HOT Addiction: A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 10 Page 6

  “Kids don’t fit into my life right now anyway,” he added.

  It occurred to her that she didn’t know if there was anyone in his life. Oh God, did she want to know? Could she take it?

  “Are you married?”

  He snorted. “Are you kidding? Think I learned my lesson about weddings.” He got to his feet and grabbed his plate, going over and dumping it in the trash. “Look, there’s no need to talk about this stuff anymore. Eat your dinner, and I’ll see what I can do about the computer.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  A shadow fell over her. He stood above her, hands on hips, looking big and bad and prickly as hell. “Eat your dinner or I’ll force it down your throat.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  He nodded. “I sure as hell would. You’re hungry, but you’re worried about your daughter and that’s screwing with your appetite. But she’s safe, Annabelle. If you won’t eat for you, eat for her. She’s going to need you strong and healthy.”

  She picked up her fork and shoved it into the macaroni. “You don’t play fair,” she said when she’d swallowed a mouthful.

  He didn’t crack a smile. “Neither do you.”

  8

  Colonel John Mendez stalked into his office and threw his hat on the desk. Then he loosened his tie and went into the attached bathroom. The sooner he got out of this Army Service Uniform and back into his ACUs, the better. He jerked the tie loose, shrugged out of the jacket, and attacked the buttons. When he’d finished removing everything, he yanked on the digital camouflage he preferred and left the dress uniform with all its medals hanging on a hook.

  There was a knock at the door when he returned to his office.

  “Enter,” he barked.

  His deputy commander, Lieutenant Colonel Alex “Ghost” Bishop, walked in. “How’d it go on the Hill, sir?”

  Mendez flung himself into his chair. “As expected. Congressman DeWitt has a hard-on for HOT—or maybe it’s just me he wants to fuck.”

  Ghost snorted. “You’d think he’d be too busy trying to get elected president.”

  “He’s a dangerously delusional man who got elected to Congress because his parents have more money than God. Why the hell he thinks that qualifies him to be president, I have no idea.”

  “He’s been giving Senator Campbell a run for his money.”

  Mendez shoved a hand through his hair. It was starting to feel a little long. Didn’t look it, but it felt that way to him. Time for a haircut. Just as soon as he could find a spare minute to get it done.

  “Campbell’s the front-runner for the nomination. I doubt DeWitt will be a serious impediment. Besides, Campbell’s been a senator for years, and his approval ratings are high.”

  “DeWitt has a strange sort of appeal to some.”

  Mendez frowned at his deputy. “Unfortunately for us. If he somehow gets elected, he’ll gut programs like ours. He wants more tanks and guns—but he lacks the ability to understand why sending us in first helps keep the world stable.”

  DeWitt had no respect for the work that organizations like HOT did, as evidenced by the pressure he was bringing to bear for investigations into Special Operations

  Not that HOT had anything to worry about. Mendez did everything by the book.

  Well, almost everything. He thought of former operator Jack “Hawk” Hunter’s call last month. Chase “Fiddler” Daniels had gotten involved in some tricky shit involving Grigori Androv and his band of merry Russians. Mendez had called Ian Black in—unofficially, of course—and everything had turned out fine in the end.

  But Androv took a dirt nap shortly after HOT released him from their custody, and they still didn’t know who’d pulled the trigger. DeWitt was asking questions about that, among other things.

  “You’d think we’d be more concerned about the threats staring us in the face than the phantom ones DeWitt conjures up in his mind.” Mendez flipped through the papers on his desk. Nothing leaped out at him.

  “People are easily led by their more immediate fears. Prey on that fear, and you have them in your pocket.”

  “PsyOps 101,” Mendez said. “The Russians were the masters of that during the Cold War.”

  “Unfortunately, propaganda works. Even in the US.”

  His phone buzzed and he slid it from his pocket. It was a text from Samantha Spencer, the CIA operative he’d been seeing lately.

  *

  Sam: You’ve been a bad boy, Johnny. Congressman DeWitt was raging at the director on the phone just now.

  *

  He had no idea what the congressman could possibly be saying to the CIA director about HOT.

  *

  Mendez: Not my problem.

  Sam: Dinner tonight?

  Mendez: Sure.

  Sam: My place or yours?

  *

  Mendez hesitated. It was always her place. She’d pointed that out recently and asked why he never brought her to his house for sex. He’d thought about it. But, truthfully, he preferred going to her house. He could leave when he wanted and there was no danger of her forgetting her toothbrush in his holder.

  *

  Mendez: Yours is nicer.

  *

  He could almost hear her sigh.

  *

  Sam: Fine. Eight?

  Mendez: That works.

  *

  He put the phone away and looked up to find Ghost waiting patiently. “Got a situation, sir,” he began.

  Mendez sighed. “Don’t we always? What is it this time?”

  “An Alpha Squad operator. Dex ‘Double Dee’ Davidson. He currently has the CFO of Archer Industries, Annabelle Quinn-Archer, in protective custody.”

  “Archer Industries?” Mendez frowned. “The Helios radio wave project, right?”

  “Yes, sir. The CEO was killed in a lion attack in Jorwani last month. According to the CIA, he was trying to sell the technology to a foreign agent. Money exchanged hands, though there’s no evidence the technology did. The alleged buyer wants their money back.”

  “Well, fuck. There goes my quiet evening.”

  Ghost snorted. “Sir, you don’t like quiet evenings.”

  Mendez laughed. “Not really. All right, let’s get down to the command center and see what’s happening.”

  *

  It was hell being cooped up in this small cabin with Annabelle. She smelled like sweet summer memories and looked like his every wet dream come true. She was petite and pretty. Not stunning, not the kind of woman who turned every head when she walked into a room, but the kind who, once you looked at her, you couldn’t stop looking.

  Dex had ignored her for years. All those sleepovers with Katie. All those years of being annoying little girls and then, later, giggly teenagers. He’d caught Annabelle looking at him sometimes from beneath her lashes, her cheeks pink and her pretty eyes sparkling. He’d had a girlfriend the first time he noticed it, but he’d been intrigued nonetheless.

  She looked at him like that for a year. And then one day she smiled, just like always, and his heart thumped extra hard in his chest. It had been at football practice, and she’d been on the cheerleading squad. The cheerleaders were doing their own practice, and Annabelle was on top of the formation. She’d tumbled down perfectly and then lifted her head and smiled.

  He’d kissed her that weekend, a hot, desperate kiss at midnight in the hallway of his house. She’d been staying overnight with Katie, and when he’d stumbled in after a night out with the guys, she’d been in the hall in her little shorts and tank top.

  He’d walked right up to her and stood toe to toe with her.

  “Do you know what you’re doing to me, Annabelle?”

  She’d shaken her head.

  He’d dropped his mouth to her neck, tasted her sweet skin. She’d moaned—and then he’d tugged her into his arms and kissed her until they’d both been so hot they’d had to shove each other away or wake his father and sister with the noise they were making.

  Shit.

/>   He didn’t need to think about that or he’d be hard right this minute.

  Dex grabbed the laptop and carried it over to the couch. He opened the lid, then took out his phone and made a call.

  “Double Dee,” Richie said. “Whatcha got?”

  “Need Billy the Kid,” Dex said. “Got a computer here that belonged to Eric Archer, but Annabelle doesn’t know the password.”

  “Putting you on speaker.”

  “How’s it going, son?”

  Dex jerked. That was the colonel’s voice. He hadn’t expected the commanding officer. “As well as can be expected, sir.”

  Mendez was legend in spec ops. Truth be told, he made Dex a little nervous. And nothing made Dex nervous. He was usually as cool under pressure as a block of ice. As a Special Operator, as a sniper, he had to be. He’d literally stared death in the face and hadn’t blinked.

  Mendez made him blink.

  “How’s your father?” the colonel asked.

  “Recovering, sir. Thank you.”

  “Good. All right, tell the Kid what you’ve got. Let’s see if we can’t crack this computer.”

  “Hey, Double Dee.” It was Billy’s voice now. “I’m gonna have you start the computer in safe mode, then we’ll see if we can change the password.”

  “And if we can’t?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation. “Then I’ll need to lay hands on it myself.”

  “Copy that. All right, tell me what to do. Let’s bust this baby open.”

  9

  Annabelle finished her food and cleaned up the pan Dex had used. He was on the phone with someone, grunting and saying things like “Copy that” and “Negative, Kid. What now?”

  He tapped the keys on Eric’s computer and cussed from time to time. Finally he expelled a frustrated breath and snapped the lid closed.

  “Yeah, copy. Over and out.”

  She turned as he threw his phone down on the couch and raked both hands through his hair. Muscles popped and flexed, putting on their own after-dinner show. He leaned back, eyes closed, and she wished she still had the right to go over and push her hands into his hair and massage his temples before pressing her lips to his.

  “Problem?” she asked as she walked over and perched on the arm of a chair.

  He cracked an eye open. “Billy Blake is one of the best programmers in the business. He couldn’t get me in. We have to take the computer to him. He has more resources back at HQ.”

  She swallowed. “Where’s HQ?”

  “DC.”

  “When?”

  “In the morning.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “It’s still a long drive, and it’s better to rest first.”

  “I’m not going to make the deadline for turning over the money, am I?”

  “No. But did you really think you would?”

  She had to shake her head. She’d known almost from the first moment that she was fighting a losing battle. She’d had no clue what Mr. Lyon was talking about—and she’d known Eric well enough to know that he wouldn’t leave a trail of bread crumbs. Wherever the money was, she had no idea.

  And that worried her deeply because what would happen when the deadline came and went? She didn’t think Mr. Lyon was going to take it well even if he couldn’t find her or Charlotte. Would she always be on the run? Would she and Charlotte be put into witness protection, cut off from the life they knew and fearing they’d be found? She shuddered to think it.

  “What can you tell me about your conversation with Mr. Lyon?” Dex asked. “Did he have an accent? Did you hear anything in the background?”

  She frowned. “He did have an accent, but I couldn’t tell where it was from. I didn’t hear anything distinctive in the background. A television, but I couldn’t tell what was on it.”

  “Language?”

  She tried to recall the faint conversation, but it had been nothing more than gibberish to her. “I don’t know. I was much more focused on what he was saying than anything else.”

  “Understandable. But if you remember anything, no matter how insignificant it seems, you need to tell me.”

  “I will.”

  He stood and stretched. “We’ll leave at first light. I’m going to bed.”

  “Can I have my phone back? I’m reading a book on it.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not safe. We don’t know the kind of resources Mr. Lyon has. If he’s managed to get access to GPS information on your phone, he could pinpoint your location.”

  “You said there was no signal here.”

  “There typically isn’t. But all it takes is one bar for a brief moment and someone could find you. It’s not a risk you need to take.”

  “I can’t sleep yet,” she said. “And if I can’t read, what am I supposed to do?”

  His eyes darkened for a second, and she wondered if he was thinking about the kinds of things they’d done together a long time ago. Suddenly that’s all she was thinking about. Her, Dex. Naked. Bodies joining, senses exploding, pleasure pouring over them both.

  Her nipples tightened and her skin prickled with remembered sensations. Dex’s gaze dropped to her mouth and her lips tingled, aching for contact with his. She wanted to remember what it felt like for someone to touch her with tenderness, to care about her pleasure. Even when Dex was rough, he was gentle. He could take her hard and fast and still treat her with the utmost care. He’d been an addiction back then. After he’d shown her what sex was all about that first time, she’d never been able to get enough of him.

  She’d felt like she’d loved him forever, and she’d never thought he would feel the same way she did. He’d been her best friend’s big brother, and he hadn’t looked at her twice—until suddenly he did. Her life hadn’t been the same after that. Four years he’d been hers.

  Four years.

  “Dex,” she breathed.

  He stiffened, and she cursed herself for speaking his name. For breaking the spell. For a moment, he’d been looking at her like he used to. For a moment, she’d thought they might forget where they were and all that had gone before.

  “Not my problem, Annabelle,” he said. Then he turned on his heel and went into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a finality that told her he wouldn’t be back tonight.

  *

  Dex thought about jerking off but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it with Annabelle in the next room. He was hard though, and aching. It had been weeks since he’d had sex with anyone. That didn’t usually bother him much. His sex life ebbed and flowed because of his job. He was used to it.

  But tonight he’d give anything to sink into a woman’s body and lose himself there. Unfortunately, the only woman in a twenty-mile radius was the one woman he’d never willingly touch again. Even if, for a brief moment, he’d wanted to.

  Until she spoke his name. Hearing her voice had snapped him out of the spell he’d been under. And he had been under one—looking at her mouth and remembering how it felt on his body, how it felt when he’d kissed her.

  He didn’t bother undressing. He lay on top of the bed, fully clothed, and folded his arms behind his head. His gun was beside him on the table, his phone charging nearby. He didn’t expect anyone to find them out here or he’d have stayed in the living room and told Annabelle to go to bed while he kept watch.

  He focused on his breathing, stilling himself as he concentrated on the rise and fall of his chest. He was a master at blocking out emotion, at calming the tension and nerves, at becoming utterly still so he could do his job.

  He thought of Jane, of her sleek metal casing and fiery smell. Of the way her trigger resisted him until the last second, giving way with a sweet sigh that exploded from the other end of the barrel and knocked him in the shoulder. Jane was a pretty thing, and lethal. She did as he commanded. She’d never failed him or deserted him. Jane didn’t let him down.

  Annabelle’s movements in the other room distracted him from his thoughts. She was pulling open drawers and shoving them closed again
. Looking for reading material, maybe. Guilt stung him for a second. He could have given her the phone. All he had to do was turn off the cellular data so the phone wouldn’t connect to any networks. If her book was downloaded, she could read it.

  On the other hand, it wasn’t in his nature to trust her—or anyone who wasn’t a Special Operator—when he said no calling or texting. If he gave her the phone and went to sleep, what’s to say she couldn’t turn the cellular data back on and make a quick call to her daughter? He couldn’t risk it, so keeping the phone was the logical solution.

  He sighed and sat up. There was a bookcase in this bedroom. It was the only bookcase in the house. He flipped the lamp back on and peered at the spines. He could let her come in and choose something, but then her perfume would be in his room and he’d have worse trouble ignoring her presence than he already did.

  He pulled a couple of books off the shelf and stalked to the door, jerking it open. She looked up from the magazine she’d found and blinked questioningly.

  “Here,” he said, shoving the books toward her.

  She jumped up and hurried over to take them. “You found books? Thank you!”

  “Yeah. If that’s not good, there are a couple more in here.”

  She turned the books spine up. “Hmm, Louis L’Amour and Tom Clancy—I’m guessing there’s no romance novels in there?”

  “Didn’t see any.”

  She gave him a crooked grin. It was endearing and he hated it. “Then these are fine. Thank you.”

  “I did it because the walls are thin and I can hear you pacing around in here like a herd of cattle.”

  “Sorry. I’ll be quiet now.”

  Did he really need to be such an asshole? “Do you want to look at the bookcase?”

  “Do you mind?”

  “No.” She didn’t mean anything to him anymore. He could handle her walking into his room for a few moments, especially since he planned to stay out here until she was done.

  She went over to the bookcase. “Oh wow,” she said. “There are a few books here, aren’t there?”

  “Yeah.”

  She selected one of the fattest books he’d ever seen. “Oooh, perfect!”

  “What is it?”

  She tucked the L’Amour and Clancy back on the shelf. “T.E. Lawrence. Seven Pillars of Wisdom.”