Fatal Courage: Shadow Force International, Book 3 (Shadow Force International Romantic Suspense Series) (16 page)

Then he was pulling her under the nearest machine, flattening her to the ground with his heavy, muscled body. One hand tangled in her hair, his fist gathering the tresses and tugging on them until she arched back, exposing her neck to him. The other hand went between her legs, cupping her, his thumb rubbing her sensitive spot through her jeans.

He dropped his lips to her neck, kissing, sucking, running his tongue along her vulnerable throat. Teeth scraped against her skin, nibbled her earlobe, sending a fresh, white hot zap of electricity down to her lower belly, between her legs.

She arched even higher, rocking against his hand. Above them, rain lashed against the building. Ruby vaguely heard the sound of a tree splitting, a crash.

She whimpered again, but not from fear.

The rhythm Jax was building was oh-so good, and she wanted more, more, more. Wanted her jeans gone and his fingers inside her. Wanted
him
inside her.

Molotov cocktail
. That’s what Elliot had called the two of them on their mission in Morocco. Fire and fuel. A dangerous, unpredictable bomb ready to explode.

“Jax,” she called, reaching for his belt buckle again. Could he hear her? “I need you.
Now
.”

Lightning flashed, the illumination under the machine minimal. Still, she saw the look on his face, the desire there warring with the need to protect her. They could die here, in this storm, in this awful abandoned building in the middle of nowhere. How long would it take someone to find them?

His lips came down next to her ear. “You sure about that? Right now?”

He thought she was crazy.

Maybe she was, but the sound of his voice, intense, rich, bold, asking the question while at the same time daring her to give him exactly what he wanted, spurred her on.

Grabbing his shirt lapels in each hand, she gave a hard yank.

Buttons flew. His shirt opened, revealing his massive chest. She reached out and ran her hands over his pecs, down to his stomach.

She heard the growl from his chest—loud and primal. He popped open her jeans and unzipped them.

The torture was exquisite as he stared into her eyes and slowly, slowly, slid his hand down to her panties, cupping her fully with his palm, completely ignoring the raging storm around them.

A finger pushed the fabric aside and dove between her folds, his thumb finding her clit. At the same time, he brought his mouth down on hers, his tongue shooting between her lips.

The double assault bowed her back once more, her cry caught by his kiss. Her hips jerked under his hand, allowing him deeper access and a fresh rhythm built quickly between them, sending her up, up, up, spiraling like the wind outside.

Her release came so quickly, she felt like the tree outside, splitting right down her middle. She flew apart, Jax’s name screamed into the raging whirlwind.

On the heels of her orgasm, a second scream, violent and untamed, ripped through their surroundings.

J
AX
H
AD
S
NUCK
into strongholds in enemy territory, survived windstorms in the desert, pulled himself out of quicksand, and gone mano-a-mano with terrorists who thought they owned the world.

But never in his life had he brought a woman to orgasm during a fucking tornado.

Probably not the best idea he’d ever had.

But it was Ruby and she’d clung to him and kissed him and ran her fingers across his face and he was one hundred percent fucked.

Because they both knew he’d give her any damn thing she wanted, any time she wanted it.

Even in the midst of a tornado.

She was insane. So was he. Put the two of them together and boom. Fireworks, explosions, shitass craziness of every kind.

He couldn’t say no to her. She lit the fire in him in a way no one else ever had, ever would. He needed her brand of drug in his veins. Needed her in ways he’d never imagined.

Now she lay under him, panting, completely undone as an ungodly screech rent the air. Jax jerked a look back over his shoulder and saw the right front corner of the roof split. Half a second later, it was clawed away by the storm.

The number and intensity of curse words that fell from his lips were lost in the midst of rain and debris that came through the open roof as he lifted Ruby up and tucked her into a ball farther under the bagging machine. His body instinctively wrapped around hers.

Rudely ripped from her post-orgasmic haze, she protested, but her objections were cut short as she realized what was happening and how truly fucked they both were.

She shouted something, her mouth working, and he could actually see her face since they had a new source of light. The words, however, were sucked away on the wind, her hair blowing around her face. He brought his hand to the back of her head, and motioned for her to duck as he pressed her head down, leaning over her.

He didn’t think the roar of the wind could get worse, yet it did. Even as covered as he was, rain and other things pelted into his back. He prayed to whatever god there might be that the hand tools that had been laying on the shelves didn’t rap him on their way by.

From the next harsh, piercing noise behind him, he guessed another piece of the roof went bye-bye. Within seconds, his backside was completely soaked and he felt a shift in the air around him. The air was pressing on him, and then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

Instead, it reversed and he felt a sucking sensation in his lungs, his gut. If there was a god, he was reaching down, about to grab Jax right out from under this machine.

Shit.
Better hold on.

Yanking his belt off, he tied it around the end of the machine and then around Ruby’s wrist. “Hold on!” he yelled into her ear as the sucking sensation gripped hold of him and started to pull him out from under his hidey hole.

Quick as the lightning flashing overhead, he wrapped one arm around the machine leg and his other around Ruby.

Her arms went around his neck, her legs around his waist. The added weight grounded him and he would have breathed a sigh of relief if he’d actually been able to breathe at all.

Because that hand of God was sucking every last bit of air from the place.

A piece of wall broke free and went flying off into the abyss outside. Then another. The bagging machine trembled, its legs scooting a couple of centimeters to the right.

Don’t you dare, you piece of shit.

It trembled harder. Ruby tightened her grip on him even more. Jax clenched his teeth and held on for all he was worth.

Next thing he knew, the hand of God finally caught up with him. His ass lifted off the ground.

Airborne. Even with Ruby sitting in his lap.

If she hadn’t been wrapped around him, she would have fallen flat on the ground, then been swept up by the wind. As it was, she clung to him and he clung to the machine and they seemed to float there for a moment.

A long, agonizing moment, where her hair wrapped around his face, covering his eyes and his muscles strained beyond their edge, his heart nearly exploded from fear.

Don’t let Ruby die.

Don’t let Ruby die.

The refrain echoed over and over in his brain. His lungs cried out for oxygen. His body tried to find the ground.

Stupid goddamn idiot!

Why hadn’t he paid attention to the weather report? The impending storm? The fact that when they’d heard the siren go off, he hadn’t taken it more seriously and gotten both of them the hell out of there?

But where would they have gone? Cornfields weren’t known for their storm cellars.

Ruby’s cheek grazed his and something inside him calmed. His heart was still flipping out, his brain still beating him to a pulp for his foolishness, and yet…his body shifted to a different state as he felt her grounding him, even in the midst of near death.

A piece of her hair fell from his eyes and he fought the force of the wind to shift his head enough he could see her. She was looking up, up into the storm threatening to end them as they continued to be lifted off the floor.

And there it was. That thing he loved about her. Fearlessness, ballsiness, courage.

Her eyes were wide open, cheeks rosy. There was no alarm in her features, but more of a reverence. As if God were truly there, looking down on them, and she was standing in awe of His power.

In the face of death, she looked…peaceful.

That’s when he knew. If he died today, right here with her wrapped in his arms, he’d be at peace too.

It was a blissful thought for a moment. Then his survival instincts—good guys that they were—kicked in hard. No way, no how, were the two of them dying here today.

Using all his might, he cranked the arm holding Ruby around, twisting, twisting, twisting until…

Yes! He grabbed the machine leg with that hand. Two points of contact, and a whole lot more leverage, might just be the ticket to their survival.

The sucky part was, he couldn’t hold onto Ruby and the machine leg at the same time. He had to rely on her. She had to keep her body clinging to his in order to keep her safe.

The sensation was akin to skydiving with a partner. He’d done tandem jumping a time or two, never much cared for it.

Until now.

“Don’t let go!” he yelled and saw her head nod.

Inch by inch, he crawled his hand down the machine leg, the machine itself still scooting across the floor ever so slowly as the suction worked it over.

As long as it didn’t lift off, they could ride this out.

That was when he felt the machine shudder, the leg he was hanging onto suddenly hovering above the ground.

Chapter Eleven

_____________________

______________________________________________________

A
G
HOST
W
AS
chasing him.

Elliot came to in the middle of a cornfield, rain pouring down, and a crushing pain in his thigh.

Above him, angry clouds swirled, lightning flashed. The wind was insane. Raising his head and blinking through the sharp wind, he saw green weeds twining their leggy bodies around dead corn stalks left over from the previous fall. The field he was lying in was fallow and unplanted.

Dead. Abandoned.

Like me
.

His head pounded, the cold rain shocking against the heat of his brow. Shirt plastered to his chest, he felt for his weapon and found it missing.

How did I end up here?

He’d been at the old feed mill, questioning Nelson, hiding him. He thought they’d escaped, that they were free from the tail he’d had since the police station.

Convincing Nelson he couldn’t go back to Chicago had stretched his already thin patience to the breaking point. The stupid gang banger didn’t understand. The man hunting both of them wouldn’t stop until he had what he wanted—Elliot’s head on a platter.

Elliot had given Nelson one of the phones from Ruby’s go-bag and explained their options. There was no going back to Chicago. Not until the ghost was dealt with, maybe not even then.

The man who wanted Ruby would keep sending his minions.

Leaving Nelson to stew, Elliot had gone in search of food and water. Even in the middle of nowhere, he couldn’t exactly walk into a gas station and grab supplies without fear of being recognized. His last disguise as a Homeland official was too out of the ordinary in a small farming community.

The mill’s office had provided a pair of overalls and a new hat. Elliot liked the overalls—they were loose and provided plenty of pockets for his weapon, the phones, and the cash Ruby had given him. The hat—well, he knew nothing about fertilizer companies, but like the overalls, the dusty, worn, ball cap advertising Dow would allow him to keep his face partially hidden and keep him from attracting notice if he was lucky.

It was still impossible to be inconspicuous in a small town where everyone knew everyone. A place where no one was in a hurry and everyone wanted to chat.

Sure enough, when he’d hit the local gas station and grabbed some water and two sandwiches, the first thing the clerk did was ask him if he was from around there.

Elliot had been quick on his feet like always, pulling his rain drenched hat farther down on his face. “Nah, just passin’ through,” he’d told the old geezer. “On my way to the city.”

A siren had gone off in the far distance, followed by another. “You might want to find you a place to hunker down,” the clerk had said. “Find you” had sounded like
fine-jew
. “Nasty weather headed our way.”

Elliot had thanked him and hustled out, pretending to be worried about the approaching storm, rather than the man hunting him down.

The ghost had been close on his heels. By the time Elliot had gotten back to the abandoned mill, he’d already been there.

Sirens were once again going off, the long wails making him think of demons in hell, keening for his soul. Pushing himself to a seated position, Elliot wiped water from his eyes and saw a nasty, swirling mass far away in the distance.