then you have someone else. An officer on the police force, a deputy or other law enforcement agent with the training that would allow

him to identify your agents. It takes a special eye, you know that. Grayson has that eye. I know

damned well he does because every time he sees one of us he gets that cop look in his eye and

starts trying to figure out the puzzle."

Noah scratched at his beard as he rose from the couch and paced the living room. "Grayson's

clear, so who does that leave us with?"

He turned back to the other men. There were no answers.

"It has to be a resident. Someone who's come in contact with these agents between here and

Houston."

"A needle in a haystack," Nik quipped before turning to Jordan. "Are we rescuing Mr. Leon?"

Anticipation filled the Russian's large face.

"At this time, we're watching." Jordan's expression cleared, his eyes went hard. "They don't just kill, they hunt. Let's see if they take him out to hunt."

Months of training in preparation just for this tightened Noah's body. They had practiced being

the hunted. All of them. Playing intricate games of cat and mouse, flee and evade, working

together to give the illusion of one target as they circled around the SEAL members playing the

hunters to take them out. Not that taking out Reno Chavez's SEAL team had been easy. Their

success rate with those men had been dismal.

But Gaylen Patrick and his little hunting party weren't a SEAL team prepared for them.

"Stay on alert." Jordan began gathering his equipment together and storing it in the leather case he had carried with him. "When they move with Leon, we move."

Noah crossed his arms over his chest as he paced into the kitchen, his mind working through

probables. He couldn't get the information out of his head now. Something wasn't sliding into

its proper slot, and he couldn't figure out why.

"We're certain Grayson is clean?" He turned back to Jordan with the question.

"As certain as we can be." Jordan nodded. "We have his office bugged, Tehya's been running through the tapes. The man is ready to pull his own head off trying to figure this out. He knows

there's someone, somewhere, leaking information. He just can't tag the leak or where it's

coming from."

"It's someone close," Noah growled. "The in this little setup has to be someone we're

overlooking. Someone the mechanic was in contact with as well."

"If you figure it out, we're ready to roll." Jordan shrugged. "Until then, all we can do is play what we have."

Jordan looked outside to the faint rays of light edging through the darkness. "We better clear

out and get in position."

The last thing they needed was for all of them to be in the apartment at the same time. As

Jordan, John, and Micah slipped from the garage, Noah turned back to Nik.

The Russian was slumped back in his chair, his icy eyes narrowed as he watched Noah pace.

"You feel it, don't you?" Nik growled. "Shit's going to explode."

Noah heaved a hard sigh. "Yeah, shit's going to fly when it hits. Do you have everything laid in

place?"

Nik nodded to that. It was their own plan. A series of weapons and equipment placed in

strategic locations in the mountains where they had known several hunts had taken place.

They were both carrying deactivated trackers in the buckles of their belts, and the

technologically advanced night vision contacts they had procured from another source. That

particular toy hadn't even made it into military testing in the three years they had been in

research.

"And your woman?" Nik asked.

Noah looked at him from the corner of his eye. "I have her covered."

Rory was all the backup he had, but Nik didn't have to know that.

Nik grinned at his answer but nodded as he rose from his seat. Noah went to the door of the

apartment, stepped outside, and checked the area before heading down the steps and making his

way back to the house.

The lights were on in the kitchen. Sabella would have coffee waiting. As he entered through the

back door, the past flooded him like a tidal wave, momentarily washing away everything but

the memories.

Sabella, wrapped in nothing but a robe, making biscuits. Bacon was frying on the stove, water

was boiling for the grits. Eggs were set out on the counter and her smile was still tinged with

sleep as she looked at him.

She was rumpled, sexy, and cooking breakfast. Here was one of the few glimpses he had been

given of the woman who had shared his life. The woman who held his soul.

"You already showered." She pouted back at him. "I guess that means you intend to work?"

Noah let a smile curve his lips as he advanced toward to her. He turned off the bacon, jerked

his belt loose as he turned to her, and pushed the bowl of flour out of the way.

Surprise widened her eyes as he gripped her waist, lifted her to the little work island, and

stepped between her thighs then unzipped his jeans and drew his raging erection from the

opening.

"Noah, are you crazy?" She laughed, aroused and excited. He could smell the excitement on

her. As he spread her thighs and glimpsed the shimmering sweetness between them, he could

see her excitement.

He lowered his head and ran his tongue through her pussy. She tasted like a lazy summer

morning. Like a fire in winter. Like all the dreams he told himself could never be. She was his

oasis in the middle of hell, and he needed her again. Right now.

He circled the straining bud of her clit, wrapped his lips around it, and stared up at her face as

she leaned back, propping her tiny feet easily on his shoulders and arching into his intimate

kiss.

He circled the straining bud with his tongue, rasped it, sucked it and watched her, heard her as

she arched to him and came undone.

As the little orgasm rushed through her, trembled through her pussy, he straightened, gripped

the base of his cock in his hand, and positioned himself before plunging inside her.

"Noah." She screamed his name.

Sabella felt the incredible pleasure stealing through her again. It worked over her nerve

endings, the burning stretch between her thighs echoing through her body as she fought to hold

on to her senses.

She gripped the edge of the work center, her legs falling over his arms as he held her hips and

pulled her closer.

There were few preliminaries, and she didn't need them.

She had been ready for him when she awoke alone, missing him. Desperate for one more

touch, one more kiss, before she had to face whatever she could feel coming.

"Damn you. You're tight as a vise around me," he groaned, leaning to her, his lips feathering

over hers. "Like fire and ecstasy together."

She panted as her body adjusted to the invasion. Taking him, all at once, was pleasure and pain,

it was an inferno of sensations she couldn't grasp or make sense of as she felt herself flying to

the edge of release. Her hands tunneled into his hair, holding his lips to hers as they made love

with their mouths, their tongues. As they moved and thrust against each other, pleasure tearing

through them, almost violent, tinged with desperation as she moaned into his kiss and fought

for more.

Then he was giving her more. Moving between her thighs, plunging into her, taking her over

that edge and filling her mind with a rainbow of colors as their release exploded into and

around each other.