Renegade (Elite Ops 5) (6 page)

Her face would flush. Would those amethyst eyes darken? Hell yeah, they would.

He stroked his fingers over the heavy shaft as he imagined her taking him, easing

her hot little pussy down the thick stalk of his dick as her heavenly lashed eyelashes fluttered in pleasure.

He'd watch her. His fingers tightened further. He'd have to watch her take his

cock. Watch plump, flushed folds of flesh part for the wide crest as she worked herself down it. Her heavy juices would coat his shaft, ease along it to the tight sack of his balls.

His jaw tightened at the thought as heated water ran over the taut sack.

God, he could get into fucking her.

Once he was lodged inside her to the hilt he'd watch her face as she rode him.

Watch all that long hair as it flowed around her. Maybe it would cover her breasts, her tight nipples peeking through the strands.

And he could brush her hair back so his fingers could touch her tender nipples.

Nipples that would be reddened, swollen from his earlier suckling of them. He would have caressed them, tasted them with his tongue as his hands stroked her body. Every inch of it. No part of her sweet flesh would go untouched by him. His hands, his lips, his tongue, would know every sweet inch of her flesh.

His hand moved faster, the thought of the pleasure that could be had building in

his balls until they were tight, tortured with the need to come.

He would grip her shapely hips in his large hands. He bet he could span her waist

with his fingers. He'd hold her, keeping her from moving too fast, from finishing it too soon. He'd press her tightly onto him as she filled herself with his erection, ensure that her delicate little clit rubbed against him. She would cry out then. Her soft pussy would ripple around the hard flesh, suck at it as she fought for release, as the tight portal grew hotter, slicker.

He pumped his hand down his dick as he imagined it. Imagined her crying out his

name, her hands pressing into his stomach for leverage, her head tossing, reddened lips parting as she fought to breathe.

He would give her what she needed then.

Hell yes. He'd hold her hips tight and buck beneath her, driving deeper and harder inside the heated depths of her sweet cunt as he felt her unravel around him. Her pussy would clench and flex. It would spasm with convulsing, heavy strokes along his dick as she arched back.

And he would fuck her harder. He would thrust his cock inside her as hard and

deep as possible as he felt her release, felt her juices spilling along his shaft before he came with her.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, eyes closed, his balls tightening, surges of sensation racing up his spine as his cock jerked in his grip and his seed began to spurt.

He'd drive in hard. A groan tore from him. He'd lodge inside her to the hilt. His

come spurted again as his hand tightened, moved faster. And he'd fuck her as he came.

He'd pump into her with all the ferocious hunger and building need he'd denied himself for so long. A heavy snarl of hunger echoed around him as his abdomen clenched and the last harsh convulsions of release shot from his dick.

Ah, God.
He'd give it all to her.

29

He leaned against the shower wall and fought to catch his breath.

As tiny as she was, as tender as she would be, he'd not be able to hold back.

You're a monster. My God, Nikolai. Do you care nothing for me? Do you not care
that you hurt me every time you touch me? Is it not enough that I suffer in your arms?

Nik flinched at the memory, the harsh words tearing through his head as sanity

returned.

Would Mikayla see him as a monster as well? A man whose needs would only

hurt her?

Of course she would. Disgust tore through him. He wouldn't be able to help but

hurt her. She was too small, and he was much too large.

And there was no future for it.

He was a dead man. Dead men didn't hunger. Dead men didn't need.

He stared down at his dick in surprise. Dead men might not do any of those

things, but that wasn't a dead man's cock he held in his hand. It forcibly reminded him that his hand was ineffective in stilling a hunger he shouldn't have.

"Fuck." He muttered the word with an edge of disgust before jerking a cloth from the rack inside the shower and soaping it quickly.

He didn't have time for this.

There was always a chance that Maddix would come up with the two hundred and

eighty thousand dollars that his fee worked out to--with the discount. He should have ignored the call, he thought as he began to wash himself roughly. He should have

forgotten that he still possessed some measure of honor. He should have denied the debt and moved on to the next mission.

There were so many things he should have done and hadn't. His biggest mistake

had been staring into amethyst eyes and forgetting that he was a dead man.

Shaking his head, Nik finished his shower, dried off roughly, then dressed in jeans and T-shirt before moving to the bedroom and lacing hiking boots on his feet.

On the off chance Maddix managed to come up with the fee, Nik needed to be

prepared. He needed more information on the players involved in this little game. There had to be more than Tehya had managed to come up with.

Someone was lying, Maddix Nelson or Mikayla Martin, and Nik needed to at

least have a place to start. Maddix had been too damned sincere perhaps, though it wasn't easy for most people to lie to Nik. He'd seen and heard every lie and knew the

expressions and contradictory reactions that went with them.

Mikayla Martin had accused Maddix of murdering one of his employees, and

rather than being enraged, Maddix had been confused. He hadn't struck out at the girl; neither had the chief of police. Maddix was playing a damned good game, Nik had to admit.

But then, so was Mikayla.

Moving to the small kitchenette, he was in the process of moving his backpack

when a firm knock sounded at the door.

Nik turned and stared at the dark green panel in disgust. It seemed as though

Maddix Nelson may have come up with the funds after all.

Nik moved to the green steel door and checked the peephole. Sure enough, the

other man stood there, his expression stoic as he stared at the closed door.

Gripping the knob, Nik opened the door slowly and moved back to allow the

30

other man to enter.

Maddix entered, his shoulders straight and tense as he reached back with one hand

to rub at the tense muscles in tight circles. In the other hand, he carried a briefcase.

Nik stared at that briefcase, knowing what it contained.

Hell.

"Two hundred eighty thousand dollars." Maddix set the briefcase on the small table just inside the door as Nik moved to the other side.

Maddix stared at the case, sighed heavily, then looked back to Nik. "There it is,"

he said. "It's yours."

Nik stepped to the table, laid the briefcase flat, then flipped open the locks.

He flipped through the stacks of bills. Yep, that looked like two hundred and

eighty thousand dollars to him. A fee for a favor owed.

Fuck.

There were days he wished he hadn't been raised to understand what honor meant.

To understand what a favor owed truly was. Because standing there now, Nik could feel his gut clenching at the knowledge that he was stepping over a line.

He clicked the locks back into place and pushed the briefcase toward Maddix with

a disgruntled glance toward the other man.

"It's all there." Maddix stared back at Nik in confusion.

"So hold on to it," Nik growled.

Maddix stared back at Nik silently, confusion darkening his eyes. "But you

demanded the fee up front," he reminded Nik.

That line was staring him in the face, tempting him to cross it, to be the bastard the past was turning him into. To cross it now meant crossing it forever. There would be no turning back.

There would be no sunlit wheat-colored hair spread across his chest. No amethyst

eyes staring back at him with true trust. Trust that wouldn't be later marred by the money that now sat between him and a job he knew better than to take.

"Take your money and get the hell out of here." Nik injected enough ice in his voice to ensure there was no chance of detecting the conflicting emotions raging inside him or the choices he didn't want to make at the moment.

"What . . ." Panic reflected in Maddix's face.

"I owe you the fucking favor," Nik stated coldly. "No fee required. Keep your money, Maddix. Maybe you can try to pay me off if I find out you're lying to me." He made certain his smile was colder than his eyes. "But I doubt it would work."

He'd hoped Maddix couldn't access the funds. Nik knew, despite Maddix's alibis,

that there were indeed federal eyes watching for large withdrawals of personal funds that would hint at a hired killing.

He'd stared into eyes that hinted at dreams, at innocence. If he found out the

innocence was true, then heaven help anyone daring to harm her.

Where the fuck had that come from?

"She gets to you, doesn't she?" Maddix shook his head. "I knew that picture would do it. It's the eyes."

Nik stared back at him, realizing now, as he had instinctively suspected earlier

that day, that he was being played.

"I'll call you if I need to talk to you," Nik informed Maddix. "Until then, get the 31

hell out of my face and pretend you don't know me. Or I'll walk away, Maddix. Right after I help her string your ass up."

And he could do it. He would do it. It wouldn't matter how many alibis Maddix

had; Nik could destroy every damned one.

"I don't have to worry about that, Nik." Maddix picked up the briefcase and moved for the door. "And I can honestly say I have no damned idea who you are."

Nik stood back and watched as Maddix moved past him to the door. Maddix left

the room, pausing only long enough to throw Nik one last confused glance before

leaving.

Nik kicked the door closed, a curse escaping his lips as he raised his hands and

linked them behind his neck before pacing into the bedroom.

The wildness burning inside him was only growing as the years passed. He

managed to hold it back most days by throwing himself into a mission, by becoming the cold, unemotional robot he'd turned himself into ten years before when Jordan had

offered him the chance of a lifetime.

A chance to walk away. To fight without rules. To make a difference.

Had he made a difference?

Not enough of one.

He still couldn't sleep at night. He still awoke to the sounds of gunfire, of his

daughter's screams before he could reach the car she had died in.

If he had made enough of a difference, wouldn't those nightmares have left him

by now? Wouldn't he be able to sleep in peace?

He stared at the bed, perfectly made, large, comfortable. The Suites had near-

perfect beds. And he knew from experience he would find no sleep in them.

He left the helmet lying on the couch as he grabbed the keys to the Harley and left the room. Closing the door tight behind him, Nik made his way from the hotel to the shadowed back lot where he'd parked, and quickly checked the bike over before

straddling it and giving the key a quick twist.

If he couldn't sleep, that left work. And he had plenty of work to do here. If he

was going to figure out if Maddix was lying, then the place to start was with the girl.

All good girls had their secret little vices. There was no such thing as innocence or purity. Mikayla Martin might have a lot of good in her, but Nik was betting she was hiding a lot of bad as well. The key to getting past the good girl's defenses was to find her vices.

She might not party, but she did like to dance. She didn't have a steady boyfriend, but she was prone to date quite often. She was definitely a mystery.

Pulling from the parking lot, Nik hit the brightly lit streets of Wesel Boulevard

while heading for the Cancun Cantina just minutes away.

Tehya's initial investigation into Mikayla showed a girl who loved her job, her

family, her friends, and having fun in general. She was serious when she had to be, but she enjoyed her social life.

She was a different kind of woman, he thought. He wasn't certain if he knew how

to deal with a woman who enjoyed her social life just as well as she enjoyed her job.

He was used to women who were somber, cynical, bitter, and/or psychotic.

Women who had lived on the dark side too long, for whatever reason. Even those who worked with the team had their mental scars, their dark sides. They'd seen too much, 32

knew too much about the evil that existed within the shadows.

She didn't look like a woman who knew anything about evil. She would be the

type of woman that would provide a man the calm within the storm. Or would she remind him of everything he had never known or had and the innocence would be something to resent?

As Nik pulled into the Cantina lot he couldn't imagine that. He couldn't imagine

resenting the peace that could be found in her arms.

He shook his head. His father had once told him that peace came from within a

man. It was a peace Nik had yet to find within himself.

Securing the Harley, he strode into the Cantina, the loud music, weekend gaiety,

and dim lighting similar to nearly every other club he'd been in during his time with the Elite Ops.

The dance floor was packed, bodies gyrating to the music pounding out from the

surprisingly good country western group performing.

He scanned the room, searching for hair the color of wheat. Mikayla was a

creature of habit, so he should find her here tonight.

She worked diligently at her shop five days a week and most nights. On Sunday