Wicked Instinct (SEAL Team Blackout), page 9
Voices came from the kitchen. No matter what temporary headquarters they were in or what part of the world, the kitchen always seemed to become the room where Blackout congregated. More often than not food was involved. When they were on an op, they never knew when they’d have the chance to eat next so they took every opportunity they could.
Sure enough, as he entered, the scent of pizza hit him.
He gripped the doorframe, gaze fixed on Sparrow.
The room went silent as one by one they took in his expression.
Sparrow shoved his chair away from the table with a scraping noise. “What the hell happened?”
Lachlan gave a jerk of his head for him to follow. As soon as he entered the adjoining dining room, he found a game of poker going on.
“Give us the room,” Sparrow barked at the men.
They cleared out in seconds and Lachlan faced Sparrow, fists clenched at his sides.
“Someone was watching me and Anastasy on the street.”
His gaze sharpened. “Did you see who it was?”
“No. My back was to him. Anastasy did, though.”
“Where is she now?”
“I sent her upstairs so I could talk to you.”
“Did she give you any details?” Sparrow asked.
Lachlan shook his head. “Not many. Long black wool coat. A hat pulled down to shadow his face. I got us out of there fast, and I didn’t spot anyone suspicious on the walk here.”
Sparrow sighed. “It could be a good thing or a bad thing. It means the plan to get you two seen is already working.”
“Or it could mean we’ve drawn a target on our backs.” He scowled and dug his fingers into his scalp, unable to shuck that tingling sensation of being watched. He’d been dumb to let down his guard at dinner. Talking and laughing with Anastasy made him forget his purpose in Paris. It wasn’t to wine and dine a beautiful woman.
Sparrow was all business. “I’ll get Gunny on the camera footage surrounding the restaurant. See if he can find the guy.”
Lachlan met his stare. “Any luck finding Apollo on the other footage?”
Lips compressing, Sparrow shook his head. “When we studied the video, we lost you and Mustang too.”
His brows shot up. “We were in a dead zone between camera range?”
“Seems so.”
He let out a rough laugh. “Apollo would do that. He’d know exactly where to be.”
“So why he was there in the first place is the question we’re working on now.”
“Not to mention the small matter of why he faked his death and if the rumors are true.”
Sparrow’s expression darkened. “I’ve fought alongside Apollo. There’s no way in hell that man would turn on his country. He has to have other reasons we don’t know about.”
“I guess it’s a mystery to be solved, but for now, I’m concerned about keeping Anastasy safe.” He realized he hadn’t even mentioned her brush with death and how he’d patched her up before leaving Fort Carson. “She needs to file a report about the incident in Colorado Springs too.”
“Oh?”
“When she was shot at, one of the bullets grazed her side.”
“Goddamn. Why am I just now learning about this?”
“She didn’t tell me either. I saw it.” Too late, he realized he’d backed himself into a corner and that his commanding officer would know something was going on between him and Anastasy.
“Saw it?”
“She took off her coat and I saw the blood.” He omitted the other details…like how he’d slid his cock into her pussy and exploded inside her grasping heat. “I cleaned and bandaged the wound, but Frost should check her out.”
“I’ll send him up to her now.”
He nodded, but his gut knotted too, hoping like hell that Anastasy wasn’t naked in bed waiting for Lachlan when Frost knocked on the door.
“Anything else to report, Lach?” Sparrow’s voice tugged him from his thoughts.
“Nothing else. I’ll talk to Gunny about the guy outside the restaurant.”
Sparrow moved toward the door. “Do that. I’ll find Frost.”
They split in two different directions. It didn’t take long for Lachlan to set Gunnison on the task of hacking the security cameras. His buddy jumped right on to the computer and got to work.
Lachlan hovered behind him, watching and giving Frost time to examine Anastasy before he went up to check on her.
Gunnison clicked on a frame of the video and enlarged it. “This your guy?”
Lachlan leaned in to stare at the black shape. A kernel of anger sprouted in his gut. “Gotta be him. He fits Anastasy’s description. Can you zoom in more on the face?”
He did, but the image became too pixelated to make out any distinguishing features. “I’ll send this over to Kit. Let her work her magic. She’s got better programs in Blackout headquarters than I have access to here.”
Lachlan studied the image. “Looks too short to be Apollo.”
Gunnison swung his head to look at him. “When you told me someone was watching you outside the restaurant, it crossed my mind it could be him too.”
An unspoken wellspring of emotions hung between them, for a teammate they’d all mourned after the incident in Texas. Then the surge of hope when he’d been spotted alive. Now the confusion of why he was here in Paris when Abubakar was reported to be in the city.
Lachlan straightened. “Let me know if Kit finds anything.”
“Will do.”
He headed for the stairs and passed Frost coming out of Anastasy’s room, a medical bag in his hand.
“All good?” he asked about her welfare.
“No infection. You did a good job of cleaning her up.” A light in Frost’s eyes told him that his buddy suspected more going on between them than a faked relationship and a few strips of medical tape.
He reached past Frost and gripped the door handle. “See you in the morning.”
Frost watched him enter her room and close the door. He most certainly caught the click of the lock too.
Lachlan didn’t care what Frost thought. When he turned to Anastasy, he found her standing over her open duffel bag.
As he watched, she took out a hairbrush and began working it through her long blonde strands. The dress she’d worn to dinner was stowed away already, and she wore a black sweatshirt and black stretchy pants. Her feet were bare.
“Frost looked at your injury.”
“Yes. Said you did a good job too. I…” She gave him a sideways look. “I think he meant more when he said that though.”
He grunted. “I thought so too.”
She brought the bristles through the sections of hair, flattening them to a shining gloss. “It probably doesn’t help to deny it when you’re locked in my room with me.”
Unable to hold back anymore, he stepped up to her and took the brush from her hand. The blonde locks floated around her face, and the pink roses in her cheeks made him think she anticipated him touching her.
He was for sure.
Cupping her nape, he drew her head against his shoulder and held her, breathing in her personal scent and letting his heart finally calm.
After a moment, he hooked his knuckle beneath her chin and raised her gaze to his. “You all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“That guy on the street…”
“I’ve been in real danger before, Connor. That was nothing.”
He hated that she knew real danger, even if she could fight her way out of it.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she rested a finger on his lips. “Let’s save the shop talk for another time. Right now, I intend to pick up where we left off.” She went on tiptoes and brought her plump lips to his.
* * * * *
Anastasy arched upward. Connor’s lips seemed to be all over her except the one place she wanted them to be.
He dragged his mouth across her collarbone. When he swirled his tongue over her shoulder, her nipples pinched with need.
Gasping, she dug her fingers into his scalp and attempted to drag him back to her aching breasts. He’d stripped off her shirt with all the tenderness of a lover with an emotional connection, but she knew that wasn’t who Connor Lachlan was. He was Blackout. And while some of the other men had significant women in their lives, he wasn’t the type.
She liked that about him. Trusting men in the bedroom was difficult for a person in her line of work. She had to sprout eyes in the back of her head just in case someone slipped past her defenses and she was really being targeted, which made casual encounters difficult.
She could give herself to Connor with total abandon—if she wasn’t so frustrated that his tongue wasn’t on her nipples.
He lightly bit her shoulder and dragged the scruff of his beard over her collarbone again so he could kiss her throat.
“Connor! Get your tongue on my nipples. Now!”
He went dead still, lips still planted over her pulse point. Her heart was tripping so fast that he had to feel it beneath his lips. A soft chuckle broke from him and he raised his head to pierce her with a burning stare.
“Right now?”
“Now!”
“Hmm. You mean like this?” He cradled her breast and ducked his head as he drew the tip to his mouth. Flattening his tongue over the throbbing bud caused her to cry out.
“Yes!” Her cry ended in a rasp as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. The deep need inside her built, then built again. Her entire body quivered with each sucking pull.
Scraping her fingers down his nape to his shoulders raised a growl that rumbled straight to her core. He moved to her other breast, bathing it with his hot, wet tongue until need spilled into her panties.
She grabbed his wrist and guided his hand between her thighs. Another rumble vibrated through him. When he cupped her pussy through her clothes, she bucked.
He lifted his head from her breasts. God, he looked amazing in this sex-crazed, disheveled state with his hair mussed and his clothes rumpled. He pushed to his knees and ripped off his shirt before going for her pants.
She twisted and kicked free of the clothes to get out of them faster. Panting, she stared up at him for a single heartbeat before he grasped her hips and yanked her to the edge of the mattress. He took a knee, hooked her calf over his shoulder and dropped his lips to her pussy.
Her vision blurred and she stopped breathing as his tongue slipped up and down her slick seam and into her core. He fucked it in and out, in and out, in and out until she trembled on the verge of a release that would probably incapacitate her mind for days.
He worked his tongue up to her clit, made a swirling lap around it and delved back inside her.
“Oh god! Connorrrr!” Her orgasm was blinding. And it did shut down her brainwaves to anything but the insane sensation of pulsing on his tongue. Waves struck her harder with each flick of his tongue.
She never had sex like this. Men didn’t give—they only took. She got what pleasure she could from the opposite sex, but none of her lovers were masters in the bedroom like Connor was.
As he latched on to her clit and sucked it hard, lifting her hips off the bed as a result, she gave a final shuddering cry. Her ass dropped to the mattress with his palms cradling it.
Before she could recuperate, he plunged two fingers inside her pussy. Another roughened moan escaped her, and a plea escaped her lips.
“Please. I want your cock in me. Connor…”
He pushed onto an elbow to stare up at her while slowly dragging his fingers through her drenched walls. Just before he withdrew them completely, he spread his fingers, stretching her.
She thrashed, eyes squeezed shut. Then his fingers left her and he replaced them with his cock.
She had no recollection of him taking off his pants—her fogged mind must have skipped that part. But her brain was fully engaged when he shoved his cock deep inside her.
“Give me your mouth.” His order grated over her senses.
Lifting her face up for his kiss, she wrapped her legs around the hard planes of his ass and rode him like the wild stallion he was, rocking into his every thrust until they galloped toward the cliff’s edge.
He gave one more strong heave and they sailed over together, their lips fused in a kiss so passionate that she felt a tug on the door of her heart.
Oh no. She had to fortify herself…because any more of this and he’d bust the lock right off and let himself in.
NINE
“You’re late.” Sparrow’s sharp gaze burned into Lachlan as he entered the dining room.
He moved to the end of the table and stood at attention. “Sorry. Had to wait on the hot water. Parisian plumbing in this old house.”
Sparrow gave a small shake of his head. “Hot water,” he muttered.
A hint of jasmine and vanilla made Lachlan’s nostrils flare. Long before Anastasy entered, he knew she was there. And not only wearing perfume, but high heels. Each little tap on the floor had his balls squeezing and goosebumps rippling over his back.
She came to stand beside him. When he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, he was aware that she’d placed enough distance between them to fit another SEAL.
He understood her reason for the space.
But he didn’t like it.
“Thanks for joining us, Anastasy.” Sparrow disliked anybody being late, but he wouldn’t take her to task the way he did Lachlan.
“Sparrow.”
Lachlan bowed his head so he could check out her feet—dainty in stilettos with silver straps crisscrossing her ankles. His cock jerked at the idea of those heels digging into his spine as he fucked her hard and fast.
Mere hours had passed since he slipped out of her bed and stole a last peek at her before he quietly closed the door. But it felt like hours. What had she been doing shut up in her room all day while he went about Blackout business, examining camera footage and getting briefed about new findings concerning Abubakar’s whereabouts and that guy on the street they suspected was Abubakar’s man?
Over his affront at their tardiness, Sparrow got to business. “You two know why you’re here: to get the objective for tonight’s stakeout.”
“I’m listening,” she responded.
Lachlan wasn’t able to stop his head from twisting toward her or his gaze from latching on to her. Christ, she was wearing red, the deep V of the dress’s neckline plummeting almost to her damn navel. Every man who saw her would have a hard-on.
It would make protecting her that much more difficult. And put his self-control to the test.
He swung his attention away from that V of pale skin, and the tender curves of her breasts taunting him from each edge of red cloth, and back to his commanding officer.
“Our sources believe Abubakar will show his face tonight.”
Both Anastasy and Lachlan were silent for a beat.
“Where?” Lachlan asked.
“At the restaurant. His personal banker has made a reservation for four for nineteen hundred hours.”
“Christ. If this is the case, why isn’t all of Blackout going to be planted around that restaurant, prepared to take him out once and for all? Why give him the chance to slip through our fingers?” he asked.
Anastasy spoke up. “He won’t be coming alone, that’s why. He’ll have people watching his back, and there’s no mistaking any of the Blackout team for anything but what we are. The minute his guard spots a few big guys, he’s going to get punchy. And we can’t have that.”
“Exactly. Now, the banker who will be joining him. His name is—”
“Svenchenko,” Anastasy filled in.
Sparrow’s expression revealed how impressed he was. Lachlan had to admit that her knowledge of Abubakar was unsurpassed.
“Russian?” Lachlan asked.
“Ukrainian,” Sparrow supplied. “It’s believed they’re meeting in plain sight to discuss backing for yet another of Abubakar’s plans.”
Lachlan scrubbed a hand over his face. “Shit just got more complicated. Since when does a bank skip asking the hard questions about their borrowers?”
“Since they know the borrower’s corrupt business will be able to pay back with steep interest.”
They continued to discuss the plan—Lachlan and Anastasy already had a reservation for a table close enough to the terrorist to be able to listen in with high-powered devices while remaining out of sight, a partition wall between them.
He couldn’t help but note how silent Anastasy had become. Almost withdrawn into her thoughts. When they were finished with the briefing, they walked out of the dining room.
She raked her eyes over his attire. “Get changed. I’ll wait by the door.”
He wanted to question her but something in her expression cautioned him against it. He quickly turned for the stairs and his room. Putting on a suit always came with bad feelings for him. Usually it meant they’d lost someone in Blackout and were attending a memorial service.
But he took care in donning the charcoal gray jacket and pants, white shirt and black patterned tie. Blackout had thought of everything, down to the polished leather shoes and an expensive wristwatch.
When he stepped out of the room, Frost was passing by the door. He stopped and let out a low whistle.
“Who died?”
“Exactly my thoughts. But I’m headed out on the op. With Anastasy.”
“And the op involves a ritzy party?”
“Something like that.” It didn’t surprise him that Frost wasn’t in on the details. He’d only be called in the event the op went tits up and became a reconnaissance mission.
He couldn’t let that happen to Anastasy, even though the woman was probably more equipped to handle being tortured than he was.
Frost gave him a nod. “Well, good luck.”
“I’ll need it.” He didn’t say for what, but right now he was wondering how his balls were going to last the night and how he was going to refrain from taking Anastasy in the restaurant. That dress was still tormenting him and matters only worsened once he met her at the front door.
Her eyes cut over him again. This time, an appreciative light burned in the depths, a brief flame quickly snuffed out as she slid her work mask back into place.
