Lock and Load (2 page)

Then, quite unexpectedly, Beau had met the mouthwatering sub with the sun-streaked blonde hair. He’d just been looking for a night of exciting sex and been shocked at the instant connection he’d felt. The sizzle that sparked between them had nearly lit up the room. When they’d met in the lounge at The Edge, he’d immediately spotted the pink bracelet she wore, signaling she was a sub available for the night, and he’d taken full advantage of it. The first night with her had blown his mind, and the two that had followed had been even better. Since then he’d woken up more than once with his hand wrapped around his dick, sweating from dreams about the things they’d done in that private room.

He’d quickly discovered she also had a strong side to her personality. He didn’t know what she did for a living. All she’d told him was her name—Megan. But just from the few things she’d let slip, he gathered that whatever she did, she needed to project confidence. It had been obvious from the moment they’d began their playtime that she grappled with the conflict between her public personality and her full submissive need. For Beau, the signs of Megan’s struggle to reconcile the two opposite sides of her nature were a big part of the turn-on for him. He loved her spirit, even as he’d had her on her knees, head tipped back, his cock in her mouth.

Until recently, Beau hadn’t been one to get himself tangled up with a woman for more than a few nights. Neither his family experience nor his career as a sniper had made him open to people. The only people he connected with were the members of Team Charlie and that was the way he liked it. He did his best to ignore Slade’s remarks about all of them getting older and needing something solid in their lives. His something solid was his sniper rifle.

Megan, Whateverhernamewas had given him a week to remember, one of the best in his life. She was not just an enthusiastic sub—she was into pain as much as he was. He’d taken it easy that night, unwilling to push hard until he knew her better, recognized her signals, her responses. But he wanted more. A lot more. In his mind there had been no mistaking the link between the two of them, one that was both emotional and physical. He wanted the chance to find out if that connection was real or imagined. If she felt it, too. If, unexpectedly, he’d found someone who he could think about for more than just the moment.

And if he could trust the situation. His own family wasn’t exactly a poster display for warm and fuzzy. Not to mention the fact that he never knew when he’d be home or how long he’d deploy for. There was always the chance she’d meet someone else while he was off playing soldier. Maybe someone from work, or a Dom who pushed her buttons more than he did.

Beau was a loner, socially. Things just worked out better that way for him. He didn’t trust the commitment level of women. That was just part of who he was. The Army had been his mistress, his lover, his commitment. But Megan…well, Megan was different. Wasn’t she? When his cock had been buried deep inside her, when she’d been bound hand and foot for his pleasure, he’d felt something he’d never felt with any other woman.

He was acutely aware that a career like his didn’t exactly help the situation. He’d seen too many relationships fail due to the stress of constant separation and the inability to settle into a normal pattern during down time.

But you’ve seen others succeed, too. And if Slade is willing to take a chance, maybe it can work.

And maybe not. He’d be cautious, but he was definitely going to see this woman again. He damn sure planned to snag a guest pass to The Edge from Slade and hope she’d be there. Maybe if he found her again, she could be his plus one at the wedding. If Slade and Kari didn’t mind.

Plus one? What’s that all about? Take a date?

He shifted uncomfortably. This was no time or place to be thinking about down and dirty sex. He needed to use his big head not his little one. He had serious work to do here.

“Bogeys at three o’clock.”

Trey’s whisper was so soft that, if not for his acute sense of hearing, Beau might have missed it. It jarred him out of his thoughts. He blinked to clear his vision and sighted through the scope, a dual-illumination system that automatically adjusted aiming-point brightness to existing lighting conditions. Yup, there they were, sharp and clear—two Jeeps slowly lumbering across the rocky ground into the encampment. The guards stationed at either end of the camp went on full alert, rifles at the ready, scanning the surrounding area for any sign of movement as the Jeeps moved into the center of the encampment.

But Delta Team Charlie was like a wraith, a phantom that faded into the background, so silent they could barely hear their own breathing. They all waited patiently, Beau more than any of them, for the men to exit from the vehicles. The target was easy to spot, the only one that every single man bowed to and who was distinguished by his colorful clothing. His
chapan
, a robe of purple and green vividly reflected by the moonlight, was worn over a
peren,
the typical baggy cotton trousers, and a
tunbun
, a cotton tunic. The headdress he wore designated him as a person of some note.

The Taliban leader stood erect as he accepted each man’s homage and briefly allowed himself to be embraced by what appeared to be the two primary guards. The greetings out of the way, the group began to move slowly toward the largest tent set just to the side of the central yard. It was larger than any of the others and had flaps enclosing it all the way around. The men walked slowly, talking, gesticulating. Beau was sure none of them expected enemy invasion in the unforgiving landscape.

In a moment they would separate, even infinitesimally, and he would have his shot.

Wait for it. Wait for it.

Next to him Trey began whispering the wind velocity, the range to target measured with his spotter’s scope, the angle of descent. A spotter was trained to memorize formulas for range, wind, elevation, temperature and target movement and be able to make calculations with or without a calculator. And Trey was one of the best. Beau trusted him implicitly.

Wait for it.

Beau barely moved as he tracked the tribal leader with his rifle, aiming dead center of his forehead. The moment would present itself. He just had to be patient. After drawing in a deep breath, he let it out very slowly, his finger ready on the trigger, Trey continuing to feed him information.

There!

The target separated himself just a little from the other men while one of them lifted a tent flap for him to enter. For a moment he turned slightly in Beau’s direction.

Now!

He squeezed the trigger, just the right pressure. And the .50 caliber bullet streaked through the night air to pierce the forehead of his target. The only sound from the suppressed instrument had been a slight puff. He knew Trey was tracking the round by the slight vapor trail it left, already recalculating in his head in case by some wild-assed chance Beau had missed. But as always, Beau was right on target. They watched the man jerk then crumple to the ground.

Even as the men in the encampment shouted, bending over their fallen leader, scanning the surrounding countryside, aiming their rifles and firing burst after burst toward shadows, Delta Team Charlie was already up and on its way. It took Beau eight seconds to break down his rifle and stuff it into his backpack. Slade, already speaking into his radio, led the way as they moved like ghosts to the exfiltration site.

They waited, crouched in the sparse scrub surrounding the landing zone, Glocks in their hands just in case, until they heard the distinctive
whump!
of the rotors. Then the big Apache helo pulled up over a tall outcropping and hovered over the landing zone, low enough for them to get on board. Even from the distance of the camp, the shouting voices of men carried on the now still night air. Beau knew before long they would be combing the rocky landscape looking for the intruders. And the sound of the helo was impossible to disguise. They needed to get the fuck out of there
now.

Hands reached out from the bird to help pull the team members into the cabin and they were lifting off even as the last two men were still scrambling to get inside. A fast exit was always best in situations like this. No telling how soon the men from the outpost would be up there looking for them.

Beau leaned back against the cabin wall, legs outstretched, and closed his eyes. One more for his kill book. One more bad guy eliminated. One day closer to a week of leave and finding the sizzling hot Megan again—the sub of his dreams.

He looked over at Slade who grinned through the black grease on his face. He nodded and gave Beau a thumbs up, then did the same to Trey. Using his sat radio, he reported in on the success of a mission then he, too, let himself relax. The noise of the rotors and the open doors prevented any real conversation so they all just bumped fists and settled back until they landed back at the base. As they headed toward their barracks, Slade answered a call on his cell phone. When he finished, he looked over his shoulder at his men.

“We’ve got transport day after tomorrow, a military flight to Fort Sam. You guys all ready to rock and roll? And Teo will pick us up and take us to the ranch, just like the last time.”

Fort Sam was Fort Sam Houston, one of five military installations in and around San Antonio. Not as comfortable as flying commercial but a hell of a lot cheaper. There was a chorus of yeses and hoorahs as they walked across the tarmac.

Slade’s ranch was just south of San Antonio, a small spread by Texas standards but well run and obviously profitable. The team had found it a great place to unwind, especially with the ‘extra’ perks Slade provided.

“Same agenda as before?” Beau asked.

Slade grinned. “Now that’s a damn fool question. Of course you want the same thing as before. Passes to The Edge, right?”

“Except for you,” Trey put in. “Mr Getting Married. You’ll be busy planning the big day before we have to go back.”

“Yeah,” Marc Blanchard echoed. “No more fun and games for you this time.”

Slade laughed. “Sorry to disillusion you suckers, but I get all my fun and games at home from now on. And Kari’s got everything set for two days after we land in Texas. That way she and I can have some time together before we’re wheels up again. Bring your uniforms.”

Trey frowned. “You guys going the whole big, fancy route for the wedding?”

Slade shook his head. “No. Kari wants to keep it small. Neither of us has parents still living, unfortunately, so it’s just going to be our closest friends. Maybe some of the people she works with. That’s it.” He looked at each member of the team individually. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want this to be very special for her. She’s gone all out on her dress and I want to make this a day she’ll remember forever. She’s an exceptional lady.”

“You can count on us,” Marc assured him.

“But you’ll make sure to get us squared away first, right?” Beau couldn’t help himself. The words just fell out of his mouth. Slade’s wedding was top priority, of course, but he just had to get into the club to look for Megan. And as soon as possible. He’d camp outside the doors to the club if Slade didn’t get them set up.

“Don’t you worry, any of you,” he assured them. “While I’m honeymooning with my bride, you guys will have weeklong passes to The Edge.” He winked. “Use them wisely.”

Beau barely listened to the raunchy joking from his teammates as they entered their quarters. He heard ‘passes’ and ‘for a week’ and his dick automatically stood up and cheered.

* * * *

“Hey, Megan, did you schedule that interview yet?”

Charlie Fortune’s voice boomed from his glass-enclosed cubicle in one corner of the press room. Megan covered her ears with her hands and stalked to her boss’s doorway.

“Jeez, Charlie. Haven’t you learned how to use the intercom after all these years?”

Fortune, a thirty-five year veteran of sports reporting, just laughed. “What for as long as I’ve got lungs.” He leaned forward, arms on his desk. “So about that interview. Don’t make me regret giving it to you.”

“All set up for this afternoon,” she assured him. “Don’t you worry. I’m meeting him with his agent at the team offices. I scheduled a photographer so we can get a picture of him doing the ceremonial signing of the contract.”

The San Antonio NBA team had drafted one of the hottest point guards to come out of college basketball in a long time and that’s all anyone was talking about. There were other more senior reporters on the staff who griped because Megan had gotten the assignment. But Megan knew Charlie liked her approaches on interviews, which was why he usually gave them to her.

Which was probably why, when she’d discovered her desire to be submissive in the bedroom, she’d been relieved to know there were times in her life she could let down her guard and not be stomped on because of it.

Since the day Charlie hired her, she’d been fighting to earn and cement her position on his staff. The other reporters, some of them asshole would-be jocks, weren’t above making crude and rude comments every time she got a tasty project. She’d thought by now there’d be some enlightenment in the media world regarding female sports reporters. But this newspaper seemed to have its permanent share of Neanderthals. It seemed she fought every day for respect and recognition. Sometimes wearing her strength like a shield got tiring.

“I need the story by noon tomorrow,” Charlie reminded her, shaking her out of her reverie.

“No problem.” She turned to head back to her desk, waving at him over her shoulder.

She had cut her teeth on four smaller newspapers before getting to the big time and even then she’d practically had to start at the bottom again. Whoever said there was equality in reporting today didn’t pay attention to what was going on in the world of sports reporting.

Dropping into her chair, she looked at the reporters working at their desks. There were seven on the staff besides her, covering everything from professional sports to high schools and colleges. Charlie had sent her on the local college tour when he’d first hired her, throwing everything on that beat at her to see what she was made of. Megan had gritted her teeth and slogged through it, earning his respect and the respect of the editor-in-chief. Now she had the prized assignment of covering the city’s NBA team, and she knew every guy on the staff had his dick in a knot because of it.