Bane: Elite Operatives (Bad Boys of X-Ops Book 4) (3 page)

Rack-Ops or Maybe Not

THAT UNFAILING ERECTION KIKI gave me? Woke me up several hours later. Or maybe it was the sex-noise coming from the cubicle adjoining ours.

Goddamn Storm and boss lady Blaize.

Never would’ve pegged Miss Carmichael for a screamer but ho-lee shit. The wails that came out of her made me wonder if she was getting nailed good and hard or about to be split in two.

I didn’t really want to think about Blaize like that—my wicked thoughts centered around Kiki—but
goddamn
.

Were they trying to smash the cot to smithereens?

Just then I heard a blistering creak, a groaning sound of splintering metal.

Yep.

Done broke their cot.

Shoving up from my pallet, I dragged on some clothes and hit the door.

Justice peered out from his tiny two-roomer across the way. “Incoming?”

“Not with your security measures.”

“Storm and Blaize again?”

Their door opened, and Storm stood front and center, holding his discarded jeans in front of himself, deep breaths gusting from his sweaty chest.

And his hair stood all on end.

“Sorry ’bout that.” He pointed backward. “We were doing a little room reorganization?”

“Whatever.” I pushed him back. “Get out of my face, fucknut.”

Jus smirked. “Can’t believe you two like each other again.
Twilight Zone
shit.”

I hit him with a rare smile. “That Rod Serling. Now
that
was some damn good shit.”

“You are so out of touch, Bane.”

“And you’re such a pretty boy, Jus.”

His goodnight? The ever-popular giant middle finger.

Whatever
.

I continued through the interconnected rooms of the warehouse, making a point to check in on Walker. He was spending time in la-la land c/o our good friend morphine. I pulled out my burner and texted Jade a quick update on her hubs.

She immediately pinged back and asked about Kiki, because she was all up with the T-Zone gossip.

I had no comment, other than I wanted to get the new woman beneath me, but that probably wasn’t a possibility—or wise at all—given my super-secret motherfucking orders.

I hit the digits on the keypad for the back entrance of the building and stepped outside. A cool night. The bright halogen lights haloing over acres of empty tarmac.

Cigarette in hand, I lit up. Inhaled. Exhaled. Rolled my neck.

Kiki peeked her head out the door. “Mind if I join?”

“Not at all.” I shoved over a couple feet, holding the pack of smokes out to her.

“Don’t smoke. But I sure could use a drink.”

She stepped beside me in combat boots flapping open and sweats with a hoodie on top, the black sweatshirt covered in white skulls and crossbones.

She’d wound her hair on top of her head, showing the shaved sides until she shrugged the hood up, all but covering her features.

“I’ve got a bottle in the room,” I said, mashing the cig underfoot.

“
Ugh
. Don’t know if I can go back in there right now.”

“Storm and Blaize going at it again?”

“
Jesus.
Yes.”

“But Blaize likes you.”

“I like her too. Doesn’t mean I want to listen to her have sex for hours on end.” She peered out from the deep hood. “I thought that
boss and the subordinate
shit was just a romance cliché.”

“You’d have to ask Jus about that.” Chuckling, I pushed away from the wall. “We could bunk with Walker.”

“In your OR?”

I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just get the bottle, and we can drink until dawn, Bane.”

“Depends.” I squinted at her. “Are you a messy drunk?”

“The last time I was drunk was the first time I kissed you.” She leaned back, propping her shoulders against the wall. “Wanna try it again?”

No brainer.

****

The tequila had gone down smooth, and Kiki was pretty easy to talk to when she didn’t have her back up. We’d sat outside the back door, huddling close, sharing warmth, slugging straight from the bottle.

“So who’d win in a fight?” she asked. “Storm or Walker?”

“Walker.” I lit another smoke, exhaled on the slow. “He’d just blow Storm’s nads to bits.”

“I’d place my bets on Storm. He’s killer with a gun.”

“Justice could probably take them both,” I said. “
Oo-rah
and all that.”

“Pretty boy?” Kiki curled her lip. “Not my type.”

Good to know.

The stars above started glowing brighter, the night growing colder. Couldn’t much feel my toes anymore, but who cared about that? I’d learned from being in prison freedom came with a price, and the price was always worth it.

Bonus?

Kiki sitting right next to me.

I angled my head down at her. “What was your detail before you upped with T-Z?”

“A little cleanup mission in the Korengal.”

“Afghanistan?” Jesus.

Some of the worst shit in the Afghan War had happened in the Korengal valley.

She nodded. “Yeah. Couple of specialists fell off the radar.”

“CIA?”

“Off book,” she answered.

“CIA?” I persisted.

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.”

“Good luck with that, Bond girl.” I handed her the bottle, watching her appreciatively as she took another swallow of the strong stuff. “So you’re a real life Sydney Bristow.”

“
Alias
?”

I grunted in acknowledgment. Now that shit had been good TV. Almost as top-notch as
Nikita.
I’d still take Kiki any day over both those spy babes.

“What about you, Griffin?”

“What? Before T-Zone?”

Her fingers glancing against mine, she handed the tequila back. A hot spear of
want
skittered through my body.

After taking a burning swallow of liquid that did nothing to cool the heat inside me, I deadpanned, “Mascot at Disney World.”

With the back of her hand pressed to her mouth—her smile showing through—she asked, “So, in a fight . . . Mickey Mouse or Goofy?”

We headed back to our room not long later.

All was quiet on the home front . . . finally. Thank fuck.

We went to bed kissless.

In our own cots.

Bummer
.

We’d bonded, but there wouldn’t be any boning tonight.

This sucked.

Morning came too early in the depths of our barracks. I’d set my damn alarm so I could check on Walker periodically throughout the remainder of the night. Watching him get loopy from the drugs took my mind off Kiki and her proximity. Her crazy hair and gorgeous body and those moments she made me laugh.

Walker’s sleepily slurred confessions about Jade—her terrible cooking, her monthly obsession with streaking her hair that weird-ass red—made me momentarily forget I’d fallen for Kiki, the possible traitor in our midst.

Blaize gave no shit about Walker’s wound or morning rations for our growling stomachs before she called us into the slapdash war room, AKA Justice’s little slice of heaven complete with a bank of flat screen monitors, cables dangling from the ceiling, and uplinks to his satellite bounce-back wifi.

Six in the AM, and I rubbed sleep from my eyes.

Justice wheeled in Walker’s gurney.

Storm drooled over Blaize like he hadn’t torn up the sheets with her into the small hours of the night.

Kiki?

She showed up with that goddamn leather holster, her Glocks crisscrossed over her chest.

Wanted her to wear that hardcore gear for me and nothing else.

I glued my eyes to the computer screens in front of me as I lounged against a desk, the muscles in my thighs jumping, and something somewhat north jumping from my groin, too.

Wasn’t sure how much longer I could maintain my defenses against Kiki. Not while we shared a ten by ten room.

I swore sometimes that woman went braless just to torture me.

For the meeting, she’d pulled on tight jeans, tight boots, and braided the multi-streaked hair into a thick twist down her back.

A cord of tresses I could wrap around my wrist when I drove into her, doggie-style. Disgusted with the fact I couldn’t shake her from my mind, I dropped down into a chair.

“Bane, Kiki, you’ve got one last chance to get in with Los Reyes before T-Zone pulls the plug, and that just isn’t an option, is it? We need to make a deal in order to start building trust.” Blaize’s eyes lasered first me then Kiki. “Unfortunately, it appears Walker may have compromised our mission.”

“No more than Kiki did mine.” Walker grunted from the gurney.

“At least I didn’t get shot in my ass.” Folding her arms across her sweet chest, Kiki winked at Walker.

Me and Storm. Yeah. Mortal enemies. Made up. Bygones. All that.

Walker and Kiki?

They’d still rather kill each other.

“I am sick of both your shit. There are
no
favorites on this team. If you don’t have each other’s backs, I’ll just go back to my offer in DC when I told you I can replace you top to bottom.” With a finger point—more potent than a
fuck you
—Blaize put on her mean face.

Which meant Storm would be fucking her into hot submission later.

“Not replacin’ me,” he muttered under breath, twitching his eyebrow.

Of course Blaize ignored her lover.

Favorites much?

Only took the boss lady and Storm a year and a half, plus one fucked-up mission with an outlaw MC in New Orleans, to get it together.

Maybe it would just take a kill order—given to me—and a fucked-up op in Mexico for me to get it together with Kiki.

I didn’t want to think about how cunting screwed up that line of thinking was right now.

“Kiki, you ready to work the angle tonight with the cartel?” Blaize sat down at her desk and continued flicking mugshots from Los Reyes up onto the monitors.

“What angle would that be?” My chair legs scraped on the floor when I
angled
my face at Damage. “You’re not selling yourself or slutting yourself out to cut us a deal.”

“Getting protective on me?” Kiki’s lips curled in a half-formed smile.

“What are you cooking up?”

“Not meth.”

“Cute,” I said.

Fucking infuriating, I mean.

Blaize pounced to her feet. “Regardless of the fact we’re women, we don’t rely on it.” Her fingertips met
the top of the desk, stabbing the surface until her knuckles turned white. “Would I
ever
ask an operative to pony up like that? No.”

“What about you and Storm? You as his old lady in New Orleans?” Justice idly scribbled on a pad of paper, probably writing more fucking smut for the fun of it even though he’d said his sell-all, tell-all shadow ops book was dead in the water.

Storm half stood, his face blanched for some reason I couldn’t understand. “Shut the fuck about that, Jus.”

Jesus
.

Storm rarely lost his temper and usually only with me.

Seemed something else had gone down in NOLA.

Reaching over, Blaize laid a soothing hand on his arm.

He sank back into his seat while Justice sputtered apologies and the rest of us looked on with nothing short of surprise.

Even Walker popped up on his gurney to get a closer look at the goings-on.

“It’s none of your goddamn business what went down with Storm’s and my mission.” Blaize took a deep breath. “And we are not having therapy hour here. That’ll happen when we get back to the Beltway.”

“Whatever. Like I care. Set up the meet with Carlos, and get us there.” I put the order in with Justice and Storm, kicked back my chair, and stalked from the room.

Didn’t even look back at Kiki or her braless tits.

Props to me.

Stacked and Ready to Roll

1700 HOURS.

I jerked open the door of the latrine. After taking care of biz in the urinal in the Spartan bathroom/locker room of the barracks, I started stripping off.

I’d gotten down to commando status when Kiki strutted in, a towel under one arm, her kit in the other.

Spinning to face the wall, showing her a whole lot of muscular ass and tats, I asked, “You mind?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

I heard her drop her shower bag onto a bench, then the telltale sound of a zip being lowered.

Wanted to beat my head against the concrete wall in front of me.

Wanted
to turn around and watch every slip of her skin unveiled.

“Was just gonna hit the showers,” I gritted out, my cock growing rapidly hard at the idea of Kiki naked behind me as another swoosh of fabric hit the floor.

“Me too.”

Goddammit
.

Sharing a room with the woman?

Jesus. Christ.

Now I was sharing a bathroom.

In the buff.

Showers.

Unisex.

Emphasis on the S-E-X.

I hobbled to a cubicle care off my stiff cock and turned the water to dick-shrinking, ball-curdling cold. “Don’t know who’s fucking bright idea this was.”

“New management.”

I could only face the wall for so long, water pinging off my chest, abs, cock, and balls before I turned to wet my back.

Kiki had chosen the stall right across from me.

Fuuuck.

Maybe I needed to do a polar ice dive in order to shrivel my dick, because the thick shaft and broad crown immediately bolted upright at the sight of her.

Wet.

Sudsy.

Sexy.

I ran one hand across my stomach, trailing soap bubbles, and reached behind to crank up the heat on the water falling from the pipes overhead.

Licking my lips, my nostrils flaring, I dragged a soapy fist up my rigid cock, making my balls shake.

Kiki rolled her hips and slid her fingers—her wrists and hands with all those amazing tats—down her belly to her smooth pussy.

Steam billowed between us—not just the hot clouds forming in the air, but the temperature of our bodies, the attraction rising, the need swelling as fast as the come in my nutsack.

“I like your piercing.” Her eyes drifted close, her hips rolling, her fingers slipping inside her cunt.

The Prince Albert pierced my cockhead, and when I was hard like this, it engorged the slit at the tip where drops of pre-ejaculate welled out, coursing through soap bubbles.

“I like your tats. Your tits.” I grunted, gripping the base of my cock mercilessly hard.

I liked a little pain with my pussy.

Kiki gasped, and her bright white-blue eyes opened halfway—hooded and vulnerable in the moment of her orgasm.

I couldn’t. Just couldn’t stay away from her. Cock in hand, steam rising from my body, I padded to her.

“You coming, girl?” I thrust up against her, so fucking horny I was blind to anything but her.

Wrapping an arm around Kiki’s waist, I hauled her to me.

Wet, slippery, slinky female flesh against bigger, harder, rougher . . . and hotter.

I gripped her wrist and pushed her fingers
hard
into her cunt.

Her short nails cut into my shoulder, her teeth into my neck, and the sounds she made unscrewed the last fierce knot inside my groin. I spilled, sprayed, jetted over my hand, her stomach, all the way up to her tight tits.

I grunted, harsh noises, taking her lips with mine.

She grinded against me, milked me, came again crying out my name.

Water pounded around us, the hot soaking wetness pulling us together.

Kiki’s hips released. Her hand loosened. Her body slackened, and when she stumbled against the wall of the shower, she laughed from deep inside.

I couldn’t stop staring at the gorgeous mess of her. Water trickling all over. Her nipples bright and rosy. Her small navel and smooth cunt and swollen labia.

Her satisfied smile temptation itself. My come splattered all over her pelvis. Her hand.

Her gaze—bold and blue—locked on mine, she lifted that dripping hand to her mouth and licked my semen with a wild moan, a teasing sound.

My dick wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot.

I stood under the drumming spray as she lounged back, rolling her hips in sultry circles.

I just started to lean into her, dipping my mouth nears hers, when she slipped around me—cooler air wafting in her place.

She tucked a towel around her body with a wink. “Who says romance is dead?”