Renegade Alpha (ALPHA 5) (9 page)

“Unless I hear gunshots, in which case—”

“In which case, you’ll get the hell out of here,” he told her grimly. “Is that understood?”

“I’m sure that tone of voice usually works on raw recruits and women who like to be dominated by a man, but my father was a major in the British army, remember, and it doesn’t work on me,” she assured him pertly.

Lijah stared at her incredulously. Something he seemed to do a lot around this particular woman.

Women who like to be dominated?

What the hell did Callie think he was? He liked to be in charge as much as the next man, but when it came to going to bed with a woman, he liked the ones who gave as good as they got.

Women who liked to be
dominated
?

Jesus!

He gave a disgusted shake of his head. “I’m not your father, and widening those big blue eyes and fluttering your lashes won’t work on me.”

“Big blue eyes?” She spluttered. “Fluttering my lashes?”

“Not going to work,” Lijah confirmed. “Now be a good girl and stay here like I told you to.”

Her eyes glittered. “If someone else doesn’t shoot you first, then I might eventually have to!”

“You can shoot?”

“Told you I was more capable than I look.” She gave a tight smile. “My father insisted on teaching me to shoot when I was fourteen.”

And, as Lijah knew, Peter was a very good teacher. “You would still have to catch me first.” He gave an unconcerned shrug.

“You have to sleep some time.”

“Vicious little thing, aren’t you?”

“Surprising how you seem to bring that trait out in me, isn’t it?” she came back with saccharin sweetness.

How perverse was it that he was actually chuckling at Callie threatening to shoot him?

Very, came the answer.

When had he last given a genuine smile, let alone laughed?

It had been so long, Lijah actually couldn’t remember.

He sobered. “I’m not expecting any trouble, but I meant what I said, Callie. If you hear shots or I’m gone longer than ten minutes, then you get the hell out of here. You go to the police and tell them what happened. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir!” She gave him a mock salute.

“Sarcasm too now,” he muttered as he climbed out of the car and closed the door behind him before reaching down to take the gun out of his boot; probably best to leave the .44 Magnum in the trunk of the car for now.

He looked up at the town house. Security box on the front of the house. Painted white, blinds drawn on all the windows. Three stories high. No lights visible on any of them. Looked as if no one was home.

But looks, as Lijah knew only too well, could be deceptive.

Callie hated—absolutely hated—the feeling of helplessness as Lijah moved stealthily to the side of the house before disappearing as his dark clothing blended into the shadows.

What if she did hear gunshots?

If Lijah really thought she was going to run off and leave him here, then he was in for a shock. No matter how forcefully he might have instructed her to do exactly that. Her father had a rule for when he went in combat, openly or stealthily, and that rule was “never leave a man behind.” This might not be the sort of combat her father had in mind, but Callie had no intention of saving herself by leaving Lijah behind either.

Lijah had said his other gun was in his bag in the trunk of the car. Maybe if she crept quietly out of the car and found the other gun, she could follow him—

And then they might end up shooting each other in the darkness.

So not helpful, Callie.

Okay, so she wouldn’t follow Lijah, but she could still get the gun and stand outside, prepared and ready in case he needed assistance.

Just making that decision made her feel less helpless.

Two minutes later, Callie was standing out on the tree-dappled street, in Georgetown, America, leaning against the side of the car with a .44 Magnum in her hand. A .44 Magnum, for God’s sake! Lijah really did like to live the part, didn’t he.

She held back a snort of hysterical laughter at the ridiculousness of this situation.

Reminding her of that throaty chuckle Lijah had given a few minutes ago. He looked younger when he smiled, laughter lines fanning out from his eyes and beside that deliciously sensual mouth, with his teeth very white in the darkness and his eyes gleaming a lighter blue.

So where was he?

It must have taken her at least five of the ten minutes Lijah had allocated to being safe for her to get out of the car and find the gun and bullets in the bottom of his bag. That had been an experience in itself. She now knew that Lijah favored black fitted boxers as underwear.

So where is he
?

No shots had been fired to alert her of any danger. No lights had come on inside the house either, but maybe that was because someone had hit Lijah over the head the moment he stepped inside? Maybe, while she was chuckling at how ridiculous she must look standing out here with a loaded .44 Magnum in her hand, Lijah was lying on the floor inside the house surrounded by a rapidly increasing pool of blood—

“When I tell you to stay put, I expect you to fucking stay put!”

Callie turned with a gasp at the sound of Lijah’s growl directly behind her. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” She raised her free hand to her rapidly beating heart. “I could have shot you by mistake!”

His eyes glittered in the darkness. “And landed on your ass for your trouble. The kickback on the .44 would have knocked you off your feet. It is loaded, I take it?”

“Well, of course it’s loaded.” She glared, both for the fright he had just given her and for doubting her ability to actually put bullets in the gun she was holding.
 

“Give me that.” He easily took the gun out of her hand before deftly removing the bullets and then pushing the gun into the waistband at the back of his jeans.

“Did you find my father, or any evidence that he’s been here?” she prompted anxiously.

“None.”

“Oh.”

“Would you have used the Magnum if you had to?” Lijah ignored her obvious disappointment, his eyes narrowed. “If the person who sneaked up behind you just now hadn’t been me but one of the men involved in Hammond’s death six months ago, would you have shot him?”

Would she? It was one thing to learn how to load and shoot a gun, another thing entirely to actually aim and fire it at a living person.

“Obviously not,” Lijah rasped disgustedly. “So you’re telling me you stood out here, at midnight in the middle of Georgetown, with a loaded gun in your hand and no intention of actually using it?”

Callie felt the warmth heating her cheeks at Lijah’s accusing tone even as she bit back the disappointment she felt over her father not being here after all.

She also knew the evenness of Lijah’s tone was in no way indicative of his emotions, not when the streetlight a short way down the street allowed her to see the black clouds of anger swirling stormily in his eyes.

Would she have fired the gun if Lijah had been in danger?

Of course she would.

Probably.

Maybe…

Her father had taken her to a shooting range on base and taught her to shoot, and to shoot well. But learning to shoot and actually seeing the result of a bullet entering human flesh—
living
the result, as she had six months ago when Michael had been shot—was completely different to theory. Bullets killed. Snuffed out a person’s life forever.

Could she have done that if she thought Lijah was in danger?

“Well?”

“Don’t snarl at me, you—you overgrown baboon—Lijah!” The last came out as a squeal as Callie once again found herself unceremoniously thrown over Lijah’s shoulder, the tension of his back and arm muscles as he strode purposefully toward the back of her aunt and uncle’s house telling her just how angry he was.

“Peter should have taken a stick to your backside years ago,” he growled ominously.

“My father is a gentleman—”

Lijah interrupted with a bark of humorless laughter. “Well, I’m not, darlin’.” He affected a Southern drawl. “So prepare yourself to be disciplined!”

“D—disciplined?” Callie repeated nervously.

“If one of my men had disobeyed a direct order from me, they would have to take their punishment. Do you expect to receive any less from me?”

When he put it like that… “Unless you hadn’t noticed, we aren’t in the army, and you aren’t my commanding officer.” Callie gave him a sharp slap on that deliciously taut backside in emphasis of the point. It was the only place she could reach when she was once again thrown over his shoulder as if she were nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

Lijah came to an abrupt halt. “Did you just smack my ass?”

Her heart turned over at the ominous rumble she could hear in Lijah’s voice beneath his obvious surprise.

Maybe she had gone too far with that slap on his backside?

Lijah obviously thought so.

“I’m only trying to make you see reason—”

“Oh, reason went completely out the window the moment you smacked my ass,” he assured her as he opened the back door to the house, kicking it shut behind them as he strode through the darkness of the kitchen, along the hallway, and straight up the long staircase, Callie still thrown over his shoulder.

How on earth was Lijah able to see well enough to find his way? She couldn’t even see the glint of the gun tucked into the waistband at the back of his jeans, let alone find her way through the maze of her aunt and uncle’s town house, and she had visited them here several times in the past.

“The lights—”

“Stay off until I’m sure our position here is secure,” he bit out. “Now be quiet.” This last instruction was delivered with a stinging smack to her own backside.

Pity Lijah had removed the bullets from the Magnum; Callie had a feeling a loaded gun might have come in handy about now. To use
against
Lijah rather than
for
him.

Lijah was slightly incredulous—again—at the audacity of Callie Morgan. She had smacked his ass! Not lightly either. It had definitely been hard enough to sting—and to send a jolt of pleasure from the base of his spine along the length of his cock.

A cock that was rapidly hardening and lengthening in readiness for enjoying Callie’s “punishment.”

Who knew that having his ass smacked would arouse him?

Unbelievable.

Unacceptable.

He was as disappointed as he knew Callie must be not to have found Peter holed up here, or at least evidence that the other man had been here. It was certainly going to make finding Peter more difficult.

But for the moment, Lijah didn’t give a shit about any of that. Callie had
smacked him on the ass
, for God’s sake.

Even more disturbing, he’d liked it.

“You know, this caveman tactic may appeal to some women, but I’m afraid—”

“Oh, be afraid,” Lijah warned. “Be very afraid,” he repeated as he pushed open the door to what he already knew was the main guest bedroom from his recce through the house just minutes ago.

“What are you— Oomph!” Callie’s breath left her in a whoosh as she was thrown down onto what she assumed—hoped—was a bed. She bounced for a second or two before the hard length of Lijah’s body came down flush on top of hers, her hands easily pinned above her head by just one of his. “What are you doing?” she squeaked as she looked up at him helplessly in the darkness.

“Punishing you.”

This
was her punishment for slapping Lijah? Having that over-six-feet-tall and muscled body pressing her down in the softness of the mattress was her
punishment
?

She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m sure this can’t be how you discipline your men.”

“No,” he acknowledged as he removed his hat and threw it on the floor. “But when it comes to you, I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t actually enjoy your punishment.”

Callie gasped as Lijah’s lips now claimed hers. Not in that gentle exploratory way that had aroused her earlier today. No, this was a full-out taking, not an asking, a demand that she respond.

And she did.

Her lips parted beneath his instinctively, allowing Lijah to deepen the kiss as his tongue instantly thrust into her mouth, seeking, stroking, and sensitizing every dip and hollow as intimately as his free hand now roamed over the curves of her body.

She gasped as she felt that hand cupping her sex, palm grinding down on her mons and clitoris, and sending shards of pleasured heat through her body.

She moaned in protest as she felt his hand move, only to groan in approval as that warmth moved beneath her sweater, grazing across the warmth of her flesh before cupping and squeezing her breasts.

Callie drew her breath in sharply as the lace of her bra was pulled down, calloused fingers gripping her exposed and swollen nipple, lightly and then harder, awakening nerve endings and increasing those charges of pleasure between her thighs.