Dangerous Assignment (Aegis Group Book 4) (5 page)

“Come here.” She held out her hand.

As if that was the invitation he’d been waiting for, he took her hand and swung one leg over her waist. She grasped his cock, lifted her head and licked it. Luke froze, the tendons on the side of his neck standing out, his eyes going a little wide.

She grinned and pushed up, licking the length of him.

He was too big to fit in her mouth, but there were plenty of things she could do with a cock that size. She lay back, pressing his erection to her chest, and captured it between her breasts, one hand holding him prisoner. He watched, a wild gleam in his eye.

Abigail lifted her ribs, letting his cock slide between her breasts. She cupped his balls with her free hand, driving him forward until she could lick the mushroom cap.

“I think I just swallowed my tongue.” His voice was strained.

He pulled back and planted a hand on the mattress, then thrust. She moved with him, watching his face as the wildness took over. Each pass, she licked him, sometimes he held for her, others he kept going. Her breasts jiggled, and her nipples ached.

Luke thrust until his balls brushed her. He leaned back and pushed his hand between her legs, his fingers into her pussy.

“I want to fuck you here,” he said.

“You should do that.” She licked him, tasting more of his essence.

Luke slid off her, crawling across the bed toward his wallet.

Abigail rolled over, onto her stomach and away from the edge of the bed. Her luck? They’d tumble off and one of them would get a concussion. Then she’d die from wanting his cock.

He flipped through the wallet, random cards dropping here and there while he muttered.

“There!” He chucked the wallet and the lost contents over the side of the bed, and ripped open the packet. His eyes slid over her body from her shoulders down to her toes. “I’ll be gentle.”

“I’m not breakable.” She wasn’t sure what identity made that statement. Abigail was a tough cookie, but she was still an alias.

No, this was for her. The real her. In another time, another place, she’d take everything Luke had to offer, because chances were he could take her. But he’d never meet her. Not the real her.

He rolled the condom on and crawled toward her.

“Up on your knees,” he said.

“Like this?” She pushed up, but only to her elbows and knees. A wanton pose, and she didn’t care.

“Your pussy is so tight.” He thrust his fingers into her.

She hummed, curling her toes.

“Tell me if it hurts?” He leaned over her and kissed the small of her back.

For such a badass, he was terribly sweet.

She laid her cheek against the sheets, the better to catch a glimpse of him. The way he stared at her.

The head of his cock pressed against her. Easy. Gentle. She pushed back, impaling herself on his length. He hissed, and she inhaled as he stretched her.

“Shit,” he groaned and squeezed her hip.

He reached around, his rough fingers turning gentle against her flesh. He stroked her clit until she buried her face in the sheets, and moaned.

“There you go,” he muttered.

She felt him slide deeper, eased by her arousal. He pulled out, his fingers stroking both her clit and labia. He was everywhere. And she wanted more of him.

He eased back into her, the penetration deepening until his balls pressed against her mound. She sucked in deep breaths, fisting the sheets.

Yeah, he was big. And hot. And hard. And tonight, he was hers.

“Are you touching your tits?” he asked.

“I am now.” She pressed a hand over her breast, toying with her nipple.

“You have the most beautiful breasts, but I think I like your pussy the best.” He withdrew and she nearly whimpered. “Come on kitten, purr.”

He stroked back into her, the intrusion easier this time.

“Harder,” she said.

“Purr it for me, baby.”

She did. She chanted the word, again and again, calling him by name. He gripped her hips, his cock filling her. His flesh slapped against hers, sending tremors of pleasure through her body. She could feel a little of his control eroding with each thrust, each cry of his name, until he pounded into her, unrestrained, full force. She could barely see or draw breath.

“Luke!” She cried his name, squeezing her eyes shut.

The wave of pleasure hit her like a tidal wave, licking her skin, rolling over her until she was light headed—and still he kept thrusting.

She pushed back, meeting his thrusts, which were now slowly edging her up the bed.

He held her so hard, she could make out the press of each, individual finger.

“Fuck,” he muttered and stopped.

“Wha-what is it?” she asked.

“It’s not you,” he said.

She turned to look up at him.

“What do you need?” she asked.

“Turn over.”

She rocked forward, he pulled out, and she turned onto her back. He grasped her knee, pushing her leg up over his shoulder and guided his cock to her entrance. He slid in, going deep, his gaze locked on hers. It was fierce, wild, unbridled.

He rocked into her, slow at first, building momentum. She cupped his cheeks, pulling him down and kissed him. The bed squeaked and the headboard thumped against the wall, but none of that mattered. Only this. Now. Between them.

“Come again?” he asked between breaths.

“Yes.” She arched her back.

He dropped his head to her chest, never breaking rhythm. He licked and sucked her nipples, winding her up all over again until she writhed and called his name like a mindless creature. She clawed at his back, thrust up to meet him, seeking everything he had to give her.

“Luke.” His name drew out as stars blossomed in her vision and her body seemed to burst apart at the seams.

“Abigail—oh!”

He thrust roughly, once, twice, again and again, his head buried in the crook of her neck. She hugged him to her, even though he called her by a name that wasn’t hers.

She wasn’t Abigail. She never would be. But for tonight, she wanted to be. This woman with simple problems and easy solutions. Maybe then, she could find joy in his arms, in his bed. For tonight, this would have to be enough, living a borrowed life, stealing moments of pleasure.

She clutched him to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut, not ready to let go.

Abigail sat propped up
against the headboard. She was sore in places unaccustomed to use, but in a good way. Maybe this time, with the right partner, sex was the answer.

Luke pushed through the door, tip-toeing with the trays of food in hand.

“Hope you’re still hungry.” He handed over her dinner and she settled it on her thighs.

“It’s still hot.” Luke shed his pants and slid in next to her.

She was starving. After the day packed with stress, then four rounds of sex, she could probably eat three times this much.

“Coast Guard?” Luke asked between bites.

“What makes you say that?”

“The way you walk.”

“No.” She chuckled and ate another bite, but it tasted bitter.

She didn’t like lying to Luke, but what choice did she have?

There was no way she could tell him the truth, could she? He was looking into the Smiths. He knew their real names. How much more would it take before he stepped into this shit with her?

“Luke?”

“Hm?”

“I need you to stop digging on the Smiths. Please?”

Luke set his fork and knife on his plate. His jaw worked slowly while he stared at her. She couldn’t tell him everything, but she could make him understand.

“Think about everything you know, and now take into consideration everything you don’t know.” Did he understand? “The Smiths, under any name, are dangerous people. Do you think they’ll hesitate to kill us if they think we are a threat to them?”

“What do you know, Abigail?”

Enough.

She knew they were brokering a deal on four fronts for an old, almost forgotten, nuclear warhead that dated back to World War II buried outside of the US capital. She knew, because it’d been her job to assess it, keep an eye on it, protect it. And now these people wanted to sell it to the highest bidder.

Luke couldn’t know.

If he did, he would have to report it. She wouldn’t expect him to keep it a secret. But if she told him? That was an act of treason on her part for divulging state secrets. Except the two countries were allies, so she shouldn’t even be in this situation in the first place. But she was.

It was complicated.

“Abigail?”

“Luke, please stop digging. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He studied her for several more moments. Was he reading between the lines? Did he understand she was involved in this? Or was he still convinced she was like him?

“What if we can stop them?” he asked.

“Is it worth your life?”

“You tell me.”

“No.”

His hand wrapped around hers, lifting her fingers to his lips.

“Okay. Only if you tell me a secret. That’s my going price these days.” He squeezed her hand.

She snorted.

This man…

He made her want to be different.

“A secret…” She leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. A lie would be easy to fabricate, but she wanted to gift him a truth. Something real. “I’m Jewish.”

“Really?”

“And I like bacon.”

“You rebel, you.”

“My mother is the most important person in my life, and because of…circumstances, I haven’t been able to see her in two years.” Her throat tightened. What she wouldn’t give to see her mom. Hug her.

“Oh, stop it.” Luke wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Why haven’t you talked to her?”

“I can’t talk about it.” Abigail rested her head against his shoulder and curled her arms around him.

“You
can’t
or you
won’t
?”

“Can’t. It’s not safe.”

Luke squeezed her a little tighter. Probably because he understood just how important a mother could be. How much it killed her to be apart from her mother. Luke pushed their trays down the bed, then pulled her into his lap, cradling her, offering what he could. A human’s touch was a precious thing after so long alone.

5.

“They’re planning a party,”
the voice whispered through the line.

“Perfect,” Hassan replied.

He jotted down notes as his source recounted the details of the party, the dinner, and the guests. The next few hours were crucial to his plan. Things had to be done, put into place. Hassan had made a wise choice in approaching the hotel’s head chef. The man was a resourceful fellow. Far more in tune with what was going on with the guests than anyone else who’d taken Hassan’s money.

Those fucking Smiths.

They thought they could sell his merchandise out from under him? He’d show them.

“I expect payment.” The chef’s tone was sharp.

“I’ll leave it in your apron pocket. Tomorrow night.” Hassan flipped through his little brown book, searching for the contact he needed.

“Double.”

“Fine.”

Of course the pompous asshole would want more. They all did.

Whatever it took to get the chef off the phone. Hassan didn’t care.

“If you don’t, I’ll make sure the manager knows what you’re doing. You’ll be out of here so fast.” The chef’s threats were empty. Hassan could quadruple the money and not be bothered.

“I’m good for it,” Hassan said.

The line cut off.

Stupid man. He wouldn’t live through dinner, but that wasn’t important.

Hassan found the name he needed and stabbed the number into his phone. He was playing fast and loose right now, but if this went off without a hitch he’d be a free man with all the money he could want. He’d made the right choice betting on Yael. She was a robot doing exactly what she was programmed to do. A smart person would have disappeared and lived a new life far away from this mess.

Not her.

She was right back in it, which suited his needs fine.

Yael was the perfect scapegoat. Her history was long, her enemies many. It would take very little effort to get the Jordan General Intelligence Department to work this for him, and in short order, pin this whole thing on her. The GID would thank him, if he stuck around long enough for a face to face.

The plan was perfect.

Luke pried one eye
open, but the view was all wrong. There should be a wall, not a window.

He inhaled, the musky scents of sex and sweat still on his skin.

Abigail.

Last night.

He turned his head, searching for her, but her spot was empty. The bed was cold.

That wasn’t right.

Luke sat up, frowning, dread gnawing at his gut. Another woman, leaving him after she got what she wanted? The room was neat. Everything was arranged precisely. Even her clothes from last night were gone, whisked away, most likely.

The dishes…

They’d eaten in bed after fan-freaking-tastic sex.

They’d talked…

And she’d mentioned an early morning appointment toward the end, right when he’d been close to drifting off.

Dang it.

That was right.

Luke blew out a breath and packed up his ego.

He’d asked if she wanted him gone, and she hadn’t cared—but she’d needed to be out and ready for the missus’ early something-or-other. Good thing Mr. Smith hadn’t needed to do anything early. Luke was barely human after what Abigail had done to him last night.

Damn, but it would have been nice to wake up with her beside him, sleepy and warm. Thrust into her tight hot—yeah, he needed to stop that kind of thinking now.

He palmed his morning wood and swung his legs out of bed.

If Abigail and Mrs. Smith were up and out, chances were he wasn’t getting back to his room without at least some explanation. It took Luke a few minutes to locate not only his clothes, which were hanging in the closet, but also his wallet, and the things he’d tossed around. He finally found everything neatly tucked away in his jacket pockets.

She’d thought of everything.

And he hadn’t even budged when she’d left.

He couldn’t muster up an ounce of guilt. She’d exhausted him.

Luke dressed quickly, situating his clothes as well as he could to hide the missing buttons. It was sloppy, but he only needed to make it across the suite.

He listened at the door, trying to make out voices, the opening and closing of a door. Something. But all was quiet.

They didn’t have an agenda for the day, but he doubted there was a lot of wiggle room built into it. He’d need to make it across the suite, to the room he shared with Ethan, shower and change into something appropriate. In no time at all.

Now or never.

He opened the door, took a step and nearly ran into Ethan.

“There you are,” he said through gritted teeth. “Get in the room, now.”

Ethan glanced over his shoulder, standing between him and the master.

“Now. Go.” He shooed Luke.

Luke didn’t ask questions. He crossed the suite in double time, Ethan hot on his heels, and shoved the door shut behind them.

“What’s going on?” Luke shucked his shirt and jacket.

“What—the—fuck, man?”

Luke glanced down.

“Your back.” Ethan turned him, back first to the mirror.

Scratches lined his shoulders.

“Huh. I forgot about those.” Luke flexed his arms. It was easy to imagine her hands back on him with such a vivid reminder right there.

“I take it last night went well?” Ethan grinned. “You should keep this one. She’s a cut above that Dianna chick.”

“Yeah.” Luke wasn’t about to share details, but he couldn’t agree more. His mind had been blown in a good way. “What’s going on?”

“They want to throw a dinner party tonight. I have four pages of notes on what we need to do.” Ethan shook the notes at him. “We’re fucking party planners.”

“Let me see those.”

Ethan handed the pages over. Luke squinted, screwing up one side of his mouth as if that would help him read Ethan’s cramped handwriting.

“Does…that say…unicorn—”

“Baby corn. There’s a ‘B’ right there.” Ethan snatched the notes back and began reading them, pacing the room.

“Keep reading. I need a shower.” Luke stepped into the bathroom, left the door open, and turned on the tap.

The list was long and mostly frivolous, but he’d done as much for other clients. Not that it was in his job description to be a go-for guy, but if the gig was boring, at least going on errands let him stretch his legs and get out. The only difference was that they had no idea if corn was really corn or code for something else. He couldn’t blindly trust his employers one bit.

By the time Ethan finished his monologue of the list with bonus commentary, Luke was showered and ready to tackle at least the next part of the day.

“I’m still waiting on the IDs from those guys last night,” Ethan said.

Aegis Group had two of the most badass techs around. If Zain didn’t know where something could be procured—he could in less than an hour. Gavin’s special power was not sleeping. The kid worked round the clock with a tenacity that didn’t stop.

“We need to drop it, man. I don’t think it’s a good idea to go poking around while we’re still with these people.” The fear in Abigail’s voice and his promise haunted Luke.

A knock at the door interrupted Ethan’s reply. He held up his finger, as though Luke needed to be told to hush.

Whatever.

He stepped into clean boxers and snagged a pair of pants, stepping into them while Ethan answered the door. Luke didn’t even have his trousers fastened before Ethan stepped back and Abigail entered.

Luke’s reaction was immediate. Their gazes locked, and it took all of his self-control to not walk across the room and kiss the woman senseless. Except she had a wrinkle between her eyes and a frown on her lips.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Something happen this morning?” What wasn’t Abigail telling him?

“Shopping was tedious. How was your morning?” Her gaze trailed down to his chest.

“Fine.” He fastened his pants, the better to keep his dick under control. He snagged a shirt and his belt, conscious of two sets of eyes watching him.

Ethan tilted his head to the side. They hadn’t had a moment to discuss the open door policy with Abigail, but Luke wasn’t about to leave her out of anything.

“Two of the guys from last night are unknown as of yet, the other two? The little guy and his friend? They’re known to have connections with ISIS. One of Mason’s contacts at the CIA is highly interested in anything we may find out. You know what’s really the cherry on top of all this?”

“What?” Luke shoved his feet into his shoes, fully dressed and ready.

“They’re coming tonight.”

“Great,” Abigail muttered.

“What’s so great about that?” Ethan threw up his hands.

“I didn’t mean…” She glanced at Ethan, a flash of annoyance behind those dark brown eyes.

“Lay off,” Luke snapped and closed the short distance between himself and Abigail. He’d promised to stop looking into them. So he would. What was done was done.

She turned her head toward him. There was something so damn regal to the way she moved. A turn of her head, the way she breathed or even crossed a room was beautiful.

She tipped her chin up, the long line of her neck taunting him with memories of last night. How she’d tasted.

“If they’re planning a large-scale party like this, I fear we’ll be dropped by tomorrow. Too much of a liability. We’ll know too much.” Abigail planted her hands on her hips, all business now.

“My thoughts exactly,” Ethan said.

“Don’t worry about this. Ethan, we stop digging now. We do this job. We get out of here. Together. Okay? This way we all get home to our families.” Luke clenched his hand to keep from touching her, from offering that shoulder once more. This needed to be different. He couldn’t jump in whole hog like he’d done in the past. Abigail was different. He needed to be different.

She flashed him a tight, tense smile. He could sense the worry coming off her in waves, and he got it. He finally got it.

Abigail was more than she appeared.

She was…working something. Some sort of undercover operative, and if he and Ethan kept digging, they’d fuck up what she was doing. She couldn’t tell him who she worked for, that much he got, but they were on the same side in this. What they did was dangerous, no matter what. And with clients like the Smiths, the risk was that much greater. Which was all the more reason for them to stick together. Together, they could watch each other’s backs and make it home. And maybe then he’d learn her secrets.

Hassan held his breath
as he side-stepped into the suite. He was sweating buckets, and there was nothing he could do about it. His contact had come through, all right, but the tech was old, janky, and volatile. His luck, the devices would blow too early.

“Watch it,” he snapped at the American idiot.

“Over there,” the man gestured at the table.

“I know where chairs go.”

Hassan led the line of people with dining chairs toward the table. He slipped around to the designated spot for Mr. and Mrs. Smith, placing them exactly so.

It wasn’t strictly necessary that the chairs be the Smiths’. Close proximity would do nicely, but he wasn’t going to take a chance. He directed the other staffers, adjusting chairs, hustling about, keeping his head down.

Just because Yael hadn’t noticed him didn’t mean she wouldn’t. He’d changed his appearance, but it might not be enough. She wasn’t stupid, just complacent. Everyone else might think she was dead, but he knew the truth. What she’d done, the sneaky bitch.

“Hey.” The chef grabbed Hassan by the arm and pulled him into the kitchen. “Where’s my money?”

“I told you, I’ll slip it to you after dinner.”

“Don’t think you can pull one over on me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Hassan pulled his arm out of the man’s grasp and tugged his jacket into place.

If he was lucky, the idiot would be blown out of the windows. Otherwise, Hassan might need to finish the job himself.

He extracted himself from the kitchen, thanks to the arrival of the prep chefs, and ducked out through a side door. Everything was ready. He glanced over his shoulder, some of the strain fading away. One, last piece to fall into place.

Hassan ducked down a hallway and slid his key card into the slot of his room. He’d adjusted the cameras so there wasn’t a clean shot of the door, no way to place him as a guest and an employee, not that anyone would confuse the two personas, but he needed to be ultracareful.

The lights remained off.

He picked his way through the room to the dresser and picked up the phone with the red tape. It hadn’t been used yet. He’d saved it for this purpose.

He dialed the one contact saved in the phone and waited.