Brazen (B-Squad #1) (5 page)

He plugged a cord attached to the projector to his phone. A photo of a group of people standing on a beach appeared in place of the map taking up the entire wall. Everyone was smiling, tan and in swimsuits.

Vivi leaned forward in her seat, her gaze intense. “What are we looking at?”

“It’s from the Indulgence,” Marko said. “My contact is doing a little early recon.”

Taz searched the screen, examining every face for someone on a law enforcement most-wanted list or who appeared in one of the cabinet full of drug-dealing bad guy dossiers Lexie and Keir had put together over the past few months. No matter how hard he looked, however, it seemed like a gathering of trust-fund babies, rich hipsters and trophy wives.

Fuck. How many dead ends were there going to be in this case?

“Oh my God,” Bianca whispered in a quiet, broken voice that made his lungs seize.

He was on his feet and beside her before he knew it, one hand on her shoulder.

Her face had turned white, but she still brushed his hand away and stood up, taking several steps closer to the projected image. “Is it him?”

“Who?” Elisa asked, getting up from her own chair.

“Off to the left away from the group.” Bianca pointed with a wavering hand. “He’s in the hat.”

“Holy fucking shit,” Lexie said as she plopped down in a chair as if her legs suddenly stopped working.

Taz peered at the man in the white fedora and the pastel Hawaiian shirt. The picture was super high-resolution, catching every detail but he didn’t look like anyone he’d ever seen before or anyone who should be able to cause that reaction from Bianca. “Who is he?”

“Sterling Walsh,” Vivi said, all the sass and snark drained away from her voice.

He glanced at his brothers. They had the same blank expressions on their faces as he did.

“Who in the hell is Sterling Walsh?” Duke asked, pulling on his short ginger beard.

“He was the headmaster from St. B’s.” Lexie grabbed her laptop and began typing lightning fast.

“He’s supposed to be in jail,” Bianca said, backing away from the image covering the wall. “He got thirty years.”

“Three decades in a federal penitentiary isn’t what it used to be.” Lexie looked up from her screen. “He got out a year ago.”

“Right about the time Genie’s Wish made its presence known in the global drug market,” Taz said.

It made perfect sense. When he and Bianca had taken down the dealers at Bisu Manor six months ago, they’d said that Bianca had been the initial kidnapping target, not Gidget, but the switch worked because their supplier wanted the girls from St. B’s for his drug-testing experiments—specifically Bianca, Gidget, Vivi, Elisa and Lexie.

Looked like they had a headmaster with a grudge to deal with. He focused on the image, memorizing the bastard’s every feature so Taz could find him no matter what. The asshole was going down for threatening his girl.

“How in the hell did he go from psycho school administrator to drug kingpin?” Duke asked.

“Don’t know, don’t care right now,” Taz replied as realization dawned. “Look at who he’s holding on to.”

Walsh held on to a woman’s forearm, his grip tight enough that white lines formed on her freckled skin where his fingers clamped down on her in a death grip. Her face was angled away from the camera but she had long bright red hair that fell in fat curls to her mid-back. The hair was a tipoff but the confirmation came in the five-inch scar winding its way across her upper arm.

They’d found Gidget Harms.

M
arko’s mother was right
. Instead of milk, some people poured stupid into their bowl of cornflakes. It was the only explanation for the trouble Taz had gotten himself into. Not that Marko was going to say anything. That would require actually talking, and he didn’t waste breath on touchy-feely crap or other people’s relationships. Just the idea of doing so made his balls shrivel a little, not something he appreciated.

“Fucking Taz,” he said under his breath as he hefted an eighty-pound crate of equipment and popped it onto his shoulder.

“What about him?” Elisa asked as she checked the crate off the list on her clipboard. “The fact that he’s a total douchebag dick or the fact that he should be snipped before he can pass his asshole genes to the next generation?”

Ouch. Marko gave the brunette with the angel face a second glance. She looked like one of those big-eyed Russian dolls his mother had kept on the kitchen window sill when he was a kid. Not because she was big enough to fit another three or four of her inside herself, but because she looked so sweet and innocent on the outside that it was easy to imagine she wasn’t hiding something. He mighta thought that, but he hadn’t poured a shot of stupid into his cereal this morning. He’d spent more than enough time over the past few months with the sharp-tongued princess to know better.

Elisa would verbally eviscerate a guy and rob him of his last nickel. The whole time the doofus would be standing there, too dazed by the fact this amazingly hot chick was talking to him to know what was going on until it was too late. By then, Elisa would be in the wind. It was fucking awesome to watch—also, it gave him a hard-on.

Instead of answering her rhetorical question though, he just shrugged, jostling the crate and turned toward the private jet waiting on the tarmac. After he got this loaded they were minutes from takeoff. Inside the cabin, there was a pint of Jack waiting for him so he could make it through ten hours of shooting across the sky in a metal tube without soaking his undies in flop sweat.

A few minutes later, the crate loaded, he took a slow walk around the jet, visually inspecting every inch. Not that he would know if something was wrong if he saw it, but he had a routine. He always checked the plane. It had gotten him through flights from Afghanistan to South America and a million places in between without him giving in to the fear that chipped away at the back of his skull every time he went up in one of these things.

He’d just rounded the jet’s nose when he spotted Tamara, her back turned to him, talking on her cell phone. Getting as close as he could without alerting her, he kept his mouth shut and his ears open—otherwise known as his default mode.

“Just hold on for a little bit longer, honey,” Tamara whispered into the phone. “I have to go with him, but it won’t take me long. Promise.”

Boyfriend? Side piece she was ditching for Taz’s money? Shit just went up a level.

Marko had never been a Tamara fan. Not even when Taz had first gotten together with the former beauty queen. She was all ice when his brother needed fire.

Even when she was being nice, the woman had a hard edge that warned off small creatures. Whatever was going on between her and his brother, it was six kinds of fucked up and he didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her—and he bench pressed enough weight to toss her plenty far.

“I love you, too.” Tamara ended the call and stood still for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh that dragged her shoulders low.

“Saying your goodbyes before we take off?” he asked.

Tamara squeaked in surprise and whipped around. “You scared me.”

He kept his trap shut and his gaze locked on her. People hated that. Made ’em nervous and chatty.

“It was my niece.” She smoothed her long blonde hair, her hand shaking just enough that the glare from the sun hitting her rock of a wedding ring hit him square in the eyes. “She doesn’t like it when I’m out of touch for long.”

He snorted. “Uh-huh.”

Her jaw tightened and her blue eyes narrowed to slits. “Oh I forgot. None of you boys know what it’s like to have a
real
family. You all grew up as wild as your Gypsy ancestors.”

Bone-deep resentment sizzled up his spine. “It’s Roma. We don’t like the racist term Gypsy.”

She smirked. “Well, I don’t like people eavesdropping on my calls so we’re even.” With that she whirled around and strutted to the stairs leading to the jet’s cabin then hustled up them far steadier and quicker than a lot of women in sky-high heels could have.

The idea of having her with them on this mission didn’t sit right with him, but it hadn’t been his call. It had been Bianca’s, who had never poured stupid into her cereal a day in her life. Still, he had no fucking clue what she’d been thinking.

T
hirty minutes after takeoff
, Bianca left Vivi and Elisa in the cockpit and surveyed her team hunkered around the small woodgrain tables and lounging in the soft cream leather seats. Marko, Lash, Duke and Lexie were playing a cutthroat game of Spades. Taz and Tamara sat next to each other in the middle of the plane. Both had their eyes closed. Keir was pretending to read a book while watching her out of the corner of his eye. The guy had the subtlety of an Ed Hardy shirt. He didn’t need to worry. She wasn’t going to have any more contact with the happy fucking couple than was absolutely necessary.

Which is exactly why she kept her gaze tilted away from them as she made her way back to the bedroom that took up the jet’s tail end. It was the only place onboard where she could shut a door between herself and the rest of the team so she could finally catch the breath that had been kicked out of her with an emotional steel-toed boot.

The bedroom was small. There was enough room for a bed, a tiny closet and a dresser, but it was more than enough space for a little solo pity party and to regroup—or plot a murder if she took her girls’ advice. She pushed the door closed behind her, but it came to a stop before it latched.

She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The truth was there in the way her heart hammered against her ribs, the way the butterflies began to swirl around in her belly and the way her body went soft and melty at the first inhale of his cologne.

The man wrecked her without even trying.

It wasn’t fair.

“We need to talk,” Taz said, his voice low and growly.

Not here and definitely not now. If there was a conversation meant for text, this was it, because face-to-face wasn’t going to end well. Snakes on a plane had nothing on pissed-off, lied-to ex-girlfriend on a plane.

“I thought the briefing covered everything.” She pushed against the door. It didn’t budge.

“It’s not about the mission.” Taz pushed the door open and walked into the bedroom.

He took up too much space in the crowded room. They faced each other, close enough that it hurt not to touch him. Even as pissed as she was, she couldn’t deny that bit of shameful truth.

Taz stared at her, a dangerous heat turning his eyes a stunning shade of emerald. His gaze traveled down her body in that slow, commanding way that left her panties wet and her nipples puckered.

This was how it usually started for them. A look so inflammatory it could be a touch. The unspoken challenge for control. The undeniable ache that teased and tormented and tantalized her every sensitive valley and peak. By the time he made the trip back up to her eyes, her entire body was smoldering—his lips curled into a smirk—and he knew it.
The bastard.

Backing down wasn’t in her nature, but she needed more sunlight between them or she’d do something she’d regret. It was a coin toss on whether that would be a hate fuck or a hard slap. She backpedaled until the back of her knees hit the bed.

“The mission is the
only
reason you’re here.” She pushed the words out of her mouth, which wanted to stay frozen shut.

He nudged the door shut with his foot. “Getting Gidget has never been the reason why I’m on this case and you damn well know it.” Two long strides and he closed the distance between them, trapping her between the bed and his rock-hard body. “I’ve only ever been here for you.”

Part of her believed him. Hell, most of her believed him. But that didn’t change anything. His wife’s arrival—and all the secrets between them—had seen to that.

The truth sliced through her. She had just as many skeletons in her closet as he did and she hadn’t been any more forthcoming than he had been. It wasn’t part of her personality to get all touchy-feely emotionally, just like it wasn’t in his.

The reality was, she wasn’t meant for a real relationship. Maybe it was because her parents had abandoned her to that hellhole St. B’s when she was eleven. It could be because the Sutherlands didn’t put any fun in their family dysfunction. Then again, she might just have a personality disorder. Whatever the cause, the result was always the same: ending up alone.

Taz curled his fingers around her hip, setting off a fire she wouldn’t be able to control for long. “Bianca—”

She pressed her palm to his chest, cutting him off. The all too familiar shiver of attraction made her whole body tingle. “Leave it be, Taz. We’ll do the job, get Gidget home and then I’ll move out of the gym.”

He covered her hand with his, locking her in place. “You’re not going anywhere.”

She glanced down at her hand sandwiched between his and his chest. Her heart flip-flopped and her knees went weak. Damn her mutinous body.

“That’s not your choice to make,” she said, her voice wobbling.

It hurt like yanking off a bandage but she peeled his hand off hers anyway. She was strong, but wasn’t a match for the man who’d battled his way up to the light heavyweight boxing championship and had never lost his edge or an ounce of muscle. He
let
her go, which was
exactly
what she wanted. And if she told herself that enough, she’d start believing it.

Taz shoved a hand through his wavy, inky-black hair, closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, they were bright with emotion and determination. “She doesn’t have to come between us.”

She shook her head. “You think Tamara is the one who did this?”

“Who else?”

“You did. I did.” Her sigh reverberated down to her toes. “We weren’t a couple. We were fuck buddies who keep everything on the surface. You don’t know me any more than I know you.”

“Bullshit,” he snarled.

She looked up at him, craning her neck to look into his eyes, and reached out for his belt. “And if I dropped to my knees and took out your cock right now, you’d be happy to have everything go back to exactly what it had been like before?”

Slipping the leather through the metal buckle, she fought against the hot liquid desire sliding through her, making her nipples hard against the lace of her bra. This wasn’t for fun. This was to make a point. She just had to remember or they’d end up naked and sweaty and sated without anything having changed. Old habits—especially the ones that felt so fucking good—were always the hardest the give up, even if, like now, she didn’t have a choice.

“Was what we had before so bad?” He dragged his thumb across her bottom lip.

Her body screamed for her to give in, to melt into him and come around his hard cock buried to the hilt inside her. It would be so easy and feel so good to give in. But after she came down from that high, he’d still be married and she’d still be a woman who always ended up alone.

She toyed with his belt, the leather the only thing soft about him right now, and nipped at the pad of his thumb—the voice telling her this was to teach him a lesson becoming more shrill as her body responded to his nearness with an almost desperate wanting, just like it always did.

“No, it wasn’t bad. It was a fantasy. Everything was that first rush of hormones and newness. It wasn’t real. It would have fallen apart eventually.” She hardened her voice as she looked into his eyes, using her anger as a protective shield. “It always does.”

But this time, she wouldn’t be left shell-shocked and a little more broken like she’d been after her brother killed himself, after her parents sent her away to a boarding school for bad seeds, or after St. B’s had been raided and the girls she’d become sisters with in every way but name scattered across the country. That had knocked her sideways, but having Taz walk away would be like scavenger birds peeling the flesh from her exposed bones.

Slipping the button of his jeans free was torture, but she did it anyway, needing the pain to remember her new reality.

“There’s more to us than sex.” He shoved her hand away before she could get to his zipper. “You know it, but you’re too scared to admit it so you fell back into old habits and ran before assessing the situation.”

She snorted, doubling down on the fury still simmering under the surface of hurt and betrayal. “And what part of ‘my boyfriend has a wife’ did I miss?”

He worked his jaw, grinding his teeth as the vein in his temple throbbed.

Sighing, she gave in to the bittersweet, blissful agony of being so close to him one last time and brushed one of his ebony waves away from his forehead. “Taz—”

But before she could finish the thought, his hands cupped her face and his lips were on hers. Hard, intense and mind-melting, the kiss wasn’t fair. Then again, when had fair ever felt so fucking good?

This was where they clicked, where they’d always fit perfectly. She couldn’t fight against it because in her heart of hearts she knew she didn’t want to—and that’s what scared her most of all. So she gave in. Just one last moment of madness, what harm was there in a final kiss?

Taz’s growl of triumph reverberated against her overheated skin as he traced a line of fire across the curve of her jaw and down the column of her throat. The prickle of his short beard against the sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck made her knees weak and she moaned his name.

“Do you really think this is all there is between us, Kitten?” he murmured as his talented fingers found their way to her pants, making fast work of the button and zipper before shoving them down a few inches. “Is that why you were tugging on my jeans, looking at me with those big brown eyes and making me think of how good my cock looks with your lips wrapped around it? Where you trying to school me?”

Any protest her still-angry side may have uttered was overwhelmed by the sensation of his thick, calloused fingers sliding underneath the elastic of her panties. With her jeans still on, he didn’t have a lot of room to maneuver, but he made the most of it with a deft touch against her hard clit, a smooth stroke through her slick folds and a teasing dip inside her aching core.

“If it was just sex, would you be this slick already?” He curled his finger, circling her opening, sending ripples of pleasure through her body. “No. Your lips are all plump and juicy because you trust me, because you know me.”

No. He was wrong. He
had
to be wrong.

Bianca fought to maintain her emotional distance. This had been her lesson to teach him, but he’d flipped the script. “You get me wet,” she managed to pant out. “Do you want a prize?”

“That depends.” He slid a second finger inside her, drawing them up on either side of her inner lips until the tips barely touched her clit and delving back down until they were buried inside her, filling her up. “Are you the prize?”

She couldn’t answer beyond a strangled moan. The pressure was too much and not enough. He took her right to the edge and backed off. Over and over he caressed her, the tightness of the space only accentuating every sensation as she bit her bottom lip to keep from moaning loud enough to alert everyone else on the plane to what was going on.

“Always so soft and wet for me—not for just any guy who you wanted—for me.” He increased the speed and pressure on all her sensitive spots, playing her body in the way only he could.

Ignoring sanity’s last whispers, she gave in to the feeling of Taz touching her, teasing her and taking her higher.

He nipped her earlobe, the quick snip of pain only magnifying the pleasure elsewhere. “You’re on the edge already, aren’t you, Kitten?”

And she was, her body tightening with every brush of his finger against her clit until she couldn’t take it anymore. The line between misery and ecstasy blurred and disappeared as the vibrations in her thighs crescendoed, the pressure in her core peaked and her climax hit hard enough to snap her spine straight and whip her head forward.

She buried her face in his shoulder to muffle her cry of pleasure, holding tight to his shirt to keep from falling at Taz’s feet in a post-orgasmic pool of satisfaction.

“Even as good as that was, and as much as I love hearing you come, there’s more to us than just orgasms.” He pulled away, breathing hard and with his eyes dark with lust and something more. “We aren’t together because the sex is so fucking good. The sex is unbelievable because we’re together. We may not know all of each other’s secrets but don’t you ever think that I don’t know you, Bianca Sutherland. And if you can’t see that, then maybe you’re not really running from us, you’re only running from yourself.”

Without another word, he walked out of the bedroom, leaving her to try to unravel what had just happened and what she wanted to happen next.

Fingers pressed to her kiss-swollen lips, pulse pounding in her ears and the last waves of her orgasm still lapping against her, she sank down onto the bed and fought to remember all the reasons why Taz was wrong.

* * *

Three hours into the ten-hour flight with no Bianca sightings since he’d walked out of the bedroom, Taz gripped the leather armrest a little tighter, leaned back in his seat and schooled his face not to betray a thing.

Not a lot of things in life made him nervous, but the sight of one of Bianca’s pissed-off best friends standing over him with a wide popsicle stick weighed down on one end with hot wax was one of them.