Stranger Mine: a Base Branch novel (6 page)

T
he rasp
of his breath drew nearer. Piper retreated inside herself. Blindness her only protection against his knowing stare. Somehow this stranger reached deep inside and poked at a place she’d cordoned off and tried desperately to obliterate from her consciousness. His incessant nudges ached like mental images of the first homicide she worked. It brought pain, immediate and sharp, but somehow lessened the torment. Lessened the fear of the misery to come.

No way would she acknowledge it.

“Sounds like you’ve studied contrition intimately.” His deep voice rumbled and the warmth of his breath tickled her neck.

Piper held completely still, waiting for him to leave.

His touch settled at the corner of her eye. The weight of it pressed firm before trailing to her ear and off the edge of her bare lobe, taking her tears with it.

In a battle of wills, Piper never lost. Then again, she’d never lost her will. Until craving overcame determination. Winning took a backseat. Independence hopped in next to it. Desire gripped the wheel with both hands and opened the throttle. Her eyes opened. Her chin dropped to scope their fill.

Gone was the greasy gorilla he’d been last night. In his place a shocker stood. With his floppy blond hair and wholesome good looks, he could easily shoulder a Ralph Lauren campaign. The white-fire eyes could melt the habit off Sister Irene at Our Lady of Sorrow. Or scare the piss out of a world-class criminal. He truly was a conundrum of a man.

Ryan threw a leg over her crossed ones, nesting them in the V of his. The move brought his lips a breath away. Piper wished for the instincts she had the last time he got this close.

“Why can’t you have regular sex?” Before she could stop the thought it fell out of her mouth.

His jaw lowered and his gaze peeked from beneath his thick brows. “You trying to change the subject?”

“I sincerely wish.”

“I can and have had regular sex, Miss…?” His dimples winked in a burdened smirk.

“Vega,” she whispered.

“Piper Vega, regular sex is mundane. Mediocre at best.” He shrugged.

“Maybe you just haven’t done it with the right person.” She inhaled, stuffing her lungs full of his masculine scent, and enjoyed the hit. Like a pothead discovering crystal meth, she was hooked. Whether she liked it or not.

“No doubt. But what I’m talking about, if done right, blows regular sex out of the water every single time.”

“What makes you think you can do it right?”

“I can’t.” Ryan’s thumb mimicked the earlier caress over her left cheek. “
We
could.” He placed the pad between his lips and sucked off the moisture. ”It’s a trust so absolute I could aim a gun to your head. Smile. Pull the trigger. Kill the man sneaking up behind you. And all the while you’d smile back at me. Never for an instant believing I could harm a strand of your hair. An inch of your skin. A piece of your heart.”

His palm lay against her thudding chest.

“It’s making love and never knowing where the next touch will fall. Never knowing how heartbreakingly gentle. How passionate. How rigid it will be. The shock of orgasm pulls you under the wave you never saw coming. It wrestles you to the point of exhaustion and allows you to breathe only when you’ve died
la petite mort
. When you’ve given all and received everything in return.”

Piper swore her vagina magnetized. Her hips tilted and surged forward, sparking contact with his steely erection. Her breath caught as she anticipated his next move. Would he subdue her with a kiss and plastic cuffs? Would he bind her to the chair he’d slept in and devour her body tit to toe? She didn’t know, but her nerves rattled with the eagerness to find out.

Ryan’s head lolled back and his thick chest expanded, molding the ridge of his torso to the cotton. On exhale he groaned like a bear ready to bash in a car door for its snack. An electric thrill shot up her spine. Her lips parted in preparation. The pressure at her chest increased. Her back flattened against the wall. Their gazes locked.

“Come on. We have a hell of a lot of work to do before the Sinaloa arrive.” His hand dropped. He stepped back and turned toward the door.

“Asshole,” she hollered. Piper would have scraped her jaw off the ground, but it was too tense in rage. Rage at herself, mostly.

“Yep. But not usually,” he said. Hand on the knob, he gestured her inside the house.

“What, I bring out the worst in you?” She sashayed into the compound, but avoided looking into his eyes.

“My old partner would say you bring out my best.”

“So, you’re gay?”

A full belly laugh assailed her ears and made her glad her back was to him. She stomped into the kitchen and rounded the island, but didn’t raise her gaze until the threat of his dimples waned.

“Let’s just make a plan and forget everything else. All I want to do is get these people out of here safely.”

“All?”

“No,” she said with a wobble of her head that would have earned her a whipping from her momma back in the day. “I want to kill these bastards too.”

Ryan’s smile compressed into a line. He scrubbed the heel of his hand across his forehead and flipped back some wayward strands. “Killing is not an easy thing.”

“When you’ve seen what I’ve seen…it is.” Piper flattened her hands on the wood and leaned forward. “Chained to the wall, unable to help at all, two shipments came through here. If it had been drugs or weapons, maybe I couldn’t take their lives. But I’ve looked into the eyes of these girls. I’ve see their freedom ripped from them under the guise of hope. I’ve seen the promise of their future. Its forced prostitution, multiple forced abortions, and an early death. A death that they’ll welcome with wide arms.”

“I’m putting my life in your hands, Piper. If your law-abiding conscience gets the best of you, don’t leave me pissin’ in the wind.”

“I was a cop, Ryan. Not a saint.”

Those cursed dimples caught her off guard.

“What?” she barked.

He shook his head. His gaze shifted to the window through which she spied the garage. “I know the convoy usually has a lead car, the bus with the cargo, and two tails. But where do they go when they arrive?”

“I’ve only seen the bus parked outside the door. But what I’ve pieced together is the lead car goes to the garage, the first tail stays with the bus, and the last pulls to the front of the house.”

“And where’s Gabrone during all this?”

Piper pulled back and shifted her weight to her right foot. She slapped the braid over her shoulder and contemplated her answer. Not knowing what he’d plan, she couldn’t yet weigh her options. “In the last car.”

“You sure about that?” He rubbed his knuckles across the stubble sprouting on his chin.

“Yeah.”

“All right. How many in each car? Best guess.”

“Two up front. Three in the backseat. If things are running hot with another cartel, they’ll ride two in the hatch. ”

“That’s twenty-one armed men, plus how many in the bus?”

“Just the driver.”

“Seriously?”

“They’re hauling thirty girls into the middle of nowhere, most of whom aren’t a day over seventeen, surrounded by men ready to fuck them or shoot them. The guys don’t exactly have to worry about an uprising of unarmed, terrified women.”

“Point taken.” His sun-bleached locks ruffled with his nod. “So, I’ll re-wire the garage to blow on one detonator, rig the front entrance on another, and I’ll take the bus driver and lead car.”

“But Gabrone…is in the tail car,” she stuttered.

“And you want him dead, right?”

He offered up a palm and one shoulder shrug.

“Yes,” she conceded.

“Nothing like a couple of globs of C-4 to do the job.”

“Fine, but do you think you can take, what, eight guys by yourself? Why not blow them to smithereens too?”

“Too close to the bus, the people we’re trying to protect.”

A chill nearly frosted the hairs on Piper’s arm. She’d worked hostage situations before, but as a beat cop. Her only responsibility had been keeping the onlookers from interfering. And now she was responsible for taking out two carloads of bad guys and the well-being of so many scared and confused girls. What if it all went wrong? What if they all died because of her? What if Ryan bled out on the dusty ground?

“Hey?”

His gaze roamed her arms, which she chaffed with the ineffective cups of her palms. He stepped around the bar, wrapped his hot fingers around her uninjured wrist, and tugged her close. Against her better judgment, Piper allowed him to envelope her in his heat.

Yesterday his gear provided an adequate barrier against body contact. Today the heated cotton and ridges of his muscles glided under her hands. She wrapped them around his taut middle while he encased her in the power of his arms. His palm cupped her nape, drawing her face into the crook of his neck, into the crack house of his intoxicating scent. The ecstasy of it had her fingers gripping the cliffs of his lower lats and her lids fluttering.

“If I didn’t think we could do this, I’d have carried you, kicking and screaming to extraction.”

“I know we can,” she whispered. “I just worry what it’ll cost. Risking my life is one thing. Risking yours—”

One second, she stared at the smooth contours of skin over the edge of his traps, admired the fine golden hairs on his nape. The next, his gaze burned her a second before his open mouth collided with hers. Wet silk glided over her lips in steady pressure. He swallowed her gasp and morphed it into a rumble. It vibrated the muscle under her hands.

His palm snaked up her neck and grabbed the base of her braid. With a steady tug, Piper’s head gave over in a backward lull. Every ounce of preservation fled. Desire replaced fear. Curiosity replaced concern. Her shoulders sighed her relief, lazing with abandon.

Ryan supported her in his sure grip and laved at her mouth with eager pulls. His tongue teased the corner of her thin lips. More than almost anything, she wanted him inside her in every way. But she didn’t dare move. Didn’t care to move. Contrary to every sexual experience of her life, Piper let a man lead. And screw it all, with him kissing like he did, she’d follow him just about anywhere.

“Give me your tongue, Piper.”

“What?”

She tried to meet his gaze, but with her neck exposed and his grip on her hair she could only see a semi-circle of devastating blue eyes.

“If you want me to release you, all you have to say is bronce.”

Piper clamped her lips together, forbidding the word to escape.

“Good.” His tongue lapped at her top lip. “Now, give me your tongue.”

The organ inside her mouth toyed with her teeth, willing her mouth to open. Still her lips remained sealed.
Why did he want her tongue? If she poked out her tongue, wouldn’t she look like a grade-school idiot?

Ryan placed a sweet kiss on her chin and stepped back. Just like that, the spell shattered into a million pieces and rained on her head. The high of letting go snapped back like a gigantic rubber band. And that bitch stung. His face set in neutral. Not happy. Not sad. Not callous. Just even.

“You got out of your head for a moment. That’s more than I ever expected.” The idea of a smile swept over his face, tugging at his lips. Too quickly it fled. “Don’t worry about me. Do. Not. You worry about detonating the garage and porch, and not getting shot. Let’s get to work.”

I
t took
all day to set the ambush. Yet, it had taken nearly no words at all. He counted two during his world famous enchiladas. And her, “Thank you,” had been perfunctory. Nothing special. No wonder he couldn’t find a woman to please him in and out of the bedroom. What he found attractive out of the bedroom—strong will and bravery—contradicted, and therefore precluded, his desires inside.

Despite that thought, there had been a moment that morning when Piper had become lighter than air in his arms. When she loosened her death grip on ultimate control and gave over to pleasure. Pitiful though it may be, it was the sweetest gift he’d ever received.

Ryan knocked on her bedroom door, not waiting for her to come to him. It would never really happen anyway. When she opened the door he had to clear his throat to speak.

“Just want to make sure you have the first aid kit.”

Piper had scrubbed off the layers of dust that powdered their bodies like human beignets. Her ultra long hair sat atop her head, hidden by the tallest towel turban he’d ever seen. Thankfully more than terrycloth covered her middle. Though, the T-shirt and boxers weren’t much better coverage. Especially without a bra. He focused on the fresh gauze covering her wrist and not her tiny, pebbled peaks.

“I took care of it already,” she said, “I didn’t want you…”

When he held a palm up she trailed off. “I get it. You didn’t want me touching you. You can take care of yourself. You don’t need me or anyone else to help.” Yep, he got that loud and clear. Ryan touched two fingers to his gritty brow before turning to go.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Good night, Piper. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

What was it about this woman that turned him into a flat-out ass? He’d never pushed a woman to tears. Never spoken his mind. He smiled and did as told. At work and at home. The only place he let his dominance rein was on a mission or in a club.

Why?

Ryan rubbed the ache at his chest, ducked in the hallway bathroom, and closed the door. He propped his M4 next to the shower stall, put the satphone on the sink, turned the spray on as hot and as high as it would go, and then stripped. Stepping under the spray, hope bubbled. Maybe the water would boil away his thoughts. Too bad his brain didn’t shut down. Sleep didn’t quiet the constant hum. No chance a shower would.

Why?

He could blame his parents like any good kid would. His mother’s crying was the equivalent to drowning puppies. Atrocious and heart rending. His father’s absentee parenting and over the moon expectations for his only son sucked a big one. But. Piper was right. Guilt ate him from the center of his heart to the tips of his toes.

For so long he’d been a walking, talking, smiling corpse. Because nobody saw through the looks he inherited from his mother and the charm he learned from his father. Was it penance for his sins? He hadn’t wanted anyone to see his pain. Didn’t want anyone to pity him. Couldn’t stand letting anyone down. Not when he was the only thing his mother lived for.

The thick lather, vicious scrubbing, and beating flow weren’t enough to swindle the guilt from his conscience. Still, acknowledging it eased the razor’s edge. He rinsed the suds from his body and set his face beneath the spray. The phone chirped. Ryan scrambled out of the shower, dripping water all over the world, trying to reach it before the second ring.

“Noble,” he answered.

“Her story checks out. Clean record and exemplary credentials from the L.A.P.D. Her older sister has a wrap sheet just as long as Piper’s accolades. Mostly minor stuff, until the last few years. She has known links to the Sinaloa Federation’s faction in the US.” Tucker huffed. “I hate to say it, but maybe Piper got in over her head with them too. You’re a hell of a convenient way out of that hell hole.”

Ryan considered it for a fraction of a second. “No. She’s not telling me something, but there’s no way she’d work for them.”

“Don’t underestimate the influence of an older sibling. They’re role-models. Positive or negative.”

“My instinct says no.”

“You mean your dick says no.”

“Damn it.” Ryan hoped he swung the mouthpiece up in time that Tucker didn’t catch it, but the man caught everything.

“Look, you’ve always been a good operative. But today you became great.” Well, that shocked his irritation mute. Tucker continued, “You were an instructions man. Whatever I told you, you did. No questions. No fault. If anyone changed the op, it wasn’t you. That kind of fortitude is treasured beyond all others in most military outfits. But I like my men to listen to those instincts when they scream louder than me. Copy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Just make sure it’s instinct doing the screaming and not your Johnson.”

“Yes, sir.”

The line went dead. Ryan set the phone on the counter and stared at it, and then his dick, and then his face in the foggy mirror. Pretty sure he knew who was running the show, he dried, stuffed his junk in another stolen pair of boxers, proving it wasn’t calling the shots. He shoved his feet into his dust-dipped boots—because come on, who wants to walk barefoot where a pile-o-bodies had lain a few hours ago—and grabbed the phone, ruck, and his rifle. He stepped into the hallway and stopped as abruptly as if he’d smacked into a tree.

On a towel in the middle of the corridor, Piper perched on her heels. Her hands gripped the tops of her bare thighs. Eyes cast to the floor and hair neatly braided, only the slope of her forehead and bridge of her nose were visible. The rest of her body postured in perfect display. Her form coursed with lean muscles, a sculpted work of art.

Ryan’s nostrils flared. The grip on his weapon doubled. His eyes didn’t narrow on the usual spots. Though his cock stood at attention for her dusky areolae and beaded nipples. It bulged in utter appreciation for the neat patch of curls at the junction of her thighs. Yet, his heart ratcheted to erratic beats at the feminine curve of her waist and the bend at her hips.

Instinct and his cock joined forces.

The posture wasn’t submissive, but the gesture enticed the quiet Dom inside him. Ryan dropped heels on that side of himself, straining the reins of his composure. He absorbed the sight of her. Hope flickered that when he closed his eyes her image would be seared into his vision like a vibrant sunspot. Because he didn’t, for more than a few seconds, believe she would go through with this little experiment.

He’d wager a truckload of money that the first instruction he gave, no matter how sedate, would send the swell of her well-toned ass running. Which was enough to make him misty-eyed. A body like hers deserved to be pleasured. Restrained and set free at the same time. Mastered.

Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession. Buds no bigger than under-ripe blueberries pointed at him, calling him out for being a coward. Here she was, making herself vulnerable. His gaze dropped to her white knuckles, which clung for dear life to her thighs.

“Palms up. Backs of your hands resting on your thighs.”

His voice sounded gruff. Like he’d gone through puberty a second time and his voice deepened yet again.

Piper’s fingers slid from her skin. She raised them into the air, then turned them. With the delicacy of butterflies’ wings, she rested them on her quads. Pride swelled his chest while lust did magical things to his penis. One step at a time, he neared. To her credit she stayed balanced like a proud lioness at the top of a cliff.

Ryan leaned the gun inside the bedroom, set the phone on a dresser, and the ruck on the floor. He circled around her back and awed at the definition of muscle beneath her olive skin. They V’d and X’d this way and that. Most men liked stick figures or swollen curves. He liked women fit for the furor of his appetite. The pads of her toes peeked out under the rounds of her butt and he couldn’t help but lick his lips.

“Relax, Piper. You’re giving yourself over to pleasure. Releasing your stranglehold on control. Giving it freely to experience the thrill of the unknown. Give yourself over to the possibility of ecstasy,” he coaxed.

Her shoulders dropped. The backs of her hands sank against the tawny skin of her legs. Consequently, a blush rose on her nipples and crept up her chest.

“Beautiful. Now, stand.” When she rose he stood in front of her and tipped her chin with his index finger. “While we are engaged in this scene your eyes are to stay on mine at all times.” He smiled. “Unless I tell you otherwise or I am exploring parts unseen.”

“Scene?” Her copper eyes flared. Her skinny red lips drew his attention. When he raised his gaze, hers remained fixed on him.

“Yes. You’re not in the life, as they say. Encounters or scenes should always be negotiated prior to beginning, especially with a new partner. Hard limits should be set for safety’s sake.”

“Negotiated?” Both her brows raised. “This isn’t a hostage situation.”

“It could be.”

Her breath caught in her open mouth. Ryan closed the inches between them and sealed his lips over hers. Piper’s head relaxed back while his tongue delved inside her mouth. Spearmint toothpaste and her hot tongue invited him deeper. He toyed with her mouth, exploring and learning his way around. All the while her tiger eyes remained fixed to his. When she swayed he eased from her heady taste.

“Tell me your hard limits, Piper.”

“I…” Her gaze flitted about the hallway. Looking everywhere. Seeing nothing.

“Eyes on me,” he growled.

She found him again and her cheeks flushed.

“Piper, it’s about trust. An exchange. We both give and both receive. I need to know if anything is over the bounds for you.” He leaned closer, touching her cheek to his and whispering in her ear. “Can I eat your pussy? Can I tie you? Are you overly sensitive anywhere? Do you have triggers? Can I slide my dick inside your sweet cunt? You lush ass?”

She whimpered.

“I was tested clean a year ago and haven’t had any partners since. Are you on birth control?” he asked.

“How romantic,” she squeaked.

“It’s responsible. And Piper, when I’m inside you, there will be no pulling out. No turning back. So, if you don’t want this tell me now.”

“I was clean six months ago. No one since. I took a Depo shot before I left the States.”

“Hard limits?” he demanded.

“Apparently none with you.”

“Any experience in the world of kink, Piper?”

“Some role play once, and anal play occasionally. But I’ve never had…anal sex.”

“And did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes.”

“At any point, if you wish to stop, what do you say?”

“Bronce.” True to character her voice didn’t quaver in the least. Piper Vega, always in control. Until now.

“If you want something harder, softer, longer, faster. You tell me. Do as I say, and I’ll oblige you as long as I’m breathing. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she sighed.

Ryan’s every muscle shook with the need to take her. Right there. Standing in the hallway. Banking the insane urge with some deep breathing, he hooked his arm behind her knee, supported her back in his other, and scooped her against his chest. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He strode into the bedroom and sat her on the edge of the bed.

“Lie face up. Feet toward the headboard.”

With a few scoots she did as he asked, stretching her gorgeous body before him. He stepped to the low-slung foot of the bed. The end of her braid lay in an S above her shoulder, its end wrapped with a strip of tattered cloth. Pinching it between two fingers, he laid the long twine straight, pointing up from her head. He slipped the tie from her hair then one by one unwound the plaits. The closer he came to her head the longer the silky group of strands ran over his finger. Three distinct sections lay fanned over the end of the bed.

When he pulled the last of the twines from her scalp a moan parted her lips. Her eyes fluttered like they longed to close against the bliss. But their gazes remained fixed. Ryan sank his finger into the strands at the base of her skull. He lifted her head off the thin covers and circled his fingers against her scalp. Her back arched off the bed. The peaks of her breasts begged for contact. The rectangular and plentiful plateaus of her abdomen contracted.

He kissed the center of her forehead then trailed them to each temple in turn. All the while his fingers kept working. He skimmed her nose with his lips. His mouth hung over hers. She whimpered and raised her lips for his. They only whispered over her eager crimson skin, giving barely a hint of what was to come.

Ryan removed one hand from her hair, but kept her busy with the other, letting it roam about her crown. Eyes fixed on hers, with his free hand he tweaked her nipple. Her mouth fell open on a gasp. He licked his right thumb then rubbed the pad over her lower lip. Dew from her hot breath gathered on his finger, forcing him to gulp his escalating need.

Grabbing both her hands, he spread her arms wide. His weight bore palm to palm, pinning her to the mattress. He breathed over her mouth for several seconds, and then moved on without a touch. She voiced her indignation in a huff, which Ryan cut off. His lips sealed over her left nipple and he sucked the miniature raspberry-sized treat into his mouth. Her huff contorted into an airy keen. The point of his tongue lashed over her delicious peak.

A sheen of sweat broke over his body. Without a word, Ryan straightened then retrieved the roll of gauze from the first aid kit on the nightstand. Her gaze followed, but not out of obedience. The whites of her eyes were too prominent. As was the unconscious gape of her pretty mouth.

“Your hand,” he demanded with his own extended toward her injured one.

Head resting on the bed and her golden-fire hair strewn about, she offered her hand palm-up without hesitation. Ryan held the end of the gauze in the center and looped the two-inch wide strip twice. He closed her fingers into a fist, sat it on the cover then looped and knotted the other end to the wooden leg of the bed. With his teeth he tore the cotton, then repeated the ritual on her other hand.

He set the roll on Piper’s torso, an inch below her bellybutton. Dragging the spool along her skin, he stopped just before her tuft-covered mons. Ryan stepped back and gawked at the beauty of her surrender. His hand rubbed over the stubble covering his chin.