Dana Marton - Broslin Creek 05 - Broslin Bride (21 page)

She kissed the top of his head and made unintelligible noises, way past the ability to form words.

He seduced her left nipple with his hot mouth while he teased the right nipple with his fingers. His free hand worked on pushing his pants down. Then his erection sprang free and pressed between her legs, and she felt her body grow moist and ready for him.

She tried to wiggle out of her scrap of white lace underwear, but she had trouble reaching the silk, the voluminous folds of her dress blocking her efforts.

“No,” Chase said, pulling back a little. “I want to see that thing before we get rid of it.” He gently pushed her onto her back.

Her boobs bare and pointing to the ceiling, her legs hanging off the edge of the kitchen island with a very naked and hard Chase between them, she was so aroused she thought she might come just from him looking at her. And, oh, he was looking, his gaze darkening as he reached out to trace the lacy silk.

Shivers of pleasure ran through her. His lips twisted into a slow, lopsided smile. He placed his warm palm between her legs and cupped her, rubbing, applying pressure. She gritted her teeth so she wouldn’t beg him to hurry, because she was beginning to understand just how good slow could be.

When he had her so worked up that she was writhing under his hand, he removed it, then pulled her panties off at last.
Oh, thank heaven.
Now
, she thought. She wanted to feel him inside her, his hard length stretching her.
 

Instead, he caught her feet, brought them up, kissed her toes, kissed, licked, nibbled his way up her inner thigh. Then he licked deeper and gave her release at last, pleasure pulsing through her in waves.

“Look at me,” he said roughly, and she did, melting from the heat in his gaze, her body still contracting.

He lifted her legs, resting her heels on his shoulders, then took care of protection and positioned the tip of his erection at her opening at last. She wasn’t sure if she had it in her to go for another ride.

Impossible.
Not so soon. She needed a few days to recover.
 

Or not,
she thought as he slowly pushed inside her and stretched her, filled her, setting her nerve endings afire all over again.
 

He held her gaze, fierce concentration on his face. The love and passion in his eyes made her heart sing. And then he moved, and she lost herself to him completely.

Much later, when she lay breathless and naked on the kitchen island, Chase came up on his elbow next to her. “You can’t work for Murph.”

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t be seriously jealous.”

He kissed her brow. “I could be, but not because of that.” He hesitated. “I’m going to tell you a secret. But when my mother and Aunt Hilda bring it up, act surprised.”

“Should I be worried?”

“They bought the motel.”

“What?” She bolted to a sitting position.

“Mom’s been itching to invest in something locally. Aunt Hilda jumped on board as a silent partner. She’d had her husband’s life insurance money stashed away all these years.”

“That much?” Luanne couldn’t even visualize anybody having enough money to buy an entire motel. Ever.

“They want you to be the general manager. Since you know how the place is run. If you ask, probably all the old employees will come back.”

She stared. She seemed to be doing a lot of that around Chase. Just once, she wanted to have him say something and have herself respond with her intelligent face instead of gaping.

“The job comes with tuition reimbursement,” he said.

She blinked, completely overwhelmed. Didn’t look like she was going to find her intelligent face anytime in the near future.

“You can finish that business degree right here at WCU if you want. We have a bushel of grandmothers eager to babysit the girls.” He grinned. “They didn’t want to tell you before the wedding so you don’t start worrying about details and can just focus on our big day. Mom wants to babysit the girls while you work. She’s jealous that Grandma Hilda lives with us and has more access to Mia and Daisy.”

Her head spun. “I need to think about this.”

“Not today you don’t. We have a tight schedule.” He picked her up and carried her up the stairs. “I’m planning on seducing you at least one more time before the reception.”

And he did. Slowly and deliberately. All the way. And then some. As only Chase could. Making it last forever and ever.

And when he was done liquefying her bones, and Luanne jokingly asked, “That was it?” he did it again.

THE END

—Thank you so much for reading my books! I really hope you enjoyed Murph and Luanne’s story. If you have a second, would you please consider leaving an online review? Even a sentence or two would be hugely helpful to me. Thank you!!! Dana

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

BROSLIN BRIDE (Gone and Done it)

Copyright © 2014 by Dana Marton. All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author.
 

www.danamarton.com
 

First Edition: June 2014

BROSLIN CREEK SERIES

Deathwatch
 

Deathscape
 

Deathtrap
 

Deathblow
 

Broslin Bride

GUARDIAN AGENT

A Novella

BY

DANA MARTON

I dedicate this story to Jenel Looney, a truly extraordinary person and the best friend anyone could ever wish for.

Agents Under Fire

GUARDIAN AGENT
 

AVENGING AGENT
 

WARRIOR AGENT
 

“… started with a bang and the tension never let up. Marton is an accomplished thriller writer, and it shows. Every time I promised myself I’d stop and turn out the light, I kept reading just one more page…” Paula Graves, national bestselling author (about
GUARDIAN AGENT
)
 

Chapter One

Dark waters lapped the century-old palace’s foundation, eager to claim the forgotten building on one of Venice’s backstreet canals. At four in the February morning, tourists still partied on in the distance, drunk on love, youth and full-bodied Italian wine.

Gabe Cannon could hear both the water and the faint beat of the music, but he couldn’t hear the half dozen men in the building with him. His new commando team spread out like ghosts moving through the night.

“Target on the roof,” the team leader’s voice whispered in his earpiece.

He stole up the crumbling stairs, ready for the rogue soldier who needed to be brought in before he caused more damage. He’d known Jake Tekla ten years ago in the army—a decent guy back then, but war could change a person, could even twist a man’s mind.

Static hissed in his earpiece before the words, “Kill order authorized. Repeat, authorized to shoot on sight.”

His instincts prickled. Standard procedure called for an attempt to capture first, and see what information they could gain during interrogation. Usable intelligence trumped a quick kill, every time. Then again, he worked for a private security firm now: XO-ST. Xtreme Ops Shadow Teams. They did things differently than his previous employers, the U.S. Army and the FBI.

Gabe reached the roof. Plywood patches formed a psychedelic pattern in the moonlight—an unexpected break. Not having to sneak around on crumbling Mediterranean roof tiles would make this much easier. He stole forward and eased into the cover of a crooked chimney stack.

He caught a silent shadow at the door he’d come through—Troy, one of his teammates, joining him. Odd how Gabe had been last into the building, but first on the roof. Maybe the others had pulled back on purpose, testing the new guy. Another person might have been annoyed, but he’d expected this much. He wasn’t afraid of having to earn his stripes.

Dormers, chimneys and ridges blocked visibility. Clouds kept drifting across the moon.
Scan. Move forward.
Take cover.
A night game of hide and seek in a labyrinth, with a fair chance that the ramshackle roof could open up under his feet any minute.
 

Then he stole around a dormer and spotted the target at last. Jake Tekla blended into the night in black fatigues, similar to Gabe’s, black ski mask in place. He looked much slighter than Gabe remembered. Being on the run had taken its toll on him. The man crept toward the edge of the roof, his focus on the jump he was considering.

No visible weapons.

Yet another thing that didn’t add up. Not for a government-trained, seasoned soldier.

Gabe inched closer, watching for a trap. He flicked the safety off his gun.
Come on. Turn.
He moved another step closer then stopped with his feet apart, gun raised, silencer in place.
 

His target sensed him at last and spun around.

Oh, hell.

Gabe caught the curve of a breast in the moonlight, and his finger froze on the trigger as he stared at the
woman
.
 

She could be a trap—Tekla’s accomplice or a decoy.

He had a kill order.

Most of the men he worked with squeezed the trigger each and every time, preferring to err on the safe side. He’d been like that once. A muscle jumped in his cheek. He pushed the North Village incident from his mind.

The woman stared at him for a moment, then her instincts kicked in and she ran. Or tried. He lunged after her, caught up in three leaps and brought her down hard. She was lean, yet soft, every inch unmistakably feminine. But none of that feminine softness showed in her fighting spirit. She shoved against him with all she had. She had to know she was conquered, yet she refused to yield, stirring some of his base instincts.

“Stop,” he hissed the single word into her ear as he did his best to subdue her.

Plywood gave an ominous creak on the other side of the ridge—the team moving into position to cover the roof and inspect all its nooks and crannies. Something stopped Gabe from calling out even as the woman did her best to scratch his eyes out, fighting in silence. Enough small things about this op had triggered alarms in his mind for him to want to see what he had here before he called the rest of the team in.

He patted her down one-handed, although if she had a knife she would have probably used it on him by now. He kept his voice low. “Did Tekla send you?”

She tried to buck him off. He managed to hold her down with one hand and ripped her black mask off with the other. Wavy dark hair tumbled free, eyes going wide with panic even as her full lips snarled. Despite the semidarkness, he couldn’t miss her beauty, or the fact that she had Tekla’s eyes and nose.

“Who are you?” he asked, even as the answer was already forming in his mind.

The man had two sisters, the younger one a teenager and the other somewhat older. The one under Gabe now was all woman and then some.
Definitely not the teenage sister.
He’d met both once at the airport when he and Tekla had gone home on a short leave over Christmas, back in their army days. They didn’t have parents, he remembered suddenly. Tekla had enlisted so he could support what was left of his family.
 

What in hell was his sister doing on the roof? No way his team’s intel could be so bad on an op like this. They weren’t fighting in the chaos of some distant battle field. The target’s sisters were supposed to be living with a distant aunt in Arkansas, according to the op files.

His mind ran all the options as he pressed her down a little harder to keep her still. He wanted to believe that Brent Foley, the team leader, hadn’t known who she was when he’d given the kill order, but being naïve didn’t pay in this business.

But if Brent did know… Eliminating one of Tekla’s sisters might push the guy over the edge, bring him out into the open as he came in for revenge. XO-ST’s small army for hire consisted of ex-soldiers and ex-agents, conducting outsourced ops for the U.S. government and anyone else who could meet their price. Brent wrote the book on how to reach goals by whatever means necessary.

Except, Gabe hadn’t signed on to kill innocent women, no matter how badly he needed the money. He motioned to her to stay down and stay quiet, then eased his body off her a little so she could breathe.

“Is he here?” he whispered.

After another spirited minute of resistance, her muscles went slack and she lay there, breathing hard, despair filling her eyes. She shook her head.

He pulled up all the way. Her gaze slid to his gun, and she swallowed, her body stiffening. Fear came onto her face, that wide-eyed look of people who know they are about to die. She didn’t beg, nor did she offer her brother’s life for her own. She simply met Gabe’s gaze and lifted her chin.

She still looked impossibly young, although he figured she had to be around twenty-six or twenty-seven by now. Her slim body might have looked fragile next to his, but her eyes shone with defiance. That attitude wouldn’t be enough, not with a kill order in place and a team of mercenaries spread out around them.

“I’ll come back.” He pulled a plastic cuff and, with one smooth move, secured her to the iron scroll that decorated the roof’s edge.