Bourne to Love Emma (RED-Stone Operatives Book 1) (2 page)

~Jason~

Today was one of those days when you
realize that working crazy hours most weeks and spending the others locked in a
room staring at a dozen monitors can be a really bad thing.  Not that I don’t
love my job or wish that part of my life was different really, but I really do
tend to become a hermit when I’m locked up in the middle of a project that
requires my computer skills more than being in the field.  I enjoy both sides
of it, really: the hacking appeals to my brain and finding creative ways to get
around a roadblock; the field work is an adrenaline rush and takes me straight
back to being in the SEALs – it takes strategy, planning and complete focus. 

This whole thing was just kind of
surreal, really.  When I’d come home yesterday and started working my way
through the boxes piled just inside my door, I was watching the highlight reel on
the sports channel more than paying attention to what was in the boxes - until I
pulled out the vibrator.  I have no idea how long I just sat there staring at
the hot pink dick-shaped toy with no idea what to do with it or how it ended up
in my hand.  Once my brain finally kicked into gear, I figured out which box it
had been inside and realized what had happened.  The box was addressed to E.
Parsons in the apartment next door. 

Who knew my new neighbor was hot?  I
knew someone moved in a few months ago but, since the office would have already
done a background check on her before she was cleared to move in, I’d never
really thought much of it.  Other than hearing an alarm clock on mornings when
I was still up working and randomly noticing the sounds of a television or
talking – muted but discernible – I really hadn’t even noticed anyone living
next door and assumed it was just one person.  Now I’m wishing I’d paid more
attention. 

I assumed the neighbor would be
embarrassed by the situation and considered just leaving it at her door without
waiting for her to answer, but I felt compelled to explain why she shouldn’t be
concerned that a stranger had opened her mail and that it was an accident.  And
then… she answered the door.  She was small – not just compared to my own 6’4”
build – but short in general, maybe 5’4” or so.  Her dark blonde hair was
pulled up in a messy ponytail, her pale skin was damp with sweat and dotted
with freckles across her shoulders and the bridge of her nose.  Her eyes – once
she finally looked into my own – were bright blue and a little embarrassed to
be caught checking me out.  She was fit but on the curvy side, thank God she
gave me a good look in that work out attire, and I was amazed that I’d never
noticed her around before.  Because she was definitely someone I’d notice.  And
by notice, I mean NOTICE.  All parts of me would’ve stood at attention if I’d
run across her before. 

Oddly enough, when I handed her the
box, she seemed unaffected.  I was the one who was embarrassed to be handing
over a plastic dick – especially once I saw the body it was going to be sliding
into.  Embarrassed because, from the moment she opened the door to me, I’d
wanted to offer to help her out so she wouldn’t need the damn thing.  Even when
I added my comment about meeting her being all my pleasure, she hadn’t batted
an eye.

I have no idea if she lives alone or
is in a relationship or has a roommate.  Of course, I’d never let a little
something like a lack of information stop me from finding all the answers.  I’d
know everything there is to know about her soon enough.

If she had any idea what I do for a
living, she would already know what I am going to do.  All of my extensive
abilities, if I do say so myself, are about to be used to find out everything
there is to know about Emma.  I have always been a big believer in the old
adage that “knowledge is power” - and I never walk onto the field without
knowing I’m going to win.

“Alright, Emma, let’s find out what
makes you tick.”  I sat down at my desk and multiple screens on the wall and three
of the desk monitors began opening programs and I started filling in what I know
about her at this point.  As I was coding specifics into the system, my cell
phone started ringing – and the ringtone let me know immediately that my
evening plans were about to change.  Adrenaline rushed through me as I snatched
my phone from my desk.

“Bourne.”

Within moments, I was gathering supplies
for my new assignment.  A grim smile crossed my face as I hung up the phone.  I
had things to do.  It looked like my plans for Emma Parsons would have to wait
a while.  I left the system doing its thing, knowing the report it would pull
before I got back would tell me everything I need to know.

Ten minutes later, I was pulling my
SUV out of the parking garage.  I’m usually on my own for recon like this but,
tonight, I had two guys who would be staking out secondary views of the same
target.  One of our sources leaked the location and time of a new shipment
across town.  If I hurry, I can get set up before full dark which will make it
easier to pick my own position.

I circled around the manufacturing
plant, checking out the buildings on all sides.  Even though one of the techs
at the office made a recommendation on where to set up, I always do my own
quick recon whenever possible.  Not that our techs aren’t good at their jobs,
just that I know I’m better.

After I picked my spot on the roof to
the East of the building we’re watching – which did happen to be the same one
the tech recommended – I found an out of the way place to park my SUV and
shouldered my duffle for the hike in.  Sticking to the alleys and shadows along
the buildings, I reached the alley I’m looking for.  Once I shoved a dumpster a
little closer – a little too loud for my taste – I’m able to climb on top of it
and jump to grab the bottom of the fire escape ladder – also louder than I
would like – and haul myself up.  I stayed crouched and still for several minutes,
making sure I haven’t attracted attention.

Once I’m sure I’m clear, I silently
made my way to the rooftop.  Even though it wasn’t especially hot today, this
bitch is scorching up here.  I felt sweat start to bead on my back and slide
down my spine.  I gave myself one brief moment to curse this damn mission and
the asshole we’re hunting – and he is an asshole of the first order.

Anderson Patzkowsky:  known drug
trafficker associated with several of the deadliest cartels in South America
and Russia.  More than a few agencies had him flagged as a likely trafficker of
other things – weapons, women, children….  He’s been on the radar for Interpol
and the FBI for several years now – but he finally pissed off someone in our
neck of the woods who could care less about how he’s taken down, just that it
happens ASAP.  RED-Stone functions just outside the boundaries of the law –
close enough to save our own ass for the most part, but far enough outside that
we tend to ask forgiveness once a job is done rather than permission from the
agencies who would give a damn.

RED-Stone was founded by Steven
Stone, a legendary former member of Delta Force.  During his time in the Army,
he regularly witnessed the instances where hostage and kidnapping victims
weren’t rescued because the government couldn’t do it without risking massive
political upset with whichever country was harboring the criminals.  More than
a few times, the risk was only warranted and green-lighted when the victim had
relatives in positions of power or wealthy families who made political
donations in an effort to recover their spouse or child.

Once Stone left the Army – due to a
medical retirement that left him with a permanent limp – he used his contacts
in special forces to make contact with families who couldn’t get the government
to act on their behalf.  He recruited men and women who left the military with
exceptional skills and abilities and hired them to continue doing what they did
best – but for better pay and without the requirement that they perform every
mission without asking questions.  Missions were run with input from all
parties.  If someone was uncomfortable with an aspect of the existing strategy,
it was discussed and reviewed or revised. 

One of Stone’s first recruits was
John Winters, my boss and a former Marine sniper.  When John recruited me, I
asked what RED-Stone stood for:  Recon, Exploit, Destroy.  Recon the target,
exploit that intel in every way possible, destroy the threat.

So.  Here I am, doing the recon in
hopes that we actually get to move forward to steps two and three sooner rather
than later.  We’ve been chasing this bastard for almost a month now and none of
us are happy that he’s in our home city at this point.  He’s enemy number one
and all of us are focused on taking his ass down.

I dropped down on top of the
hot-as-fuck, tar-coated rooftop and assembled my rifle and scope.  Once I was
in position, I tapped the comm unit at my throat and made contact with the
other men sweating it out with me tonight.  Richie and MadDog are both fairly
new at RED-Stone, so they’re both antsy and hoping we actually see some action
tonight.  They both radioed back that they were in place on the North and West
sides of the plant.

It was almost fully dark now.  I said
a prayer that the temperature would drop quickly because the heat up here is
almost unbearable.  Tonight wasn’t my favorite kind of mission, but it wasn’t
the worse thing I could be doing.  First, though, it’s all about patience and
waiting.  I’ve had a shit-ton of practice with that. 

~Emma~

            “No shit…” Heather managed, her eyes wide as she
held her chip hovering inches from her mouth – her attention entirely focused
on the retelling of the story about my neighbor hand-delivering my brand new
vibrator.

“No shit,” I confirmed.  “His hot
hands were ON my new vibrator and now he knows what I plan on doing with it….” 
My face flushed all over again at that prospect.  I can’t even begin to really
explain how embarrassed I am.  I’ve been edgy and nervous ever since I realized
what was in the box Jason from 6B opened.  He KNOWS about my vibrator.  He’s
held it in his own hands and obviously knows why someone would order one. 
Gawd.

Heather finally ate the chip in her
hand and chewed thoughtfully.  It was our Tuesday night ritual to have dinner
at El Toro’s – Taco Tuesday, you know.  After a moment, Heather honed in on one
thing:  “what you PLAN on doing with it?  So, it’s still sitting lonely and sad
in the box it came in?”

I rolled my eyes.  “Yes, Heather. 
Some of us aren’t oversexed nymphomaniacs who think about nothing other than
when our next orgasm might happen.” 

Heather raised an eyebrow at the
uncharacteristic snark.

“I’m sorry.  I know that isn’t how
you really are.  The whole situation is just… weird.  And awful.  And… just. 
Seriously!  Argh!”  I covered my face as my brain locked up thinking of him
opening that box.

Mia took that moment to slap the
table top and knock her cup off the table.  “Mama!  What dat?” she cried,
pointing at nothing in particular.  It was her new favorite phrase and she used
it on almost everything.

I lowered my hands to look at what
Mia was pointing toward – the salt and pepper shakers – and then ran a hand
over Mia’s golden brown hair and smiled into her caramel colored eyes.  I would
do anything for this little girl.  Loving her is the highlight of my days.  I
sighed.

Heather handed Mia her cup and some
of her rice and beans on a plate.  I would be washing beans out of Mia’s hair
later, but sharing what we’re eating keeps her from trying to grab everything
else off the table, too.

“So, Mister Hottie – your new
neighbor – what’s his name?  I can have John check into him and be sure he isn’t
a serial killer or something before you give in and bang him.”

I felt my jaw drop and lean forward
hissing, “I am NOT going to ‘BANG him,’ Heather!”  I leaned back in my seat, pausing
to collect myself from the flustered mess I seem to keep turning into, and
continued in a normal voice, “Besides, I only know his first name.  He told me
his last name but I was too busy drooling over his abs and chest to focus
enough to remember.  His name is Jason.  And I DO NOT want John doing anything
about him, okay???”

Heather narrowed her eyes at me and
slowly nodded her head.  “Fine.  I won’t sic John on him.  Yet.”

After a moment, she adds, “You know
it wasn’t your fault, right?  The less than stellar sex, getting pregnant,
choosing to keep Mia – you’re a good mom, Em.  You’re a good person.  Dan was
an idiot and an unfaithful asshole.  You really do deserve better.  Take the
risks and grab that brass ring with both hands.”  She waggled her eyebrows
again and added, “You especially deserve better sex.  Based on how embarrassed
you are about using a vibrator, what you really need is for someone to fuck you
silly and show you what multiple orgasms are actually like.”

I know my mouth was hanging open as I
stared at her.  There’s a guy in the booth right behind her who has turned to
see what’s happening at our table.  I covered my face with my hands and feel
the heat pouring off me.  Utter humiliation.

I whisper-scream at Heather, “Can we
PLEASE have ONE meal where my sex life isn’t the main topic of conversation? 
Just ONE?!”

“You’re the one who brought up Mr.
Hottie running your new dildo through his hands and imagining you fucking
yourself with it.”  Heather doesn’t know how to whisper, by the way.  I should
remember that when we start talking about excruciatingly embarrassing things in
public.