Pushed to the Edge (SEAL Team 14) (9 page)

Will swallowed Olivia’s soft moans and
methodically thrust his tongue inside of her sweet mouth.  He slowly rocked her
body onto his hard dick, which was straining against his jeans.  Will cupped
Olivia’s firm round ass with his strong hands, pressing her body down onto him
harder. 

Jesus
.  The soft sounds that were coming
from her throat were enough to drive him crazy. 
He was completely drowning
in her, and he had no desire to come up for air
.

He nearly growled when she pulled back, but
stopped when she gave him another one of those brilliant smiles of hers.  He
watched, completely mesmerized, as she pulled her tank top over her head. 

Will laid his head back against the sofa and
watched her with glazed eyes.  She reached both hands behind her back and
hurriedly undid the clasp to her tan lace bra. 

She had full, beautiful breasts and her nipples
were large, taut, and brown.  Will practically salivated.  He couldn’t stop
himself from touching her.  He slowly trailed his hands upwards from her
waist.  His fingers stroking her gorgeous caramel-colored skin.  It was like
stroking silk.

“You’re so incredibly beautiful, Liv,” he
whispered, rubbing her nipples and leaning forward to take her right breast
into his mouth.

“Oh yeah?  I thought you preferred your women with
more curves?” she said, leaning back slightly to look into his shimmering eyes.

“I didn’t mean any of it.  I was just trying to
get a rise out of you after you kinda brushed me off.  You are gorgeous. 
You’re absolutely perfect,” he responded in awe, pulling her lithe body back
toward him.

“Uh, mmm . . . I want you so much Will,” Olivia
moaned while he suckled her breasts greedily.  Entwining her fingers into his
long hair, Olivia rocked her body into his and placed scathing hot kisses
across the side of his tanned face.  Will hastily unbuttoned her jeans and slid
a hand underneath her red silk panties, and stroked her labia with his thumb in
gentle circles. 
Jesus
, she was shaved.

“I want you too, baby.”

“Oh . . .  mmm . . .  yeeeees.  That feels so
good,” Olivia shuddered and her eyes rolled back into her head.  Her slender
hands clutched at Will’s back.

“You’re so wet baby.  I want to make you come,”
Will whispered, reclaiming Olivia’s luscious cherry-stained lips.  His hands
cup either side of her heart-shaped face as he pulled her closer into him.  Will
didn’t want to make Olivia come just once, he wanted to make her come again and
again, until a part of him was imprinted on her.  He wanted her, hard and
fast—he wanted to possess her. 

Olivia reached out and hurriedly unbuttoned Will’s
white dress shirt.  She trailed soft kisses down the side of his cheek, neck,
and chest, slowly moving downward.  They were open mouth kisses, and she
tenderly suckled on his exposed skin as she moved downward.  When she got to
the last button on his shirt, Will’s breath caught with anticipation.  She
reached down to unbutton his jeans.

Rrrriiiiiiiiiiinnnnngggg. 

Goddamnit!
  It was his phone, but there was
no way that was he answering it.  No way in hell. 

Rrrriiiiiiiiiiinnnnngggg.

 Sonofabitch
!  Of all the goddamn inopportune
times, this really had to take the cake.  Only one person would call him at
zero dark hundred, when he wasn’t stateside.

He continued to stroke Olivia with one hand.  Her
eyes were closed and she had leaned forward to lick his heavily muscled chest. 
With his other hand, he checked the number flashing across the screen of his
phone. 

Damnit
.  It was his CO, which could only
mean one thing—that some sort of foreign shit had hit the fan. 

He reluctantly removed his hand from stroking
Olivia’s labia.  “Hey angel face, I have to take this call okay?  It’s my
commanding officer.” 

Olivia’s eyes slowly opened and she took a deep,
shaky breath as Will answered his phone—one of his hands still squeezing her
bare ass. 

“Castle.”

“Will—we have some major shit going down.  I’ve
already called in some of the others on the team; we need you back to the base
ASAP.  You're going to be wheels up within the hour.  You’ll be briefed when
you get here.”

Will hung up, blew out a frustrated breath, and
looked into the sparking, violet eyes of the half-naked goddess who was softly
panting and still straddling his lap.

“You have to go,” Olivia said.  It was a statement
rather than a question.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.  I’m not sure what’s up, but
it’s an assignment.  I’m not sure where I’m going, but I’m leaving Germany
within the hour,” Will explained with a pained expression etched across his
face.

“It’s okay, I understand.  Be careful.”

“I’m so sorry, Liv,” Will sighed and looked at
her.  There wasn’t really anything further that could say.  He had to leave,
his job came first.  He watched Olivia slide off his lap and pull on her shirt.

“Will, it’s not your fault.  It’s your job, I get
it.”

Will stood up, cupped her face with both hands,
and gave her a deep kiss goodbye, his tongue gently thrusting into her mouth
before he pulled away.  “I’ll call you as soon as I get a chance.”

“Sure,” Olivia said, the doubt was evident on her
face.

Two
Months Later
     

Dallas,
TX

Victoria, you did an
excellent job on your coverage of the ‘Dallas Night Stalker.’  Keep up that
type of reporting and you may be in the running for a Pulitzer next year.”

Victoria Sanchez looked up from her computer at
her boss at the
Dallas Star Gazette
, Edward Linton. 

Edward Linton was a thin and tall man in his late
fifties.  His remaining sprig of white hair was slicked back in what appeared
to be a futile attempt to try to cover his rapidly expanding bald spot.  At
least he had not yet gone the way of the toupée. 

Victoria had endured quite a few bosses over the
years, and Edward had been one of the most even-tempered of the bunch, a
personality trait that definitely came in handy when he had to keep a staff of
thirty reporters and copy editors in line.  The personalities of Victoria’s
coworkers whose collective tempers ran the range of mild to spicy.  It took a
special type of manager to be able to pull all of the diverse members of the
group together to reach maximum productivity.  In the tight knit local news
community, Edward had gained the reputation of being a fair and balanced
editor.

“Thanks Edward.  You are ever the eternal
optimist.  But I guess a girl can dream,” she replied.  The Dallas Night
Stalker was a serial rapist who had plagued the Dallas Metro area for about a year. 
The Dallas Police Department had originally pegged a local University professor
as the perpetrator. 

The professor had perfectly fit the police
analysts’ profile of the unknown subject—a single, older, white male, with
severe relationship issues.  However, Victoria had been one of the first
reporters that started questioning whether the Dallas Police Department was
focusing on the right man.  Through her tenacious reporting and interviewing of
overlooked witnesses, the right man—a local apartment landlord—had finally been
correctly apprehended.

 “I’m surprised to see that you are still here so
late in the evening.  Don’t stay too much longer,” Edward continued before he
walked away from her cubicle and headed home for the evening.

She glanced up at the wall clock directly in front
of her cubicle, which showed that it was just shy of eight o’clock p.m.  It was
rather unusual for any of the local crime reporters to be in the office so late
on a Friday afternoon.  Not that there weren’t plenty of crimes to investigate
in Dallas.  After all, it was a big city that was home to millions of people. 

However, given the conveniences of modern
technology, most reporters were able to track stories and upload their weekly columns
without having to spend a lot of face time within the building.  Victoria,
however, was old school.  She loved coming into work every day . . . well
almost every day. 

She knew that Edward probably assumed that she was
staying late to investigate the “Highland Hills Robber”—at least that’s what
the local news media was calling him.  In the past few weeks, there had been a
string of robberies had shocked the local suburb community of Highland
Village. 

Given the fact that her official title at the newspaper
was “local crime reporter,” it would make sense that Victoria would be
carefully following the investigation.  However, Victoria was in fact
not
investigating the local thefts—well at least not to a rigorous degree.

 She didn’t necessarily enjoy misleading her boss,
but for the two new stories that she was working on, she would make an
exception.  Instead of focusing on the robbery investigation, she was opting to
work on the Ortiz murder case and another “case” that hadn’t really be declared
a “case” at all.  For her second story, she was busy digging into the details
behind former Congressman Henning’s overseas abduction. 

During her time at the
Dallas Star
,
Victoria had earned the reputation around the office as being something of a
gunner.  Her ultimate goal was to land her dream anchor job at CNN. 

It wasn’t just a pipe dream either—she didn’t
graduate from Emory University with a degree in journalism just to cover
robberies at the local convenience marts.  She only needed to find the right story
to land her on the national television news circuit.  This type of work related
focus had helped to put the final nail in the relationship coffin between her
and Joshua Laurent. 

Vicki had met Josh when was spending a semester at
UC-Berkeley via an exchange program.  She had been hanging out at a bar in San
Diego with one of her best friends, Olivia, and some of their acquaintances. 
Unbeknownst to them at the time, the bar was a regular hangout for military
personnel.  Upon entering the bar, Victoria had seen Joshua standing at the bar
with some friends regaling them with a story.  Somehow, she’d caught his eye. 
And the rest was, as they say, history. 

Joshua’s attraction toward her had surprised her
to some degree.  Victoria had always been a little self-conscious about her
weight.  She was a Latina woman who had curves.  She was a generous size D in
bra cup size and she had well-developed posterior that would make even Jennifer
Lopez a little bit envious. 

However, she had never been able to obtain the
washboard abs that she constantly strived for.  She thought that a man like
Joshua—who had a perfect physique—would have been more interested in some of
her skinnier friends.  

 After their first date, they had been attached at
the hip until his fourth deployment to Afghanistan.  It was the first
deployment that he’d had since their relationship began.  Victoria’s guts had
been twisted inside out during that whole time.  She had been sick with worry
for twelve agonizing months until he returned home.  She made the decision
during that time interval that she just could not deal with the stress of being
a military girlfriend . . . or wife . . . if it ever got to that point. 

Victoria then did what had seemed to her to be the
most logical thing to do under the circumstances.  She had told Joshua that she
couldn’t be in a relationship with him if he didn’t opt out of his dangerous
job for a career that was more stable—and less likely to have him coming home
from work in a body bag.  She still couldn’t believe that he had chosen the
teams over her.  The sting of his rejection still hurt. 

Dragging herself away from her thoughts, she
focused in on the paperwork in front of her on her desk. 

She was convinced that she was chasing the story
of her life: former Congressman Henning’s kidnapping.  It had all started when
the huge news broke out on every news station that Richard Henning had been
rescued in a covert military operation after being kidnapped in a border town
in Pakistan by an unknown Islamic extremist group. 

Given its history of leaks, it was really quite a
remarkable feat that the U.S. government was able to keep the kidnapping of a
prominent former U.S. Congressman quiet until days after he had been rescued. 
Most news stations were operating under the premise that the Congressman had
just fallen into some bad luck in being kidnapped.  Pakistan was after all a
hotbed for insurgents and Taliban-linked terrorist groups. 

A few days after his rescue, Richard Henning
appeared on several national TV news outlets such as CNN and FOX.  During those
interviews he simultaneously thanked his rescuers—anonymous members of a
Special Forces unit—and warned that insurgent, anti-American terrorist acts
would not be tolerated.  It had proved for dramatic television to say the
least. 

Victoria, however, hadn’t been fully convinced by
Richard Henning’s passionate (even if somewhat keening) public display.  Her
doubt had been fueled by information she started to uncover about Henning’s
shipping company.  The Henning Cooper Company owned a fleet of twenty-five
tankers, which included a mixture of both mini-bulkers and combined carriers. 
She had called also found out some interesting information about the recent
management changes of Richard Henning’s multimillion-dollar shipping company. 

Against all odds, Victoria had managed to cajole
the former Congressman into a meeting with her to discuss his kidnapping.  The
meeting was scheduled for two days from now.  Of course, Henning was under the
impression that Victoria only wanted to ask him questions about his recent
ordeal and his feelings in the wake of the kidnapping.  Victoria had much more
difficult questions on her mind. 

In preparation, she had lined up a meeting with
Henning’s, ex-partner, Walt Mickelson.  Mickelson used to be a named partner
listed on the shipping company’s website.  Inexplicably, three years ago,
Mickelson had exited the multi-million dollar company.  His stake in the
company had been watered down to such an extent, that his ownership in the business
was now only a miniscule percentage.  Mickelson hadn’t gone quietly into that
dark night, however. 

He had done what most Americans would do if they
felt that they were being unfairly shafted—he filed a civil suit.  The three
parties had later settled the matter out of court for an undisclosed amount. 
Obviously, there had been a falling out of some sort between the three men, and
Victoria was determined to find out what it was.

Not long after making his exit from the shipping
company, Mickelson had formed his own consulting business called Mickelson
& Associates, P.C., which was located in Fort Worth, Texas.  Per his new
company’s website, the business specialized in advising oil, gas, and shipping
companies in a wide variety of subject areas. 

Victoria had scheduled an eleven o’clock meeting
with Mr. Mickelson in his new offices.  She was planning to leave at around ten
o’clock tomorrow morning to make the quick forty-minute trip west to Fort
Worth.  She was anxious to hear what he had to say about his former partnership
with Richard Henning.

Looking up at the clock again, Victoria saw that
it was almost nine o’clock p.m.  She shut off her desktop computer, locked her
desk drawer, packed up her Coach attaché case, and then took the elevator to
the downstairs lobby. 

Her stomach started to growl when she got into her
car.  Or maybe it had been growling for a while, and she had just noticed it. 
Victoria had the habit of becoming so engrossed in her work that she would
forget meals. 

Victoria quickly did a mental list of the contents
of the refrigerator in her apartment.  She had not been to the grocery store in
about two weeks, so she only had a couple of cans of tuna, half a jar of peanut
butter, and a half of loaf of bread in her cabinet.  Not liking these choices,
she decided to stop by the local pizzeria to pick up a bite to eat. 

Lorenzo’s Pizza Parlor
was a staple in her
community. 
Lorenzo’s
was a thirty-year old successful, family-run
business that had somehow managed to survive the Great Recession.  It was
located only a few blocks away from her small, one-bedroom apartment. 

The pizzeria was located just off a main street
and was situated inside a strip mall.  The building that housed the pizza place
had been built in the late 1970s.  It still maintained a retro-décor that was
reminiscent of a 1950s soda shop (complete with a jukebox and all).  The
restaurant had become known as a popular weekend hangout for the teenage crowd.

She parked right up to the front of the building
hurried inside the eatery.  It was particularly busy tonight.  She waited
patiently in line for ten minutes and then placed her order for a medium cheese
pizza.  Victoria walked back out to her car with the pie twenty minutes later. 
She entered her apartment a few minutes later.

Upon shutting and locking the door, she placed the
hot pizza on the kitchen table, and then went to check the messages on her
answering machine.  The screen on the machine was blinking, indicating that she
had had four missed calls and three voicemails while she had been away from
home. 

She pressed the play button on the answering
machine, which was located on her living room desk, and then walked into the
kitchen to grab a plate from the cupboard. 

The first message was from Ms. Ortiz.  Ms. Ortiz
was inquiring about whether Victoria had made any additional headway in the investigation
into her son’s shooting.  It had become apparent that the local police
department was not taking the murder seriously.  At least not as seriously as
the Ortiz family had hoped.  Because Antonio had been a young, Hispanic male,
the Ortiz family feared that the Dallas Police Department was prematurely chalking
the death up to gang violence. 

So far, Victoria had not been able to find a shred
of evidence indicating that Antonio had been a member of a gang of any kind. 
Victoria was still trying to run down information on to identify Antonio’s
mysterious “employer” at the time of his murder.

The second message was from her mother, Gloria. 
Victoria’s mother was a vivacious sixty-year-old schoolteacher who still taught
first grade at an elementary school in the Bronx.  Victoria’s mother and
father, Miguel, had immigrated to the United States from El Salvador before she
was born.  Her mother was a firm believer, however, that Victoria be aware of
her family’s culture and history, and had maintained Spanish conversations in
their home. 

Victoria’s father had been a firefighter in Austin
for twenty-years before his death.  He perished in a car accident five years
ago.  His sudden death had broken and nearly destroyed her mother.  Her parents
had had somewhat of a rocky relationship, but even after nearly thirty years
together, they still had loved each other.  After her husband passed away,
Gloria moved from Texas to New York for the stated reason that she wanted to be
closer to her sisters.  However, Victoria believed that her mother had just
needed to get away because it hurt her too much to live in the same house that
her husband was never going to come back to.