Cinderella Undercover (8 page)

The months he’d been Victoria’s lover were the most normal months of his life. Normal for him was undercover assignments infiltrating the lairs of the scourge of society—drugs and gun runners, terrorists, and assassins. She was the only beauty in his life. And he’d been able to share the ugly parts of his life with her. She understood him, understood his work with ES because she followed the same path.

He slipped his hand into hers and started walking. “That morning Frank called me in. He had the helicopter standing by. Said I’d be home before you woke.”

Chances were that Victoria would feel betrayed by Frank’s interference. Frank hadn’t been trying to hurt her, but protect her from a life that would mimic the nightmare she’d experienced as a child. Her mother died in a car accident when she was an infant, and her father had been career military…until he and Frank had decided there was a time for vigilantly justice and the military didn’t provide the means for them to run their own operations.

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

He squeezed her hand. “Because Frank painted a picture of us that I wasn’t ready for.”

“Damn you! That’s bullshit, and I don’t buy it. You’re the elite, Jaron Quinn. You’re supposed to be ready for anything. I’m a grown woman, an Echelon op, and capable of deciding whom I sleep with. And if there was any future picture—and that’s a big if—why would Frank interfere?” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I’m sure in your brilliant reasoning, you can think of something.”

“Because he loves you.”

“No shit. I’m practically his daughter.”

“But I never told him that I love you!”

A puff of sand exploded near Victoria’s foot. “What the hell was that?”

“Get down!” Jaron plowed into her, taking her to the ground and rolling several feet. “Gunfire.” He yanked his weapon from his pocket and clicked off the safety.

Digging his elbows into the ground, keeping his body as flat as possible, he clambered to gain a better visual. Another bullet exploded into the sand.
Shit, that was close—too close
.

He couldn’t get a shot off. In the distance, the target moved from tree to tree.

“I see only one.” Victoria took position beside him.

“The odds won’t be in our favor for long. I can’t get a good shot off from here, and I don’t have enough ammo to risk a miss.”

“Then we run.” Victoria backed away from their position, moving deeper into the trees.

Jaron waited until the target exposed himself, then he squeezed off a shot. The man dodged behind a tree, and Jaron took off like the hounds off hell were at his heels.

Twigs snapped beneath his feet. Like Victoria, he ran as if his life depended upon it—because it did, and so did hers.

They rounded a bend, and Victoria gasped. A small cottage sat nestled in the trees, overlooking the gulf waters.

“We can’t go in.”

ES policy stated to never risk civilians. Dim light filtered through the curtains, and bright-colored beach towels hung over the porch railing.

“Look.” Jaron pointed to the water’s edge. A small sailboat was tethered to a private dock. He could sail them to safety if they made the fifty-yard sprint to the moorings. They’d be easy targets in the open. Not to mention gunfire would bring the civilians out of the house.

Victoria bent at the waist and gulped air. “I don’t see an alternative.”

Jaron crouched close to the ground. “We wait here. We’re dead out in the open.” He checked the clip in his gun. “We’ve got one chance. I’ll take out the target. We run like hell to the boat.”

With Evenson’s henchman, they’d be lucky to reach the dock.

Adrenaline pumped though his veins. Sweat beaded on his brow and upper lip. The gun was steady in his hand, his finger on the trigger. He focused and became one with his surroundings. The breeze off the ocean whispered through the grass. Gulls squawked as they hovered above the roaring surf rolling in and crashing against the spongy shore. Moonlight rippled off the dark blue waters.
Inhale through the nose, exhale.
He relaxed and allowed his eyes to adjust to the natural movement around him, waiting for the target to reveal himself.

Victoria crouched beside him. Her even breathing matched his. She put her hand on the tree, leaned forward, and narrowed her eyes. He followed her gaze.
Gotcha!

Jaron raised his weapon and took aim. Victoria put her hand on his shoulder, reminding him to wait for the perfect shot. He couldn’t afford to miss.

Bang!

One loud shot rang through the air. Victoria jumped to her feet and sprinted to the boat. Jaron was faster. They raced onto the wooden dock. She dropped to the mooring and loosened the knots as he jumped on board the small twenty-eight foot sailing sloop and rushed to stern.

Voices called from the little cottage. Jaron didn’t pause. Twelve years at sea with the military had honed his swift Navy skills. Sailing them to safe harbor would be the easiest part of this damn assignment.

“Hurry, princess.” The boat eased away from the dock. In the distance, a man jumped from his porch, screamed at a woman standing in the doorway to call the police, and then he ran back into his house. Jaron hoped the man wasn’t running for a shotgun, but rather, helping his wife to call the authorities. ES would be monitoring all police chatter in the area.

Victoria leapt onto the hull. “Tell me what to do!”

Wind direction was in their favor. “Steer us out to sea.” He scrambled from port to starboard and bow to stern. His hands shook as he raised the rigging. The canvas sails unfurled, popped, and filled with air. The boat pitched and rolled, cutting through the darkened gulf waters. Wind whipped his face and briny spray tingled against his lips. The beach quickly shrank behind them, the little beach house becoming a pinprick of light. He inhaled deeply, and for the first time in the two months he’d been on assignment, he released a breath and felt his stress level lower.

He walked the edge of the fiberglass sloop until he jumped down next to Victoria. She stepped aside.

“That was close.”

He nodded and adjusted their course. “Too close.”

“The man.” She glanced over her shoulder at the now far distant shoreline. “Did you kill him?”

“I only wanted to stop his pursuit. It was a leg shot.”

During this assignment, he hadn’t been given permission to kill unless absolutely necessary. With a shot to the leg, he’d ensured the man wouldn’t be able to follow them.

“Go below deck. We need fresh water.”

She smiled, her mind instantly off the injured gunman and the mission. “And food.” She stepped around the wheel and disappeared below deck. Her voice drifted from below. “I’ll feel bad about taking their boat later. Right now I need to pee, have something to drink and eat, and clean up. In that order.”

Jaron laughed and locked the wheel. He pulled the gun from his waistband and set it on the console next to the Captain’s chair. Then he stripped off his shirt and wiped his face with a relatively clean corner. He grabbed the beach towel draped over the back of the captain’s chair, wet it with ocean water, wiped his torso, and scrubbed his scalp. Wind off the gulf water was cool on his damp flesh, leaving him feeling a little refreshed.

Before long, they’d sailed several miles out to sea. The calm sounds of the waves slapping the hull lulled his mind. It had been a long night. Fingers of dawn clawed the morning horizon in ribbons of orange, purple, and blue.

He sat in the captain’s chair and closed his eyes. When he opened them, Victoria stood before him with a plate of food.

“Hungry?” Her mouth was soft, and her eyes sleepy. While she’d been below, she’d stripped off her dingy dress. A loose oriental print robe revealed a bit of cleavage and a lot of leg. The satiny texture didn’t do enough to cover her pebbled rosy nipples. Dark areolas prodded against the thin material.

“Come here.”

She stepped between his thighs and set the plate of fruit—bananas, oranges, strawberries, and grapes—and crackers next to his gun. Jaron fingered the fabric then tugged the belt of the robe, letting the material part. He placed his palm over her heart, feeling the rapid beat. She shivered, and her nipples tightened.

“Are you cold?”

She shook her head, covered his hand with hers, and cupped her breast. Warmth seeped into his palm.

“I thought you were hungry.”

“Food can wait.” Keeping her hand over his, she trailed lower until their joined fingers brushed her damp nest of curls. “But I can’t.”

Jaron wrapped his other hand around the nape of her neck, pulling her closer. Lips touched, and her mouth opened for him. He hummed in the back of his throat and deepened the kiss, tasting strawberries, along with the beautiful woman. She straddled his thigh, rubbing her swollen clit against him.

“I need you,” she said.

“Tell me what you want.” His stomach tightened, and his cock pulsed against the fly of his trousers, biting into the zipper.

“Make me feel safe.” She twined her arms around his neck. Jaron stood, lifted her, and carried her to the bench seat on the port side of the sloop.

“You are safe,” he whispered, kissing the soft tangy skin of her neck. “And I’ll keep you safe.”

She threaded her fingers through his hair. “I don’t want you to make me promises, Jaron. I’ll take this moment. Make love to me.”

He growled and sealed their mouths. He’d show her his promise until she believed his words. He lowered her until her feet touched the deck. Then grabbing a blanket from the cargo netting along the side of the hull, he covered the vinyl bench. When he finished, Victoria sat and spread her legs. He focused on her pussy. Moisture glistened on her plump labia. Saliva filled his mouth, and his tongue swelled.

Jaron unzipped his trousers, and his cock sprang free, thrusting hard and dripping pre-cum. After pushing his pants past his hips, he stepped out of them and moved closer to her.

Victoria’s eyes widened as her stare went from his shaft—the veins bulging with blood and desperate for her touch—to his face. She licked her lips, placed her hand on the back of his thighs, and urged him closer. Positioned between her legs, Victoria placed her mouth over the crown of his dick. Soft, wet heat encased him.

“Christ.” Muscles in his arms bunched as he gripped her head. Smooth, full lips slid down the shaft. A sharp stab pierced his mind. He remembered her painted lips circling his cock. He hadn’t allowed himself the memories, the pain of his mistake and his loss too acute. Yet, here she was. He had a second chance to be the man she needed.

Her tongue traced the ridge, pressed against the thick vein pulsing along the shaft. She hummed, and the vibration traveled into his sac. His body tensed. Victoria’s mouth was heaven. She cupped his balls, and they tightened in her palm. Using her other hand, she fisted his shaft and milked him slowly. Mouth and fingers met in the middle. Squeezing him harder, she pumped faster, fucking him with her fist and mouth. She took him unbelievably deeper. Every nerve heated and sizzled.

“Princess, I’m going to come.”

She refused to release her grip or slow her assault. Pleasure increased. He felt her ministrations from the tip of his dick, tingling up his spine and into his mind where she had the most power over him. He grew dizzy, and she continued to suck him. Her tongue licked, curling around the head.

He gave himself up to his release. His eyes closed as he spiraled into a maelstrom of carnal sensations. Centered in the storm was Victoria. He shouted, erupting in pulsing jets of cum. Her frenzied sucking took him beyond release. Blood roared through his head. Thoughts clouded. When he opened his eyes, she smiled and kissed his cock.