The Bad Ass Brigade (21 page)

He groaned. “But first, baby, I gotta taste you.”

Nicki shrieked when he lifted her in his strong arms high against the window, draping her legs over his shoulders. The outrageous act and his lips against her bare crotch drove her over the edge. With a shuddering wail, she gave into the fiery sensations flooding her. But he didn’t stop. Before she could come down from her first orgasm, his talented tongue and teeth drove her to another and then a third.

As wave after shuddering wave flooded her, he urged her on, insisting that she could come again. When she was sure she would faint from the devastating pleasure, he slid her to the floor, his powerful body looming over her.

“Uh uh, baby. Keep your legs up. Here, over my shoulders. I need to come deep inside of you.”

He grabbed a cushion from the sofa and shoved it under her ass raising her hips even higher. Bending her legs tight against her chest, he positioned his hard cock at her entrance.

“Now, Nicki? Are you ready for me? Can I come inside of you? Can you take it, baby? Can you take me? All of me?”

“Oh God, Rafe! God yes. Come into me. Now!”

He thrust into her then pulled back at her cry.

Frantic, she shook her head from side to side and dug her fingernails into his shoulders.

“No! No, Rafe. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. I need you!”

A harsh growl ripped from his lips. Slowly at first, he began to thrust into her. Soon his hunger was so great he could no longer hold back. The flood of her climax heightened by her keening wail was the final straw. No longer in control, he drove into her, fierce, deep until he could go no further. With a shout he gave into his powerful need, his roar filling the room. His release was so potent, so overwhelming, he felt his eyes roll back in his head.

~~~

They lay together panting, gasping for air. After many long moments Rafe found enough breath to speak.

“I love you, Nicki. You know that, don’t you, Darling?”

She murmured an incoherent affirmative, burying her face against his shoulder.

Rafe didn’t try to mask his passion. Eschewing his customary coolness, his aplomb, his voice shook.

“Baby, you need to know. I’ll kill any man who touches you, hurts you. I’m crazy thinking about that fucker Michaels, coming on to you. Thinking he has a right to accost you. I swear to God, I’ll kill him before this gig is over.”

Nicki rose up on one elbow and frowned at him.

“Is that why you came here tonight? To check up on me? You didn’t think I could take care of myself?”

Pressing his finger against her lips to cut off her incipient anger, Rafe’s soft voice was sheathed in steel.

“No, Nicki, don’t misunderstand. I know how strong you are, how talented. Except for Caleb and Grayson, you are the most accomplished member of the team. And hell, honey, there isn’t a goddamn one of us who can throw a knife the way you can. That skill alone makes you formidable.”

He stroked her cheek, and gazed deep in her eyes refusing to let her look away. He needed her to understand.

“I don’t care if Michaels is the fucking President of the United States of America. What happened today is unforgivable.”

Her frown deepened, then a soft smile lit her eyes.

“So, the big bad Alpha dog came bounding in? To avenge the insult to his mate?”

Rafe pinched her cheek and chuckled at her shriek.

“Yeah, that’s why I came.”

Stroking her cheek, he laughed. “And… to fuck the hell out of you.”

Nicki snorted then snuggled up against him.

“Well, you can check off that box, big guy.”

Rafe rolled her onto her back then took her hand and wrapped it around his burgeoning staff.

“If I’m not mistaken, there’s a few more boxes that need to be checked. What do you say, Darling? Times a’wasting. We only have five hours until morning.”

Her laugh ended in a muffled squeal as he settled in on top of her, silencing her protest the best and most effective way he could.

Chapter 3

Rafe came to Washington as little as possible. The reek of cash for access offended him—as did the supercilious, sycophantic exchanges among arrogant men who actually despised one another. Since most of his clients came from either D.C. or New York, he often had to hold his nose and venture to the home base of America’s ‘ruling’ class. But in order to hire him, Rafe insisted prospective clients meet him on his turf. To retain his services, he forced them to traipse to his elaborate retreat center in the Pocono Mountains. When he needed to travel, Rafe shanghaied one of his seven private jets, two of which were luxuriously outfitted for his frequent international forays.

In his years as an upstart Delta Force operative Rafe earned the label “hard to handle” from his superiors. Which was an accomplishment, considering his associates. Rafe’s superiors weren’t far off the mark. From the time he was a kid in the violent slums in Paris, Rafe never met a rule he didn’t break or an authority figure he didn’t despise. His current company, International Security Associates, operated so far off the grid, it didn’t formally exist. He never refused a project no matter how unsavory. The only requirement was that his potential clients were able to pay his outrageous fees. His clients were power brokers from every sector. To a man they would deny with their dying breath that they needed help. But when they did, they turned to the urbane Frenchman with the charming manners and quiet rage in his eyes.

Rafe hired tough men, primarily dissatisfied former special operatives who were as dismissive of authority as Rafe was. Make that
men
and
one woman
. He took on Nicki Powers as a favor to Yuri Petrokov, his mentor and the man who’d saved his life. Rafe knew from the moment he met the stunning redhead that she was trouble. He couldn’t fault her fighting skills. She could out-shoot three quarters of the ISA associates and had black belts in four different forms of martial arts. And damn, she was Dark Phoenix with a knife. What he didn’t know when he met the audacious vixen was that he would fall in love with her and spend the next year trying to convince her to marry him. Something pre-Nicki—he’d sworn he’d never do.

~~~

Rafe strode into Percy’s, the high-end Georgetown restaurant, where the political elite did much of their official business. After a short conversation with the maître d’, he headed toward the table where Senator Michaels and his aide, Philip Reeves, were schmoozing one of the Senator’s major contributors.

Walking up to the table next to Michaels’, Rafe nodded to the couple who were eating their breakfast and pointed to the empty chair at their table.

“Excuse me. Will you be needing this chair?”

When they indicated that they would not, Rafe picked it up and placed it next to a startled Senator Michaels.

Phil Reeves frowned and rose to his feet.

“What the fuck?”

Ignoring the pudgy bespeckled aide, Rafe sat down in the chair and focused on the Senator.

Senator Michaels glared at him then quickly recovered, pasting the political equivalent of a smile on his face. “Do I know you?”

Rafe shrugged. “You do now.”

An attentive waiter appeared instantly at his elbow.

“Coffee, Mr. Boudin?”

“Yes, thank you, Thomas.”

“The usual, Sir?”

Rafe responded, “Yes, but don’t skimp on the—”

The small man’s lined face crinkled in a smile.

“I know, Sir. Don’t skimp on the milk—and no cream. May I bring you a Brioche? Manuel just baked a fresh batch. “

Rafe smiled at the diminutive man that he’d known for years and shook his head.

“Not this morning, Thomas.”

He saw Reeves and the Senator exchange a glance. Both men looked decidedly uneasy. Rafe turned to the third man at the table who was making a point of staring at a non-existent speck on the linen tablecloth.

“Good morning, Francis. How is the liquor business? And the garment industry? I understand that you and Tony plan to open a sweat shop in the Marianas.” Glancing at the Senator, he added, “Are you likely to get that tax waiver that you need to do business offshore?”

The longtime lobbyist who was rumored to have ties to organized crime met his gaze for a quick moment then flushed and mumbled an unintelligible response.

At that point, Reeves drew himself up like the good aide that he was and spoke in a low tone glancing nervously around the room.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Boudin. Your reputation precedes you. Senator Michaels is a stalwart supporter of the military. We both thank you for your service. How can we help you?”

Rafe glanced at the pale man whose top lip was beaded with sweat, then looked away, making it clear that having sized him up he was of no interest. Turning to Senator Michaels, Rafe noted that unlike his aide’s greasy pallor, the Senator’s ruddy face had darkened and his patently false smile was shaky.

Certain that his unusual entrance had not gone unnoticed, Rafe didn’t bother to keep their conversation private. He spoke in a quiet tone that nevertheless was audible to the interested diners at nearby tables.

“No, Senator Michaels, we haven’t met. However you have met two of my associates.”

Bright red splotches flamed on the Senator’s cheeks. His aide’s shocked gasp was audible.

Rafe continued. “You met Caleb MacAfee, one of my partners, who like myself, is a former Delta Force operative.” Letting the implied threat speak for itself, he was gratified to see that the nervous tic flickering next to the senator’s left eye was now a steady spasm.

“And of course you met Nicki Powers, the young woman who accompanied Mr. MacAfee.”

Rafe smiled at the Senator whose plastic smile had frozen in an odd grimace.

“I trust you remember Ms. Powers. In a word, she is unforgettable. But given the number of appointments and petitioners you see on a daily basis, let me refresh your memory. Ms. Powers is the stunning red-haired woman that you and your cohorts propositioned in your Senate office. After making a lewd comment, that given the sensibilities of the guests overhearing our conversation, I will not repeat, you offered to pay an extraordinary sum of money to her in return for sexual favors. Again for the purpose of keeping the other diners up to date, Ms. Powers emphatically refused your offer.”

Letting his words sink in, Rafe glanced around the dining room, noting that everyone at the surrounding tables were no longer pretending to ignore them. Rather they were staring in open amazement at the remarkable conversation taking place. Rafe grinned inwardly, wondering how long it would take for their confrontation to be texted throughout Washington. He chuckled knowing it would be seconds, not minutes.

“Unfortunately for you, Senator Michaels, in addition to being a lovely woman and an accomplished martial artist as well as a talented weapons expert, Ms. Powers is also my fiancé. We all know that disreputable men in powerful positions often try to take advantage of young women. It is an egregious misuse of their power and, in your case, of the public trust. Few, however, are stupid enough to proposition a trained agent, particularly a member of International Security Associates.”

Rafe paused to allow his words to sink in.

“Fortunately for you, Senator, Ms. Powers and I, along with several of my associates, will be at the AFL-CIO event this evening. At that time you will have the opportunity to apologize to Ms. Powers for your repulsive conduct.”

Rafe wiped at the corner of his mouth with the linen napkin, then folded it and put in on the table. He rose to his feet and fastened a hard glare on the Senator.

“I recommend that you take advantage of the opportunity.”

He held the Senator’s stunned gaze.

“As for you and me, Senator, we will settle up later.”

The Senator swallowed visibly then acknowledging the deathly quiet in the usually bustling restaurant, he glared at Rafe, and snapped, “Are you threatening me, Boudin?”

Rafe grinned.

“A threat? Most assuredly. And that’s
Colonel
Boudin to you.”

Rafe threw down a $20 bill and nodded to the mafioso who looked as shaken as the Senator and his aide.

“Say hello to Tony for me, Francis. You might remind him, that the Nevada gaming commission is looking hard at the political contributions people like you and your boss are making. The onerous fines they are leveling are beginning to make illegal political contributions a bad bet.”

Walking over to the wide-eyed waiter who was standing to the side, Rafe tucked a folded bill in the man’s breast pocket and winked at him.

“Give my best to Manuel. Tell him I hated to pass up the Brioche, but given the company at my table, I was concerned it would spoil his gastronomic masterpiece.”

Meeting the stunned gazes of the surrounding diners, Rafe flicked his fingers in an offhand salute and strode toward the exit.

“Fuck Senator, Do you have any idea who Rafe Boudin is?”

Overhearing Francis Gambioni’s harsh whisper, Rafe cocked a brow and grinned. If the poor sap didn’t know by now, he soon would.

Chapter 4

“Damn, Nicki. Rafe was in your bed just two hours ago, and now he’s got the whole fucking town in an uproar.”

Caleb tossed back his blond shoulder-length hair and handed her a large cup of coffee.

Nicki sipped on the steaming brew and gave him a bright grateful smile.

“Yeah, I know, hotstuff. I am a prince among men. Who else knows that a feral cat is more pleasant than you are the first thing in the morning? At least until you’ve had your daily ration of blacker-than-midnight coffee straight up and scalding hot. Jesus, babe, I’m concerned that noxious stuff will someday put hair on your chest. And, hotstuff, defiling the work of nature that is your bodacious chest would be a crime, one I don’t want any part of!”

Nicki groaned in mock dismay. Caleb was the only person Rafe allowed to comment on Nicki’s showgirl body. But Caleb never stopped testing his boundaries. Rafe routinely put him back in his cage with the glare that brought lesser men to their knees. It helped that Grayson, Caleb and Rafe had known each other for years. Like his pal Grayson, Caleb thought Rafe walked on water and as many times as Rafe had saved his life, he probably did. Nicki treasured the camaraderie among the three men. She also appreciated how Grayson and Caleb took care of her. They openly admired her warrior skills and in the beginning when a wary Rafe had brought her into ISA, on probation, they were her chief supporters. When it was clear to them that their avowed bachelor boss was falling for her, they engineered one escapade after another, finally getting Rafe to accept the inevitable. Nicki smiled remembering their matchmaking antics. They knew what her father had always known and tried to warn Rafe. No one—particularly a man—had ever said no to Nicki.