Fixed Asset (Downrange), page 4
Knowing her, she’d make me work for it. There was no chance Catarina would bend unless the man in her bed had earned it. And the thought of bending Cat to my will never failed to make my cock hard. The fuck of it was, it had more to do with earning her than getting her to submit.
Submission was easy. I didn’t want compliance. I wanted Cat’s surrender. I didn’t want to just fuck her, I wanted to fuck her until the rest of the world was erased and I owned her—body and soul. I’d never met a more frustrating woman. A woman who, if given the chance, would own me.
I watched Cat push away from the wall. Mason shifted his legs out of her way. And either to tease me or infuriate the hell out of me, she crawled—fucking crawled—the short distance to the front seats. I glanced at Mason, then to Fallon. Both men had their eyes glued to her ass.
I felt the rumble in my chest, though it didn’t register over my ringing ears, but I knew the men heard the unhappy sound. Mase looked up and smirked. Fallon smiled and went back to looking at his phone. Cat held on to the back of the seats and pulled up on her knees, bringing herself to my eye level.
“You summoned?”
I was going to do a lot more than summon her if she pulled that shit again.
“Do me a favor and don’t swing your ass in front of my team.”
Lethal and hot morphed into fatal. A lesser man would’ve withered to dust under her stare. Unfortunately for me, it was a turn-on.
“You know, telling me not to do something is only going to make me want to do it more,” she informed me.
I’d already lived that nightmare, so I was well aware Cat did shit out of spite. If my ears weren’t throbbing I would’ve pointed out the idiocy of her statement.
“Do you have anything important in your hotel room?”
I didn’t miss the small grimace; no doubt her ears hurt worse than mine.
“No.”
“Nothing? Electronics? Files? Passport?”
“I know what important means, Jack. I don’t need an itemized list,” she sassed.
Good Christ, I wanted to kiss that attitude off her lips.
“We’re headed to San Pedro Sula,” I told her.
“Why?”
“Do you want to have this conversation now, or wait until the buzzing’s stopped?”
Cat thought for a moment, undoubtedly weighing the pain in her ears against her impatience.
“Wait.”
With that, she pushed away from the seats, swiveled on her knees, and crawled back to her spot next to Fallon. Her ass was on display, her hips were swaying, my dick was getting harder by the second.
Goddamn woman was going to be the death of me.
Chapter Five
My poor ass was not made for this.
Some of us had never taken a transatlantic flight in the cargo hold of a C-130.
Me. I was that someone.
All my deployments to Europe and central Asia had been aboard a C-17. One could say the Air Force had it going on. The Globemaster was luxury compared to the Hercules. Or so I’d been told by bellyaching sailors.
And the hard metal of the van’s loading bay made a Hercules look like first class. My ass was officially numb. That, and my back was killing me from being jostled around. Fallon and Mason didn’t look like they had an ache or a pain. Mason had tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He must have been awake, unless he possessed some special skill that gave him the ability to chew gum and sleep at the same time. Fallon was scrolling through sports headlines on his phone and had been since he’d stopped showing me memes he had saved on his cell. I was now in possession of the useless knowledge that he favored Florida sports teams. This would come in handy if one day there was a Fallon trivia night. He also got sidetracked a lot and fell for clickbait headlines.
When I couldn’t take it a second longer, I scooted away from the wall and crab-crawled to the front of the van. It must be noted, the crab-crawl was due to the aches and pains. If I could’ve managed to get to my hands and knees without whimpering and showing weakness, you could bet your ass I would’ve. Fallon barely glanced in my direction before he went back to his phone.
I was nearly to the front when Jack turned and took me in.
The grin on the bastard’s face had me wanting to bite his lip and see if he was still smiling after I drew blood—especially when the grin turned lopsided and one side of his mouth pulled up in the sexiest freaking smirk.
I think at this point in my life I’d suffered from too many concussions. There was no other explanation for my attraction toward a man who’d made it clear he wasn’t interested—though he did want to spank me. Which merited contemplation, at least by the part of me that was turned on. But only after I puzzled out why I was attracted to a man who infuriated me.
He only infuriates you because you want to bang him.
Yup. I needed to see a head doctor. I was now talking to myself.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I need to hit the head.”
Jack blinked and stared like I was speaking in a foreign tongue.
“The bathroom,” I clarified.
“I know what the head is.”
That’s what she said.
“Great. Then can we pull over so I can use it?”
Jack’s gaze slid to the windshield. Mine followed. Nothing but beautiful green trees with a gentle slope of a hill on the right.
“I’ll take a bush,” I told him.
“Can you wait thirty minutes?”
I thought about my bladder demanding relief and shook my head. “Not without courtin’ a UTI.”
“I’ll pull over,” Pete rushed to say.
After the hours of silence my ears had thankfully stopped ringing, but the faint buzzing hadn’t subsided. “Thanks.”
“Are we taking a piss . . . um, pit stop?” Mason inquired.
I didn’t know if he heard or if he felt the van slow.
“Yeah,” I called back.
“Thank fuck. I was getting ready to pull out the Gatorade bottle and ask Kitty to close her eyes,” Fallon put in.
“Kitty? You couldn’t come up with something . . . better?”
Before Fallon could answer, Mason beat him to it.
“Gatorade? Dude, you don’t need a wide mouth—”
“Not all of us are you, Mase. No need to brag.” Pete shocked the hell out of me by joining in.
I mean, I didn’t know the man, but he had an air of stoicism about him. I didn’t know the hierarchy of the team, but I’d guess Pete was the team leader.
The van rolled to a stop. Jack pinned me with an unhappy expression and commanded, “Wait for me to open the door.”
“You know, I normally require dinner and a little foreplay before I follow demands.”
There was utter silence in the van, followed by a sputtered laugh from behind me, then the cabin filled with roaring hilarity.
Jack didn’t laugh, he didn’t even crack a smile, but his dark eyes flared. He leaned close to quietly tell me, “Keep it up, Catarina. I got a good memory, baby, and the stamina to make it so you never forget.”
I really wanted him to tell me more about this stamina, or better yet, show me. But, sadly, I could hear the men behind me moving around.
Jack turned around, breaking the spell, yet I didn’t move until I felt a big hand land on my shoulder and smelled minty-fresh breath.
“My money’s on you,” Mason told me.
The big side door slid open, Mason stepped out, Fallon followed, then Jack was there holding out his hand to help me down.
I glanced at his hand, and it wasn’t the first time I’d noticed how big his hands were, how he had long, thick fingers.
“Yes, it’s true what they say,” Jack rumbled.
I glanced up at him and asked, “Who are they? And what do they say?”
“About big hands.”
“Oh, right, big hands, big feet. I think there’s a name for that.”
Jack cracked a smile—a real, honest-to-God smile—and I swear it felt like I’d won a prize.
“Come on, Cat.” He reached for my hand.
My pulse kicked up. Now that I wasn’t in the midst of a kidnapping, hooded, or being shot at, his touch registered in a big way. Just like in Vegas, my body responded to him in ways that should’ve been criminal. An innocent touch from Jack did more for me than any other man had managed. Not that I’d had a lot of experience, but neither was I a virgin. Sex for me had always been bland. I knew that was on me. My personality and sex didn’t mix. Hell, my personality and relationships didn’t mix.
I was strong willed; a type A, if you will. It would take a strong man and a whole lot of trust for me to loosen the reins of control. My problem was, until Jack, I’d never met a man who was strong enough to take me on without being a dick.
Yet, proving my theory correct, my personality was still too much for a man like Jack. He could be attracted to me, he could threaten to spank me, participate in some back-and-forth banter that could be construed as flirting, but he’d never want me. Maybe for a night or two, which I was thinking might be my best course of action at this point. Propose a night of sex and get it out of our systems. We could test his stamina, and, with any luck, it’d be hot and wild and I could finally have an orgasm that wasn’t self-induced.
Jack’s smile faded, and that’s when I realized I’d been staring at his mouth, fantasizing about what it would feel like between my legs, on my breasts, my neck. I shivered at the thought and glanced up, only to have my fantasy explode in vivid detail when my gaze connected with Jack’s dark, smoldering eyes. The cool, fresh air of the countryside did nothing to chill the heat blistering between us.
Jack’s hand spasmed, or was it mine? I couldn’t decipher which with the sizzling electricity coursing through me, turning my body into a live wire—my nipples pebbled, my breasts felt heavy, my panties dampened. Jack looked like he wanted to shove me back into the van, close the door, lock his team out, and fuck the hell out of me.
Oh yeah, I’d been doing this sex thing all wrong. Never had I wanted to have sex so badly in my life. It had never been an ache, a need so strong that I felt if I didn’t have it, I would die.
“Clear,” Mason called out.
The cold slap of reality intruded.
Instantaneously, Jack’s expression cleared, the heat between us evaporating, leaving me cold and wanting.
“Come on.” Jack tugged me out of the van.
As soon as my sneakers hit the dirt, he let go of my hand.
A new kind of cold settled over me, the kind that left me feeling desolate and a little lost.
I knew Jack thought I was reckless, but I wasn’t. I was calculating. I weighed the risk against the consequences. If there was a reward to be had, I contemplated the moves I’d need to make to claim my victory. I never put reward over risk. I never took a chance whose consequences I wasn’t willing to live with.
But standing next to Jack, I wondered if he was right. Was I being reckless? Would a night with him leave me with consequences I couldn’t live with? Would I get a night of orgasms but a lifetime of wishing I was a different kind of woman? A longing for a man I could never keep, because I was me and couldn’t change who I was, nor did I want to?
Probably.
Yet, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting him.
I walked into the heavily treed forest, found a bush, did my business while mentally waxing poetic how lucky men were. They’d never understand what a pain in the ass it was for a woman to drop trou on the side of the road.
When I was done, I made my way out of the woods and found Pete and Jack standing next to the van, heads bent, looking at a tablet. Mason was leaning against the back, eyes on the road, keeping watch. Fallon was nowhere to be seen.
“We’re waiting on Fallon, then we’ll roll out,” Pete told me when I got close.
Jack did a top-to-toe scan like I’d just gotten back from war and he was checking for injuries.
With some effort, I ignored Jack and took in my surroundings. It was beautiful out here, far away from the congestion of the city. Peaceful. But that peace was an illusion. From the road we were traveling, to the beauty of the hills, to the thick forest, we were smack in the middle of a drug-trafficking route.
I glanced back to the trees. How many bodies had been dumped in those woods, never to be found? The good, honest people of Honduras had no peace. The gangs and corruption prevented them from enjoying the beauty of the country where they’d been born. I’d been to a lot of places, I’d seen evil, I’d felt the desperation of people who simply wanted to live without the fear of death, but I’d never felt fear like I felt in Honduras. It wasn’t my fear that had leached into my skin; it came from every person I’d passed on the street. It flowed from the women and children I’d come into contact with at the shopping mall. It was everywhere.
I wasn’t dumb enough to think I could put a stop to it or even make an impact. But if I could make a difference in one person’s life, save one woman from the hell she was living, then this trip would be a win. With any luck, when I found my target and gave her my intel, the Angel of Death would help the masses.
But this side trip to San Pedro Sula would delay those efforts. So would Jack. No doubt he’d be a pain in my ass and try to derail my mission.
“Ready?” I heard Jack ask.
I spun to face him. Seeing as he was speaking to me, I nodded.
“You get the front,” he told me.
I wasn’t going to argue. My aching back and ass had had enough for one day.
“Thanks,” I said when he opened the door.
“Should’ve switched with you earlier,” he mumbled, not looking at me.
So that was how he was going to play it—no eye contact. The cool detachment of a warrior. Unfortunately for him, he’d forgotten he wasn’t the only one who knew the game.
And that two could play.
Chapter Six
After stopping to fuel up and Mason taking the opportunity to stock up on snacks, Cat had directed Pete to the safe house. I’d spent the remaining hour of the drive with my eyes closed, wrestling with my thoughts.
That meant when we got to the safe house, I was in no mood for lighthearted banter between my team and Cat. Moreover, I was in no mood for her giving me the cold shoulder while she was warm and friendly with Fallon and Mason, and to a lesser degree with Pete. It seemed she hadn’t gotten a lock on my team leader yet.
It would’ve amused me how incorrectly she’d pegged Mason if I hadn’t been using all of my energy to wrangle my body’s reaction to Cat under control. She had no idea that out of all the men I worked with, Mason was by far the deadliest. Pete had the patience of a saint, which was apropos of his name. But Mason—when that switch was flipped, you could kiss his good-natured disposition goodbye. He turned into a single-minded beast who stopped at nothing until all threats were eliminated—and that switch was easy to flip on.
“This place is nicer than my condo in Prescott,” Cat said as she walked into the kitchen from the living room.
Arizona?
“I thought you lived in DC.”
“I did. Now I don’t.” Cat’s attention diverted to Mason, and she mumbled, “I hate you.”
“What?” he said around a mouthful of chocolate bar. “I offered to share.”
I watched her roll her eyes to the ceiling. When they rolled back, she shook her head.
“There are times being a woman sucks,” she started. “Like when we need to urinate outside or, say, in a public restroom. Then there are times like this, when a fit man without an ounce of body fat offers to share his chocolate like the calories magically don’t stick due to the Y chromosome. While my double Xs soak them up, then store them in all the places I’d rather they not.”
Mason crushed the candy wrapper in his hand and shoved it in his pocket while smiling. “You mean all the right places,” he corrected. “One day women will figure out men don’t like pointy bags of bones. We like curves, and soft, and something to grab ahold of.”
He wasn’t wrong, but I had a bad feeling about the direction of this conversation.
I knew I was right when Mase aimed his action-hero smile at Cat and added, “But it’s good to know all my hard work in the gym has paid off. I can show—”
“No, you can’t,” I cut Mase off.
“What can’t Mase do?” Fallon asked as he rounded the corner, coming into the kitchen from the dining area opposite where Cat entered.
“Show Cat my workout routine,” Mason supplied.
This was not my first shit-talking huddle, where jabs and digs were exchanged with the sole intent of getting under the skin of a bud. However, this was the first time those digs were aimed my way.
“You have a workout routine that includes clothes?” Fallon returned.
Mason smirked his answer.
I tipped my head back to stare at the ceiling.
“You know it’s not fun if you don’t participate,” Mason noted.
I ignored Mase’s jab and belatedly felt guilty for giving my brothers at Takeback shit when each of them was getting to know their women.
Not that Cat was my woman.
Catarina, being the smart-ass she was, latched onto Fallon’s question.
“Naked workouts sound dangerous. The treadmill must be murder.”
Christ.
“You have no idea,” Mason drawled.
I lost the battle.
“Honest to God, I’m gonna punch you in the throat.”
Catarina broke first and busted out laughing. Fallon and Mase weren’t far behind. Thankfully, Pete joined us, and I had a reason to put a stop to their stupidity.
“Time to lay your cards on the table, Catarina,” I said through their amusement.
“I don’t have cards,” she quipped.
“Jack’s right. It’s time we had a chat. Let’s take this to the dining room.”
Fallon and Mason heard Pete’s tone and immediately switched from idiots to the professionals they were. It was obvious that Pete had spent his time upstairs not inspecting the bedrooms to assign sleeping arrangements but talking to Shep. Which meant he’d been fully briefed on Cat’s background. Something I was privy to, seeing as my old boss, Wilson McCray, was thorough in his investigation of anyone who worked closely with Takeback.
