Unleashing the Storm (37 page)

“I
don’t—” A sharp cramp in Kira’s belly sucked her words from her mouth. Another
stabbing pain doubled her over and made her cry out. “What…what are you doing
to me?”

The
two trainers exchanged worried glances.

“Nothing.”
Annika stepped closer. “Kira?”

Hot
liquid gushed between Kira’s thighs, and she looked down to see a trickle of
crimson running down her leg.

“Shit.”
Annika caught Kira as another cramp sapped the strength from her legs. “Call
the medics. Hurry!”

The
world spun. She dimly heard herself shout, “Tommy!” and then all went black.

Three
shots of tequila and a beer chaser hadn’t made even a small dent in Annika’s
sour mood. Neither had sitting in ACRO’s on-base closet of a bar, listening to
hick country music on the jukebox. She stared at the three remaining shots
lined up on the table before her, and played eenie-meenie-minie-moe. Some
non-Talent supply department dweeb at the pool table eyed her like she was a moron.
She flipped him the bird and downed the chosen shot.

The
golden liquid burned her throat, but it didn’t burn away the bitter taste she
hadn’t been able to swallow since this morning, when she’d watched ACRO medics
whisk an unconscious Kira away in a specialized military ambulance.

But
that hadn’t been the worst of it. No, what Dev had told Annika later about Kira
had knocked her on her ass like no tequila could.

Her
pager went off again, and with a flick of her wrist, the device joined her
smashed cell phone against the wall of her darkened corner booth. Her phones at
home hadn’t been so lucky. The power surge she’d sent through them had melted
them where they sat. At least they’d stopped ringing.

She
wondered if Creed had tried to contact her. Not that she cared. Though a couple
of rounds of hot sex might take her mind off things. What had he said about
that—fuck her problems away? Her usual MO?

She
downed the last two shots and stumbled home—converted barracks on base—because
she couldn’t stand anyone looking at her. She’d give anything to go to Dev’s
place, but no matter how mad she was, she loved him too much to invade this
strange privacy he seemed to need.

But
damn, she didn’t want to be alone. She’d learned that Kira was fine, and so
far, the kid was okay too, but things would be touch and go for the next few
days at least. If Annika was responsible for something going wrong with the
pregnancy…

Her
stomach heaved as she opened her front door. Oh, God, she couldn’t handle this.
She’d killed a lot of people, had been a weapon for the CIA for years, but none
of her victims had been innocents. And never, ever a child.

And
still, had she done the same thing five years ago, would it have bothered her?

Would
it?

She
didn’t want to dig too deeply to find the answer.

Lurching,
she made it to the bathroom, where she wanted to retch but couldn’t. Instead,
she stripped and stepped into the shower, hoping to wash away the day’s events.
But the blistering water couldn’t scald the memory from her brain.

Neither
could it stop the pain. Or the tears.

Sobbing,
she slid down the wall until she was sitting in the corner beneath the hot
spray. What was going on with her? What was up with the emotional breakdown
over someone else?

Creed
had been right when he’d said she didn’t care about anyone but herself and Dev.
But then, how could anyone expect otherwise, when she’d been raised from the
age of two by people whose only goal was to turn her into a merciless,
professional killing machine?

Goal
accomplished.

Annika
had become the CIA’s most prized, most successful experiment. They’d
congratulated themselves on producing an assassin whose beauty and language
abilities allowed her to get close to anyone. Whose fighting skills, killing
expertise and lack of remorse allowed her to take out targets with an ease and
efficiency they’d never seen.

Add
to that her powerful electrical gift, and nothing could touch her.

They’d
been so busy celebrating their achievement that they’d neglected to protect
themselves from the very weapon they created. And if she felt nothing when she
took out assigned targets, she’d felt less when she took out the CIA operatives
she’d learned had murdered her birth mother in order to steal her.

She
hadn’t stopped there. Almost everyone who had played a role in making her into
little more than a weapon had paid. Those who’d escaped her wrath, who had put
out an order for her termination, didn’t get off scot-free. She’d go bloody on
them when the opportunity presented itself.

Right
now, though, she was content to work for ACRO. For Dev.

She
still wasn’t sure how he’d become the one person besides herself she could care
about, and for a long time she’d resisted letting him in. Just as the CIA had
taught her. Feel nothing. Care about no one. Trust no one. But he’d kept
trying, long after common sense dictated that he should have left her alone.

And
she’d been happy with her life since. Until now. Until Creed weaseled his way
into her world and made her feel something other than indifference. Something
much more than the decadent orgasms he gave her.

She’d
kept the door on her emotions closed to everyone but Dev. Somehow, Creed had
opened the door, let them out, and now they didn’t want to go back in. They’d
flooded her, had overloaded her senses, and she didn’t know how to deal with
it.

What
had happened with Kira shouldn’t have bothered her, but now that was all she
could think about. She’d even tried to order flowers for the other woman, but
when the salesperson asked what to write on the card, Annika had hung up. Was
it cool to say,

“Sorry
I almost killed you and your kid, and I know you’re still in danger, so hey,
apologies ahead of time if something bad happens”?

Probably
not. And she seriously doubted Kira would appreciate her showing up in person
at the hospital.

The
water went cold, but she didn’t notice. Didn’t care. Even as her teeth rattled
with the strength of her shivers, the only thing she could think was that
maybe, just maybe, the freezing water would numb her, and the pain would go
away.

DEV
SOUNDED STRANGE. He’d all but ordered Creed to find Annika and help her, but
wouldn’t give more details.

Creed
clicked off his phone before turning his attention to the man stretched out on
his couch. He’d been about to call Oz, to see if his returning friend and
mentor had any answer, when the doorbell rang. Oz had been waiting on his
stoop.

“Quaty
contacted me,” Oz had said.

Now
Oz said, “Go to Annika. Quaty will stay here and keep me company.” He looked
worn out.

Instead
of rushing off, like he wanted to do, Creed sat down heavily in the leather
chair next to the fireplace. He’d stopped having the massive chills about five
days after Annika ran out on him again, but he still didn’t feel right. Kat
hadn’t been her usual self either. “What the fuck’s going on, Oz?”

Oz
stared at him, his brown eyes as close to black as Creed’s were. The two men
could have easily passed for brothers—Creed was slightly bigger and broader, Oz
more conventionally handsome and sans tattoos, but their coloring, their
movements were eerily similar.

“Creed—”

“I
want to know what’s going on with me. Why I had that reaction when I left the
mansion last year. Why I had the same reaction when the spirit came here,
especially if it’s not after me.”

Oz
was silent for a long time, and when he finally spoke again, his voice sounded
hoarse. The room had gone deadly cold and Kat was rubbing his back frantically.
“Are you sure you’re ready to hear this?”

“I
need to know. I want to know,” he said. He sat there quietly as Kat wailed in
his ear.

“Quaty,
stop it,” Oz commanded, and although the wailing didn’t stop, it grew
progressively lower. Creed leaned forward in his seat and stared at Oz, waited
impatiently.

“There’s
a way I can free you from Kat,” Oz said quietly.

“Forever?”

“Forever,”
Oz confirmed.

“Shit.”
Creed covered his ears in a futile attempt to stop Kat’s screams from echoing
in his ears.

“There’s
not a big window of time for you to make your decision.” Oz spoke calmly,
ignored the screeching that Creed knew the man could also hear and told him
more about what Creed would need to do to break the bonds with Kat.

Ani.
He had to talk with Ani about all of this…

“I
can’t do this right now, Oz,” he heard himself say. “I’ve got to get out of
here.” He stumbled, half blinded by tears, and Oz didn’t try to stop him.

CREED’S
THROAT FELT SORE, as if he’d been screaming, when really he’d barely talked at
all.

Chills
wracked his body again as he knocked on Annika’s door gently, then more
forcefully when no one answered.

“Annika,
open up,” he yelled, because he knew something wasn’t right. He flashed back to
the time he’d kicked open another door, at Dev’s family mansion, in order to
get to her, and with one heavily booted foot, he did so again.

She
hadn’t even bothered to set the alarm on her house, and with a quick glance he
took in the fried keypad by the door, the melted house phone that looked as if
it had caught fire recently.

He
heard water running, raced up the stairs and into what must be her bedroom. He
opened the door, expected to find himself immersed in a cloud of steam, not the
freezing cold blast that accosted his senses. The window was open, and he could
tell before he opened the shower door that the water had also run cold.

Through
the heavy glass squares that partitioned the shower from the rest of the
bathroom, he saw Annika, curled up in a ball on the floor. He stepped in and
turned off the water, grabbed a towel and wrapped her in it.

He
carried her into the bedroom, shoved her, still dripping wet, under her heavy
comforter, and stripped his own clothes off quickly. He got under the covers
with her, hugged her chilled skin next to his in an attempt to warm her fast.
Even though he felt cold inside, he knew his skin was still much, much warmer
than hers.

“Ani,”
he murmured. “Why the hell did you do this to yourself?”

She
stirred, her wet hair sticking to his neck and cheek, and when she turned her
head in his direction, he rubbed her lips with his because he wanted them pink
and rosy again, not tinged blue as they were.

She
was still spooned, her back to his chest. He caressed her belly and breasts
with his hands, rubbing them up and down to get her attention. He rolled her
nipples between his fingers and thought he heard a small gasp.

“Come
on, Ani. Open your eyes,” he said. He kissed her shoulder, his cock hardening
from the friction of rubbing her—hell, from just
being
near her.

Yes,
sex would definitely wake her up—shock her, if nothing else.

He
slid down her body, staying under the covers. He shifted her thighs so he could
get between them, found himself with them pressing his neck. It didn’t matter,
as long as he could get his tongue, and his piercing, where it needed to go.

He
buried his face in her sex, his tongue stroking her folds, which soon grew hot
and wet, and he noted that her hips began to rock slightly. He pressed his
tongue deep inside of her, heard her gasp for sure this time. Her hands
wandered down to twist in his hair as he probed and licked and sucked. Her
thighs squeezed his neck as his piercing connected with the tight nub of
nerves, and she shattered against his mouth.

She
tasted delicious, like a mix of hot, sweet electricity and sugar, and he pushed
his tongue inside her again so he could catch every last bit of her orgasm.

“Creed?”
she whispered.

He
pulled his head away from her reluctantly. “I hope to hell you weren’t
expecting someone else,” he growled, but she was pulling at him until he was
face-to-face with her. She pulled him in for a kiss, her taste still on his
lips, and damn, he always found it hot when she did that.

She
pulled him on top, so he covered her. Her body was warming nicely, her muscles
still tense even as she spread her thighs to welcome him.

“I
wasn’t expecting you. Not after what happened last time,” she murmured. “I
fucked up so badly, Creed. Like you knew I would.”

“Shhhh,
Ani. It’s all right,” he said.

“Not
all right. Won’t ever be,” she said, but she was still guiding him inside of
her. He wanted to pull away, to force her to talk more, but he couldn’t. Their
bond was too strong when they were close, her energy drawing his until he
couldn’t do anything but surrender to it, and to her.

He
drew a hissing breath between his teeth, because his cock felt so good inside
of her, where it was tight and hot and pulsing—all for him. Only for him. She clutched
at his shoulders and moaned.