Hot Ice (A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 7) (22 page)

No one looked at Victoria Royal, but the temperature in the room cooled a few degrees. She’d been with Ian Black for two years, doing his dirty work in Qu’rim, and everyone knew it. They didn’t know if Black had any part in this, but the fact he’d reappeared recently wasn’t encouraging.

Brandy’s dark eyes flashed, but Victoria reached out and put her hand on his knee.
 

“I’ll head to the range and do some more target practice,” she said, rising. Brandy caught her hand and wouldn’t let her walk away.
 

“Victoria’s not leaking information to Ian Black,” Ryan said before the other man could explode. “No one in this room is.”

Matt nodded. “Agreed. But someone in the chain is.”

Mendez didn’t say a word at first. And then he sank down on the table beside the console. “Yes, we have a leak. I think we all know there’ve been some issues over the past few months. Stavros Metaxas coming to Washington when we thought he was dead. Ian Black getting released from our custody in Qu’rim. The fact we couldn’t figure out who was feeding Black information in the first place.” The colonel blew out a breath. “And two close calls with Grace Campbell in as many days. Ice is right to take her off the grid.”

“What if we pretend he didn’t?” Ryan said.
 

All eyes swung toward him. “Let’s pretend he’s still calling in. We can misdirect the leak and protect Ice at the same time.”

“Not sure that’ll work,” Chase “Fiddler” Daniels replied. “If someone is getting his position from the equipment, there’ll be nothing to track and they’ll know it.”

“No, but if we pretend to know where he is, and we let the information filter up the chain, it might give them something to occupy themselves with while Ice makes his way back. They won’t know for certain the information is false, and they won’t be able to ignore it.”

“Can’t hurt,” Dex added.
 

Mendez tapped the keyboard and rotated the map. “No, can’t hurt. He’ll get in touch soon enough when he buys a burner. Until then, let’s figure out where he’s most likely to be—and then we’ll put it out that he’s going in the opposite direction.”

* * *

Garrett wasn’t quite sure what was driving him, but he had to have her. Now. He had to know she was safe and well, and he needed her to want him.

This feeling was unlike any he’d experienced in recent memory. It was an itch, a need that resided right beneath the surface and drove him insane with the desire to scratch it. When he’d been staring at his watch and panicking inside, he’d told himself that Grace was smart and resourceful. That he’d get back to the room and she’d be gone, but that he’d find her. He’d go after her, bring her back, and feed her.

That he’d watch over her all night and make sure she was safe from harm.

But she’d still been there, waiting, and he’d been both relieved and furious. His body trembled with the need to dominate her, to prove he was the one with mastery over the situation. To prove he was in control, when in fact he felt less in control than he had in a long time.

He stripped her quickly, efficiently, then turned her and pushed her down on the bed, her ass in the air, her white cheeks pale and gleaming. He had condoms—he’d shoved a box in his pack last night, just in case they had to bug out, and he took one out now and rolled it on, mercenary bastard that he was.

He bent and pressed a kiss to Grace’s shoulder, her skin so sweet and perfect. She was a scientist who had the power of life and death in her head, and all he cared about was making her scream her pleasure into the pillows.
 

He tugged her hips up until she was in the perfect position for him, and then he slid into her, going deep and strong. She gasped, her back arching, her breath hissing out of her.

“You okay?” he managed.

“No,” she gasped, and he backed off, chastened that he’d hurt her. But her hand came around, gripped his ass, her fingernails digging into his flesh. “More.
More.
”

“Grace…” He swallowed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You aren’t hurting me. It’s not okay until I feel you moving inside me, until we feel like one.”

He dropped his mouth to her shoulder, hefted her hips tighter against his groin. “God, you make me insane. Need you so badly. Don’t care who it pisses off, don’t care what the consequences are.”

She moaned. “Yes… Same for me.”

He lost it then. Slammed into her again and again, driving her higher on the bed, her body arching up into his, her hips tilting to give him all the access he could desire. She reached in front of her and grabbed the edge of the mattress, stopping the forward motion, meeting him with the same power and frantic strength with which he met her.
 

It wasn’t enough. It could never be enough.
 

And suddenly he needed to be face-to-face with her. Needed his mouth on hers and her tits in his hands. He pulled away and she cried out, but he flipped her over and she wrapped her legs high around his waist, opening herself to him. He drove deep, groaning with the perfection of fucking Grace Campbell.

She was a princess, but she was a hot, needy, gorgeous princess that no one but him had ever had quite like this. He knew she’d never been this way with Jeffrey. He simply
knew
.

“Grace,” he said, “so fucking hot. So fucking beautiful.”

She caught fire beneath him, her body bucking and writhing, her hands reaching for him, grabbing his head and dragging him down for a kiss. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, slid against his, sucked and pulled and sent a lightning bolt of sensation straight down to his balls.

He exploded. Just fucking exploded. She must have gone with him, because she kissed him even harder, groaning and bucking more frantically than before.

It went on and on for so long he thought it would never end. But then she collapsed beneath him, her chest heaving, and his dick was suddenly so sensitive it actually hurt. He pulled out of her and went to dispose of the condom, his limbs shaky and weak. When he returned, she was lying on her side, curled into herself, her lovely body so pale and pretty.
 

She turned her head and opened her eyes to look at him, and his heart lurched. The sensation was unexpected and unwelcome. He put a hand to his chest and rubbed.

“You’ve destroyed me,” she said. “I’ll never look at sex the same again.”

He went over to the food he’d left on the table and brought it back to the bed. He sat beside her, and she pushed herself upright, her movements languorous and slow.
 

“Eat something, and then I’ll be happy to show you as many sides to sex as you’d like.”

She snorted as she pushed the Styrofoam container open. There was meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans. A simple meal, but he suddenly realized that meatloaf was probably not something she was accustomed to. Did a senator’s cook mix hamburger with onions, egg, and breadcrumbs to make a meal? He doubted it.

But it had been the thing that seemed easiest on the menu, and he’d ordered it.
 

She picked up the fork he gave her and dug in without the slightest hint she’d never eaten meatloaf in her life. He forked a bite of his food as his stomach rumbled, content to watch her eat. She sat there naked and uncaring that she wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing. He’d have bet money just a few days ago that Grace Campbell slept in pajamas buttoned to her neck and probably had sex with the lights out.
 

He was realizing that as much as he thought he knew her, he didn’t really know her at all. They ate in silence. He cracked the top on a bottle of water and took a long drink. Then he handed it to her, and she lifted it to her lips without hesitation.

And why wouldn’t she when their mouths had been fused together just a few minutes ago?
 

But it was intimate and he felt a tightening in his belly, a coil of possession binding him to her at that simple gesture.

It was out of proportion to the situation, and he shrugged as if he could shake it off. But the feeling was still there, and he resigned himself to it for as long as he had her in his custody. He had to take care of her, and he would.

She set the container down, the food mostly gone, and leaned back on the pillows. Then she smiled at him, and his heart did that funny clench thing again.

“If it weren’t for the bad guys and the ratty room, I’d call this the perfect date. Hot sex and comfort food—does it get any better?”

He set his container down and studied her. “Maybe not. Have you had many hot-sex-and-comfort-food dates?”

His gut clenched as he waited for her answer. She shrugged. “I thought I’d had a few, but now I think not. Pizza in the kitchen with Jeffrey after some hot missionary loving just doesn’t strike me as quite the same thing.”

“Maybe you like the ratty room and the illicit nature of having sex with a guy you barely know.” As soon as he said it, he wished he could call it back. Because she frowned, and he hated to see her frown. But the mention of Jeffrey—and the mental picture of that asshole rutting away on top of Grace—was something that pissed him off.

“Maybe that’s it. Uncomplicated sex with my hot bodyguard. Who wouldn’t enjoy such a fantasy?”

He reached for her, ran his fingers along her jaw and threaded them into her hair. “I know you don’t go around having sex with men you don’t know. I didn’t mean to suggest it.”

“No, but maybe I should.”

He felt like she’d punched him in the belly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” he growled.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s pretty exciting, don’t you think?”

“Grace.”

She shoved the food containers out of the way and straddled his lap. His dick was rapidly swelling against the wet heat of her sex. How could he possibly want her again so soon?

“Tell me this isn’t exciting, Garrett. Tell me you aren’t impossibly turned on by the situation.”

He put his hand between them and found her clit. Her eyes widened and her breath hissed in.
 

“You know I am. I can’t seem to help myself.”

“Then that makes two of us.” She reached for his dick, but instead, he slipped down between her legs and urged her up until her knees were on either side of his head. “What are you doing?” she gasped.
 

He was pretty certain she knew. He lifted his head and lashed his tongue around her clit. “Dessert,” he whispered against her hot flesh.
 

He held her thighs firmly and licked her until she screamed.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SHE DIDN’T WANT TO WAKE UP. Grace was warm and happy when Garrett shook her shoulder and told her to get up and get dressed. It was still dark out, and her body was sore, though in a good way. Her legs were weak and her thighs ached, but her vagina was well satisfied.

She almost giggled at the thought of a body part being satisfied, but really, how could it get any better? Garrett had made her come so many times she’d thought she’d never come again—but then he’d made it happen one more time and proved her wrong.

And now that she thought of all that coming, her sex tingled with awareness and a need that she didn’t think would ever be satisfied.
 

Still, she got up and took a quick shower, then dressed in the same clothes and grabbed her gear. Garrett kissed her swiftly before ushering her outside and into a different vehicle than the truck, which still sat across the parking lot.

This one was a Jeep, as old and beat-up as the truck, but not filled with cigarette wrappers and beer cans. She didn’t bother to ask where he’d gotten it as she climbed in and fastened the seat belt.

Soon they were rolling down the two-lane highway, their headlights the only ones for miles. Every once in a while they’d pass another vehicle coming their way, but it didn’t worry her that this one might be the one with people who tried to harm them.

“Where are we going?” she asked after a particularly jaw-cracking yawn.

“Not sure,” he said, and her heart skipped.

“What about your people?”

“I haven’t been in touch.”

She blinked and tried to process this information. “But you said they’d take care of those guys who came after us.”

“They did. But there’s a leak somewhere, and I’m not taking that chance.”

“One of your guys?”

His head swiveled toward her for a second. “No, never my guys. But there’s more going on here than meets the eye, and someone somewhere has access. Someone who shouldn’t. They found us, Grace, and it should have been impossible.”

“I… But who would have access to that kind of information?”

“Ian Black. Your father.”

Her belly twisted. She knew he wasn’t suggesting that her father had sent people after her, but if her father knew where she was, then someone on his staff could be sharing the information. As for Ian, it seemed insanity to think the son of a furniture magnate had anything to do with the men who’d come after her—but who knew?

“You said I shouldn’t trust Ian. But you didn’t tell me why.”

His shoulders stiffened for a second. “I’m not at liberty to say. It’s sensitive information.”