Jo Davis. I Spy a Naughty Game

To Roberta Brown, my fabulous agent, cheerleader, and friend. You were the first industry professional who truly believed, who said to me not just “You can,” but “You will!”… and then helped me make it happen. Your faith, hard work, and positive attitude continue to make all the difference to me. Here’s to many more years of toasting our success together.

Acknowledgments

As always, thank you to my husband and wonderful teenagers for your support and understanding when I spend way too many hours in front of the computer. I’m not playing Minesweeper — I swear!

Thank you to my fabulous editor, Tracy Bernstein, for being my biggest fan and mentor. You keep this train on the track, and I’m forever grateful.

And always to my Foxes, without whom life would be very lonely and dull indeed. I love you guys.

One

Blaze Kelly wound through the press of writhing, sweaty bodies. A sea of weekend players wearing enough fucking leather to upholster a fleet of ’57 Chevys. The smarter ones were barely dressed at all — less to peel off when the mercury shot out of control.

Some were on their knees, eagerly fulfilling the desires of their masters or mistresses. A few of those masters wielded floggers or belts, the slap on supple flesh rewarded by groans of pleasure.

A few sipped drinks at their tables and engaged in lively conversation with other Doms — or Dommes, if female — completely ignoring the devoted slaves kneeling at their feet, as was their right.

Every single one craved the rigid structure of the lifestyle, the rules that dictated every nuance of existence here, and Domination /submission was only a part of that structure. All were here to escape, just for a blessed slice of time, the stark reality that overwhelmed their world outside these safe walls.

Like me.

This place made sense when the rest of his personal life had gone to hell and burned. He hadn’t been able to get here fast enough, was desperate to find his center again. To reach for the calm and certainty, the inner power, that made him a master, caused a willing sub to tremble under his touch.

Then he’d lose himself, connect with one who understood him as much as she understood herself. Or himself. Male or female — the sub’s physical form hardly mattered.

And he’d forget all about his heart, left broken and bleeding at Emma’s feet. He would.

“I can’t do this, Blaze. I don’t belong in your world, and you’d never be satisfied in mine.”

She was wrong about the first point, just too afraid to venture past her boundaries. And she was painfully correct about the second.

“It’s who I am. Please, baby, give me — us — a chance.”

“No, it’s not who you are! It’s just a perverted game, and if we meant that much, you could walk away!”

“You’d ask that of me? To give up a part of my soul?”

“Hell, yes! You asked me to compromise mine!”

Impasse. Such a formidable, incredible woman, yet her fear of the unknown and the misunderstood was a twenty-foot steel wall between them.

And in the end she’d stormed out of his house, tossed him aside like a bag of garbage. At least he hadn’t broken down, not in front of her and not in the couple of days since.

No, the tears were locked on the inside. Always. Like razor blades scoring his gut.

Blaze mentally shook himself and vowed to move on. This was his world, and he’d be fucked sideways if he’d let any woman castrate him. In the corner, he spotted Ryan and his new sub-in-training, Caitlin, just the couple he needed to help him accomplish his goal. Spotting Blaze, Ryan waved him over with a grin.

“My man! What’s up?” Ryan clapped him on the back, gave him a once-over. “Shit, you look like somebody died, my friend.”

“Close enough. Good to see you, Ry.” His greeting lacked his usual outgoing, drunk-on-life verve, and his normally easy smile fell short of the mark. Damn.

“Care to talk about it?” His friend flicked a glance to the stunning brunette kneeling at his feet. “In private?”

“Nope. I’m here for less talk and more action, like the song says.”

Ryan brightened, taking the reins. “That’s my boy. And lucky you — I’ve got just the right medicine.” Lovingly, he stroked his slave’s hair, his gaze betraying the depth of his feelings for her. Devotion she couldn’t see because her eyes were fixed on the floor in deference to her master.

“Caitlin’s training is progressing nicely, and I think she’s ready to take two Doms… if you’re willing to help me push her to the next level.”

Blaze studied the woman, a Bond girl look-alike if he’d ever seen one, typical of Ryan’s taste. Long tousled dark hair, a rack worthy of a Penthouse model, legs like a goddess. Too showy, not his preferred type.

But he appreciated beauty, and no one could argue that Ry’s sub wasn’t a looker. She was also excited, if the hitch in her breathing and the tightening of her rosy nipples peeking over the leather halfbra were any indication. Responsive, ready to please her master.

“Not that kind of action. I’m not in the mood to play tonight, Ry. I just needed to get out, be among people. Maybe have a drink and watch a scene.”

Blaze’s cock came slowly to life, lengthening in his leather pants, making a big liar out of him.

“Bullshit,” Ryan scoffed. “You’re not a languish-on-the-sidelines kind of guy. What gives? It’s that chick you’ve been seeing. Emma, right?”

“Let’s drop it.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, ignoring the warning in his voice. “I knew it. Damn, for a woman who’s got the butch vibe down to perfection, Emma’s so vanilla, she makes my sainted granny seem like a ten-dollar hooker. What do you see in her?”

“You’ve only met Emma once, so your conclusions are hardly accurate or fair. Not another word about her, my friend, or you’ll be eating soup through a straw for the next six weeks.”

“And you’ll smile cheerfully while bashing in my face,” Ryan said, unfazed. “You’re a crazy sonofabitch, you know that?”

“So I’ve heard.” This was Ry’s way of backing off the subject, and Blaze began to relax.

“Then there’s no reason for you to sit here like a whipped puppy. Come on.” His friend scooted out from behind the table and tapped his sub’s shoulder.

“Where to?” Blaze asked.

“Do you really have to ask?”

He supposed not. His blood fired as he rose and accompanied Ryan to the back, down a hallway to one of the private rooms used for scenes, the sub following close behind. Once they were inside, he closed the door and removed his jacket, draped it over the back of a nearby chair, and waited. This was Ryan’s show.

His friend wasted no time in preparing her. “Remove your clothes.”

Shooting Blaze a nervous glance, she did, starting with the tiny leather bra. She unhooked the garment, slid it off her shoulders, and allowed the scrap to fall to the floor. Her breasts were full and high, a bit too perfectly symmetrical. Perhaps surgically enhanced, Blaze mused, but nice.

Her skirt went next, revealing nothing underneath but toned bare skin. The patch between her thighs was trimmed into a neat triangle, and Blaze could only imagine the soft, wet heat at its center. His cock surged, demanding to know for certain. She stood still, eyes downcast, theirs for the taking.

Ryan moved behind her, ran his palms up her sides to her breasts. Pinched and rolled her nipples, evoking a gasp from his lovely sub. “Spread your legs, my love.”

As she complied, her master slid one hand down her flat stomach to the dark triangle. Parted her pussy lips and delved his fingers into her, caressing. “So hot and wet for me and Blaze, aren’t you, pet?”

“Yes, master,” she agreed in a husky voice, leaning back into Ryan.

“You’re going to do as I say, and as a reward, we’ll make you fly. Understand?”

“Oh, yes, sir!” She opened for him a bit more, melting in his hands.

“Very good.” Ryan reached into the front pocket of his black dress shirt and removed a pair of nipple clamps on a delicate silver chain. “Need a little pain, baby?”

“Please, master.”

The poor woman was nearly insensate with need as Ryan clamped one pert nipple, then the other. He gave the chain a tug, clearly pleased at her tortured moan. His lips curved upward in a smile as he looked at Blaze.

“Would you like to taste her, my friend?”

“God, yes.”

The beautiful sub wasn’t the only one needing. Blaze stalked her, hungry. His troubles were forgotten for the moment, his desires demanding to be fed. He knelt between her legs and nuzzled her neat bush, tested the mound hiding beneath with his tongue, and was pleased to find her pussy bare. Slick and damp.

Whimpering, she widened her stance even more as he licked her slit. Burrowed his tongue between her pussy lips and tasted her essence. He ate her, barely aware of Ryan ordering her not to come until he gave her permission. Lord, she was sweet, so sensitive that he didn’t want to stop.

But he finally drew away, not wanting to push her over the edge and cause her to be punished. “Delicious,” he praised, kissing her hip. He rose to his feet to see that Ryan had already undressed while he’d been occupied with tasting Caitlin.

Blaze followed suit, quickly shedding his clothing while his friend grabbed a spreader bar from a nearby table.

“On your knees,” Ryan commanded her.

She knelt and Ryan went to work, spreading her legs and fastening cuffs at each end to her ankles. Next, he secured her wrists behind her back with a pair of padded handcuffs and positioned himself behind her, hands on her ass.

“Is the butt plug driving you insane, pretty baby?” Ryan asked.

“Yes, master,” she whined, wiggling her bottom in search of relief. So needy.

“Excellent. I’m going to torment you, pump it in and out of your tight ass while you suck our friend. And no coming,” he warned.

“No, sir, I won’t!”

Ryan nodded at Blaze, who didn’t need to be invited twice. Blaze stepped up to the bound sub and brought the head of his leaking cock to her lips. She gave the mushroom tip an experimental lick, swiping away the pearly bead. Then she swooped in, bathing his turgid, heated flesh with her clever tongue.

“Fuck yes,” he groaned. “Suck me, darlin’.”

She deep-throated him like a pro. Sucking in a sharp breath, he buried a hand in her silky dark hair, fucked her mouth at his leisure. Slow and deep, down her throat. She wasn’t Emma — no woman could ever match her — but she was good, and he shoved his pain aside. Lost himself in pleasure, his balls tightening. She moaned around him, making his cock hum, and he noted Ryan’s arm moving behind her in tandem with their motions. Tormenting his sub with the plug as promised.

Ryan’s eyes glittered with lust. “That’s it, pet. Suck him. Take him deep while I fuck you hard.” He removed the plug, laid it aside, and positioned his cock between her cheeks.

Blaze nearly exploded as he watched his friend’s thick erection disappear, muscles standing out in relief as he took possession of her body. It was difficult, but he managed to stave off his orgasm as he thrust faster. Fucked her mouth vigorously, but not hard enough to cause her injury.

They found a rhythm, moved smoothly together, groans and the slap of slick flesh proving a decadent sound track. Pressure built in his balls and desire spiraled higher, his need to come almost unbearable.

Ryan drove into her without mercy, fingers digging into her hips. “Shit, I’m close! Not gonna last!”

“Me, either,” Blaze gasped. “Almost there.”

“Fuck, yes!” Ryan thrust twice more, burying himself deep on the second stroke, throwing his head back.

Blaze quickly disengaged from the sub’s mouth and took himself in hand, just in time to keep from coming in her mouth. He wanted to see her bathed in his juices. She tilted her chin up as his cock erupted, shooting ropes of creamy cum all over her face. She lapped eagerly between cries of ecstasy, catching what she could with her tongue as though he was gifting her with the best possible treat.

Blaze cupped one cheek, emptying his balls to the last drop. “God, yes. So good, darlin’. So pretty.”

Ryan slumped, breath sawing in and out of his lungs as he trailed a hand down her spine. “I’m one lucky bastard, huh?”

“Oh, my God.”

The unexpected new voice drew his gaze to the doorway.

The shattered expression on Emma’s face, the hurt in her blue eyes blasted a hole in his heart.

Emma recovered first, her generous mouth twisting into a snarl. Pure hatred burned into his soul. “You motherfucking bastard.”

“Emma, this is—”

“And to think I came here absolutely sure you missed me as much as I missed you,” she hissed, rage barely contained. “I was ready to at least try to be the woman you wanted. I was willing to make an effort to understand and fit into your world. Well, I can see now just how overcome with grief you really are.”

Bile rose in his throat. “Baby, please—”

“Save it, asshole.” Barking a bitter laugh, she tunneled her fingers through her short white-blond hair, and then pointed at his chest, punctuating each word with a jab. “You. Go. To. Hell.”

With that, she spun and left him.

This time for good.

Two

Seven months later

“Why do I have to be a homeless woman? Why not a guy? All this crap is hot, too.”

“Shut up, Ozzie.” Emma Foster raised her subject’s chin, peering into his face as she applied his makeup, adding contours to the wrinkles she’d sculpted around his mouth. “Your whining is making my ears bleed.”

Agent Dean Osborne scowled, which would’ve been an adorable expression on her friend’s handsome mug if he hadn’t been tricked out like a sixty-year-old bag lady. Hard to say what irritated him more: his current situation or the unwanted nickname his friends had given him that called to mind an aging rock star.

“Dammit, Emma, you’re doing this just to spite me. Do you have to be such a bitch?”

“That’s Agent Bitch to you. Stop squirming.”

“This sucks.”

“You’re getting paid. Deal with it.”

More foundation? More color in the cheeks? No, a bag lady would appear more washed out, not glowing with health.

“Not nearly enough,” he grumbled. Soulful brown eyes glared at her in reproach. “I’m asking Michael for a raise.”

“Good luck with that.”

Michael Ross, fearless leader of the Secret Homeland Defense Organization, or SHADO, was generous to a fault. But he’d only recently returned to the helm after being in seclusion, grieving for his dead wife, Maggie. For the past few days, he’d been dealing with something big. Whispers of a traitor in their midst were spreading like wildfire, but only a select few agents knew exactly what was going on. One of those agents being her ex-lover, Blaze Kelly. The bastard.

The sexy, slightly crazy, unrepentant glorious bastard.

Emma backed up and surveyed Ozzie’s scraggly wig with a critical eye, determined to put Blaze out of her thoughts. She had too much work to do to spend precious time thinking about that horny, self-centered jerk. Yeah, her heart had been broken into about a zillion pieces, and guess what, folks? The earth hadn’t fallen off its axis as a result. She still had to get up and face each day. One more day without Blaze in her life.

Her work was all that gave her joy anymore.

“Am I set?”

She smiled at the note of hope in his voice. “Almost. I’m going to fix you up with a cool new toy.”

His eyebrows rose and he gave her a suggestive grin, apparently forgetting about his fake rotten teeth. “Oh, goody.”

“Not that kind of toy, Romeo.”

“Drat.”

“Something even better.” Digging around on her table, she found the item she was searching for and held it up with a flourish. “You’re going to wear this!”

He looked less than enthused. “A cheap stickpin with a fake daisy glued to it? And this trinket of granny bling is exciting… why?”

“Because, moron, in the black center of the flower, undetectable to the naked eye, is one of our new pinhole cameras.” The agent’s bored resignation morphed to real awe, and she felt a surge of pride.

“No shit? Let me see!”

She handed over the device, grinning as he examined it from every angle like a little kid. If anything could get a jaded agent pumped, it was a new gadget.

“Cool, huh?”

“Sweet.” He squinted into the flower’s center as though it held an intriguing secret — which it did. “You can hide these cameras just about anywhere, right?”

“Yep. In clothing or almost any object you can think of. These puppies have a broad scope, so they’ll see whatever you do if placed correctly. I’m not an expert on the technical aspects of the devices, though,” she reminded him, “so I’ll send you down the hall to those guys if you have any questions.”

“Right. You’re the Master of Illusion,” he intoned, wiggling his fingers as though casting a spell. “Sort of like our personal Criss Angel. Mindfreak! ”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Get outta here, slacker. Go catch a criminal.”

Secretly, she was pleased by his praise. She was an artist first and foremost, one who spent hours on each agent to create the perfect illusion. To turn her subjects into someone completely different and unexpected, yet blend them seamlessly into their surroundings. Which also required hours of prep and research. If Michael said, “Agent Jones is being sent to Afghanistan in twelve hours. Make him blend into the fucking sand,” that agent’s survival began, literally, in her hands. Lives often depended on the believability of her disguise as much as the agent’s ability to carry off his cover. Ozzie was one of the few agents who remembered to appreciate that fact.

Ozzie pushed up from his chair, sticking out his pendulous bosom. “I believe I will. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a small matter of espionage to attend to.”

“Pull down your dress. Your hairy legs are showing.”

“James Bond never has to put up with this kind of shit.”

“Move to the U.K. and buy an Aston Martin.”

“You’d miss me.”

“I’ll front your plane ticket.”

“Bull. You’d be crying in your beer the minute I left.”

With that, he flipped the stringy hair over his shoulder and sailed from the room. She snickered and turned to put away the discarded clothing, makeup, sponges, and brushes. But her amusement fled as she contemplated Ozzie’s parting words.

Okay, so it wasn’t just the job but the people she worked with that made her happy. Or as close to content as she could be lately. Without friends like Ozzie, she’d be lost and floundering.

A sudden commotion in the hallway snared her attention. Urgent voices and running footsteps shattered the normally quiet atmosphere. SHADO’s compound, while not entirely peaceful, usually thrummed with vibrant energy as agents hurried about to this assignment or that meeting. This new disruption was something different. Ominous.

Crossing to the door, she stuck her head out just in time to see a gurney wheeled around the corner at the far end of the corridor, closely followed by Michael Ross, Dr. Taylor McKay, and a handful of agents dressed in fatigues and carrying M16s.

Emma grabbed an agent’s arm. “What’s going on?”

“Rescue op gone bad,” he said curtly. “Got two agents down who might not make it.”

“Who are—”

“Sorry, gotta go.”

A shiver of apprehension went down her spine as she watched the man jog to catch up with the others, the group likely heading for the elevator that would take them to the fourth-floor on-site hospital. An agent down. Everyone’s worst fear, but not uncommon. Not in this business.

SHADO employed several hundred men and women, and many of those were in the field. Could be anyone.

Anyone except Blaze, because that SOB possessed either nine lives or the devil’s own luck. Probably both, since he did everything one way — balls out.

Now there was an image she didn’t need. Why the hell couldn’t she stop thinking about him? About that woman’s lips wrapped around his cock, his sexy face a study in bliss as the three of them writhed together?

And why, even now, did the memory stir something besides anger and hurt? Something very much like…

No. No way.

The warmth between her thighs and the hardening of her nipples were nothing more than a visceral reaction. After all, she wasn’t frigid. Contrary to popular speculation.

She enjoyed sex as much as the next person. She just didn’t understand Blaze’s world or what made those people tick. What was it about dominating someone else or being dominated that satisfied a person’s needs? And how could those partners engage in sexual acts with a third person? Why would they?

For the life of her, she wished she got it. These questions were at the heart of her break from the man she loved, and they’d tormented her relentlessly in the past few months. But it wasn’t easy to shove aside a rigid upbringing by strict parents who viewed things as black or white, right or wrong, with no shades of gray in between. The good are rewarded and the bad get punished. The good certainly don’t have masters and look forward to getting punished.

Am I using my parents’ views as a way to take the easy road? So I can stay on my high horse and not have to deal with these confusing feelings?

The truth was, the recollections of what went on in that club made her pussy wet, made her breath catch in anticipation. Made her palms sweat. And whatever might have been, she’d thrown away the opportunity to find out.

She’d thrown away the man she loved, and a fresh wave of pain doused the smoldering heat of arousal. Who was she trying to fool with this distance she’d forced between them? She missed him so badly she ached inside, and his loss hit her all over again, as strong as any physical blow.

She missed his laughter, the way his smile lit his tanned face. His gregarious, fun-loving personality. The way he interacted with the other agents, always extending himself, always joking around. The man never met a stranger, radiated sultry appeal, and as a result was a magnet that drew everyone around him into his circle before they quite realized it.

She should know.

And how long had she been leaning in the doorway of her studio, staring at the empty corridor? Mulling over visions of a giant group sex sandwich with Blaze starring as the meat?

“Pathetic,” she muttered, annoyed with herself.

Her stomach rumbled a complaint, and a glance at the clock on the wall confirmed that it was well past lunch. If she hurried she’d have enough time to grab something from the cafeteria before she taught the afternoon surveillance class to a group of wide-eyed baby agents.

She retrieved her purse from her office and walked to the cafeteria at a brisk pace, not wanting to waste more time on the uncharacteristic woolgathering she’d been doing lately. Economy of movement and purpose and a sensitive bullshit meter. As far as she was concerned, those qualities were the key to survival. They’d saved her life so far, hadn’t they?

In the cafeteria line, she studied a bowl of wilted salad with disgust. How did people eat that crap and take in enough fuel to keep going? Instead, she grabbed a paper plate loaded with a cheeseburger and fries from under the warmer and slid it onto her tray. Hell, she wasn’t built like a flea and had never apologized for it. On the contrary, her body image was just fine, and despite the occasional burger, she typically ate well. Her daily trip to the gym would work off excess calories and maintain her muscle tone.

After fishing a carton of juice from the cooler, she paid for her meal and found a seat at an unoccupied table. She wasn’t antisocial — she did have a couple of friends like Ozzie, after all — but neither was she one for idle chitchat. Especially when she had work to get back to.

She’d taken only a few bites of her burger when the conversation from the table behind her began to filter gradually into her awareness.

“… say what happened?”

“Don’t know, man. Some sort of rescue op involving St. Laurent. The whole deal went FUBAR is what I heard.”

Emma chewed slowly, forced herself not to react. Jude St. Laurent? According to Robert Dietz, Michael’s right hand, that agent was killed months ago in a car accident.

The first man snorted. “Yeah, whatever went down is some fucked-up shit, for sure. One agent risen from the dead, only to maybe bite it for real this time, the other one not far behind. And rumors about Dietz flyin’ all over the fucking place.”

“Dietz,” the second one spat. “If that bastard is responsible for taking out two of our own? I hope to God Ross tosses him below and throws away the goddamned key.”

“If Michael needs a volunteer to torture information out of the prick, I’m his man. Never liked that fucktard.”

“Second that.” A pause. “Wonder if Ross will call a meeting?”

“Probably. He won’t keep us in the dark any longer than necessary.”

A third voice, out of breath, joined the first two. “Did you hear about our guys? Dietz turned traitor and tried to off them both! Kelly took a couple of bullets trying to protect St. Laurent, and they’re both critical. Then Agent Vale shot Dietz. Jesus.”

Emma’s burger turned to ash in her mouth, and the rest of their exclamations were lost in the roar of blood rushing in her ears. She swallowed and pushed from her seat, giving up any pretense of not listening. Whirling, she grabbed the third man by his collar, the one standing by the table who’d just spoken, and shook the little gerbil like a rag doll.

“Agent Blaze Kelly? Is that who you’re talking about?”

He jerked in surprise. “Y-yes! I didn’t realize—”

Emma released the man and turned to her tray, scooped it up, and strode for the exit. On the way out, she dumped the remains of her lunch, and in seconds she was jogging for the elevator.

Heart in her throat, she punched the button for the fourth floor and was close to hyperventilating by the time the doors slid open.

Blaze had been shot. Was critical. Might even be dead.

Oh, God, no.

She shoved through the double doors and hurried to the front desk, startling a passing doctor when she grabbed his arm.

“Agent Blaze Kelly,” she demanded. “I want information about his condition, yesterday.”

The man rallied, drew himself up. “Mr. Ross hasn’t authorized any disclosure of—”

“Then fucking find him so he can authorize it!”

“Mr. Ross gave specific orders that he’s not to be disturbed,” the doctor said in a steely tone. “If you’d care to take a seat, I’m sure he’ll be around shortly.”

“I don’t want to take a goddamned seat! I want to know—”

“Foster!”

She whirled to see Michael bearing down on her, expression grim, eyes flashing with anger. Whether any of his ire was directed at her, she didn’t care at the moment. She grabbed his arm as he stopped in front of her.

“How is Blaze? Tell me.”

The reprimand she half expected didn’t come, though his jaw clenched and his body vibrated with tension as if he were fighting the urge to vent his frustrations at her.

“Not here.” Those two words, husky and low, frightened her more than if he’d yelled them.

She fell into step with him as he led her to a private room off the waiting area and shut the door, sealing them off from prying eyes and alert ears.

Emma’s respect for Michael won out over panic, just barely. Crossing her arms over her bosom, she worked hard to restrain herself from barraging her boss with questions she knew he’d answer in good time, his way.

Emma hadn’t seen the man since before his wife’s death, and the changes wrought by grief and stress were subtle but telling. Gone was the calm, controlled, urbane man with the ready, winning smile that belied his cunning. In his place was a stranger. His expensive tailored black suit was a bit too big now and looked like he’d slept in it, and his tie was missing, his blue shirt partly unbuttoned.

Though still incredibly handsome, he could no longer pass for twentysomething among those who might venture a guess. Every one of his thirty-eight years was stamped on his angular face, carved in the lines around his full mouth.

Instead of taking a seat, he paced the small space like a caged leopard, his expression a study of anguish. He pushed a hand through his short sable hair, causing the spiky strands to poke every which way, gold and red highlights gleaming under the fluorescent bulbs. His temples were touched by a hint of silver that she’d swear hadn’t been there three months before.

“Where was he hit, Michael?”

He halted in the center of the room and dropped his hand, shoulders slumped. “Head and chest. His vest saved him from the shot to his heart, so it’s his head we’re worried about. The bullet glanced off his temple, and he hasn’t awakened. Hasn’t so much as flicked an eyelid in the hours since it happened.”

Fear slid bony fingers around her throat. Brain injury or even death could result from a head shot, whether the bullet penetrated the skull or not. If a man didn’t die outright, he could linger for weeks or months wasting away. She couldn’t wrap her mind around a vital man like Blaze being struck down like this.

“What does the CAT scan show?” So calm now when she was shaking apart inside.

“That’s what I’m waiting to find out, if you’d care to wait with me.”

“I would, thank you.” An understatement. Michael probably knew he’d have to blast her out of there with dynamite if he wanted her to leave. They took seats next to each other, and she studied him carefully. “Rumors are already flying about Dietz turning traitor. Any truth to them?”

“Shit, that didn’t take long.” He released a long sigh. “Yes, unfortunately, though I’m keeping the gory details need-to-know at this point between me, a couple of agents, and the president.”

Emma’s mouth fell open. “Of the United States?”

“One and the same.”

“Jesus, I can’t even imagine what Dietz has done,” she muttered. Since SHADO was an independent ghost organization contracting out its services to the U.S. government for matters the president wanted handled under the radar, some contact between the higher-ups and Michael would be inevitable. But a direct line to the man himself? Whatever was going on must be bad.

“Believe me, you don’t want to imagine it. For the time being, he’s being held in one of the cells under heavy security. No unauthorized access.”

“That’s quite a fall from being your trusted second-in-command,” she observed.

“You have no idea. While I was grieving the loss of my wife, that bastard was busy selling out the people of the U.S. to — never mind. I’m exhausted and I’ve said too much.” Anger and bitterness shaded his voice. “After the president and I work out a plan of action, I’ll call a meeting for those involved and bring everyone up to speed. You’ll probably be in on it, so you know.”

“All right.” Seemed the agents would require her magic. And something told her this would be the most dangerous assignment she’d ever taken. “Will we find out what Agent St. Laurent has to do with all of this? Dietz told everyone he was dead.”

“Obviously Dietz lied, and I’ll fill everyone in at the meeting. Right now I can tell you that St. Laurent was poisoned, and his chances don’t look good. As it stands right now, we can only hope that he and Kelly survive.”

Michael’s cold, flat tone left no doubt in her mind that if he could get away with killing Robert Dietz this very second, he wouldn’t hesitate to take the man apart. After what the traitor had done to two fine agents, he must be holding some damned important information close to the vest for her boss to allow him to continue to breathe.

Blaze. Please wake up and be okay.

The man was too much a force of nature to die. No matter the blow he’d dealt to her heart, he didn’t deserve that. Not an hour ago, she’d cursed him for being an SOB and now—

Suddenly, she sat up and groaned. “Dammit, my afternoon surveillance class is waiting for me. I forgot all about it.”

Her boss patted her knee in a brotherly fashion. “Which is completely understandable, given your history with Kelly. Call down to the classroom and cancel for today if you want. I doubt you’ll be able to concentrate, anyway, and they won’t exactly complain about having the afternoon off.”

“You don’t mind?” She bit her lip, uncertain when she was normally decisive. She and Blaze were so over it wasn’t funny, and she didn’t have a good excuse for being here. Not one she was willing to acknowledge out loud.

“If I did, I’d just tell you. Go ahead — call.” His soft voice, the warmth in his eyes, let her know without words that he understood her fear.

She nodded, relieved. “I will, thanks.”

Using a nearby in-house phone to dial the extension, she let an agent know about the cancellation and settled in for what might prove to be a lengthy wait.

She didn’t care how long it took. She wasn’t leaving until she knew Blaze would recover.

Damn the man for making her care. Again.

* * *

His situation was clear.

Someone had beat his skull with a fucking sledgehammer, cut off his head, and then impaled it on a rusty pike for good measure. In which case, he should be dead and not in so much goddamned pain.

I’m not dead?

What the fuck had happened? The question was met with a big fat blank, so he put all his effort into concentrating on the here and now. He flexed his fingers, taking stock.

Sheets. Lying down. A bed. Weird smells. Beeping.

A hospital? He’d been hurt, then. Most likely on assignment.

“Blaze? Can you hear me?” The woman’s familiar voice was soft and pleasant. It wrapped like silk around the one appendage apparently still working just fine.

He parted his lips to answer, but nothing emerged. Swallowing to moisten his dry throat, he tried again. “Yes,” he whispered.

Fingers squeezed his hand gently. “Thank God!” A pause, and a sniffle. “It’s about time, tough guy. Did you know you have the hardest head on the planet?”

He didn’t even try to puzzle out that one. Simply prying his eyelids open proved enough of a challenge, but he managed, squinting through eyeballs that must’ve been scoured with sandpaper. A blurry form leaned over him — a woman with short blond hair.

“Emma?” he croaked.

“Surprise.”

Emma. Here, at his bedside. Which meant he’d been in some deep shit for her to put aside her anger long enough to give a crap about him. “Why?”

“Why am I here? Because I’m an even bigger idiot than you are.” The catch in her voice told him the words didn’t hold quite the sting she’d intended.

The idea cheered him immensely. “Miss me?”

“You wish.”

He peered at her, blinking as her features came slowly into focus. A blond halo framed her beautiful face, and big blue eyes, shadowed with concern, regarded him from under a fringe of wispy bangs. Shaking Emma’s steely calm wasn’t an easy thing for most people to do, but Blaze seemed capable of doing nothing except hurting her. Being reminded of that tempered his joy at having her by his side and put a swift end to any thoughts of teasing her.

“What happened?”

“You took two bullets trying to protect Jude St. Laurent from Robert Dietz,” she said, releasing his hand. “Your vest prevented serious damage to your chest, but the other shot glanced off that thick skull of yours. Never had a chance of penetrating, any more than the one to your heart.”

He smiled at her sarcasm. The fact that she could sit there and joke with him in any way gave him hope. Before he could form a reply, however, the first part of what she said hit him. “Wait. You said ‘trying to protect.’ Is St. Laurent dead?”

“He’s hanging in there, but still critical. He and Dietz fought, and Dietz injected him with a dose of poison that almost proved lethal.”

“Oh, God. I…” A series of images assaulted him, like an old, brittle reel of film jumping on the track. Scouting the perimeter of the safe house in Tennessee. Armed men, bursting through the trees. Raising his weapon, taking out two of them. Dietz, returning fire. Then nothing. “How long ago was this?”

“One week. You’ve been pretty out of it, and we — I mean Michael and Dr. McKay — have been waiting for the swelling on your brain to subside.”

“Christ.” A crushing weight settled on his chest, and he broke eye contact, staring at the wall opposite his bed. His head pounded with renewed viciousness.

“What’s wrong?” She paused, waiting several long moments while he struggled with his answer. “Blaze?”

“I was given a job to do and I failed. Because I failed, St. Laurent almost died.”

“No! You didn’t,” she insisted. “You did what you could, but Dietz got the drop on you. He’s a snake, a disease, and nobody blames you.”

“Not even Jude or Michael?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his tone.

“Especially not Michael,” said a deep voice. Ross strode inside and closed the door behind him, glancing between Blaze and Emma. “If anyone is to blame for this colossal fuck-up, it’s me. But it’s a fuck-up I intend to rectify, and I’ll need both of you on board to do it.”

“Does it involve shoving my M16 up Dietz’s pale white ass?” He relished the thought of making the asshole cry for mercy.

“You’ll have to stand in line, but maybe. In the meantime, I’m putting together a team to go undercover and find out where the hell Dietz has hidden a weapon of mass destruction capable of taking out a small country. The bastard and his fellow traitors stole it from the U.S. government and plan to sell it to an antigovernment extremist group of homegrown psychos. Get well fast, because you and Emma are my star players.”

“I take it your brand of persuasion hasn’t forced Dietz to talk,” Blaze mused. “Bastard must be tougher than he seems.”

“I did handpick him for that very quality, among others,” Michael said with no little regret. “You guys in?”

Blaze nodded, ignoring the spike of pain in his head. “The minute McKay clears me, I’m ready.”

“Me, too,” Emma put in. She sounded sure, but the look she slid Blaze was guarded.

She had reservations about working with him, and while it hurt, neither did he blame her. He’d just have to work extra hard to regain her trust, even though he had no idea how. Though missing her had nearly driven him insane, he’d always embraced his sexuality with no limits and hadn’t been celibate during their months apart. He was a Dom, a good one in his opinion, and the D/s lifestyle was a part of his identity as a man — a fact she didn’t appreciate.

On top of that, Emma was everything he wasn’t and never would be. She was cool and steady, all of her passion carefully guarded. Untouchable, except by the one man fortunate enough to know how to tap it. She was thoughtful, not one to waste words. As a result, other agents stopped what they were doing and listened intently to what she had to say because it was usually important.

With her thoughtfulness came the kindness and easy camaraderie she shared with other agents. Blaze thought of Emma and Osborne laughing at lunch, heads bent together; their familiarity, the other man enjoying the friendship Blaze never could again, shot him through the heart every time.

Emma was strong, too, both physically and mentally. He’d seen her in the workout room, flipping Ozzie over her shoulder and pinning him to the mat, sweat dripping down her face. Others could call her butch all they wanted — he called her beautiful, body and soul. Any woman who could hold her own with the baddest guys SHADO had to offer and then not flaunt it was gorgeous in his book.

Emma was her own person, and she didn’t need him.

He had only one thing in his favor that he could see — Emma still cared about him. And as an added bonus, they’d be working together, a situation he would ruthlessly use to his advantage. Seven months ago, perhaps he’d given up on himself and Emma too soon.

It was a mistake he wouldn’t make again.

Three

“You want me to do what?”

Emma gaped at Michael, cheeks flushing with heat. Three other agents, including Blaze and Ozzie, studied her reaction with expressions ranging from sympathy to amusement — and a glance told her which category her ex fell into. Jerk.

Leaning on the front of his desk, Michael crossed his arms over his chest, neither sympathetic nor amused. Her stomach sank.

“You’re an agent and this is a matter of national security. I have complete faith that you can put aside your differences with Kelly and pull off this assignment, especially with millions of lives depending on your success.”

“Well, hell,” she muttered irritably, raking her fingers through her hair. “Nothin’ like a little guilt trip, huh?” She glared at the whole room in general, mentally scrambling for some way to regain control of her own destiny. Establish that she had some say in the matter. “You can’t force me to pose as Kelly’s sub, or slave, or whatever the fuck it’s called. Not for God, country, or apple pie. If I’m not on board, it won’t work.”

There. Michael would just have to come up with an alternative plan. She imitated her boss’s posture, feeling pretty darned pleased with herself, especially when he sighed and nodded his defeat.

“You’re right. I can’t force you or anyone to work undercover in a role that will likely require you to participate in an extreme sexual environment. The female agent who works with Blaze will have to throw herself into the role.” His eyes glittered as he shot her a calculating smile. “You win, Agent Foster. I’ll find another woman to be his partner, which I’m sure will produce a fair number of volunteers.”

“What?” Emma sputtered. “Hold on—”

“What about Agent Roark?” one of the men, Willis, suggested.

“You mean Agent Rack,” said Ozzie, waggling his eyebrows and cupping his hands suggestively in front of his chest. “Damn, she’s hot. And willing, I’ll bet!”

“Wait just a damned—”

“Or there’s Agent Scott. Heard from a reliable source that she’s superkinky, has the stamina of a racehorse, and wouldn’t mind a repeat of a certain weekend with our boy here,” Willis said, jabbing a thumb at Blaze.

Who grinned insolently from his seat and stretched out his long jean-clad legs. “Oh, yeah. If anybody can embrace an undercover role like this one, Sheila can.”

Michael picked up his phone. “Good. I’ll give her a buzz—”

“Fine! I’ll do it!” Emma’s shout echoed in the room, effectively bringing the stupid conversation to a halt. Bastards, every one of them. They’d known exactly what they were doing, and it worked. She was going to neuter Ozzie the traitor with a melon baller. “I’m in all the way.”

“Be very certain,” Michael said. “I’m asking you to put aside your personal taboos for the job, and if you fail to be one hundred percent convincing, you and Kelly will die. These are dangerous men with something huge to hide, and they don’t mess around.”

“I’m sure.” Confronted with the picture of Blaze doing with another agent what he’d done with that woman at the club that night, mastering her over and over, she couldn’t stand the idea of sending him off knowing he’d be playing with someone else for the duration of the assignment. “Who are these people we’re hoping to infiltrate? I can’t imagine a bunch of military-type extremists being into the D/s scene, or making time for any kind of fun for that matter.”

“Which is why we’re aiming our sting higher up, where the money is,” Blaze said. “The group we’re after has plenty to burn, and they’re our prime suspects for being Dietz’s financers. We need you to confirm their identities and determine whether they know where the weapon is hidden and what group is buying it.”

Emma studied Blaze, striving to keep her expression professional. God, the man looked good enough to eat. “I assume we’re talking millions of dollars on the sale?”

“Hundreds of millions. Seems there’s a high price tag on total annihilation.”

His answer wasn’t flip at all, was in fact as serious as she’d ever heard coming from him, and it gave her a chill. “And the U.S. is the ultimate target?”

“Yep. Tens of millions of people, wiped out by our own innovation in biochemical warfare. Whoever is in the target area when the bomb hits and isn’t killed in the initial blast will fall ill from the chemical agent that’s released into the air, and then die within forty-eight hours. There’s no way to stop the spread, and no cure.”

Emma’s eyes rounded at the horrifying prospect. She’d known the weapon would kill millions, but this was the first she’d heard of how it operated. “If the target area is located between Washington, D.C., and New York, they could take out both, and everything in between.”

“We don’t have any time to lose and only a few strong indicators at this point of who’s working with Dietz,” Michael said with an edge of frustration. “No proof yet. That’s why I need you two undercover at the club these men frequent. Study this file, then ferret them out and get cozy as quick as you can without raising suspicion.” Reaching behind him, he grabbed a file folder and handed it to Blaze, who nodded but didn’t open it. Michael indicated the other two agents in the room. “Osborne and Willis have their own copies.”

Emma guessed she and Blaze would go over the contents later. “Dietz’s backers are going to be ready for SHADO to make a move. I’m with you — don’t get me wrong — but I don’t see how this is going to work.”

Blaze disagreed. “Dietz’s accomplices will be prepared for surveillance and even an outright assault should we locate the weapon, but they don’t know we have a lead on their backers. These guys are rich fat cats, not warriors. They’re complacent, oversexed, and full of their own power. That’s what we’ll use to our advantage, combined with your skills in changing our appearance.”

“My illusions are designed to blend agents into the background,” she pointed out. “When we’re actually in the club mingling with these people, fading into the walls won’t exactly be our goal.”

“True, but that’s only part of the time. We’ll do some field surveillance as well, so your talents won’t be wasted.” Blaze gave her a thorough once-over, making it clear he wasn’t just referring to her skills in the area of makeup artistry.

Damn the man — the double entendre tightened her nipples and made her grow uncomfortably warm between her thighs. That he could affect her this way in a room full of her colleagues was as disturbing as it was arousing, and it left her scrambling for a response.

Michael saved her the trouble. “Let’s meet back here in twenty-four hours. Know the men in these files forward and backward, and we’ll plan the rest of our timeline from there.”

At the clear dismissal, Emma filed out after Willis and Ozzie, determined to catch her friend and give him hell for throwing her under the bus. Her plans were thwarted by her ex-lover, however, who gently grasped her arm.

“Hold up, tiger. We have a file to memorize, and I’m hungry. Let’s pick up some dinner and go back to my place — kill two birds, so to speak.”

Bracing herself mentally, she turned to face him and barely restrained a grimace at the sight of the small bandage gracing his temple that she’d ignored during their meeting. The patch of white gauze served as an unwelcome reminder of just how close he’d come to having his brains splattered all over the Tennessee countryside. She squirmed under his golden gaze, struggling to keep her composure.

“I don’t think going to your place is a good idea. We can grab something from the cafeteria here and study in my office.”

He made a face. “All night? Because that’s what we’re facing if we hope to have the info in that file down pat by tomorrow. No, I’d rather be home where we can get comfortable, or even at your place. Anywhere but here.”

Well, she didn’t really want to stay at the compound, either. It was putting herself in an intimate situation with her ex, which she had qualms about. Which was ridiculous now that she thought of it, since she was going to have to get real intimate with the man again, very soon.

“My house it is, then,” she said. Better the illusion of control, even if it was only that. She was damned good at illusion, after all.

“I’ll drive.” His grin sent a thrill up her spine.

“I’ve got my car.”

“I’ll bring you back tomorrow, honey. No worries.”

“Should you even be behind the wheel? I heard you’re still having headaches.”

“McKay says they’ll last a few days and then fade. Nothing I can’t handle.”

She sighed. Really, arguing with the man was like pulling hen’s teeth — impossible. “Fine.”

Irked, she did her best to ignore him as he followed her while she locked her office and classroom. But it didn’t work. His presence was like a beacon of light on a bug zapper, with herself starring as the bug. Why the hell couldn’t she stay away from something she knew would only gain her more heartbreak?

Shouldering her purse, she trailed him across the parking lot, unable to stop herself from sneaking peeks at his ass. And what a fine ass it was, high and tight, hugged to mouth-watering perfection in those jeans, the denim faded in all the right places. She remembered well the smooth tanned globes hidden underneath the material, the way they fit her palms just so as he drove himself—

“Emma?”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“Um, the car is unlocked, darlin’.”

So it was. Somehow they’d reached his vehicle, and he was smirking at her across the roof from the driver’s side, waiting for her to come back from dreamland. Her face heated, and she scowled. “I was just thinking about the assignment.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll bet,” he drawled.

Arg! Arrogant man. Not giving him the satisfaction of a reply, she slid into the passenger’s seat of the low-slung Viper. The second he joined her, she felt trapped, being shut into the small space with him, closer than she’d been in months. His spicy scent, his unique blend of light cologne and earthy male, filled her senses and caused a stab of longing. He’d been hers once, or at least she’d believed, and she’d lost him.

The pain never went away.

“You’re thinking too loud,” he said, driving through the gate with a wave to the guard on duty.

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“Care to share?”

She studied his handsome profile and reached out to finger a long, silky strand of dark hair. Time for a diversion. “About changing our appearances. We’re going to have to cut this.”

“What?” Shooting a look at her, he laughed. “No can do. You’re not getting near my head, or any other part of my body, with a pair of scissors.”

“Oh, don’t worry. If I haven’t sneaked up on you and chopped off something vital by now, I probably won’t,” she said dryly.

“Not taking any chances. You’ll have to come up with a different way to alter me — sorry. The hair is off-limits.”

She was kind of glad. She loved his hair long, not that she’d admit it now if the world was about to end. Which it might soon, if they failed in their mission.

“Okay. How about highlights, maybe to lighten the color and streak it with autumn tints. And blue contacts for your eyes.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I can pull rank on this one if you want to make it an issue,” she reminded him. “Disguises are my area of expertise, and I’m in charge.”

“So you are.” Those sexy lips quirked upward. “I do love a take-charge woman — in every way but one.”

Her libido did a happy dance without her permission. He infuriated and aroused her by turns, as no man ever had. “So I recall.” She hadn’t meant to snap, but dammit, he made her nuts.

“Do you?” His voice lowered, and he reached over, one of his big, calloused hands covering hers. His thumb stroked the soft skin on the back of her hand, the contact radiating pleasurable signals to the rest of her nerve endings. “Do you honestly remember how much I enjoyed taking you to your limits, how badly I craved finally pushing you beyond them?”

“Blaze, I don’t want to talk about this.” The statement would’ve been more convincing if her voice hadn’t quavered.

“Oh, I believe you do. You came to me that night to tell me you were ready to take the next steps, to give my world a try. You wanted it, wanted me.”

“That was before…” She couldn’t finish.

“Before you saw my cock sliding down Caitlin’s pretty throat?” he asked, voice husky with remembered pleasure. “Before you spied me helping Ryan master his eager sub, and enjoyed every second of it? Because I believe you did enjoy it, and that’s why you got so angry. I know you, Emma. You liked what you saw and it didn’t fit into your black-and-white worldview, so you lashed out in confusion. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re so wrong.” But the words held little or no conviction without the power of anger to fuel them. He’d hit her inner struggle dead center, and she had no clue how to rally.

“You’re lying. Tell me how long you stood there, watching.”

Much too long. “I’d just arrived.”

“Right. Baby, we have to get this settled before we go undercover, or else the tension will endanger our mission.”

She stared at him. “That’s all this is about? Our assignment?”

“Of course not. It’s about us and the fact that I gave up too soon.” He shook his head. “This isn’t the ideal place to talk things over. Let’s wait until we get to your house.”

“You’re the one who brought it up — and besides, I’m not sure there’s anything of ‘us’ left to discuss.”

A black brow rose. “You blew that theory the second I woke up to find you at my bedside, and reinforced it when you refused to allow another agent to work undercover with me.”

Wasn’t much she could say to refute him, so she gave him that round. And she noticed that except to pay for their Chinese take-out, he didn’t let go of her hand the entire half-hour drive to her house.

Beautiful son of a bitch.

From the start of the meeting in Michael’s office and on every point since, Blaze had expected more resistance from Emma. More fight. Not that she hadn’t put up some, but he’d seen the woman at her glorious, raging best, and he didn’t know what to make of her now. This softer, more thoughtful Emma was new to him.

And, he had to admit, very welcome. She’d never be a pushover — and he definitely didn’t want her to be — but he could tell she was wrestling with her moral compass. Questioning her choices, past and present. The old Emma had marched down the straight and narrow path, looking neither left nor right, and had missed a ton of fantastic scenery on her trek.

The new Emma was beginning to wonder what she’d overlooked along the way.

Could it be that he hadn’t totally ruined things between them? He’d give anything to salvage what they’d had, build on their fledgling love, make it stronger than before. Able to withstand the tests to come. And there would be plenty of those.

He turned into her driveway and couldn’t help but smile at the flowers next to the house and lining the sidewalk. Their colorful heads bobbed in precise little rows, like soldiers ready to do battle. He envisioned Emma as their general, whipping them into perfect formation, making certain their tiny uniforms were matching, spit and polished.

“What the heck are you smiling about now?”

“Just admiring your flowers,” he said innocently, which earned him a narrow-eyed look of suspicion.

“What’s wrong with my flowers?”

“Nothing! Can’t a man compliment a lady on her garden?” Killing the engine, he grabbed the file they needed and opened his door.

“Well, sure, if you’d said it like you meant it. Never mind.” She rolled her eyes and got out of the car with the take-out bag, shutting the door behind her.

He fell into step with her, gesturing to the flower beds as they stepped onto her front porch. “Have you ever thought about throwing out some wildflower seeds? By this time next year they’d be gorgeous, spreading all over the pl—”

“I knew it! We’re not even inside yet and you’re already planning how to improve my life, just like you always do!” Fishing her keys from her purse, she stabbed the correct one into the lock and let them inside.

“That’s not fair,” he called after her, glancing around her tidy living room. Tidy, hell. The garden outside was a great indicator of the interior — everything in its place and so clean a man could eat off the floor. Nothing had changed. This might be a tougher job than you thought, Blaze old boy. “I’m only talking about flowers, for Christ’s sake.”

“Sure, sure. Today it’s my blossoms, tomorrow my boobs. You’ll want me to get enhanced or something. In that, if nothing else, you are entirely predictable, Blaze Kelly.” She plunked her purse, the food, and the keys onto the table and faced him, hands on her lush hips.

“You’ve got me all wrong, sweetness.” His gaze traveled upward, over the curve at her waist to the full breasts pushing at her blouse. And on to her striking face composed of a high forehead and model cheekbones, set off by huge blue eyes. Completing the picture was the short, soft blond hair sticking out in tufts and framing that wonderful face with a wispy fringe. A style that might look way butch on anyone else, but on Emma simply complemented her strong, fine features. Very feminine.

“I don’t think so.”

He stalked closer, invading her space. “I happen to cherish every single thing about you, including your breasts. Always have. So what if I like my garden to grow a little… wild?”

She stood her ground. “Nothing, except you want to change me. Fix me as though I’m broken when nothing could be further from the truth.”

“No. I want to broaden your experiences, put you in touch with a sensuality you never knew you possessed. That’s different.”

“I’m not sensual?” she challenged.

“I didn’t say you weren’t. On the contrary, we’re good together, always have been. And you have all this untapped passion bubbling under that beautiful surface, so potent that it makes me crazy wanting to be the one to unleash it. Give me the chance, Emma. You won’t be sorry.”

And yeah, he was close to begging. Because he wasn’t bullshit-ting her in the least. She was his idea of the ultimate woman: smart, confident, alluring.

Mine.

“I guess I don’t have a choice, do I? I mean with our assignment looming and all.”

Her words deflated him some, but he pushed down his disappointment and gave her a cocky grin all the same. “I’ll take that for a start because you know there’s always a choice. When Michael presented you with another option, you chose not to let another female agent work with me, even knowing what the job entails.” Or perhaps because she knew what it entailed, but he wisely refrained from saying so. He preferred his balls to remain in their current location.

He was standing so close to her that he felt her heat radiating right through his clothing to his skin. The warmth drew him in and he reached for her, smoothed a finger along her jaw, traced her lips. Her eyes darkened; whether in lust or in wariness, he couldn’t tell. But she didn’t move away, and he took that as a positive sign.

“I don’t understand why you did it,” she whispered. “Was I so easy to forget?”

He didn’t have to ask what she meant — her quiet pain spoke volumes, wrenched his heart. He took her face in his hands, brushed at a tear that escaped to roll down one creamy cheek, cursing himself all over again. Was there any possible answer that wouldn’t land him in deeper hot water? “No, sweetheart. I was in agony over losing you, and I took refuge in what I know best — being a Dom. Exerting control. It’s what makes sense to me — it’s who I am.”

“Sounds like a line of bull.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s my lifestyle.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I’d never use sex as punishment, or to make anyone else feel bad, especially you. How do I explain?” He sighed. “Sex is natural, baby. There’s nothing shameful about two or more consenting adults taking pleasure in each other’s bodies. I’m not sorry you saw what you did… I’m only sorry about the circumstances surrounding it. Given the chance, I’d bring you into every scene as my sub. My partner, and not because of some damned job. You’d never be on the outside again.”

Her eyes widened, her expression so vulnerable it shook him to his toes. “What if… what if I’d come inside that night? Joined the three of you instead of running away.”

He could’ve shouted in joy, and barely restrained himself from doing so. This was exactly the path he’d hoped she’d eventually wander. Gently, he brushed a kiss across her lips. “You would’ve been welcomed with open arms,” he said quietly. “I would’ve taken great pride in introducing you as mine, in showing you a world steeped in passion and mutual pleasure. A world in which jealousy has no part, and sharing is perfectly acceptable.”

“So it’s one big free-for-all where you get to do whatever you want. Sounds nice for the Doms, not so much for the subs.”

And therein lay her fear. His heart lightened because this was a big sticking point of hers, one he could answer honestly to her satisfaction. “Not at all. The D/s community, at least the one I’m involved in, runs by a set of strict rules, set in place for everyone’s safety. Number one, a Dom’s sole responsibility is to see to the happiness and well-being of his sub, above his own desires. The rest flows from that rule.”

While she wasn’t yet convinced, she was becoming interested. “So your role is to make me happy first, then yourself.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Then what if I’m never able to go as far as the… sharing thing? I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to participate in something like what I witnessed. Outside our undercover job, I mean.”

“Part of my role is to push you past your boundaries, help you discover what works for you and us. If sharing truly makes you unhappy, we don’t participate whether we’re undercover or not,” he said seriously. “You are my priority, Emma.”

“I believe you mean that now, but I know you’d miss the freedom of being with whoever you wanted.”

“Believe it. If I’ve learned one valuable lesson, it’s that sharing — hell, my whole life — is empty without you at my side. I need you, baby. Please give me another chance.” He ended the statement in a hoarse whisper rather than the strong, manly tone he’d been going for. Fuck, he sounded like such a sap. This woman could have anyone, so what did she need with his shit?

She reached around his neck, pulling his head down so his lips were almost touching hers. “Just when I think you’re so macho everything bounces right off — even the damned bullets, for cryin’ out loud — you go and get all mushy on me. Do you have a clue what that does to me?”

“I might need a demonstration.”

Oh, God, please show me. I’ve missed you so much I can’t breathe.

Whether she heard his unspoken plea he couldn’t say, but she took his hand and led him down the hall to her bedroom. Turned and placed her palms on his chest, their warmth branding him through his T-shirt.

“Make love to me, Blaze. I’ve missed you so much.”

She’d plucked the words right out of his heart. One day he’d get through to her that making love took on many forms. For now, he let the words soothe his lonely soul, shine a bit of light into the dark corners.

“Anything for you.”

She tugged at the bottom of his shirt and pulled the material up, over his head. He helped her, smiling as she tossed it aside and went for the button on his jeans. She unzipped his fly and parted the material, pushing at the denim and his boxers until his erection sprang free. As she knelt he doubted she realized the submissive position she’d assumed. No, the move was too automatic on her part. Spontaneous.

That knowledge thrilled him almost as much as her tongue flicking out to capture the tiny bead weeping from the slit of the spongy head. He groaned as she took him in her mouth, surrounding him with wet heat. Threading his fingers through her hair, he fed her his cock, guiding the length down her throat, watched it disappear between her plump lips.

“God, yes,” he breathed. “I’ve missed this. Missed your mouth on me. I could fuck you like this all day.”

Well, not really. The pure pleasure was too electric, zinging little shocks of delight to his balls, through his belly. He wouldn’t last long this way, but he wasn’t ready to give up the feeling just yet. With her on her knees, sucking him and taking his less-than-gentle thrusts with obvious enthusiasm, he had no trouble believing he was right about her untapped sensuality.

He was going to love being her teacher.

“Stop, darlin’. I don’t want to come yet.” She pulled off his cock with a moan of frustration, and he smiled. “Don’t worry, we’re not done by a long shot. Undress for me, baby.”

He held out a hand for her and helped her stand. She bit her lip, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable, hesitant. Did she realize her lessons were beginning? That even now he was easing her into what he hoped would be a mutually satisfying sexual lifestyle? Her expression cleared, became more confident, as she held his gaze and slowly peeled off her blouse, dropping it. Next went her bra, and he feasted his eyes on her full breasts, the rosy nipples pouty, begging for his teeth.

She kicked aside her shoes. Unzipping her casual black pants, she pushed them past her hips and down, taking the lacy scrap of panties with them. She stood naked before him, skin pale and creamy, the triangle of curls at the apex of her thighs declaring her a natural blonde. Her tummy was flat, her legs athletic, long and toned. She took care of her body, and it showed.

She reached for him, but he shook his head, and her hand stilled. “Not yet, sweetheart. You’ll do as I say, do you understand?”

“I never said I wanted to play your game.” But her pupils dilated and she licked her lips, arousal shining like a beacon.

“This is no game, Emma,” he said, keeping his voice low. Hypnotic. “This is me, doing things right with you, doing right by you, as I should’ve done the first time. Do you understand?”

“I–I’m not sure.”

“You will, eventually.” He gestured to her big comfy bed. “I want you up there, on your back, knees bent and feet flat.” He was pleased by the spark of defiance in her blue eyes, but even more pleased that she did as he directed, arranging herself on the bed. “Now spread your knees wide so I can see all of you.”

Her cheeks colored, but she again did as he said. Her thighs parted, revealing her pink pussy, the folds shaved bare and glistening with moisture. More evidence that she was turned on by his taking control and was eager for more. He toed off his shoes and pushed his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off, then sat on the bed near her feet.

“Good girl. Look how pretty you are, already wet for me. Now I want you to touch yourself.”

“Wh-what?”

He injected a bit of firmness into his tone. “You heard me. Finger that sweet little clit of yours, baby. Let me see you get excited.”

For a second he thought she might argue, but instead her fingers slid down her belly and through the triangle of curls above the bare area. The pad of one finger touched the small nub and began to work it in slow rhythmic circles.

“Good baby. You’re so beautiful,” he praised, glad he could still speak. His erection strained, demanding he take her. But not yet. “Now lower. Spread that sweet cream all over your slit, and then finger-fuck yourself.”

No hesitation this time. She was getting into their play, preparing herself for him. Her thighs were spread and relaxed, tension gone, her posture completely open to him. Her slender fingers began to massage her slit, dipping into her pussy, fucking herself as her hips arched off the bed. The sight was so naughty, so provocative, that he nearly came like a thirteen-year-old.

“Ooh… Blaze, please!”

“Sir.”

“What?” Her voice cracked, fingers working furiously.

“You’ll call me sir when we’re making love, whether privately, or at a club, in front of others. Now tell me what you need.” She’d call him Master eventually, but he doubted that news would go over well at this point. Small steps.

“No,” she said hoarsely, shaking her head.

“Yes. Or we stop right now.”

The demand was a gamble. She stared at him in indecision, panting. Finally, she relented, expression vulnerable.

“Blaze—sir—fuck me! Please!”

This was a big milestone, the very one they’d faltered at before. One that had started them down the road to the big breakup. He could have shouted in triumph, but refrained.

“That’s my girl. I know that wasn’t easy for you. Hold on, sweetheart, and I’ll take care of you.” Shifting, he reached for the drawer in the nightstand where she kept her supply of condoms. As he grabbed one from the box he wondered whether she’d had anyone here to need them in their months apart, then brutally quashed the thought. He couldn’t afford to be a hypocrite.

Quickly, he tore open the package and sheathed himself. Moving between her thighs, he positioned his cock at her opening, cupped her bottom and lifted her, and sank into her slick channel.

“Oh! Oh, God, yes,” she cried. “Been too long. Fuck me.”

He started with slow thrusts, angling deep. Watched his rod impale her pussy again and again, until a warning tingle began at the base of his spine and his balls tightened. Wouldn’t be long.

Lowering her bottom, he covered her body with his and gathered her to his chest, wanting this closeness when they came together. The sense of completeness. He fucked her hard and fast, their breaths mingling. Drove them higher.

“Ah, fuck!” he yelled, every muscle locking down as he pumped his load inside her. She clung to his shoulders, riding out the wave, milking his cock. Bathing him with heat.

When the last of their spasms subsided, he collapsed over her, sweaty and panting. And more satisfied than he’d been in months. Maybe ever. “Does this mean you’re giving me another chance?”

She smoothed a finger over his jaw, her expression so tender he could’ve wept. “It means we’re taking things one day at a time. sir,” she added softly.

Oh, God. Did she have any clue what that did to him? He kissed her thoroughly before coming up for air. “Works for me.”

“Now feed me, tough guy. We have a file to study.”

It wasn’t the commitment he’d hoped for, but it was a start. Probably more than he deserved.

But he’d put his foot in the crack of that door and shove it wide open. Come hell or high water.

Four

“You prepared for the grilling we’re gonna get from Michael?” Blaze glanced at Emma as he drove them back to the compound. The hour was early, still dark, and few cars were on the road.

Too friggin’ early considering they’d been up half the night reading and absorbing the information on their case. And exercising her mattress during the other half. “I’m ready.” She rubbed her tired eyes, wishing she’d put on at least a touch of makeup. Her bloodshot eyeballs in her pale face probably looked like two assholes in a snow bank, as her grandma used to say. “I can’t believe one of those guys is a major. This sucks.”

“Look on the bright side — we get hazard pay. You know, in case the major and his buddies get wise and tell Dietz, and they decide we’d look great in cement shoes.” He grinned, apparently not bothered by the prospect.

“You missed your calling as a comedian.”

“I’m a riot at family reunions.”

“You have a family? I thought you were hatched.”

“Now who’s the funny one? I’ll have you know my relatives love me even if they think I’m a bit off. Which, in our crew, is saying a lot.”

“You mean there’s a whole flock of Kellys running around with a glitch in the ol’ gene pool?” she teased.

“Yep. My uncle was the original flower child. Claims he spent a whole summer down in Texas smoking pot with Janis Joplin, and most of us believe him. He’s an aging hippie with a brilliant IQ, still sports a ponytail and wears bell bottoms, and thinks I don’t know where he hides his weed when I visit.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the picture he’d painted of his uncle. “You’re kidding.”

“No. Scout’s honor.”

“Now I don’t have to wonder where you got a name like Blaze. That is your real name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I have my uncle to thank for that, too. He’s one of those cerebral types who believes a name should fit the soul, or some shit.”

“Look on the bright side. You could’ve been stuck with Moon Unit, Dweezil, or Apple.” No mention of his parents. Interesting. But if he didn’t want to talk about them, she wasn’t going to kill the fun mood by bringing up the subject.

“Yeah, our occupations are strange enough. As it is, we boast a moonshiner, a belly dancer, a lion tamer, and a rock star in rehab.”

She snorted. “A lion tamer?”

“Told you, we could found the city of Kooksville.”

“Who’s the rock star? Anyone I’d know?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Ever heard of Ash Kelly?”

“What? Get out!” She gaped at him. “You’re related to the Ash Kelly? The singer who just built a vault onto his huge house to hold his guitar collection and six Grammys?”

“The same. He’s my cousin — my uncle’s youngest son. We’re pretty close, since we were practically raised together.”

“I can’t believe it,” she breathed. “That’s so cool.”

“One would think so.”

The reserve in his tone pricked her curiosity. “You don’t?”

“I would if he was happy. You might’ve heard or read that he was in a relationship that recently broke up over his career and some scary problems with a former girlfriend. In short, he was devastated, made some bad choices, and is trying to get himself back together.”

“I’m so sorry. I hadn’t heard, but then I’ve been out of touch with a lot of tabloid news lately. I hope he gets back on his feet soon and his issue with the old flame is put behind him. Any chance he and his girlfriend will get back together?”

“Girlfriend and boyfriend. He was in a committed ménage when the blow-up happened.”

She blinked at him. “Oh. Wow.”

“Exactly. Talk about pressure, someone of his stature struggling to keep it secret. Then the big explosion, and the press gets wind of it after he goes to rehab. He’s still an emotional mess, but he’s doing better, so maybe there’s hope.”

She itched to know the whole story from the beginning, but his tone seemed to close the subject. Perhaps another time. In any case, they’d arrived at the compound, putting a hold on her fascinating journey through the branches of his family tree.

She walked inside with him, navigating the maze to Michael’s office. The man’s secretary wasn’t in at this hour, so they passed her desk. Blaze knocked on the partially open door.

“Come in.”

Their fearless leader looked impeccable in his suit, and not as gaunt as he’d appeared when he first returned to SHADO. Had he gained some weight? She thought so but couldn’t be sure.

“Work agrees with you,” she told him as Blaze shut the door, glancing at the sexy, slender blond man hovering to one side of Michael’s desk. Bastian Chevalier? What was he doing here? “You’re looking better every day.”

“Should’ve returned to the fold sooner,” Michael said, giving her a half smile. “Being here is like being a single parent with several hundred rowdy children to take care of. Keeps my mind off my personal troubles. My friends have helped, too.”

Poor man. She wanted to comfort him but doubted she’d know the right thing to say, even if they were closer. It struck her that she didn’t know how Maggie died, and couldn’t name offhand anyone else who did.

Bastian made a huffing sound. “As if you ever allow anyone close enough to—”

“Sit down,” Michael cut in sharply, directing her and Blaze to take the vacant chairs in front of his desk. “Willis and Osborne will be here any minute.”

Michael waved a hand at Bastian. “Everyone already knows Agent Chevalier,” he said coolly, earning a frown from the man in question. “He’s done me a big favor by agreeing to permanently take the vacated CEO’s position.” The one Dietz had previously held as Michael’s right hand, though no one said so.

“Congratulations,” Blaze said with enthusiasm, rising to briefly shake the man’s hand. “I can’t imagine anyone who deserves it more.”

“Thanks.”

“Double that for me,” Emma put in with a smile. Bastian nodded, but before he could speak, another knock sounded and the door opened, the newcomers moving to stand near Michael’s desk, off to one side.

“Sorry we’re late, boss,” Ozzie said.

“No, we’re just getting started.” Michael gestured to Emma, diving in without further ado. “You go first, give us the rundown on our suspects.”

She immediately understood that she was the rookie in the room when it came to this sort of undercover work and was expected to prove her worth. Preparing an agent for a job by doing background research and then providing a disguise in no way equaled the skill necessary to go undercover herself. Eager to make a good impression, she sat up straight and spoke with what she hoped came across as confidence.

“We have five primary suspects who are possibly providing Dietz with monetary backing and who may know where the weapon is being hidden. Ralph Meyer, Landon Hart, and Augustine Kosta are businessmen, all three powerful movers and shakers. One is a woman, Nicole Andrews, who is Hart’s sub. Her involvement is a question mark, more so than the others.”

“Why is that?”

She held her boss’s gaze. “Because she’s only been with Hart a few months.”

“Correct. Go on.”

“The last and most important player is Major Reed Fontaine. He and Dietz are old acquaintances. Eight years ago, there was a whisper of an accusation that the major was overheard having a private conversation with an unknown person in which he sympathized with Al Qaeda, but he was considered so far above reproach that the matter suffered a swift death. He has not, however, received a rank advancement since then, which may have further fueled his desire for retribution against his own government.”

“Good work. What is the thread that ties all of these people together?” Michael asked her, continuing his quiz.

“They are all part of the D/s scene to varying degrees and have met with increasing frequency at one particular club, Velvet Underground. Outside of the club, they have little or nothing in common in their personal and professional lives. For this reason, we believe they’re using the D/s scene as an excuse to meet and conduct their business regarding the weapon, and possibly other illegal activities as well, with none the wiser. If they’re meeting at another location besides the club, we’ll follow them and find out where.”

“Pretty clever,” Bastian put in. “If not for Dietz’s connection to the major, we might never have caught on.”

“True, but it’s still theory,” Michael reminded them. “We need proof, which is why I’m sending you all in. If Major Fontaine isn’t Dietz’s right hand, the one who provided the bastard with the inside information he needed in order to steal the weapon in the first place, he might know who did.”

Blaze spoke up. “My money’s still on the major. Despite his ‘untouchable’ status, inside sources say he’s a ruthless fucker with a God complex nearly as big as Dietz’s. If anyone in the government could’ve helped Dietz pull this off and had the motivation to do so, it’s him.”

“With any luck we’ll know soon enough.” Michael shifted his attention to Ozzie and Willis. “You two will spend most of your time in the van on surveillance, listening in. If and when it’s necessary for you to observe from a closer position, Emma will work her magic to help you blend into the crowd.”

She nodded. “Most of the makeup and costume changes I’ll bring, except for what we need ourselves, should fit in the van. Blaze and I definitely don’t want to be caught with that stuff.”

Michael leaned forward, an eager gleam in his eyes. “Good point. We’re all on the same page?” The question was met with a round of affirmative answers. “All right. Ozzie and Willis will keep me informed. One hint that anything has gone wrong, Bastian and I will bring in the troops, so don’t give us cause for worry. Be back here in forty-eight hours, ready to go, wheels up. That’s all.”

Emma rose and followed Blaze out, leaving their counterparts, who stayed to ask their boss and Bastian a couple of questions. Blaze turned around, walking backward, a smirk on his face.

“Getting nervous yet?”

“No. I’m a professional, so why should I be?” Annoying man.

“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because in forty-eight hours you’ll have to convince a roomful of dangerous men that you live to serve me?”

A thrill shot through her at the image, but she rolled her eyes to cover the sudden, confusing reaction. “Get over yourself, hotshot. I can act with the best of ’em. How hard can it be to go through the motions?”

He laughed, the deep, smooth sound stroking her nerve endings like a lover. “Oh, honey. After the way you responded to me last night, I don’t think acting is going to come into play. And I’ll prove it.”

“How?”

“At the end of this assignment, if you can look me in the eye and honestly say you didn’t love every single part of your role — minus the bad guys, of course — then I’ll be your sub for as long as you want.”

She stared at him, incredulous. A man like him would never make a bet like that if he thought there was a chance in hell he’d lose. “You’re on,” she heard herself say, the lure of the wager too much to resist.

What? You idiot! You played right into his hands!

“Great! Dig around in that costume box and get your leathers polished, baby,” he said in a low voice, raking her from head to toe with a heated look. “We have some… research to conduct in the name of national security. See you when you get off work.”

He spun and jogged off, and she spent a few moments watching his fine ass disappear down the corridor before the clearing of a throat snared her attention. She turned to see that Ozzie and Willis had joined her and were grinning like Cheshire cats. How much had they heard? Her face flushed.

“Shut up,” she said, pointing her finger at Ozzie, before he could even open his mouth.

She marched away, heading for the sanctuary of her office, their snorts of laughter at her back.

Jerks. Must be part of the male DNA.

No wonder most of the world was at war; men were in charge. And she, a strong, competent professional woman, was about to abase herself at the feet of one of their nutty population.

You had to love irony.

Robert Dietz sat quietly on the metal bench in his barren white cell, legs crossed and hands clasped in his lap, the picture of the perfect gentleman.

Why shouldn’t he be calm and polite toward his guards? It wasn’t as if he’d be here much longer. No, this was and always had been strictly business. He harbored no real animosity toward anyone at SHADO.

Except for Michael Ross. Him, he’d gladly consign to hell.

If only poor Maggie’s untimely death had kept Ross from the helm a while longer, SHADO would’ve been firmly under Robert’s control by now. A near-invincible force of surveillance experts, combat veterans, and assassins — his to direct to his causes at will.

For that loss alone, he’d triple Ross’s suffering.

A pained grunt and the sound of footsteps running toward him along the corridor broke into his thoughts. He stood and moved to the cell door, the anticipation of probable danger singing in his blood. He hadn’t been behind a desk so long that he’d forgotten how to fight when necessary. He’d require all of that experience now, and then some.

Avery Hanson appeared at his cell door, shouldering an Uzi submachine gun and fumbling with a ring of keys. “Shift change. Took out the new guards and the security camera just like you told me,” he panted, young face pinched in anxiety.

“Well done. We have perhaps forty-five seconds to a minute before someone comes to check on the glitch. Surprise is our best advantage on the way out, so we have to move.”

“Yes, sir.” With a twist of the key, Hanson unlocked the door, and the wall of bars slid sideways automatically. Reaching into the back of his fatigues, he removed a Glock and slapped it into Dietz’s waiting palm.

“Tio?” Dietz barked at the younger man.

“On the roof. He slipped onto the compound with the fake ID I made for him and commandeered the helicopter, just like you ordered.”

“Excellent. Let’s go.”

Ross would shit brass monkeys when he got wind of this, in mere moments. Even though Ross had to know there was a mole in SHADO, he would never expect a direct assault from the inside. The idea made him smile.

At this hour there were few operatives in the building; it was the lull before the morning bustle, which was precisely why he’d chosen this time. Casualties were unavoidable, such as the two guards on his cell block that Hanson had dispatched, but would be kept to a minimum. He wasn’t, after all, a vicious man — simply a practical one. Waste not was his belief.

He and Hanson made their way cautiously down the corridor, passing the other cells, all vacant. He supposed that as their sole guest he should feel special.

The first guard lay prone at the end of the corridor. Dietz stepped over his bulk, noting a curious lack of blood. He directed a sharp look at Hanson as they continued on. “Did you kill him?”

“I incapacitated him. He’s out for a while.”

Killing a man who posed an imminent threat was not wasteful. It was one thing to act in an expedient manner, quite another to act in cowardice wearing the guise of mercy. Dietz wondered which described Hanson’s reluctance to permanently remove the guard as a threat. That was the chance one took when trying to mold someone so young and inexperienced. He’d have to address the issue with the man later.

They stepped over a second guard, also unconscious, he presumed. At the elevator, Hanson swiped his electronic card to gain access, and they rode up in tense silence. The true test was yet to come — he’d leave either in the helicopter or in a body bag. But one way or the other, he was leaving.

As a security measure, the elevator from the basement jail ascended only to the first floor. From there, they’d negotiate a couple of corridors to reach the elevator that would take them to the helipad on the roof. Perhaps luck would remain on their side and they would get away cleanly.

As if the thought had conjured them, a handful of agents jogged around the corner at the end of the hallway, weapons drawn. Spitting a curse, Dietz raised his arm and fired several shots at the group, scattering them. The agents took cover in open doorways and returned fire, bullets slamming into the wall as he dove to one side.

The bastards, firmly entrenched and blocking the route to the elevator, had him and Hanson pinned. Unless he did something fast, this was going to end badly.

He ducked through the open doorway next to him and looked into a woman’s shocked face dominated by huge blue eyes, and grinned.

“Hello, dear,” he said, leveling the gun at her heaving chest. “Let’s go for a stroll, shall we?”

Emma stared into Dietz’s smug face, unable to comprehend for a second, but catching on fast. The sound of guns that had drawn her from the office, not to mention the one in his hand, told most of the story. “How the hell did you escape?”

He advanced quickly, moving to stand behind her and shoving the muzzle into her right temple. “We’ll have plenty of time to chat on our helicopter ride. Let’s go.”

She held fast even as a chill swept through to her bones. “If you kill me, you won’t make it out alive, and I’m not planning to cooperate. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Yes, you are. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to negotiate a hostage to take your place. Are you the sort of woman who would send a man in your stead? Can you live with the death of a fellow agent on your conscience?”

“Robert Dietz, throw out your weapon and come out with your hands up!” an agent shouted from the hallway.

The disgraced leader whispered in her ear. “Well?”

Loathing for this worm filled her, and a sinking sense of helplessness. She would never allow one of her comrades to be hurt if she could prevent it, and he knew it. “I guess I’m going for a ride,” she hissed.

“Good girl.”

The praise, a twisted version of the same words Blaze had spoken, sickened her. Coming from his lips, it sounded perverse.

“Hold your fire!” he yelled, then urged her forward. “Move.”

She did as she was told, heart pounding wildly in her chest. He guided them into the corridor using her as a shield, and she was greeted by the horrible sight of a young agent lying on his back. Avery Hanson. His body was riddle with bullets, blood spreading across the tile, eyes staring heavenward. From his position, opposite the agents’, it appeared he’d been with Dietz. She’d never have believed this man would be a traitor.

And now he was dead because of his choices.

“Lower your weapons and give us a clear path to the roof, or I’ll splatter her brains all over the place,” Dietz said to the closest agent. “Make sure everyone knows.”

The agent complied, carefully reaching for his cell phone. Tears stung Emma’s eyes as she continued forward, hardly aware of anything except how surreal this felt. Two minutes ago, she’d been safely ensconced in her office, nervous about the upcoming mission. And yes, excited. She had to admit that now, since she might not get the chance later.

Would Dietz kill her as soon as they lifted off? Or would he keep her around for a while? She didn’t want to die, but some things were worse than quick death. Anyone who betrayed his country by selling out to terrorists could do terrible things to a lone woman under his control.

Blaze.

More than anything, she wished for his protective embrace and scent wrapped around her. His cocky attitude and quirky personality. She’d wasted seven months when they could’ve been together, and now…

Dietz shoved her into the waiting elevator, and the doors slid closed, creating an ominous silence. Much like a tomb.

As the car ascended she steeled herself for whatever was to come.

* * *

“Congrats on the promotion, man.”

Bastian Chevalier, crouched over a stack of boxes in his new office, straightened and turned toward Blaze, green eyes twinkling in amusement. “I’m not sure ‘congratulations’ is the right word, but thanks. Come in.”

Skirting a pile of debris, he nodded. “Overwhelmed already?”

“You could say that. I’ve already had five calls from the White House and one from a pissed-off four-star general, all regarding the stolen weapon.”

“Ouch. Sucks to be you.”

“Today, yes. Tomorrow? I hold out some hope.” The other man pushed a hand through his blond hair with a sigh.

“Anything I can do to help?” Blaze didn’t know Bastian very well, but he’d always liked the guy and wondered why the hell Dietz had gotten the CEO’s job over him in the first place.

“I wish. Unfortunately, my system only makes sense to me — and maybe Michael, since he knows me better than anyone.”

Is that so? Interesting, especially since he’d never seen them exchange more than the few cordial words necessary to run day-today operations. “How long have you two known each other?”

“Years. Before he and Maggie…” His gaze shifted to the floor, but not before Blaze caught a flash of profound sadness in his eyes, quickly covered. The other man pushed at his rolled-up sleeves and dug into another box. “Anyway, a long time. How about you? You’ve been at SHADO for three or four years, right?”

“Just two.”

“Former military?”

“FBI.”

“Huh. Had you figured for a Navy SEAL or Green Beret. A real Rambo type.”

“I get that a lot.”

The other man chuckled. “I’ll bet. You give off some serious ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes, and you do it while smiling. Disturbing, Kelly.”

“Which is why I didn’t last as a Fed.” Blaze grinned. Bastian was an okay guy, friendly and funny. “Too much personality, and most of it is warped.”

Bastian laughed and started to reply, but the chirping of his cell phone cut off their banter. Removing it from his belt, he flipped it open. “Chevalier.” A pause. His eyes widened. “Fuck me! I’ll be right there.”

Blaze tensed, instantly alert as the other man snapped the phone shut and grabbed his gun from the holster on his hip. “What’s wrong?”

“Dietz fucking escaped! He’s heading for the roof and he’s got a hostage,” he shouted, pushing past Blaze.

“Shit! How’d the bastard get loose? Who’s the hostage?” Yanking his own gun from his holster, he sprinted after Bastian.

“Don’t know yet. Goddammit!”

They ran full out, legs pumping, taking the stairs at the end of the hall. Waiting for the service elevator to return would burn precious seconds. Blaze raced up the stairs after Bastian, the rush of adrenaline powerful enough to keep him high into the middle of next week.

But that feeling was nothing compared to the terror that awaited him when they burst out onto the roof to join several other agents, weapons drawn.

Dietz. Clasping Emma’s back against his front. Using her as a shield.

The muzzle of a gun jammed into her temple.

“Emma!” His scream was lost in the thunderous noise of the waiting helicopter. Dietz shoved her inside and dove in after as the skids lifted off the ground. “No!”

He ran, heedless of placing himself in the line of fire, of the barely audible shouts at his back. Too far. The distance was too damned far, and he wasn’t going to make it. But that didn’t stop him from launching himself at the closest skid as it rose and turned.

His body twisted as he arched through the air, arm stretching. His fingers grazed the metal and missed, and he fell hard. Lost his gun. Skidded across the rough gravelly surface of the roof, slammed to a stop against the hard barrier of the short wall — the only divider between him and falling several stories to his death.

He hardly cared. The only thing that mattered was the helicopter escaping with America’s number one enemy.

And with his woman.

Leaping to his feet, he lunged, only to be held back by several pairs of hands. “Motherfucker! I’ll kill you!” He fought them all as they sought to calm him.

“Agent Kelly, stand down!”

“Sir, stop! You’re too close to the edge!”

“Blaze, listen to me,” Michael said in his ear, voice calm. “The helicopter has a tracking device on board. We’ll find Dietz, and Emma, too.”

That softly spoken promise filtered through his rage to the rational part of his brain. For several long moments he stood still, breathing hard. Finally he nodded and shook off the hands holding him, which seemed to let go reluctantly.

“You’re damned right we will. And you’d better pray you get to Dietz first, because if I do… there won’t be anything left of the son of a bitch to take to trial.”

Retrieving his gun, he spun and strode away. Wisely, no one tried to stop him.

Five

Emma hated riding in a helicopter. On the handful of occasions she’d had to climb aboard, it had been on scheduled SHADO business. She’d been able to calm herself beforehand, find her center.

“I need a sack or something,” she informed her captor as the wretched aircraft banked sharply to the south.

“Excuse me?” He gave her a haughty look, face still flushed from the narrow escape.

“A sack. Now.” She panted, trying to stave off the nausea, his weapon the last thing on her mind. After all, if this thing crashed, the stupid gun wouldn’t be a factor any longer.

“What for?”

“I’m going to be sick, asshole.”

“No, you’re not,” he replied in a reasonable tone. Almost conversational.

“Yeah? Why not?”

“Because if you do, you will move beyond merely ceasing to be useful to being a disgusting waste of space. And it’s a long, long way down. Do we understand each other?”

Her blood froze. He might’ve been commenting on what to eat for dinner, he showed so little emotion. She had no doubt whatsoever that he’d push her out.

“Yes,” she croaked. Don’t get sick. Please.

The threat of learning to fly without feathers did the trick, taking her mind off her stomach. Determined to keep herself distracted, she studied Dietz’s profile. The man appeared so normal, unassuming. He was physically attractive in an “everyman” sort of way, with sandy hair and strong features. He was nobody’s idea of an archvillain who wanted to assist terrorists in blowing up the world.

You had Lex Luthor, the Joker, and the Green Goblin.

And then you had this guy — Corporate Psycho Ken.

He met her stare, one brow lifting. “Something on your mind, Agent Foster?”

Her name on his lips gave her a nasty start. She hadn’t thought Dietz the type of man to take much note of the worker bees, beyond making certain they did their job. Obviously she was wrong. Errors in judgment like that one could get her killed.

“Yes. Since I may not get another chance, I’d like to know what motivates an intelligent, successful man like you, a man who had it all, to do this. Why betray your country?”

“Why else? Money, Agent Foster. Tens of millions, mine for the pillaging. I have the means and the contacts, so why not?”

He’d kill her this instant if he knew she’d read the file on those contacts, much less the assignment she’d agreed to undertake. She pushed the thought aside and concentrated on the nuances of his speech, his expression.

For a split second, something very much like remorse resonated in his words, flashed in his eyes. A killer with a conscience? Well, most bad guys were human at the core. Weren’t they?

“I think there’s more to your reasons than money,” she said, taking a stab in the dark. “Something more personal.”

His laugh was cold. “Do tell. I’d love to hear your theory on the intricate workings of the criminal mind. Should be quite informative.”

“I’m not an expert on what makes you guys tick. That’s your field,” she said pointedly. “It just seems like there are any number of ways — easier ways — to illegally earn a vast fortune. Ways that, while distasteful and even morally degrading, don’t involve betraying the American people and compromising their safety to the point of annihilation. Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re correct in your generalization.” His grudging admiration, and something more heated that shone in his eyes, gave her the shivers. And not in a good way.

“Then my thinking is that something of this magnitude has roots in vengeance as much as money. Not against the country per se but the individuals being hurt by your act.”

“You’re a very smart lady,” he said softly. Reaching out, he stroked one finger down her cheek. “How smart, I wonder?”

“What do you mean?” She barely kept herself from flinching away from his touch. Something told her that would be the worst mistake she could make.

“I wonder if you can apply your intelligence to this new situation and cut your losses. No doubt you’ve realized the probability of my letting you live is pathetically low as it stands, unless you give me an excellent reason to keep you around. Now that we’re clear on this, perhaps you’ll seriously consider the wisdom of joining my team.”

She revised her earlier opinion. He was unlike most criminals in every way save one — his monumental ego. He truly believed she was so malleable and afraid that she’d readily betray the American people to save her own skin.

She was frightened, no doubt about it. But she was made of stronger stuff than this worm had reckoned, and she’d play his game as long as she must, no matter how reprehensible. She’d hold out until she was rescued or killed, preferably the former.

“I don’t know. It depends,” she said evenly.

“On what?”

“Do you have dental benefits?”

He stared at her a moment before laughing, and this time the sound was several degrees warmer than before. “I like you, Agent Foster.”

“Emma.” She allowed him a small smile. Little did he know she was thinking of how he’d squeal when Blaze ripped his balls off and force-fed them to him.

“Wonderful… Emma. That attitude will get you far in my organization. Possibly even save your hide.”

“Well, I value my hide, such as it is. When in Rome, as they say. Besides, it’s not like I’m getting rich working for Michael.”

His expression darkened at the mention of his former mentor’s name. “Indeed.”

The rest of the ride passed in relative silence. Her stomach settled somewhat, as much from getting used to the ride as from buying herself some time. How much was anyone’s guess. At least she wouldn’t be thrown out of the aircraft.

She spent the next hour and a half studying her surroundings, not that the scenery yielded much information. The area below was rural. No surprise there. Dietz would hole up in some place secluded yet luxurious, if she had him pegged right. He didn’t seem like a man to give up his creature comforts if he could help it.

Shifting her attention to the pilot, she suppressed a grimace. The big brute with the pockmarked face only a mother could love looked like he belonged on the FBI’s most wanted list along with Dietz. Probably was. As if her perusal was telegraphed to him, he turned in his seat to leer at her, waggling his tongue suggestively. Yuck. She shot him a glare and returned her attention to the countryside below.

Finally, they began to descend, and her relief at being able to get off this hunk of flying metal was overshadowed by new fears. What would be expected of her? Did Dietz already have a duty in mind, perhaps involving her skills as a disguise artist? If that was all he wanted she’d consider herself lucky. But luck hadn’t exactly been her best bud today.

Whatever he wants, you can deal with it. Just for a day or two, until Blaze comes.

He would come for her, and there’d be hell to pay. She held on to that as the copter touched down and settled, letting the knowledge wrap her in a safe cocoon. Until then, she’d do whatever it took to survive. That’s what was expected of a good agent.

As she followed Dietz and stepped into the sunshine, she took in the elegant, sprawling estate. Situated in the middle of nowhere, the two-story mansion was a cream-colored adobe-type design with a red Spanish tile roof. A breezy-looking covered wraparound porch extended across the front, stretched along the side, and turned the corner to continue, she assumed, to the back. She could easily picture sipping wine or sangria in a rocking chair, whiling the afternoon away… if it weren’t for the armed men posted on the corners and on the balcony.

Sort of ruined the idyllic effect.

Dietz placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her forward, as though he had every right to take possession of her person. She clamped her lips together and said nothing about the gesture, resisting the urge to pop him a good one. All things in good time.

When he steered her into the palatial foyer, she whistled through her teeth. “Nice little shack. Espionage must be profitable.”

“Perhaps I’ll keep you here long enough for you to find out just how much.” Without breaking stride, he barked at a young guard. “You, show our guest to a room and make certain she has proper attire for the evening. And make sure she doesn’t go wandering about. We wouldn’t want her to get lost,” he said with a sly smile.

“Yes, sir.”

“Are the preparations in order?”

“Just as you requested, sir.”

“All right. Make yourself useful, and see that my other guests are settled in after you take care of Miss Foster. We’ll begin at eight o’clock as scheduled.”

“I’m on it, sir.” The guard stepped a few feet away, waiting for her to accompany him.

“You must’ve had your escape thoroughly planned in advance,” she observed. “Is this a strategy session?”

“A celebration of our plans moving forward,” he corrected. “And perhaps a bit of business mixed with the pleasure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have details to attend to. I look forward to seeing you later this evening.”

She narrowed her eyes at his back as he strode off with confidence, very much a man in his element. The urbane host playing his role to the hilt. Thinking of the casual way he’d threatened to toss her from the helicopter, she didn’t believe his bullshit for a second.

“Ma’am, come with me.”

Her throat tightened, stomach knotting in dread as an evil little voice whispered that she might be here longer than she’d planned. That Blaze might not find her after all, and she’d be stuck at Dietz’s mercy indefinitely.

“Is the weapon housed here?” she asked, more to prod him for a reaction than out of any real hope he’d answer. He didn’t betray the slightest twitch, simply kept walking, up the elegant stairs and to a room on the second floor.

“You’ll stay in here until Mr. Dietz sends for you,” he said, pushing open the door. “Appropriate clothing for this evening and an afternoon snack will be brought to you shortly.”

“Fine.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to say “thanks” when she’d never asked to be kidnapped and brought here in the first place. So she tried another question. “Is this Dietz’s estate?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

She frowned at the young guard. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing you need to be concerned about. Enjoy your rest.” With that, he left. The scrape of the lock made her feel like an animal in a cage, though in this case the real animals roamed free on the range to wreak havoc on people’s lives.

Rest, he’d said? Sure, I’ll just have a nice comfy doze while my captors plot more treason and discuss my fate. What a joke.

She paced the large room, hardly appreciating the dark, fine furnishings, including the queen-sized bed. What she noticed first was the crucial lack of any object she could use as a weapon. For all its beauty, the bedroom was as clean and barren as a hotel room. No candles in jars, no knickknacks of any kind. Same thing with the bathroom.

Escape route? Forget it. Both the window in the bathroom and the one in the bedroom were too high off the ground, with no tree, lattice, or other object to climb down. The fall would likely break several bones at best. Besides, even if she could get out, the windows were likely outfitted with alarms. She wouldn’t get two feet from the house once she hit the ground.

Frustrated, she sat on the bed. There wasn’t even a radio or a television to help the hours pass more quickly, and the time stretched ahead even longer than before. Now she understood what the guard meant — there wasn’t a damned thing to do here but rest. And whatever rich, merry criminals did when they held evening parties.

She flopped back on the bed and let her mind drift to Blaze. What was he doing right now? Raging, wanting to tear apart the countryside looking for her, no doubt, but he couldn’t do a thing until SHADO located this place.

Closing her eyes, she recalled the last time he’d made love to her. How hesitant she’d been and how he’d pushed past her barriers like always, cutting through them as though they were tissue paper. The man was one hundred percent raw alpha, knowing no sexual boundaries, with very little on his taboo list. It scared her some, but did she really want to change anything about him?

Unbidden, the image came to her. The woman on her knees, his cock sliding down her pretty throat, the other Dom fucking her from behind. The ecstasy on Blaze’s handsome face…

Unzipping her pants, she parted her legs and pushed a hand inside, brushing her throbbing clit. “Oh, God.” Her pussy was so wet and hot, needing. That one moment, etched into her brain, had changed her whole world despite her attempt to fight it. Wasn’t it wrong to be turned on by watching your man dominate another woman?

No, her body denied. Admit it — you want every decadent pleasure this man has to offer. You want him to take you places you never dreamed you’d venture.

Rubbing her nub with slow strokes, she envisioned the scene with herself included. On her knees servicing Blaze’s hot Dom friend while the other sub did the same to Emma’s man. Both of them deep-throating the hard, silken rods, faces buried in their groins. Being owned.

Emma’s desire spiked, and she arched her hips to plunge a finger into her channel — just as the lock scraped in the door. She barely had time to jerk her hand from her pants as it opened and a guard, a different one, stepped inside, closing it behind him and arching a dark brow.

Busted. Her face flamed and she scrambled for something to say, but her mind blanked as she studied the newcomer. This man was older, maybe a couple of years younger than Blaze, thirty or so. His rich chocolate brown hair matched his eyes and was pulled back into a ponytail. His shoulders were broad and muscular, his black T-shirt clinging to his chest and washboard abs. The shirt was tucked into his fatigues, which hugged his long thighs and cupped his sex invitingly. For a long moment, she stared at him, wishing this man wasn’t her enemy. What a waste.

“I’ve brought your clothes for tonight,” he said in a smooth whiskey voice, placing a shopping sack on the dresser. His sexy lips curved upward. “I was going to ask whether you needed anything, but it looks like you found it.”

She pushed up to a sitting position and yanked her shirt down to cover her open pants. Jesus, how embarrassing. “I’m good, thanks. Unless you’ve got a cell phone I could use to call my boss so he can rush right over and ram his boot up your collective asses.”

“Ouch, that doesn’t sound like fun. I’ll have to pass.” He gave her a heart-stopping smile that warmed his eyes. And made him appear to be something more than a disgusting antigovernment militant freak. In fact, he looked downright charming.

People had said that about Ted Bundy, too.

She waved a hand at the sack. “What kind of party is this? Your boss wasn’t very forthcoming about the particulars, and I don’t like surprises.”

Moving a few steps closer, he crossed his arms over his chest and stood with his boots braced apart. “Well, Miss Foster, your day seems to be full of them with more on the way. I’m not supposed to tell you anything, but if you take a peek in the sack I believe that will answer your question.”

“Why are you being so nice?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“You work for Dietz, and he’s a traitorous, murdering bastard. Apples and trees, as they say.”

“If you want your curiosity satisfied, look in the sack. It’s not complicated.”

Suspicious, she rose and walked over to the dresser. With a glance at him to make sure he hadn’t moved, she pulled apart the handles of the sack and saw a bundle of black clothing. On top rested a pair of slip-on high-heeled shoes. Really high. Grimacing, she lifted them out and held them up. “I’ll never be able to walk in these without getting a nosebleed. Couldn’t he have sent a nice pair of flats?”

“He likes for the women who attend his parties to dress in a certain style. High heels are his thing.” The man shrugged.

“Great,” she muttered, setting the shoes on the dresser. Next, she fished out a pair of black pants. They were loose, palazzo-style, very elegant — something she’d be thrilled to have occasion to wear if circumstances were different. She laid them out on the bed and returned to the sack, lifted out the long-sleeved blouse… and gaped in astonishment. “Where’s the rest of this?”

“That’s all there is, sorry.”

“You can’t be serious!” She shook the offending garment at him, incensed. “This is completely see-through! I need a top to wear under this or my bra’s going to show.”

The sympathy in his eyes seemed real as he replied. “You won’t be wearing a bra. Or panties, either.”

She blinked at him as though he’d spoken another language. “What?”

“Dietz’s orders. All of his women—”

“I am not one of his women! Not in his wildest fantasies! That arrogant son of a bitch,” she fumed. “Make myself useful, my ass.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m your escort for the evening,” he said softly, his liquid gaze sweeping her from head to toe in appreciation. “He’ll be so busy that he won’t bother you tonight except to keep an eye on your whereabouts.”

“This is supposed to comfort me? I’m going to be basically half naked in a roomful of strangers doing God-knows-what,” she said hoarsely.

“Yes. But I promise to keep everyone else away from you, make your evening — and the duration of your stay — as pleasurable as possible.”

Emma’s nipples tightened under his heated regard. There was no mistaking his meaning, or how the tone of honesty rang true in his voice. Suddenly, the double edge of his words “the duration of your stay” hit her square in the chest, and she knew what he was trying to say.

This man was an undercover agent. Not from SHADO, but from some other organization. Maybe a Fed. She wasn’t alone, and her relief was overwhelming.

“I see,” she said with a nod, but didn’t elaborate. He nodded back. They both knew Dietz could be monitoring her room, and blowing his cover would be fatal for them both. “May I have your first name, at least? Since you’re going to be my date and all.” “J.C.”

“J.C.”

“You can call me Emma.”

“Until tonight, gorgeous Emma.” He flashed her a smile and turned to go, locking the door behind him.

She lowered herself to the bed with a shaky sigh, mind whirling. Unsatisfied arousal thrummed through her body, made worse by the circumstances surrounding tonight’s command performance. The combination of danger and eroticism was a heady aphrodisiac. Not to mention the fact that her escort was a mouthwatering stick of manly candy, and one of the good guys to boot.

She wanted J.C. It was purely selfish, completely intoxicating. Would it be wrong to indulge? Would Blaze be angry, or would he understand?

Sex is natural, baby. There’s nothing shameful about two or more consenting adults taking pleasure in each other’s bodies.

Well, he might have to eat those words with a knife and fork, since he was the one who’d put all these adventurous new ideas in her head.

Grabbing a pillow, she squashed it over her face and tried to drown out her surroundings and the dilemma of this evening.

Just for a little while.

Blaze paced SHADO’s command center, snarling at any unfortunate SOB who looked at him sideways. “I thought you said the fucking helicopter had tracking on it,” he shouted, jabbing a finger at Michael’s chest.

“It does, but they must be jamming the goddamned signal,” his boss replied, batting his hand away.

“So fix it.”

“It’s not that simple, and you know it! We’re working on solving the problem, Kelly, so just calm the hell down.”

“Work on it faster.”

A roomful of top agents, including Bastian, watched the two of them square off toe to toe, in each other’s faces. Blaze knew he was out of line, making a spectacle of himself, but he was so scared for Emma he couldn’t think straight. Nothing mattered but bringing her home safe and sound in his arms. Whatever he could do to speed up the process, he was all over it.

“We’re working as fast as we can to unscramble the signal,” Michael said evenly, clasping his shoulder. “Until then, there’s nothing you can do. Go home, Blaze. Get some rest. You’re going to need it when we locate them.”

“I need to be here—”

“Go. Home.”

He took a deep breath. Let it out. His boss’s tone brooked no further argument. He rarely used it on Blaze, which meant he’d become more of a hindrance than a help. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Promise you’ll call me if you find them before I come back in the morning.”

“You have my word.”

That wasn’t much reassurance, but it would have to do. He strode out, ignoring the stares boring into his back. Fuck them if they couldn’t understand how he felt, having his woman taken by public enemy number one.

Fuck them all.

Emma stared at herself in the full-length bathroom mirror, swallowing hard. She didn’t recognize the woman staring back, the one with dark, taut nipples showing through the sheer fabric of the black blouse. The palazzo pants hugged her waist and flowed down her long legs to her spiky shoes, and felt positively wicked without underwear between her pussy and the fabric.

Never in her life had she dared to dress like a high-dollar whore. She could never have imagined what set of circumstances could possibly drive her to it.

“Good God, what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing that I can see.”

She jumped and whirled, hand on her heart, to find J.C. eyeing her like a starving man at his last supper. “Can’t you knock?”

“And miss watching you check out your lovely naked breasts? I’m no fool.”

She was painfully aware of the silky slide of the material on her erect nipples, and the knowledge that very soon, she’d be exposed to strangers. Her clit tingled and flushed with warmth, which filled her with confusion. How could she feel this way here, with this man she didn’t know?

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, gently taking her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. “You are stunning and have nothing to be ashamed about. We’ll do what we must, what is expected, and you’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of that.”

His fingers brushed down her vulnerable throat, then on to skim one pert nipple ever so lightly. The simple touch sent little shocks dancing to her nerve endings, and she sucked in a breath. Let it out slowly. “Have you done this before, escorted the… guests?”

“A couple of times. My number was up for tonight, lucky me.”

No, lucky me. In more ways than one, because if she’d drawn anyone else, her outlook might not be so good. “You look great in leather. Does he always let you out of uniform for his parties?” God, those pants looked like they’d been spray-painted on. And all that shiny brown hair loose around the shoulders of his white silk shirt? The man was a hunk of fry-your-panties delight — if she’d been wearing any.

“Only if we’re lucky enough to work inside. He likes for us to fit in so we don’t alarm his friends.”

“I can see that. Are you armed?”

He nodded. “Ankle holster. I’m never without a weapon.”

“I’ll bet,” she said, eyes dropping to his crotch and the impressive bulge there.

He laughed. “Come on. Let’s put in our appearance and play his game. Hopefully he’ll be pleased enough to allow you to return to your room.”

“That’s not much of an incentive, since I’m already sick of being cooped up in here.”

“It’s better than being out there, in his sight and on his mind.”

She couldn’t refute that. Composing herself, she went along quietly, determined not to outwardly react to whatever greeted them. She must be alert, take note of how to navigate the house. Night had fallen outside, and the corridors were lit with a soft glow, as were the stairs. In the foyer, J.C. guided her down another short hallway to a set of wide double doors, where several men and women entered ahead of them.

A burly man dressed similarly to her escort, who she supposed was another guard, nodded at him and waved them inside. They stepped in, and it was all she could do to maintain her calm facade.

The big living room was dimly lit. Soft, sexy music played in the background, barely heard above throaty laughter and murmured conversation. The men were dressed in leathers or nice pants and dress shirts, and every last one of the women was dressed much the same as Emma. Clearly, the females were to be put on display, their stunning beauty rivaling the opulent surroundings. They were every shape and size — blondes, brunettes, redheads. Tall and slim, short and round, athletic. Feminine, soft butch, and every flavor in between.

Some of their blouses were made of sheer material and were see-through like her own. Some tops were bustiers, so tight their breasts were practically spilling over the cups, nipples showing. A few wore short skirts, and Emma would bet her next month’s salary that not a one of them wore so much as a thong.

“Overwhelmed?”

She looked at J.C. and gave a slight nod. “Some. What’s expected of me now?”

“Just stick with me and follow my lead,” he said, keeping his voice low, for her ears only. “You’ll be all right.”

“That’s what General Custer said to his buddies,” she muttered. His chuckle wrapped around her, making her feel a bit better. For the moment.

He led her to the bar on the far side of the room, getting a beer for himself and a glass of red wine for her. Then she joined him in a cozy corner where three sofas formed a conversation area, a glass coffee table in the center. Two couples on the sofa across from them were engaged in serious flirtation, innuendo heavy.

Despite the sexual tension in the air, Emma had just started to relax when she spotted Dietz in the opposite corner, schmoozing three women who weren’t the least bit averse to showing the man a good time. One had an arm draped over his shoulder, her tongue in his ear. On his other side, another slid her hand up the inside of his thigh to his crotch, rubbing his zipper. A third sat on the floor between his knees, hanging on his every word.

“Unbelievable. Who is this guy, the Hugh Hefner of the terrorist world? And how did he throw together this party so fast, anyway?”

“Something like that. As for the party, it was already planned to celebrate his escape. Ignore him.”

“He has my fate in his hands, so that’s kind of impossible.”

“Not really. Look at me.” He set down his beer.

Sliding one arm around her, he cupped her jaw and slanted his mouth over hers. Took her lips in a hot kiss, tongue slipping between her lips. He tasted so good and smelled even better. Felt good, too, his hard body pressed into her side.

His hand trailed to the first button on her blouse, flicking it open with expertise.

“Wait. What are you doing?” Her pulse fluttered as his lashes lowered and he sent her a smoldering look. Nervous, she took a sip of her wine and placed it beside his beer.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, they’re way ahead of us.”

A glance around confirmed his words. All over the room, creamy white breasts and erect cocks were being bared as people came together in twos or threes. Skin met skin, and hands roamed and stroked, eliciting moans of pleasure.

“Can’t we just observe?” The decadent sight was making her a bit dizzy, it was so surreal.

“The last thing we want to do is stand out because we’re not participating,” he said reasonably. “Don’t be fooled into thinking he’s not watching you. If he sees you’re coming around to his side, he’ll be satisfied for now.”

“This must be easy for you by now.”

“Survival is never easy.” Moving close, he nuzzled her neck. “Relax and let me take care of you.”

His lips were warm and pleasant, and his seductive skills were apparent. She might have succumbed to the sensations were it not for feeling so conspicuous among these people. As though she were a lamb in a room full of lions. This was much different than the scene at Blaze’s club — she was an unwilling captive here, not a loyal sub.

“I can’t do this,” she hissed, pushing at his chest. “Not here. I don’t care what he does to me.”

“Stay calm,” he said in a low voice, his body as unmovable as a boulder. “Unless you want to get us both killed before the night is over.”

“That might be preferable to giving in to his sick games.”

J.C. gave her an inscrutable look and finally relented. “All right, let me see what I can do. Wait here.”

She made herself as unnoticeable as possible beside a large ficus tree while her protector crossed the room to speak to Dietz. The boss threw J.C. a glare at being interrupted, his eyes narrowing as the other man spoke. Dietz’s gaze found Emma’s across the distance, and she suppressed a shiver even when he nodded to approve whatever J.C. had suggested.

The implication was clear — her refusal to completely abide by Dietz’s rules had endangered both her and J.C.

Her companion strode back to her and took her hand, tugging her toward a nearby doorway. He led her through it and down a short corridor, then through another door to a small room that looked like some sort of library. J.C. switched on a table lamp, which bathed the space in dim light. The sounds of the party could still be heard, but barely. The distance went a long way toward soothing her nerves, as did his palms rubbing her shoulders.

“Better?” he asked softly.

“Yes. But far from ideal.”

“I know.” He pulled her against his chest and spoke quietly in her ear. “He has cameras everywhere, Emma. He’s suspicious now, so if we don’t play along, he’ll find out before the night is over. He’ll realize I’m helping you, and we’ll both be history.”

“Wh-what do I do?”

“Focus on nothing but me. My hands and the pleasure I can bring you. Pretend if you need to that you’re somewhere else, that I’m the man you love,” he whispered. “Is there someone, pretty girl?”

“Yes.” She leaned into him.

“Do you love him?”

The helpless noise in her throat was all the answer he required.

“Will he blame you for this?”

“No.” Blaze wasn’t that kind of man.

“Then do what you must to get home to him.”

The arousal Emma had been battling ever since her interrupted daydreaming session earlier washed over her, carrying her away like a leaf on a rushing river. J.C. parted her blouse and cupped her breasts, testing their fullness. His thumbs grazed the sensitized tips, and she arched into him with a groan. So needy.

“You’re beautiful,” he praised. Bending over, he licked one pouty nipple, teasing it. Then he suckled it for several delicious moments before turning his attention to the other.

By the time he raised his head she was lost to the wickedness, ready to do whatever he wanted. Was this her submissive side coming to the fore? She didn’t know, only that his tugging her to the floor to kneel between his feet felt natural. So did freeing the buttons on his leathers, parting the fly, and lifting out his cock and balls.

His erection was big, veined, and gorgeous, the balls heavy. What little body hair he had was nicely manscaped, with only a patch of brown above his cock. The bulbous tip was leaking pre-cum, and she spread the little pearl with her finger, liking how he sucked in a sharp breath and gazed at her, his face etched with desire.

“Suck me, Emma.”

Teasing him, she licked and nuzzled his balls first, taking them in her mouth and rolling them around. She loved the delicate texture, how a powerful man was always reduced to a puddle when being licked and sucked. As if he was the slave instead.

Her tongue traced a path up the ridge under his cock to the head, where she licked away the salty drops. Finally, she took pity and suckled the head for a moment, then deep-throated him to the balls.

“Ah, fuck! God yes, girl. Suck my cock, do it.”

She began to work him hard, using her throat muscles to massage his length. One strong hand dug through her hair and clasped her head, urging her on. Fucking her mouth with short thrusts until he urged her to stop.

“You’re going to make me come, and I want to be inside you when I do.”

Pulling off him, she watched, mesmerized, as he removed his shoes and ankle holster, placing them close at hand. He stood and pushed his leathers past his hips and off, dropping them to the floor. His shirt went next, and he was completely naked. A god.

“Your turn,” he said, grinning.

Feeling self-conscious, she resolved to follow this through. She let her blouse slide off and stood to remove her shoes and pants as well. They joined his, and she waited, hoping he liked what he saw.

“Stunning underneath the clothing as well.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Now brace yourself on the side of the sofa right here, bend over, and spread your legs, sweetheart.”

She did, hyperaware of being exposed. Vulnerable. His for the taking in this wicked place, where nothing mattered at the moment except slaking their lust.

“Look at you,” he murmured, smoothing his hand over one ass cheek. Dipping his fingers between her pussy lips. “So pretty, your pink pussy already wet and aching to be filled. You want that, don’t you? My cock buried in your sweet channel?”

“Yes, please.” God, she burned.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me, J.C. Deep and hard, please!”

He removed his fingers and in seconds she heard a package crinkle. Then one hand rested on her hip as he steadied himself and brought the head of his cock to her opening with the other. He pushed inside and they groaned together, electrified by their joining as he slid deeper. And deeper still until he was seated groin to ass and held there, allowing the sensation to heighten.

Gripping her hips, he began to move, taking her in slow thrusts. Out, to the head and in again, so deep and so good. Filling her over and over, the strokes becoming increasingly faster and harder.

“Oh, yeah. Such a hot, tight pussy.”

“Fuck me harder!”

He obliged, slammed into her, flesh slapping in rapid tempo, gripping her so hard that he’d likely leave a few bruises. She loved it, feeling free. Naughty.

As he pushed them higher, she began to unravel, the tight ball of ecstasy blooming until she couldn’t contain the explosion. “Oh, God, yes!”

“Shit…” One last thrust and he buried himself deep, cock jerking as he filled her with warmth.

She spasmed around his length, and he laid his head on her shoulder as the euphoria faded, leaving a nice fuzzy glow in its wake. After a few moments he withdrew and helped her straighten, kissing her cheek.

“I’m thinking it will be safe to return you to your room. He’s seen us, and he’ll know you were in here with me,” he said.

“Great — let’s go.” Now that the earth had stopped moving, she felt more than a little uneasy standing around in her birthday suit after having hot sex with a stranger in an enemy compound.

They dressed quickly, and he accompanied her back to the bedroom. Instead of bidding her good night and locking her in, however, he came in and closed the door behind him.

“What are you doing?”

“I wanted to say thank you for an amazing ride back there. It was fantastic, even if the rest of the company sucks.”

She sent him a shaky smile. “Thank you, too. I don’t know if I’m an exhibitionist or not, but I hardly think this was a fair test.”

“I think we all have a bit of it in us — it’s just that some of us never tap in to our sexual potential.”

“Someone I know has been trying to teach that to me, and I’m beginning to understand. Or I might, given the right situation.”

“This someone is the man you love.” It wasn’t a question. He was referring to her earlier admission.

“Yes.”

“Are you feeling guilty about tonight?”

“Some,” she admitted. “But… he’s a free spirit. And a powerful Dom, too. I guess I never really got how he could claim to want to be with me, yet still enjoy fucking other lovers, doing a ‘scene’ with them, and not see anything wrong with it.”

“You get it now.”

“Yes, or at least I’m getting there. I’m willing to try.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, stalking forward with the grace of a panther. “Because I’m very willing to help you liberate your vanilla mind. Think of me as therapy.”

“Therapy?” She squeaked as he pushed her backward, onto the bed, and crawled on top of her.

“You bet. Get some rest, dear Emma,” he whispered in her ear. “Because the next time I fuck you, I’m going to do it slow and easy, for a good long while.”

Oh, my. Yes.

Well, Blaze had wanted her awakened to new possibilities, and it was safe to say she was coming out of a long sleep.

She just hoped he could handle his own creation.

Six

Three days. Three long-assed, sorry motherfucking days pacing, worried sick about Emma. He’d tried returning to work the day after she was kidnapped, but he’d gotten on Michael’s last nerve and had been sent straight home again.

“Dammit.” In his kitchen, he tossed the remains of his half-eaten sandwich and stared out the back window overlooking his yard. SHADO’s intelligence guys were doing their best to find her and Dietz. And they would find her. He knew that.

But it didn’t stop his brain from conjuring all sorts of horrible things Dietz might be doing to her, how frightened she must be. Unless…

No. She’s still alive. I’d know if she wasn’t.

The peal of his doorbell cut into his tumbling thoughts, and he strode out of the kitchen through the living room, dread building in the pit of his stomach. The knot grew when he looked out the peephole to see Bastian standing on the porch. He yanked open the door and let the other man inside, grabbing his arm.

“She’s not dead.” It came out more of a demand than a question.

“No. If that were the case, Michael would’ve come himself,” Bastian said in a soothing tone. “Actually, I have some good news and some bad.”

“As long as it involves us being able to take action, I can deal with whatever you tell me. Sit down?”

“Sure.” He sat in a wingback chair as Blaze perched on the arm of the sofa, waiting. “This won’t take long because it’s pretty simple. Our tech guys haven’t been able to unscramble the signal to track the stolen helicopter. However, Michael got an anonymous tip on his secure e-mail account giving a set of coordinates. Nothing else. We have a team checking it out now to see if it’s anything important or just a wild-goose chase.”

“I assume the computer geeks are trying to trace the e-mail.”

“As we speak. Not much luck there so far, though. I’m thinking if it’s related to Dietz, one of his own men turned or there’s someone on the inside, maybe FBI, who took a chance in feeding us their location.”

“And the weapon’s location, hopefully.”

Bastian snorted. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Nothing is ever that simple.”

“True. And the FBI will let us do the dirty work to keep the weapon’s theft from becoming public, and when the dust settles, they’ll take the credit if all ends well.”

“That’s the thankless shit job we took, which we knew going in.” Bastian shifted, suddenly looking uneasy. “There’s one other thing. If — when — we pin down where Emma is probably being held, Michael has ordered you to stay here.”

Blaze laughed, the sound humorless and more than a tad pissed. “Michael can suck my dick. No disrespect intended.”

“He’s the boss, Kelly.” The other man cocked a half smile that was devoid of humor. “And believe me, Michael wouldn’t stray anywhere close to your dick.”

Blaze filed the man’s words and the bitter tone away for future reference. Coupled with what Bastian had said in his new office a few days ago, Blaze wondered anew what the deal was between Michael and Bastian.

Bastian continued. “You’ll remain here out of the way. Otherwise, you’ll be a liability.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. Emma’s going on assignment with me, and this is no different. I have every right to go after my partner.”

“Michael won’t—”

“Yes, he will. Tell him that I go, or I resign. His choice.”

“You’re a tough SOB. He’s not going to like this.”

“So I’ve been told, and I don’t care whether he does.” Stalemate. Blaze wanted to change the subject and was reluctant to see the other man leave. He needed company to take his mind off the constant aching worry. “Want a beer?”

“I really should get going,” said Bastian, not sounding convinced. “I was supposed to go back and finish unpacking my office.”

“All work and no play…”

“Makes Bastian a dull boy. I know.” He sighed, suddenly looking forlorn.

“Have pity on me, at least. I’m about to go out of my mind sitting around here waiting on word about Emma.”

The other man hesitated. “Oh, why the hell not? It’s not as if anyone from the office gives a damn where I went.”

“I smell a story there. Tell it to me over the beer?” Blaze rose and started for the kitchen, the other man right behind him.

“Not much to tell. Well, there sort of is, but it can be condensed into a few pathetic words — the man I love doesn’t know I’m alive in the romantic sense.”

“We’ve all been there, friend,” he said in sympathy, pulling two bottles from the fridge. “Can I ask who you’re talking about?”

“I’d rather not say.” The other man took his beer and twisted off the top. “Here’s to unrequited love.”

“And crotch rot visited upon those who don’t appreciate us.”

Bastian laughed and they clinked bottles. Blaze studied the man, and his interest grew by the second. There was a certain vulnerability in his new friend’s eyes, a weariness that called to him and had him wanting to make things better. Curiosity got the better of him.

“You’re gay, then? I never would’ve guessed.”

“Bi. Does that bother you?” Bastian asked, tensing a little.

“Not at all. I prefer women, but I’ve topped a few guys, and the sex can be just as satisfying. Sometimes a man will come to me who’s heard of my rep as a good Dom and just needs a cathartic S&M session, no sex. It’s good stress relief for a sub, and there are even studies that show it.”

Bastian laughed, shaking his head. “You’re a constant surprise, Kelly.”

He wanted to ask in what way, and address the spark of interest that flared in the man’s eyes. Instead, he asked the question that had been on his mind since he’d stopped by Bastian’s new office. “I’d like to ask you something else, but if it’s too personal, just tell me.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did Dietz get the CEO’s job over you? From what I’ve seen, he’s got the suave lines of bull down in spades, but you have the genuine caring for your fellow agents that he’s never had.”

Bastian looked away, seemed to curl in on himself. “You make plans, but life has different ones. That’s how it goes.”

“Does this have anything to do with the man who doesn’t know you’re alive?”

“Could be. Doesn’t matter.”

Blaze wasn’t stupid. The pieces were beginning to fall into place, and he had a feeling he knew who’d hurt the other man so badly. And he thought it did matter a helluva lot, but it wasn’t his place to push. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I think this guy is an idiot of biblical proportions.”

“Thanks, that helps.” A smile lit those amazing jade green eyes, which slowly swept his body from head to toe and back again. Polishing off half his beer, Bastian set it on the counter and continued his silent appraisal, making his desire perfectly clear.

As if the bulge between his thighs didn’t send the message. Blaze admired how the man’s expensive suit outlined his athletic frame from his strong shoulders to his narrow waist and flat belly. He’d bet the body underneath the conservative clothing was a treat, and his cock stirred to life, begging to find out.

“Bastian, I can name a whole slew of reasons why we shouldn’t.” His attempt to be reasonable didn’t sound very convincing.

“So can I. But right now, what I need is to feel wanted. It’s not something I’ve felt in far too long.”

His vulnerability tugged at Blaze’s heart. Putting aside his own beer, he stepped close to Bastian, pleased when he didn’t move away. “We’ve all been there. Maybe we both need to forget everything, just for a while?”

“Maybe we do.”

He reached out, brushed a thumb over Bastian’s plump lower lip. “Do you bottom?”

“Yes,” he said, eyes darkening with lust. “I like it all.”

“Good. Because I don’t bottom. Ever.” Dropping his hand, he indicated the other man’s clothing. “Strip to the waist.”

Bastian looked momentarily startled by the order, but then he slid off his jacket and holster, hanging both over the back of a nearby chair in the breakfast nook. His tie and dress shirt came off next, and he stood waiting.

Gorgeous. A wonderful example of prime male flesh, his for the taking. And take it he would. Whoever had hurt this sexy golden angel — and he thought he knew who — was one dumb son of a bitch.

“Good. Now, come kneel in front of me and unzip my jeans.”

Without argument, Bastian crossed to him and knelt. Fingers trembling, he managed the task and pulled the material slightly apart. “You aren’t wearing underwear,” he said hoarsely.

“Gets in the way. Take out my cock and balls, and don’t speak again unless I give you permission.” His lover stared at him and nodded, face glowing with arousal. Blaze didn’t know if he’d ever played the submissive before, but if not, he was quite the natural. That was evident in the way he followed orders without question, pulling Blaze’s jeans down some, removing his thick erection and heavy balls. “Touch me, let me feel your tongue.”

Skilled fingers manipulated his sac, the touch warm and sure. He groaned as Bastian’s tongue flicked out, licking the length of his rod, swirling the head. His erection was deep red and throbbing, needing more. “Suck it. I want to see it disappear between those pretty lips, feel it slide down that gorgeous throat.”

In the next instant, his cock was surrounded in warm, wet heaven. There was nothing he loved better in the world than to have a beautiful sub under his control, doing his bidding. The power was intoxicating, as good as the actual sex, never failing to fuel his lust even more.

Bastian was good at sucking cock, laving the underside with his wet tongue as he increased the friction and took the member deeper. Threading his fingers through the bright blond strands of the other man’s hair, Blaze fucked that glorious mouth slowly, until he was in danger of ending things much too soon.

He nudged Bastian, pulling back gently. “Stop. Stand up, take down your pants and underwear, face the counter, and brace yourself with your legs spread.” His lover complied, erection bobbing as he moved into position without hesitation. “Don’t move.”

Quickly, he retrieved a condom and lube from his bedroom and returned, gratified to find his hot sub still waiting. Back arched, ass poking out in invitation, he was quite the sight. After sheathing his cock, Blaze took the lube and spread a generous amount on the length, then squirted more on his fingers.

Putting the tube aside, he parted the smooth ass cheeks and dipped a finger past the taut ring, the whimper from his prey increasing the delicious humming in his veins. Then two fingers, stretching, preparing. A bite of pain with the pleasure was often very satisfying, but he didn’t want to truly hurt his partner.

Leaning forward, he kissed Bastian’s temple. “How do you want it? Rough? Or slow and easy?”

“Fast and hard,” he breathed. “So hard I want to feel it next week. It’s been so long.”

“You’ve got it.”

Removing his fingers, he positioned the broad head of his cock and gripped his partner’s hips. Began to push into the tight, sweet hole. Unable to resist, he thrust all the way to his balls and was gratified by the other man’s moan of delirium.

“Oh, yes… please, fuck me hard.”

He withdrew and slammed deep again. And again. Faster and faster until he’d established a brisk tempo, fucking his lover with punishing strokes. Giving them both what they wanted.

“Fuck, yeah,” he rumbled, sweat rolling down his cheek. “So tight and hot, gripping my cock. Such a sweet, beautiful ass.”

“Oh, God!”

Bastian stiffened with a cry, body spasming with the force of his orgasm. Two, three more thrusts and Blaze followed, burying himself deep, pumping his load into that delectable ass. On and on, filling him with cum. Whoever didn’t want this man was crazy.

When the shocks faded, he draped himself over his partner’s back and splayed his fingers over the man’s smooth throat, urging him back. Bastian leaned into him and offered himself for a kiss: a final, lovely gesture of submission.

Blaze took what he offered, kissing him deeply, the connection an affirmation of the pleasure they’d shared. He broke the kiss at last and nuzzled his partner’s neck. “Thank you for giving yourself to me. You’re fantastic.”

“No, thank you. Having someone like you desire me, take me like that, gives me hope that I’m not so invisible after all.”

“Someone like me?”

“Exciting, dominant, powerful. Everything I’m not.”

“I’d like to beat the bastard who made you feel that way about yourself,” he said, easing from the tight channel. “You’re extremely exciting, or couldn’t you tell by how enthusiastically I pounded your fine ass?”

Bastian laughed, his face pinking a bit as he tugged his pants on again. “Good point. I’m feeling pretty great about myself at the moment, considering.”

“If you weren’t, I’d worry that I did something wrong.” He tied off the condom and disposed of it in the garbage can, then tucked himself inside his jeans.

“No way. You did everything exactly right.”

“Glad you think so.” He paused, studying the other man’s expression. “You’re quite the submissive, very responsive. Did you know that about yourself?”

“Not really, no. I guess I’ve never really explored that side of myself. I always thought submissive equaled weak, especially in the eyes of—” He looked away, clamping his lips shut.

“Of the one you love?” he probed gently.

Bastian looked at him and nodded. “Yeah. Don’t most people see it that way?”

“Only misinformed people. It takes a very strong person to submit, to reach that place inside himself or herself that allows them to place their body, their very safety completely in another person’s hands. It’s all about trust and letting go.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds beautiful.”

The longing in the man’s voice touched him, and he made a quick decision. “It is. I want to show you something. Come on.”

“What is it?” his friend asked, trailing him.

“I’m going to show you my basement dungeon.”

“You mean… as in whips and chains?” He sounded nervous.

“Yep. My private playpen. The place where I make all good subs scream.”

“Shit!”

“And Bastian?”

“Yes?”

“You might want to use your cell phone and let them know you’ll be out sick for the rest of the day,” he said slyly, chuckling at the other man’s tortured groan.

He counted his lucky stars that Bastian had dropped by today with news. The man was lonely, in need of a self-esteem boost, and Blaze had the cure.

It might just be the distraction he needed as well, to take his mind off his worry about another sexy blonde.

One very dear to his heart.

* * *

Emma paced her room — no, her prison — ready to pull her hair out. J.C. had been conspicuously absent after their scorching night together, and other than the meals that had been brought to her room for the past three days, she’d been pretty much ignored. Had something happened to her protector? Oh, God, maybe Dietz had found out his cover and killed him. Maybe she was next. She felt like an animal in a cage, quietly going insane from stress and isolation.

The lock turned and the door burst open, making her jump, pressing a hand over her thundering heart. J.C. closed the door and walked briskly toward her, putting a finger over his lips to warn her from saying anything.

“I’ve missed you, sweet thing,” he said with a lightheartedness that didn’t meet his eyes. “Give me a hug.”

“Me, too. It’s boring in here.” She accepted the hug, tensing when he whispered in her ear, almost too low to be heard.

“Be ready to move tonight. Dietz has decided you’re too big of a liability and is planning to get rid of you.”

Oh, God. “O-okay.”

“I’ll be back around midnight, so have on your running shoes,” he whispered. Then, in a louder voice, “Damn, you give good hugs. And other stuff, too.”

“Thanks. Back at you. Can you stay for a while?”

“I wish I could. I’ve got a ton of things to do, plus patrol this evening. I just wanted to stop by and make sure you have everything you need, or if you want me to find you a book. I know it sucks with no TV.”

“Well, I’d like a magazine to read, if it’s not too much trouble.”

He winked, and she got the message. They’d be gone before the magazine became necessary. “No problem. Any certain kind?”

“No, whatever is lying around is fine.”

“All right. I’ll be back when I can.” Midnight, he mouthed.

She nodded, knowing how big a risk he was taking in getting her safely away from this hellhole. He was jeopardizing his mission to save one innocent woman when the future of the free world was at stake. But being selfish, she didn’t want to die sooner than necessary, so she nodded, willing to allow him to take the chance.

If that makes me a bad person, so be it.

She longed to see Blaze again, hold him in her arms. Have him squeeze her and tell her everything would be all right now.

A little bit longer, and she’d find out whether she’d ever see him again.

The phone rang at nine thirteen.

Blaze glanced at the caller ID and picked up. “What’s up?”

“We’ve got Dietz’s location,” Bastian said. “The op is going wheels up in forty-five minutes. Be at the launch pad or be left behind. Michael wasn’t planning to call you until after they’d left.”

Relief nearly sent him to his knees. Part of him had been afraid his friend wouldn’t go against Michael and the op would take place without him. “I’m there. How’s it going down?”

“Two groups, two choppers. They’re going in quiet to get the drop on Dietz, hopefully recapture him alive and some of his cronies as well. No word on the weapon. Might be there, might not.”

“You gonna catch shit for this?”

“Probably, but don’t worry about it. He owes me.”

No. He couldn’t let Bastian get in trouble. “Nah, I’ll take the heat. You may have given me the heads-up, but I’m the one crashing the party. My choice.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do. And Bastian, thanks.”

“Thank me by bringing our agent home.”

He was already moving even as he hung up, yanking his SIG from the holster and checking the clip, shoving it in again. He stuck one of his backup weapons in the waistband of his camouflage pants, and a smaller one in his ankle holster. His wicked M16, which he’d dubbed the Attitude Adjuster, he slung over one shoulder and headed out, less than thirty seconds after hanging up.

The drive to the SHADO compound had never seemed so long. Still, he made it in record time and pulled through the gate about twenty minutes later, flashing his ID at the guard on night duty. Thankfully, the guy wasn’t in the mood to chat, and he continued on, parked, pulled his hair back in a ponytail, and jammed his camouflage hat on his head, pulling the brim low over his eyes. He didn’t often put his hair back, so he hoped fading into the background, along with the organized chaos, meant nobody would zero in on him — and the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be here — until things were well under way.

Circling the main building, he jogged across the tarmac toward the small but lethal force gathering around two sleek, fast, armed helicopters. These were newer than the old Hueys they sometimes used, which were long-lived flying tanks, and didn’t make as much noise. Under return fire, however, the Huey was a better choice, made to take a licking. A trade-off either way.

Scanning the two distinct groups from under his hat, he searched for Michael, not seeing him anywhere. No doubt it had never occurred to the man that his new right-hand would make his first official act to countermand a direct order.

Well, that ought to make things a bit awkward around the office. So much for getting a Christmas card from the boss. Or even a bag of switches — which, by the way, were highly underrated.

As the groups loaded up, Blaze chose one and mixed right in, then took a seat among them as though he’d received the same orders as everyone else. He didn’t breathe easier until the craft lifted off and was several miles into the flight, much too late to call off the op and return him to the compound.

There wasn’t much talking among the men, for which he was grateful. The biggest part of the ride passed in easy silence, livening up some only as they bore down on their destination.

“Hope we catch that fucker,” one man called above the noise.

“Then we’re gonna feed him his own dick,” another one said.

“Hey, Kelly. Thought you was sittin’ this one out?” This from Byrd, a big bald guy who looked like Mr. Clean.

“You heard wrong. Did you really think I was going to let your ugly ass grab all the glory?”

Byrd grinned. “You can try and stop me.”

The pilot put them down in a remote clearing — a couple of miles from their target, he guessed. Disembarking, he made himself as inconspicuous as possible. He wasn’t the team leader on this one — a fact that irked him to no end — but he’d have to follow for a change, something he hadn’t done in ages.

A man named Rivera addressed them all. “Okay, listen up. The border of the estate is a half mile this way,” he said, pointing to the south with the muzzle of his weapon. “One point seven miles to the main house. The place is well guarded, so be careful. B-team, you’ll secure the perimeter. A-team, you’ll secure the main house. Just incapacitate them if you can help it — we want as many alive as possible. Eliminate those who challenge you and pose a real threat. Bring Agent Foster safely out. Any questions?”

No one had any, so they got moving. Blaze assigned himself to A-team with a feral grin. Rivera wasn’t going to relish having to explain to their boss how he’d picked up an extra man without even noticing. For himself, he’d be damned lucky if he wasn’t fired.

Emma was worth making a stand.

He shunned the night vision goggles the others were wearing, and they took off, moving as stealthily as they could through the woods and bristling with weapons. He hated the NVG s and rarely used them, finding them to be weird and disorienting. He preferred to take out the enemy using his senses, like his ancestors used to do before such items were ever conceived. His senses were the only thing he trusted.

Nearing the perimeter, they fanned out and crept slowly, weapons at the ready. B-team took the lead, an occasional soft, muffled grunt of surprise sounding from the darkness. Taking out the enemy, one traitor at a time. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on the main piece of shit.

As they neared the house he spotted a guard leaning against a tree, obviously bored and not paying attention. He glanced over at Byrd and gestured to the distracted guard to indicate he’d take care of this one. Just as he stepped up right behind the man, the guy turned and sucked in a deep breath as though to yell a warning, going for the gun on his hip.

The guard was too slow. Blaze slammed the butt of the M16 into the side of the man’s head and watched him slump to the ground. “Nighty-night,” he whispered, and smiled grimly. He’d need a lot more than ibuprofen when he woke up — he’d need a good lawyer.

He nodded at Byrd, and they split off together, circling around the back of the house. Byrd knocked out another guard and dragged him behind a big potted plant, giving the unconscious body a boot in the side for good measure. Blaze crouched beside a shrub and turned his attention to a wall of windows overlooking the property. The drapes were closed, hindering their view, but in the yellow glow from within he could barely make out shapes moving around. It was impossible to tell how many people were inside, but he knew to be prepared for anything.

He motioned to Byrd, indicating they should get close to the house—

A body tackled him from behind, a beefy arm going around his neck. The unseen enemy had probably planned to twist and break his neck, but his forward momentum hurled them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Blaze managed to maneuver onto his back, but the bastard was on him in an instant, a huge hunting knife slashing toward his throat.

Seizing the man’s wrist, he stopped the blade from slicing too deep, rolled, and twisted the arm. Bone cracked, and his enemy let out a cry, dropping the knife. Without hesitating, he scooped up the weapon and slit the guard’s throat, jaw clenching at the spray of blood and the awful gurgling noise.

The guard clutched at his neck for a few seconds, and then his hand fell to the ground. His eyes glazed as he stared at the moonlight without seeing. Blaze allowed himself a moment of regret for a life taken by his hand, but the man had made his choice the day he threw in his lot with terrorists.

Wiping off the blade in the grass, he shoved it in his boot for safekeeping. Byrd, who hadn’t moved and obviously hadn’t had any doubt that Blaze could handle the attacker alone, gave him a thumbs-up. With the threat dispatched, they continued their slow progress toward the house, keeping cover in dark shadows, behind trees and bushes.

Halfway there, they heard voices from inside the house. Loud. Anxious. Blaze held up a hand, and they stopped, listening.

Yeah, someone was shouting. Upset. Through a part in one set of drapes, he could see a figure pace by the window but couldn’t make out the man’s identity. Movement inside increased, more voices entering the fray.

For a second he thought their presence had been discovered, but it didn’t have that type of vibe. He was certain B-team had successfully removed the guards stationed outside with no time for an alarm to be raised. What the hell was going on?

Just as he was about to motion to Byrd, a patio door to the left, which was situated in an area a few rooms away from where the excitement was taking place, slid open quietly. Two figures stole into the darkness and struck out across the lawn. A man dressed as a guard, and a woman.

Even though she wore a ball cap, no doubt to cover her short, silvery blond hair, he’d know her form anywhere. Emma.

She was escaping with the aid of an unknown man, and they were in a hurry. Blaze rose from his spot with the intention of intercepting them, sending them safely to one of the waiting choppers, when three guards burst from the house, shouting.

The guards spied the fleeing couple, and weapons were raised. The man with Emma pushed her behind him and raised his own weapon, ready to defend them.

And that’s when all hell really broke loose.

Seven

At ten minutes after midnight, Emma was starting to get nervous. Really freaked. J.C. wouldn’t be late unless something was wrong, and if anything happened to him, she’d never forgive herself. He shouldn’t have tried to help her, and she should never have agreed to—

And then he was there, coming through the door, handing her a gun. “Take this.”

She took the weapon from him, heaving a ragged sigh. “Where have you been?”

“I was on my way up, but Dietz and a couple of his top dogs were arguing about something. I listened for a few minutes to get the gist, and it seems a couple of them want to move the weapon. Dietz doesn’t want to take the chance, insisting it’s safe where it is ‘at the Liberation compound,’ in his words.”

“So now we know without a doubt that it isn’t here. Now all we have to do is find out where this compound is and retrieve the thing.”

“No, what we do right now is get the hell out. I think Dietz was about to come for you when he was waylaid by this argument. Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s move.”

She followed him, the gun feeling strange in her hand. Not that she didn’t know how to use one if necessary, but her job didn’t usually require her to be armed. She’d been in the field only twice to witness her creations in action, and even then she hadn’t needed to draw a weapon. But if it came down to her or the bad guys, she knew the one she’d pick.

Her companion went in the opposite direction from the main stairs, and she hoped he had a good alternative route. She wasn’t disappointed.

He led her to a staircase in a quieter part of the house, away from the faint noise of raised voices. They descended slowly, treading lightly, ears strained for any sound that might indicate they’d been discovered.

At the bottom, J.C. gestured to his left, and they tiptoed through a couple of turns until he steered them toward an empty, darkened room. Just as they reached the open doorway, three guards rounded the corner at the end of the hall, and he pushed her through.

“I think they saw us,” she hissed.

“Shit.”

Together they hurried for the glass patio door, and J.C. slid it open, urging her out. They rushed into the night, and she wanted to ask what his plan was, how they were going to get off the premises, but there was no time. The details could wait.

Then, disaster.

“Stop right there!”

“Freeze!”

Oh, no! “J.C.—”

Her companion whirled, pushing her behind him, and brought up his weapon. She stumbled and looked toward the house to see three guards doing the same, and in the next split second, the staccato bark of rapid gunfire rent the air. J.C. jerked and went down on one knee, returning fire.

“Emma, run!”

“No!” she screamed. Three on one wasn’t fair odds, and she wasn’t about to leave him to be slaughtered. Raising her arm, she was about to fire her weapon when more gunfire came from another direction. She waited for the inevitable agony of bullets ripping through her body, but it never came.

Instead, the three guards slumped to the patio in a hail of bullets and lay unmoving. Footsteps pounded toward her and J.C., and it took Emma a second to process the appearance of the big, imposing man in the lead. Tall, dark, broad-shouldered, hair pulled back in a ponytail…

“Emma!” the man bellowed. “Are you all right?”

“Blaze?” She blinked at the apparition that stepped up and grabbed her by the shoulders. “How did you—”

“Thank God you’re all right, baby.” He crushed her to his chest, kissed the top of her head, and said hoarsely, “Doesn’t matter how right now. Byrd’s going to get you and your friend to the chopper while the rest of us take care of Dietz and his buddies inside.”

She glanced at this man, Byrd, and burrowed into her man. “Why can’t you come with us?”

“Because I owe that slimy bastard for taking my woman, that’s why.” He pulled away and crouched in front of J.C., placing a hand on his shoulder. “You gonna make it?”

“Yeah,” her friend said, panting, expression strained. “Took one in the thigh, but I’ll be okay.”

“Good. Who do I have to thank for taking care of my girl?”

J.C. hesitated, giving Blaze a wary look, but evidently decided to come clean. “Special Agent Jackson Collins, FBI. My friends call me J.C.”

“Agent Collins, you have my undying gratitude. Next time you need a favor, you have only to ask.” Cutting off any protest the man might’ve made, Blaze turned to Byrd. “Get them out of here. I’ll help the others round up our traitors.”

“Will do.”

She wanted to cling, demand that he return with them, but this was a mission, not date night. Instead, she accepted the kiss he pressed to her lips and let him go, worried as hell about what must be going on in the house by now and what Blaze would be facing. Because Dietz surely had heard the commotion. Why hadn’t anyone inside come running?

Blaze’s bald friend slung one of J.C.’s arms over his big shoulders, hoisted him to his feet, and started off, herding her away as well. She glanced back to see Blaze disappear into the house and out of sight, and sent up a fervent prayer that he’d be fine.

He’d come for her. Just like she knew he would.

The knowledge sent a warm rush through her veins, filled her with happiness… until her night with J.C. hit her with a slap. Despite Blaze’s assertion that sex was natural, she worried that he’d see her actions as a betrayal.

Were they? Especially considering his lifestyle and the stuff he’d said about sharing? And they weren’t even officially a couple again, right? They’d agreed to see how things went — nothing more.

It was all too confusing, and she was exhausted from stress, thinking she might not survive to ever face these issues with him. She was hardly aware of placing one foot in front of the other, and before she knew it, they’d reached a clearing where two black helicopters waited.

Byrd helped J.C. into one of them, and she climbed in after them, wincing at the blood oozing from his thigh between his fingers. The flow appeared sluggish, but that didn’t do much to alleviate her worry. He deserved better than to die protecting someone who wasn’t his problem.

The pilot started the engine, and Emma jumped, looking at Byrd in alarm. “Aren’t we waiting for the others?”

“Ross will send another transport,” he said, grabbing a first-aid kit. “We need to get our Fed buddy back to SHADO and have McKay fix him up before we send him home to momma.”

She nodded her understanding. While his wound might not be life-threatening, J.C. didn’t really look great, and it was best not to take any chances.

J.C. shot Byrd a sickly smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You saved one of ours, so we return the favor.”

“What’s SHADO?” J.C. asked, curious in spite of his pain.

“Need to know only.” Byrd gave him a dangerous grin. “If I told you, I’d hafta let you bleed out.”

“In that case, never mind. I like breathing.”

She watched Byrd cut her friend’s pants up the seam and pull the material from the wound. J.C. grimaced as the other man began to wrap the leg tightly. To distract him, she asked, “Out of curiosity, how were you going to get us away from here if all had gone well?”

“I appropriated one of Dietz’s cars and stashed it off a country road about a mile from the house. I figured we’d get there and make a clean getaway. I’m sorry I fucked up.”

“No, you did what you could. It was a good plan.”

“Except for the part about getting caught,” Byrd added, needling him.

“Shit. Does that have to be so tight?”

“Yep. Sit back and enjoy the ride or I’ll have to give you something to knock you out. Like my fist.”

“Your bedside manner needs improving.”

“At least you’re alive to bitch about it.”

Suddenly, she glanced around in surprise. Although she hated flying in a helicopter, between the adrenaline and listening to the two men spar, she hadn’t even noticed they were airborne and under way. Wonders never ceased.

Now, if Blaze would return to SHADO safe and sound, they might finally set themselves on the right path together.

A girl could dream.

It was past four in the morning before Blaze dragged his tired, disgusted ass to the compound’s hospital to get his scratch tended. He didn’t think it needed any special attention, but Rivera wouldn’t hear of it. Nobody on his op was going home without getting their boo-boos fixed, period.

Jesus. He just wanted to get out of here and find Emma. Holding her was the only thing that would fix everything that had gone wrong with this night. Well, almost everything.

He shuffled to the desk, thinking it was too much to hope for that she’d hung around waiting for him to get back. She’d probably already been debriefed and was home by now, sleeping soundly under an armed watch. Or Michael might have ordered her to stay here at the compound in one of the spare living quarters, where it was safer.

“Blaze!”

He jerked his head around and saw her jogging toward him, beautiful face lined with worry. He barely had time to hold out his arms, and she was in his embrace, alternately squeezing the stuffing out of him and peppering his face with kisses.

“Oh, my God! I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said. “When hours went by and you guys didn’t come back, I was beside myself.”

“You were concerned about me? After being kidnapped and held hostage by that asshole? No, baby, I’m fine. It’s you I care about.”

“I’m okay, but you’re most certainly not! What happened to your neck?” Frowning, she gingerly touched the red, angry four-inch line on his throat, caked with dried blood. “I didn’t notice this in the dark.”

“Just a scuffle with a scumbag. He lost.”

“I’d hate to see what he looks like. God, he could’ve killed you,” she said in a quiet voice.

“Well, he didn’t, and he won’t ever be able to hurt anyone again.”

“Like Dietz.” She gazed into his eyes. “You did apprehend him, right?”

Jaw clenching, he looked away. “No. We got inside the house, and he’d vanished, along with a couple of men. They must’ve had some sort of secret way out in case of discovery.”

She appeared as disheartened as he felt. “Damn that slippery bastard! What about the guards?”

“Got most of them, and they’re in the jail below, under double security because of the breakout. None of them are talking yet, but they haven’t yet been subjected to our brand of persuasion.”

“It didn’t work with Dietz,” she pointed out.

“No, but things are getting desperate. SHADO has been authorized by the president to use whatever means are necessary to extract the information. The gloves are off now.”

“I’m sure I don’t want to know what that means.”

“You probably don’t, but you may not have a choice. You’re involved, and I have a feeling Michael is still going to want you undercover, with or without me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Of course I’ll be with you.”

“There’s a good chance you won’t. Michael ordered me to remain behind when they went to rescue you. I happened to disagree.” Now that she was safe, he dreaded the thought of her working with anyone else, especially on this assignment.

“Oh, Blaze,” she groaned. “Why would you do something so stupid? I’m sure the team had it under control.”

He stiffened at her remark. “Sure. Except I’m the one who helped Byrd take out those three goons who were about to gun down you and your new buddy. Where is he, by the way?”

“J.C.? In recovery. They did surgery to remove the bullet, and he’s going to be fine. I wanted to hang around here until they’d let me see for myself, though.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Okay, that came out more like a snarl than he’d intended. But dammit, it was quite a blow to learn she hadn’t been here waiting for him after all. Instead, she was here waiting on her new buddy — with whom she was apparently on a first-name basis. And was that guilt in those big blue eyes? Fuck.

“What’s wrong with making sure the man who saved my life is okay?”

“He saved your life? I think I might’ve helped just a little,” he growled.

“Of course you did! Don’t you think I know that? I just mean that J.C. doesn’t have anyone here for him. Well, not until the FBI or someone else arrives to stay with him and then take him home.” She gave him a slight frown. “Would you begrudge him when he watched over me the whole time and made sure I was safe?”

“No. But is that all he did?”

There it was. The guilty deer-in-the-headlights look. Ah, goddamn.

You reap what you sow, Kelly. What are you gonna do now, idiot?

“Never mind,” he said, holding up a hand. “It doesn’t matter.”

She wrung her hands. “Blaze, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. You did what you had to do… and so did I.” Her eyes rounded at that. Wasn’t True Confessions fun?

“You were with another woman?” she whispered, mouth trembling.

“No, not a woman.” He watched her figure it out, emotions playing on her face.

“Then what — oh.” She blinked at him owlishly. “Who was it?”

“I’m not sure I should say. It might make things awkward for him.” He sighed. “It wasn’t planned. We were both under an extraordinary amount of stress, and it just happened. I’m not trying to make an excuse, but we both had a need and took what we wanted. It wasn’t smart, and it probably won’t happen again, but I can’t change it.”

“You know, just a few weeks ago I wouldn’t have understood.” Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze.

“And now you do?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I guess we have a lot to talk about when we get away from here.”

“Do we?”

“Or not.” She shrugged, looking lost. “Hell, I never know what the rules are with you.”

“Is that what you want? Rules? With me in charge, and not just because of the assignment?”

“I said before that I was willing to give it a try, didn’t I?”

A flare of excitement shot through his blood, quickly tempered. “I want you to be certain, baby. If you’re not fully committed in here,” he emphasized, tapping the side of her head, “it won’t work.”

“I’m willing to kick my preconceptions to the curb and give it a shot.” Her tone was sincere.

“It can’t be only for me, though. You have to want it for yourself.” As much as he wanted this, she had to understand the difference.

“I’m not doing this for you, but for me. For us,” she said earnestly. “I’ve learned a few things about myself lately — that my world isn’t as black and white as I always believed — and I think I owe it to myself to explore them. Will it work? I don’t know, but I’m ready to—”

Whatever she might’ve said was put on hold as three men walked into the lobby. All three were wearing suits, one in particular appearing more rumpled and stressed-out than the other two.

Michael. Fan-fucking-tastic. Blaze might be fired and hiring out as a mercenary before this day was over.

“Agent Kelly,” Ross said coolly as the three approached. “These gentlemen are from the FBI and have come to see about Agent Collins. They’ll stay with him until he’s well enough to be transferred to another facility.”

You’re not needed here was what he really meant.

Blaze turned his attention to the pair of dour-faced suits. “Good. I can’t thank Collins enough for rescuing Agent Foster,” he said, indicating her. “She’s a damned fine lady and a valued part of our team here. I hope he’s not in trouble for doing the right thing.”

One of them pursed his thin lips. “He might’ve been, but we’d already received communication from him forty-eight hours ago that he believed he was under suspicion. The director was getting ready to pull him out.”

The guy didn’t sound real happy about it. Like he’d wanted Collins to be in deep shit. Some assholes were like that. “Good to know. Well, it was nice to meet you, but I’m going to get this scratch doctored, and then I’m out of here.” He glanced at Ross. “Unless you want me to see you after?”

“No, it’s late. You and Foster go home and get some sleep. I’ll see you both in my office at three this afternoon.”

Not as much time as he’d hoped, but he was lucky to get that much. His boss was so pissed, there was no way anyone could miss the signals. “We’ll be there. Coming with me?” he asked Emma.

“Yes.”

They started toward the check-in desk together, but Ross caught him by the arm. “You’re not off the hook,” he said, low enough the two Feds couldn’t hear. “The reason we’re not meeting now is if we do, I’ll fire your ass, and I can’t afford to lose an agent of your caliber. You get me?”

“Yeah, I get you. But know this — given the choice, fired or not, I’d do the same thing again. Nobody stands between me and her, period. I’m sure you can get that.”

A few tense moments ticked by, but the explosion he half expected never came. He waited until Michael broke eye contact and turned away, joined the two Feds, and disappeared down the hallway before taking Emma’s hand and walking off.

He meant what he’d said. The day he didn’t go after Emma was the day they put him in the ground.

The pang of remorse Emma had felt at not being able to visit J.C. was eclipsed by the larger-than-life presence of the big man at her side. God, she’d missed him. Had come too close to never seeing him again.

And she’d hurt him. Oh, he’d acted tough, but he hadn’t been able to hide his feelings — at least, not quickly enough. Yet he’d done essentially the same thing — right? Was it different because she’d slept with a man, the opposite sex, and he’d been with someone of the same sex? Was that a double standard?

Maybe. But oddly enough, it didn’t bother her to know he’d been with another man. In fact, it kind of… turned her on. More than a little. Another woman? That would’ve hurt, as she’d no doubt done to him.

Miserable, she watched as the nurse finished cleaning his cut with antiseptic and gave him a shot. Since no stitches were needed, the nurse covered the cut with a bandage and declared him fit to leave.

Thanking the nurse, Blaze took Emma’s hand and led her from the hospital, downstairs and through the compound, and out to his car.

“Where are we going?”

“Home, to sleep.”

She peered at him in the predawn light just beginning to peek over the horizon. “Home?”

“My house,” he clarified. “I’m exhausted and you must be, too. I don’t have the energy to drive you to your house and then drive myself home, even if I was willing to do that, which I’m not.”

“Why not?”

“You’re safer with me, and that’s where you’ll stay. We’ll pick up some of your stuff tomorrow. Or later today, I mean. Shit, I’m so tired I don’t know what I mean.”

“So am I, which is probably why I’m not kicking your butt for ordering me around,” she grumped.

“No, you just know I’m right and won’t admit it. If you have a flaw, that’s the one.”

“Oh, really?” He unlocked the car. She slid in and frowned at him, annoyed. “What flaw?”

“Your damned pride. When I’m wrong, I admit it.”

“I won’t dignify that with a response.”

“You need time to come up with one, more like.”

“Whatever.”

His sexy laugh made her scowl, because she knew he was right. Her pride often got in the way, like now. “Okay, you’ve got a point,” she muttered.

“What? Can’t hear you.”

“I said you’re right, you jackass. I’m probably safer at your house until Dietz is caught. Satisfied?”

“For now.” He grinned at her. “Maybe by then you won’t want to leave.”

She stared at him, unsure how to answer. Fortunately, he turned his attention to the road again and fell silent, leaving her to gather her wits. She could easily envision them together, forever. Falling even more deeply in love with him than she already was, completely entwining their lives and their future.

Who knows how far they’d now be as a couple if things hadn’t gone so horribly wrong?

Emma recalled the last time she’d been here, months ago. The night of their terrible argument, when he’d come clean with her about his lifestyle as a D/s master. Handsome face excited, nervous, and full of hope, he’d said he had something he wanted to share with her, and he’d taken her downstairs.

To the BDSM dungeon in his basement. She’d been shocked, but now she knew her reaction had been knee-jerk and completely unfair to him. She’d shut him down without even giving him — them — a chance and had torn out his heart, and hers, in the process.

“What the hell is all of this?”

“It’s my playroom, Emma. I’m a Dom, and—”

“What? Like whips and chains? You beat on people, tie them up?”

“No! I mean yes, but it’s for both of our pleasure. You liked when I cuffed you and tied you up, remember? Total submission is the highest sexual peak a body can reach. I started as a sub myself and worked up to being a master, and I’d never do anything to you I haven’t personally experienced.”

“I–I don’t know. Why can’t we just be a normal couple?”

“Come on, baby. Give it a try and you won’t regret it. Do you really want your only flavor to be vanilla for the rest of your life? Seriously? I promise you I’ll show you a whole new world of pleasure you never knew existed.”

For a minute, she’d actually considered it.

“I can’t do this, Blaze. I don’t belong in your world, and you’d never be satisfied in mine.”

“It’s who I am. Please, baby, give me — us — a chance.”

“No, it’s not who you are! It’s just a perverted game, and if we meant that much, you could walk away!”

“You’d ask that of me? To give up a part of my soul?”

“Hell, yes! You asked me to compromise mine!”

The devastation on his face just before she fled was a memory that still pierced her heart. She understood now why he’d taken refuge in his world at the club, why he’d drowned his sorrow the only way he knew how.

Looking back, she couldn’t blame him for being excited about sharing his dungeon with her. She had liked being tied up, although she’d run from that realization afterward. Had run from Blaze and his enthusiasm for teaching her his world.

“What are you doing?”

“Easy, darlin’. You trust me — right?”

Slowly, she nodded. Inside, she was jelly.

When he attached her wrists to each post on his bed with soft cuffs, she teetered on the edge of excitement and panic. To his credit, he worked slowly, making certain she was comfortable.

She lay on her back, pillow under her hips. When he parted her thighs and knelt between them, her heart pounded in her chest. She’d never been restrained in any way during sex and wasn’t sure she liked it. But his clever tongue soon made her forget the cuffs, blew to dust any thought except wanting more of him licking her pussy, feasting on her juices. He suckled and laved, driving her mindless until she writhed under the delicious assault, begging him to fuck her.

Rising to his knees, he lifted her, settling her legs over his shoulders. Then he pushed into her, so big, filling her completely. She cried out as he speared her again and again, working his cock in and out of her pussy like a piston. All too soon, her orgasm sent her flying into tiny pieces, and he followed, pumping her with cum.

“Good girl. You did well, Emma.”

She hesitated. The praise seemed strange, but she smiled. “Thanks. You weren’t so bad yourself.”

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

“You know I did.”

His gaze was hopeful. “There’s more to experience, if you’re willing.”

“Like what?”

“Has anyone ever introduced you to rope play?” Her blank stare was all the answer he needed, and he smiled. “I want to try something new.”

She watched in equal parts trepidation and fascination as he pulled out and retrieved a long section of neon blue rope from a nearby chest. Bringing the rope back to the bed, he set it on the covers and released her wrists from the cuffs. However, instead of allowing her to put her arms down, he crossed her wrists. “Keep them like this.”

“What are you doing?” Her belly fluttered in anxiety.

“Patience. You’ll see.”

His tone seemed to discourage more questions, so she clamped her lips together as he worked. Looping the nylon around her wrists, he bound them together and began to weave the long ends in a crisscross pattern that intersected over her sternum and caused her breasts to jut forth in a way that made her feel sort of uncomfortable — and deliciously slutty.

He continued the pattern over her torso and around the small of her back, and then raised her knees, wrapping the brightly colored rope around her thighs and between her buttocks, parting her ass cheeks. When he tied off the ends, she was left unbelievably exposed, face flaming.

“I d-don’t know if I like this,” she protested weakly.

“Oh, baby, I think you do. And I think you want to find out what’s going to happen next.”

“I… Okay.”

“Good girl. God, you’re a natural.”

A natural at what, she didn’t have the presence of mind to ask. Especially when he retrieved a shiny, oblong silver object shaped like a huge bullet and rubbed it against her vulnerable sex. If the thing was a dildo, it wasn’t like any she’d ever read about or seen in pictures. He thumbed a switch, and the device delivered a tiny pulse, almost like the static shock one would receive after walking across the carpet and touching a metal surface. She gasped and bucked her hips.

“Easy, baby. I know that was a surprise, but did it really hurt?”

“No,” she admitted, nervous.

Thus began a delicious session of torture, her lover rubbing the device all over her vulva and clit. She writhed as it vibrated and sent little shocks rocketing through her belly to her fingers and toes. She moaned, but he was relentless, giving her no reprieve. And she didn’t want any, just wanted him to keep up the strange and wonderful torment.

A ball of energy gathered in her sex, helpless against the onslaught. When he plunged the instrument into her channel and fucked her with it in brisk strokes, making sure it brushed against her sensitive nub, her orgasm exploded, stronger than before.

“Oh, shit! Don’t stop!”

He chuckled, pumping the damned thing until she was limp, muscles twitching from the excess of stimulation.

“Are you all right, sweet Emma?”

“I don’t know. Ask me when my brain isn’t mush.”

“Do you understand what just happened?”

He seemed so serious, it made her nervous again, and she couldn’t help but try and make light of her response to his kink. “I was there, honey. I think I know what an orgasm is.”

“What happened was more than sex.” He paused, staring into her eyes. “Why did you allow me to cuff you, then bind you? To use the electric vibrator on you? The answer is important.”

She frowned, unsure what he was getting at. “What do you mean, why? I guess I was in the mood to be adventurous, that’s all.”

“No, it’s much more than that. I think you’re a submissive, baby.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

Excitement lit his golden eyes as he removed the bindings. “Will you come with me? There’s something I want to show you.”

If only she’d known what would happen. But would it have changed anything?

“We’re here, baby. Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just drifting. I needed to close my eyes.” She hadn’t realized they’d arrived at his house.

After the garage door went up, he drove in and killed the ignition. “Me, too. Shower first? I’ve got to get the stink of that guard’s blood off my skin.”

“Hot shower with an even hotter man? Sounds good.”

That earned her a lazy, sexy smile. Spirits bolstered, she accompanied him inside, through the kitchen and living room, and down the hallway to his bedroom. He tossed his keys and wallet onto the dresser and immediately began shucking his clothes, not the least bit shy about his body. Of course, a Dom wouldn’t be inhibited. That thought, coupled with the sight of taut, tanned skin rippling with muscles, nearly had her panting.

“You joining me?”

“Are you kidding? I’m not letting you hog all the hot water!”

Chuckling, he padded over to the nightstand and fished a condom out of the drawer. “Boy Scout,” he said, leering as she stripped. “Be prepared and all that.”

“Hmm. I thought you said you were tired.” Presenting him with her backside, she wiggled her bottom to tease him.

“Tired, not dead, honey. Big difference.”

In the bathroom, he placed the foil square on the soap dish and turned on the spray, testing it with his hand until he deemed it perfect, and opened the glass stall door. “After you.”

She stepped into the spray with a happy sigh. “Oh God, that feels heavenly.”

“I’ve got something that might feel even better.”

The front of his big wet body pressed against her back, his hard, thick cock riding her ass. His arms went around her, lips nuzzled her face, her neck. She relaxed into him, every bit of the past few days’ worth of tension draining through her feet.

“I was frantic to get to you,” he whispered. “You have no idea how maddening it was not to know what had happened to you, how helpless I felt. I was nearly sick with it, baby.”

“That’s how I felt not knowing for sure if I’d be able to return to you.”

“Are you really all right?” he whispered, squeezing her.

“I am, I promise.”

“Stay like this.”

He broke contact, leaving her for a minute. She heard a squirting sound and heard him quickly wash up. Then his hands returned, soaping her shoulders and back. His palms slowly worked around, kneading muscles she hadn’t even realized were sore, and she groaned in pleasure. He soaped her buttocks and dipped briefly between her legs, the touch far too brief. She widened her stance, but he laughed, the noise a happy rumble in his chest.

“Patience, darlin’.”

Next he lathered her breasts, taking great care with her nipples, which were not the least bit dirty but loving the attention. Then south. Down her tummy, fingers brushing her bush. But they ventured no further, despite her whined protest.

“You’re so mean.”

“I’m taking care of my woman,” he corrected, voice sultry. “Making her want, keeping her on edge like any good Dom would do.”

“Is that so?” she breathed as those marvelous hands skimmed her rear.

“Yes. Brace your palms on the tile and spread your legs.”

She did, eager to find out what he’d do next. He stepped aside and let the spray rinse her free of the soap, used a sponge to get her front. Sweet kisses dotted the curve of her shoulder and neck as his fingers slid between her legs, rubbed her slit. His warm breath fanned against her ear, low and seductive.

“Tell me, beautiful girl. Did your G-man touch your pussy like this?”

“Blaze.” Oh, no. She couldn’t play this game. He was going to burn her alive.

“The truth.” He parted her pussy lips, working a finger into her channel.

“Y-yes, once.”

“How many times did he fuck you, pretty Emma? Just the once?”

“Three,” she admitted. “Please…”

“Please, what?” His finger slipped from her channel, teased her clit in luxurious circles, driving her mad. “Please stop tormenting you? Does it make you uncomfortable to talk about him with me? That’s too bad. You can tell me what I want to know, and you will. How did he fuck you, Emma?”

“F-from behind, bent over a sofa.” She moaned as he increased the friction on her clit. “It was at a sex party Dietz held and he expected me to join in.”

“So your friend helped you through a tough situation. That’s commendable, if a tiny bit self-serving. Did you enjoy being exposed, being fucked in the open?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t lie. “It was wicked, and I liked it.”

“I’ll bet,” he said, amused. “But your liaison didn’t stop there. You wanted him again.”

“I–I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. How did he take you next?”

“In my room, on my back with my legs over his shoulders. He wanted to see his cock working my pussy. Afterward, we slept for a while, and then he woke me up, fucked me while we lay on our sides, spooning. That was the last time, and we said as much.”

“He must’ve been a very good lover.” A dangerous note colored the arousal in his voice.

“He was, but…” When he simply waited, she rushed on. “It was just good. As much as I liked him, something was missing.”

At that he stepped back. The foil packet crinkled and he gently turned her around, backed her into the tiled wall. His golden eyes were feral, his lips curved into a predatory smile, and waves of damp, silky black hair clung to his corded neck.

“I’ll show you what was missing.”

She wasn’t a small woman, and yet he lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather. Cupped his hands under her ass and braced her against the tile, impaled her on his cock. Buried himself to the hilt. She gasped, her whole body ignited with a torch.

“You’re mine, do you understand?” Fingers digging into her soft flesh, he began to thrust. “No more playing with other lovers separately. We play together or not at all. Let me hear you say it!”

“Yes, I’m yours! And you’re mine, too. Oh!” He was fucking her slow and deep, claiming her body. “I don’t want to play without you anymore. I missed you, couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

She clung to his shoulders, and her lids drifted shut, but he was having none of it.

“Look at me and know who’s inside you, baby. Who’s making love to you.”

Had she ever actually stared into a lover’s eyes while he shafted her? No, or she would’ve remembered. Never would’ve forgotten how it felt to be claimed by such a powerful man, his eyes burning like lasers into hers. This feeling of connection, his raw dominance, made her feel desired and safe. Wanton and slutty. All things rolled into one incredible package.

This was what she’d been missing. All she had to do was place her body in his hands, trust him completely, and he’d show her what it was like to belong to a man, body and soul.

She finally believed it and wanted it.

“Make me yours,” she whispered. “Show me everything.”

“Oh, God. Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I want it all, with you.”

Crushing his mouth to hers, he kissed her with all the pent-up passion he possessed, fucked her like a piston. Drove them higher until she felt the quickening, the knot of electricity exploding in a shower of sparks, lighting every cell in her body.

His shout joined her cries as he plunged one last time and held himself inside her, cock twitching, filling her with heat. Once the spasms subsided, he set her back on her feet, pulling out with care, and cupped the side of her face.

“You can trust me, baby. I won’t let you down.”

Looking into his sexy, earnest face, she smiled. “I know. I won’t let you down, either. So, when will you continue teaching me the ropes, sir? I’m ready to really do this.”

His answering smile nearly blinded her with its intensity. “After we get some sleep and I get my ass chewed by Michael? What’s left of me when he’s done is all yours.”

“I can’t remember when I’ve looked forward to anything more.”

“Me, too, darlin’.”

For the first time in seven months, she could breathe again. In her heart, she finally knew she’d made the right decision. As if there was ever one to make. She’d always belonged to Blaze.

And now he was her master.

Eight

The anticipated ass-chewing lasted forty-three minutes. Not that Blaze gave a shit. Not when he was on top of the fucking world.

The woman he loved had truly given herself to him at last. Put her well-being as his partner and sub totally in his hands, without hesitation. Not just I’ll try but I’m ready to really do this.

Those words were like a gift straight from heaven.

“Kelly!” Michael barked. “Are you listening to me, goddammit?”

“Nope. Tuned you out twenty minutes ago.” The news caused his boss to turn an interesting shade of red, and he hoped a stroke wasn’t imminent. “Listen, are you going to fire me or not? ’Cause if you’re not, Emma and I have work to do before we go undercover.”

Ten seconds. Twenty. Blaze really thought he might have to call Dr. McKay to revive his boss, but slowly the man’s anger seemed to dissipate.

“No, I’m not going to fucking fire you this time. Bottom line, you disobey a direct order again, and I won’t have a choice no matter how good you are. I have a great deal of respect for you, and I consider you a friend. I’d hoped you held me in the same regard.”

Okay, the hurt reproach got to him when the yelling hadn’t. Christ. “I’m sorry, Michael. I really am. If it had involved anyone but Emma, I wouldn’t have gone against you.”

“I know, dammit.” The other man sighed. “I understand, and I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same, but that’s not the issue.”

“I know.”

“Jesus, I have a headache. You’ve got three days to get Foster ready for this assignment, and that’s only because I’m sympathetic to what she just went through. I’m not a complete asswipe,” he said, glancing at Emma. “However, the fact is we need to roll before the weapon is transferred overseas and the president has my head on a platter.”

“We’re on it,” Emma assured him.

“Good. Now get the hell out,” he ordered, snatching a bottle of aspirin from the corner of his desk.

Blaze didn’t waste a second following that particular directive, grabbing his woman’s hand and pulling her out the door. As they walked away he saw her glance over her shoulder toward Michael’s office, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you see how he kept rubbing his left arm and his jaw? I don’t think he’s feeling well.”

“I noticed. If you were in his shoes, would you be feeling great? Talk about pressure.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about. The horrible stress he’s under will ruin his health if he’s not careful.”

“Ain’t that the truth. All of this, on top of dealing with Maggie’s death alone for the past few weeks. Maybe I’ll call McKay and put a bug in his ear, have him come by and pester the stubborn asshole to get a checkup.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” she said, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re a genius.”

He puffed up a little at the praise. Couldn’t help it. “I have my moments.”

“So what’s next, O Wise One?”

“Brat.” He nudged her with his elbow, and she giggled. “You got Marty lined up to take your surveillance classes while we’re gone?”

“He’s all set.”

“Okay, good. Let’s stop by your room and pack the stuff you think we’ll need for our gig. Then we’ll go home and play unwrap the sub. And I’m not talkin’ sandwich.”

“And just think — we get to play on company time!”

“Lucky us.” He liked this easygoing, flirtatious side of her. He could get used to it, real fast.

In her room, he helped gather an assortment of clothing while she picked a few wigs and plenty of makeup. Everything went into three plastic totes, lids snapped on and ready to go. He carried two of them, Emma the last one, and they were on their way.

“You’ve got a ton of supplies here.”

“Never know what kind of disguise we’ll need. It’s best to have an assortment of identities that can blend into almost any situation.”

He knew this, but it was cool to see her confident, in her element. It was a far cry from the vulnerable lady who trembled under his touch, and he loved both sides of her.

“What sort of disguise do you envision for our role as master and sub when we infiltrate Dietz’s group of backers?”

She eyed him in speculation. “I’ve been thinking of enhancement rather than full-out change. Like I mentioned before, I’m going to lighten your hair, give it some autumnal tints. Too bad I’ll have to disguise those amazing golden eyes with blue contacts, though. For me, colored contacts, as well, and hair extensions woven in so it appears real and won’t come off if somebody yanks my head.”

“Simple is best, I suppose. Just don’t cut my hair.”

“You’ve mentioned that before. I love it long, but what’s the big deal?” she asked, curious.

“Nothing. I like it shoulder length, that’s all.” A painful memory shoved to the fore, and he beat it down again.

“From your expression, I think there’s more.”

He shrugged. “Maybe another time, okay?”

Thankfully, she dropped the subject, and the trip back to his house progressed with easy conversation. As well as a heightened awareness that they’d soon begin her training in earnest. It meant so much to him that she wasn’t just doing this for the job anymore. She wanted to learn, and he couldn’t wait to get started.

She was his.

After stashing the boxes in his garage, they went inside, and he paused in the kitchen, pulling her into his arms and stealing a kiss. A long, slow one that tightened all the right places. “You taste good. At the risk of sounding horribly cliché, I wanna lick you like a piece of stick candy.”

A hand slid around and squeezed his ass. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Mmm, tempting. Business first, however.” Darn it.

“Party pooper.”

“Will a beer or a glass of wine make it all better?”

“Not all better, but it’s a start. Wine, please — a good red if you have some.”

“You’ve got it.”

Kissing her cheek, he let go and checked the countertop wine rack, pulling out a bottle. “A nice cabernet?” He held up the bottle for her inspection.

“Wonderful. You know just what I need.”

“Exactly what I’m counting on, sweet thing,” he said, giving her a grin, which she returned. They both knew he wasn’t referring to wine. He opened the bottle, poured a glass for her, and fetched a beer from the fridge for himself. “Come sit down and let’s relax while we can.”

God knows they wouldn’t get much downtime in the next few days or weeks. His lifestyle was intense under normal circumstances. Add an undercover op to the mix and you had a recipe for exhaustion, stress, and sensory overload.

Drawing her down onto the sofa next to him, he tucked her into his side, and they sipped their drinks companionably for a few minutes, just enjoying the closeness. He wondered how to best broach the subject most on their minds, but Emma dove in first.

“Have you ever been in a long-term relationship before?” she asked curiously, swirling her wine in the glass.

Some of the tension left him. This was an easy one. “Never have, not that I haven’t wanted one. Who really wants to be alone forever, right? But it’s tough to find the special person to whom you can honestly say, ‘Good Lord, where have you been, you awesome goddess? Stay with me and rock my world, and we’ll make little goddesses someday.’”

She giggled. “You’re so full of crap. I’ll bet you’ve had a posse of women who’ve tried to bag you.”

“You’d be wrong. They always find a fatal flaw and run screaming.”

“I’m sorry I did that to you,” she said, sobering. “I don’t want to be like everyone else.”

“Never believe you are, baby. You’re here and they aren’t.”

“I hurt you.” Her hand stroked his thigh, giving him shivers.

“We both did a bang-up job on each other on that score, so let’s call it even.”

She was silent for a few moments, and he waited, letting her take all the time she needed to form her questions. The last thing he wanted was to start spouting rules right away and scare or alienate her.

“So, how heavy are you into the whips and chains thing? Where do you draw the line?” she asked cautiously. “The truth — not some sugarcoated version you think I want to hear.”

“Of course not.”This was a good start. “My personal taboos are the extreme fetishes — I don’t engage in blood or knife play, golden showers, scat, or bestiality. I’m sure you already knew I wouldn’t participate in any of those scenes, but I like to be perfectly clear. No fake death scenes, either, like asphyxiation. None of those are sexy, and some are downright dangerous.”

Her jaw fell open. “People really do those things? I don’t tend to think of myself as overly naïve, but sheesh!”

“Many Doms and subs are into the extreme stuff. It’s not urban legend. There are entire communities built around just about any flavor you want. Me, I was never into being frightened or humiliated.” God knows he’d gotten enough of both growing up, despite his uncle’s efforts to intervene.

“But how did you avoid placing yourself in harm’s way? You told me you started out as a sub, so you didn’t have any say in what was done to you, right?” Her tone was horrified at the prospect.

“That’s a common misconception.” Scooting around to face her, he placed a hand over hers in reassurance. “Everyone has to know their own boundaries, what they’re willing to explore in BDSM, or at least be willing to find out. From there, a sub is introduced to a master who’s believed to be compatible with those boundaries or interests. If they like each other, a contract is drawn up that stipulates exactly what will and will not happen between them. I never take on a sub without a contract in hand.”

“But you started teaching me before I was kidnapped by Dietz.”

“True, but you hadn’t yet fully committed. I was giving you a taste of what being my sub would be like. The contract is the next step.”

She nodded. “That makes sense. The contract… does it provide for one encounter at a time, or is it open-ended?”

“Mine are open-ended. If I play with a sub again, we revisit the terms briefly to see if the sub’s needs have changed.”

Her expression began to brighten as her concerns gradually disappeared. “So it’s not just a wild free-for-all, masters grabbing the poor subs randomly and having their way with them?”

He laughed at the image. “That’s probably what most people think, isn’t it? No, the reality is much more civilized. The down and dirty comes later, in a safe, controlled environment designed to promote everyone’s mutual pleasure.”

“Just because both parties sign a contract doesn’t mean a master won’t get carried away, though,” she speculated.

“I assure you, misconduct on a master’s part is practically unheard of. I’m not saying it’s never occurred, but this is a small community that takes pride in playing safe. Masters come in very distinguishable personality types and kinks, and it’s our responsibility to know our own limits as well as the limits of our subs. We read facial expressions and body language. We use safe words and we know the difference between pushing subs past what they believe they can take and when they’re truly afraid and need to stop a scene.”

“What type of personality are you as a master? I’m not sure I get that.”

“There are several indentified types of masters. I’m what’s called a responsive master. I care about my subs and prefer to have a real connection with them. I like to nurture them, bring them to an emotional and sexual catharsis, and comfort them when we’re done with a scene. I use a firm hand, mixing a bit of pain with the pleasure, but without cruelty. Does this sound acceptable?”

The sudden pucker of her nipples against her blouse, not to mention the dilating of her pupils and quickening of breath, gave him the answer he wanted. It was still gratifying, though, to hear the words.

“It sounds exciting, and much different from the stereotype I was carrying in my head.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m still nervous, but a normal kind. I wish I’d sat down and had this talk with you before. If I had—”

“Uh-uh.” He silenced her with a brush of his lips on hers. “We’re talking now — that’s all that really matters. What’s left is to decide how we play. What turns you on, baby? What do you want from this?”

She chewed her lip, considering. “I’m tired of living in my rigid, black-and-white world. I want you to show me colors I’ve never seen before. I want to feel beautiful and desired. And I want to trust a lover completely for the first time in my life.”

“I can do all those things for you, sweetheart,” he said softly, skimming one cheek with his fingers. “The trust has to come from you, but I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. It’s me letting you down that I’m worried about. I’m not sure what I want sexually or how far I can go. I’m a little nervous, and that in itself is uncharted territory for me.”

That was quite an admission, coming from the most self-assured woman he knew. “It’s not a problem — part of my job is to help you discover yourself.” He set his beer on the coffee table. “Why don’t I grab a copy of my standard contract and let you read it? Then we can discuss any changes you’d like to make, come to an agreement, and sign if you’re ready.”

“Sounds good.”

Nodding, he rose to go fetch the document, barely able to contain his excitement — though somehow he managed.

It wouldn’t do for his new sub to see her big, tough Dom reduced to a puddle of mush.

Emma’s hands shook as she read the contract, the implications of which were both overwhelming and terribly arousing.

From the moment she entered a scene with Blaze, she’d be under his control in every sense of the word. Sure, concessions were made for her safety, as he’d said, but the reality was that she belonged to him. He was her master and as such would enforce a strict code of conduct in public, with consequences for breaking them.

“Flogging?” she croaked, attention riveted to the “punishment” section of the document. “Time and place to be determined by the master?”

“Yes. Though we can amend it to read that all punishments for breaking a rule will be rendered in private.”

“I’d prefer that, yes.” She frowned. “Wait a sec — I thought you said I could use a safe word!”

“Except during punishment,” he said gently. “Consequences are doled out for a reason and are not fun for the sub.”

“But that’s not fair!”

His reply was patient. “It’s not fair to be punished when you break a rule you agreed in writing not to violate? Present a good argument, and I’ll strike the whole section.”

She swallowed hard, mind scrambling. After a few moments of struggling to come up with a valid reason, her protest deflated. “I can’t, and you know it.”

“I’d never truly hurt you, Emma. That’s part of the trust you want to develop with me.”

“I know. This is all going to take quite a bit of adjustment for me.”

“Anything worthwhile isn’t all roses and sunshine.”

She glanced up, and an encouraging smile took the harshness from his words. “True.” Straightening, she laid the papers on the coffee table, took the pen, and heaved a deep breath. “Well, this all seems to be pretty straightforward. Don’t make me sorry.”

“Don’t make me sorry, sir.”

“Don’t push it, buddy. I haven’t signed yet, and even if I had, we’re not in a scene.”

“You’re a fast learner. Excellent.” His impish grin kick-started her pulse.

“Humph.” She shot him a disdainful look simply to remind him she was no pushover, which only made him laugh. Annoying, sexy man.

“Speaking of the safe word, you need to choose one. Something you wouldn’t be likely to say in ordinary circumstances that I couldn’t possibly mistake for anything but ‘stop the scene.’”

She thought a moment. “How about… peppermint?”

“That’ll work. Fill it in the blank on page one, amend the punishment to be rendered in private, then sign if you agree to all the terms.”

Once the deed was done, she presented the papers with a flourish. He took them, a glint of heat in his golden eyes.

“I’ll put these away and then give you a tour of the playroom.”

“Okay.”

Recalling her last foray to the basement, and how badly his revelation had gone over, she couldn’t help but feel a little sad. But they were moving on now. Right?

Blaze returned and took her hand, leading her down the stairs and flipping on a dim light as he went. The cavernous space was just as she remembered it — well, what little she’d seen before they’d had it out and she’d fled like a rabbit being chased by a pack of hungry hounds.

Leather harnesses, whips, clamps, handcuffs, and a wide assortment of glittery, eye-popping gear were neatly arranged on black-painted walls for maximum effect. Designed, she suspected, to immediately put a sub into the proper headspace.

Nothing could possibly say “this is my domain and I’m the master here” more than this room.

“Come here.”

Her gaze snapped to his at the tone she’d never heard him use before, meeting an expression on his handsome face she’d never seen, and the change was mesmerizing. She was about to be treated to this man in all his powerful Dom glory, and suddenly her entire body was spring-loaded. A live wire ready to be tripped and sizzled.

With a start, she realized she’d hesitated, and she quickly obeyed, walking over to stand in front of him. The musky, manly aroma of him teased her senses, and the sight of him in his tight faded jeans and blue T-shirt, dark hair brushing his broad shoulders, made her pussy tingle.

“Undress,” he said.

“Completely?”

A raised brow was her only answer. Okay, stupid question.

She stripped and stood before him, refusing to look away, though it wasn’t easy. They’d been lovers before, but this was a level of sensuality she’d never experienced.

For the very first time, she understood that the word naked meant far more than simply wearing no clothing.

Reaching out, he touched her cheek and sent her a half smile, telegraphing warmth and reassurance. “I’m going to start you out with something easy,” he said in a low, soothing voice. “Raise your arms over your head and cross your wrists. Reach as high as you can.”

Face flushed, she did as she was told, wondering what was so easy about feeling exposed and vulnerable. Stretching, she was surprised to touch something dangling above her head. Her heart galloped as he reached to her wrists and she realized what he planned to do. A protest formed on her lips but didn’t find a voice.

Working swiftly, he bound her wrists with what felt like strips of leather. As he stepped aside to survey his handiwork, she tilted her head back to do the same and gasped at the sight, not to mention the idea of the picture she must make in his eyes.

The leather was secured around her crossed wrists and tied to a silver horizontal bar suspended from the ceiling by chains. The setup wasn’t complicated yet was no less impressive, filling her with fear and anticipation.

He moved away for a few seconds, then returned to kneel by her feet. “Spread your legs, feet a bit wider than your shoulders. Easy, baby.”

A metal circle clamped around each ankle, and her attempt to sound demanding came out a pathetic squeak. “What are you doing?”

“This is called a spreader bar, and its job is to restrict your movement. It won’t hurt you. Nothing I do will cause you anything but the good kind of pain. Deep breaths and relax. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

“Wait! Don’t leave me here,” she begged, hating that she sounded like such a wuss.

“I’m not really leaving you, so stay calm. Five minutes, no more.”

She could do nothing but listen to his footsteps ascend the stairs and disappear. Had he done this on purpose as part of the trust building? The man never did anything by chance, so she figured he had. Leaving her trussed like a Christmas goose was all part of his grand plan, and the only thing missing was the stuffing.

Oh, God. Now, there was a double entendre that made her wet as hell and caused her nipples to pucker to the consistency of armor-piercing bullets.

“Dammit,” she muttered, trying to wiggle. It was no use — she was going nowhere until he chose to release her, and maybe not even then.

To her staggering relief, his footsteps returned. When he circled to stand in front of her, her mouth dropped open, and lust shot to every nerve ending.

The man was a black-clad dream, hips and long legs encased in soft, supple leather down to his boots. Instead of a shirt he wore some sort of crisscrossed leather harness decorated with silver studs, emphasizing his muscles and making him look like some modern-day Pancho Villa gone kinky, the only items missing, a pair of pistols and the sombrero.

“Holy freaking shit,” she whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

“Me? Thanks, but that honor goes to you, my girl.” Turning, he picked up a scrap of red cloth from a nearby table and proceeded with her lesson. “One of the most effective teaching tools of my trade is sense deprivation. Take away one or more of the senses, and the others will heighten, sometimes to the extreme, depending on the action taking place. Have you ever been blindfolded before?”

“Just as a kid when we played children’s games, like Pin the Tail on the Donkey and hitting a piñata full of candy.” A shaky giggle escaped. “I don’t think that counts.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that exactly,” he said, moving to stand behind her. “When a person can’t see, there’s a certain level of trust involved. When you played those childhood games, you trusted your friends not to let you run into something and trip, fall, and hurt yourself. As an adult who is also bound for my pleasure, the stakes are considerably higher. Scarier. You can’t run or hide, and your friends aren’t here to help you.”

The cloth covered her eyes with a whisper of silk and was tied behind her head. Rough palms skimmed down her raised arms, slowly, and she could swear she felt every ridge in the pads of his fingers, each callus. Then her breasts were cradled in those gentle hands, thumbs teasing her nipples, making her gasp. His touch moved to her hips and buttocks, and she practically held her breath, waiting for a hand to slide between her legs. When he moved away, she whimpered, tried to arch back, but was held fast.

In moments, she heard him return, but he didn’t speak, didn’t give any indication of what he planned to do. The fear crept in again, mingled with a rush of expectation, of desire. He’d said he wouldn’t hurt her, and she believed him, but not knowing what would happen — that one grain of uncertainty — tweaked the dark, illicit corner of her mind she hadn’t known existed.

A tickle on her breasts caused her to jump and pull on the restraints, to no avail. Lightly, like a dozen spidery fingers, sensual little wisps kissed her skin over and over. Her nipples and stomach. Between her spread thighs, a ghost of touch tormented her clit, making the nub throb for even more attention.

“Blaze — I mean, sir! Please…”

“I’ll let you slip this once, sweet baby. Remember the rules, or I’ll have to punish you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me what you want.”

That was easy. “I want you to touch me, and fuck me hard,” she breathed.

“Now tell me what you need.”

“I…” Was that a trick question? “What do you mean?”

“What a sub wants and needs are often two very different things. Do you really want to give in to the desire so quickly, see it flame bright and then burn out?” His tongue traced the shell of her ear, lips nibbling as if on a tasty delicacy. “Or would you rather I draw out the pleasure as you hang there, knowing you can do nothing but ride the wave until you scream with the force of your orgasm?”

“Oh, God! What are you doing to me?”

“Just what you want me to do, baby, nothing more and nothing less,” he whispered. “What you’ve been missing your whole life. Now tell me what you need.”

Taking a deep breath, she let go. “I need to lose my inhibitions. Forget everything. Forget my own name.”

“That’s my girl. Don’t think, just float.” As he rummaged for something he kept talking. “Imagine your inhibitions are tied to your body with a few dozen strings, holding you back from what you need. Got the picture in your head?”

She imagined it: strings wrapped around her body like a cocoon. Smothering. Stifling. “Yes.”

“Now picture them being snipped one by one, drifting away on a sea of pleasure, helpless to keep you bound any longer.”

The idea was ironic considering that she was literally restrained, but somehow it worked. She understood exactly what he meant and cleared her mind of everything except being freed from the prison string by string, flying off into space.

The feathery instrument of torture vanished, and clever fingers plucked her nipples, keeping them at attention. Suddenly, one nipple was seized with something small, and she let out a cry, arching into the slight pain.

“Wh-what are you doing? What is that?”

“I’m giving you what you need,” he said, his tone firm but patient. “Trust me to take you there.”

“It hurts,” she whispered. Little needles were biting into the vulnerable flesh, making her squirm in a futile bid to get away. “I don’t know if I like it.”

“That’s a normal reaction, baby. Take a deep breath for me and let it out slowly.”

Breath hitching, she did as he asked. As she exhaled, a rough palm skimmed her side, soothing.

“Good girl. The pain should be easing some. Push your mind past that, and tell me how it feels now.”

“It’s better. Feels… tingly. Sensitive.”

“And this?” He flicked the tormented nipple with a finger, rubbed it back and forth.

She gasped, unable to believe the electric sensations shooting through her body. It was as if the nerve endings there were directly connected to her clit, causing both points to throb in tandem.

Needing.

“It’s good,” she said hoarsely. “I don’t understand…” She couldn’t articulate what she meant, but he seemed to know.

“You don’t understand why it’s good?”

“Yes.”

“Pain is followed by a nice rush of endorphins.” His laugh was soft and seductive as he teased and lightly pinched the second nipple. “In short, your body is attempting to make itself happy again, and it’s working. You’re even more receptive than I’d hoped.”

“But I don’t—”

The remaining nipple was gripped in an identical set of small teeth, and she couldn’t help the wave of fear that washed over her, eclipsing the pleasure. “Stop!”

“I can’t do that.”

“I don’t like it!”

“You will.”

He seemed so arrogant, so confident. Anger joined the jumble of confusing feelings, making her want to do what came naturally — push back. “Let me go!”

“No.”

“I mean it, Blaze,” she growled. “Let me go, now!”

“No. Use your safe word, and it ends. We quit. Is that what you want? What you need?”

“I…” She grappled with the word. Peppermint. Just say it, and this ends. The scariness of the unknown, the fear that you’ll fail.

But the pleasure ends, too. I’ll let us both down.

“Emma? Do you want to use your safe word?”

“N-no,” she admitted quietly. The anger drained, and her body went lax in the restraints, stopped fighting.

“All right.” He kissed her temple. “We’ll continue. And when I’m finished with this scene, I’ll have to punish you. Do you know why?”

Her heart stuttered, and her mind scrambled to think what she’d done wrong. “Oh. I called you by name instead of ‘sir.’ I’m sorry — it won’t happen again.”

“Apology accepted, but it won’t get you out of taking your consequences.” His voice held a trace of humor. “I’m not easily manipulated.”

“I wasn’t trying to do that, sir!” She wasn’t. Was she?

“Perhaps not, but the lesson must be taught, or I’ll fail you. And failing you isn’t an option. Now take another deep breath, and exhale slowly.” He waited while she complied. “That’s it, relax. You really are doing well for your first time. Just feel.”

The praise warmed her, and she settled down with renewed confidence. A tinkle of something small and metal reached her ears, and she felt a tug on each nipple, right before the object was released. It was a chain, she realized, with some sort of weight dangling in the middle, which tugged the hardened points without mercy.

Moaning, she wriggled against the delicious assault, but it was no use.

“Beautiful. And think how much more so when we get them pierced.”

“Oh, God.” She knew better than to think he was kidding. He owned her body now, and unless she exercised her one out, he’d do whatever he wished with it. Few acts were as intimate as marking another person’s flesh, and he’d no doubt planned this as a challenge.

By submitting to him in this, in so many new things, perhaps they both won. The epiphany was astounding, but she didn’t have time to mull it over.

His fingers brushed between her thighs, rubbed her slit. “So pretty. You’re wet and ready for more, aren’t you?”

She was beginning to recognize his tones, and knew he required an answer. “Yes, sir.”

As she struggled to get used to the wonderful, strange sensations, her master moved behind her, murmuring words of soft encouragement. His hand smoothed over her rear and her ass cheeks were parted. Cool liquid dribbled on her hole. So exposed, letting him toy with a place she’d never allowed anyone to see before, and yet she wasn’t afraid anymore. She floated, knowing that all she had to do was utter her safe word and he’d stop.

She didn’t want him to stop, and he’d known that all along.

A broad finger slowly pushed into the tiny entrance, allowing no resistance. Stretching, preparing. The burn was a completely new feeling, uncomfortable but not unbearable. He seemed to know when she’d gotten used to it and added another finger, pumping her ass, gradually morphing the weirdness to oh shit and fuck yeah give me more.

She might’ve moaned those sentiments aloud but wasn’t sure of anything except his fingers disappearing and her whimper of protest. Then something round and hard replaced his fingers. Began to push inside. A dildo? If so, it was a damned big one roughly the size of a baseball bat.

“Oh, God!” she yelled as the monster pushed inside.

Showing no mercy, he held her flank to steady her while he worked the rod in and out of her ass faster and harder until she was mindless. Her entire being consisted of nothing except her ass, clit, and nipples. She was owned, yet freed.

“Oh, yes, yes!”

“Come for me, baby,” he growled.

Her orgasm exploded, shattering her into a million pieces and bringing her back together again, leaving her more whole than she’d ever been. Her body twitched in the aftermath, coming down in increments, leveling off into a state of euphoric bliss.

The object was removed from her rear, and immediately the bulbous head of his cock parted her slick labia. Pushed inside, inch by inch, until he seated himself fully with a tortured groan.

“What you do to me… You’re mine now.”

“Ooh, yes. I’m yours. Love you inside me.”

He began to thrust, big palms gripping her hips, spearing her deep. A second orgasm built with surprising speed, rising as he pounded himself into her channel. Took her by storm, propelling them higher and higher. Over the edge.

“Fuck, yes!” With a shout, he stiffened and emptied himself into her, filling her with heat. She joined him, vibrating until she hung limp, thoroughly exhausted.

Through the haze, she was vaguely aware of her ankles being released, then her wrists, and the blindfold was gone as well. She melted into her master, was boneless when he lifted her into his arms and issued a quiet, loving command.

“Sleep, my sweetheart. There will be plenty of time for punishment later.”

Helpless to do anything else, she fell headlong into the void.

Nine

Blaze hid a smile as he grasped Emma’s arm, escorting her into his local haunt. The same one in which she’d witnessed his scene with Ryan and Caitlin several months earlier, and fled. His friends who weren’t into the D/s scene and didn’t get it would likely say that he was cruel to bring her here for her debut in the lifestyle, but they’d be absolutely wrong.

The only way to get past what had happened was to meet it head-on and move forward. He refused to spend the next few years tiptoeing around the evidence of his life pre-Emma, shielding her from upset. And he knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t appreciate being coddled.

No, they’d lance this festering wound once and for all. Then she’d be free to embrace everything he had to teach her.

He had a specific plan, too. One that would show her how a D/s master worked without plunging her into too heavy a scene for her first public outing.

“You okay?” he asked, tugging her to a stop just outside the entrance. “You’re not too sore?” Just because he’d stood by his rules and administered a paddling as her punishment didn’t mean he had to be a bastard about it. He’d warmed her ass, and she’d gotten the point. And he’d immediately stopped when her bottom lip had quivered and real tears had formed in her big blue eyes.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Other than my pride. Believe me, I’m going to be a perfect little sub from now on.”

Somehow, he doubted that. Emma had much too strong a personality not to get into trouble occasionally, and the thought made him grin. “We’ll see about that. Ready for tonight?”

“I think so.” She smiled gamely. “Yes, I’m ready. But I still wish you’d tell me what’s going to be required of me.”

“I’m about to. Trust me.” He’d keep saying it until she did.

“I do. I’m just nervous.”

Gently, he kissed her. “I know. But you look hotter than a five-alarm blaze, and you’re with me. Hold your head up and don’t worry about a thing.”

And holy crap, was she smokin’. To match his usual black leathers, she wore a very short leather skirt and midriff-baring leather bra studded with silver rivets. Her high-heeled boots reached the tops of her pretty knees. Combine the picture with her short, platinum blond hair teased and spiked into a fun, funky style, and she was every master’s wet dream. The woman was so striking, her presence so commanding, she could easily pass for a Domme.

She nodded. “Okay. I’m really ready now.”

“That’s my girl. I’ve got you.”

Taking her hand, he led her into the dim interior, where they were immediately engulfed by sexy, gyrating bodies and rock music with a throbbing bass and heavy beat. The atmosphere was loose, dangerous, and rife with lust.

He loved every bit of it.

In a dark corner, where most of the room was visible, but was private enough, he gestured to his favorite table, which he’d reserved for tonight. “After you, baby.” She shot him a questioning glance. “We’re a team. You sit with me, at my side, not at my feet like a dog. No fear or humiliation, remember?”

His reward was a bright smile as she took her seat, and it made his heart stutter. He’d do about anything to keep it there.

“What would you like to drink?”

“You’re not going to order for me?” She seemed surprised.

“Some masters get into controlling every aspect of their subs’ lives, right down to what they eat and drink, what they wear, and where they’re allowed to go. But that’s not me. If I ask you what you’d like, simply tell me.”

“Okay, um… may I have a glass of cabernet?”

“You bet.” He signaled a female server, who hurried over. “A glass of cabernet for my lady, Jack and cola for me.”

“I’ll have those right out, sir.”

After the girl disappeared, he studied Emma, who watched the crowd, wary. He tried to see the place through her eyes — the eyes of a baby sub he’d been so many years ago. Yeah, the scene was usually intimidating to the new ones, as it should be. For all his assurances to her that most of the players were responsible and safe, jerks and users were present in all aspects of life. An untrained sub not well versed in the dangers of hooking up with the wrong master could find himself or herself in a shitload of trouble.

“It’s different looking at this place through the lens of a new sub rather than an outsider, isn’t it?”

Her fingers clutched his thigh under the table. “Very much. I feel like a bug under a microscope. Conspicuous.”

“You will at first, but I promise I’ll help you get past it. Tonight we’re going to further your training — no unreasonable expectations.”

“We’re not doing a scene?” She sounded disappointed, and frowned.

“We are, but I have something a little different planned. You’ll see.”

Before she could ask more questions, the server returned with their drinks. They’d barely taken a sip when Ryan stopped at their table, Caitlin in tow. He glanced at Emma to see that she’d stiffened. Her stony expression was centered on Caitlin.

Can anyone say “awkward”?

“Hey, buddy.” Closing his fist, the other man held up his hand, and they bumped knuckles in greeting. “Haven’t seen you around much lately. And where have you been hiding this spectacular — wait. She looks familiar. Have you brought her here before?”

“She is sitting right here, and the answer is no. He’s never technically brought me.”

Blaze shot her a warning glance, and she returned a mutinous one, proving he was right. His headstrong sub was already making waves. Smiling at a scowling Ryan, he worked to defuse the situation. “Please pardon my new sub. This is Emma, and she’s in training. You met her several months ago, when she burst in on our scene and gave me hell.”

At that, Ryan forgot his annoyance over her blunder. “Oh, man, this is her? A live one, eh? Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said smoothly, then gave Emma a pointed look. “You will apologize to Master Ryan for speaking when you weren’t directly addressed.”

Her face flamed scarlet, blue eyes flashing with a combination of embarrassment and anger. “I–I’m very sorry, Master Ryan. Please accept my apologies.”

“I’ll let it slide this time, sub. Blaze, good luck with this one! You want any help with her training, let me know.”

“I will, thanks.” He’d thought about it. Maybe one day soon he’d invite the younger master in for a scene.

Ryan took his leave. To her credit, she remained silent until Blaze addressed her. “Do you understand the transgression you just made?”

She stared at her lap. “I spoke out of turn to a master, and used a disrespectful tone.”

“Yes. That’s a violation of a very basic rule and will require punishment,” he said softly. “I’ll think on it and let you know later what it will be.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, voice barely audible.

Placing a finger under her chin, he forced her to look at him. “You’re in training, and you’re going to screw up at first. All you can do is take your licks and move on.”

“I know. It’s just not easy setting aside the stronger aspects of my personality with anyone besides you. I mean, in ‘normal’ society, what he just did, speaking around me, about me, and ignoring my presence like that is considered rude. And besides that, part of my brain went this jerk isn’t my master, Blaze is, and I don’t have to listen to him.”

“I know where you’re coming from, but this is a whole different ball game with a different protocol. Would you go to a stranger’s house for dinner and tell the host you hated the meal and the company sucked?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well, it’s the same tact applied here. The masters are the hosts, of sorts, and you don’t diss them. Anyway, let’s forget about it for a while. Dance?”

“I’d love to,” she said, appearing relieved to drop it for the time being.

He led her onto the floor, and they moved to the grinding, sensual music, pressed so close he knew she felt the heat of his hard cock branding her bare belly. Holding her firmly around the waist, he made sure every master in the vicinity knew to whom she belonged and that cutting in wasn’t an option. So what if he engaged in a bit of primitive breast-beating? She was his.

After a few songs, he escorted her back to their table, both of them laughing and high on being together. They’d just received another round of drinks when a familiar voice joined the fun.

“You called on me for tonight, sir? I’m here for your pleasure,” the low voice whispered.

Emma’s eyes widened. Blaze stood, turned, and found himself with an armful of Shawn Dempsey. A sexy, slinky Shawn, with his dark auburn hair framing his pretty face and tumbling to his shoulders in a fall of fiery silk. Black leather pants hugged his long legs and cupped his sex invitingly, and his nipple rings were visible through the blue mesh T-shirt hugging a nicely muscled chest and flat torso. A shirt that perfectly matched cerulean blue eyes that were sparkling with mischief. And a dose of lust directed at both him and Emma.

“Is this your new sub, sir? She’s gorgeous… almost as gorgeous as you.”

Those stunning eyes held his in bold challenge rather than being respectfully lowered, as was required of a sub. Damn the little shit for knowing exactly how he affected Blaze, made him nearly insane with desire. Always did when Blaze chose to top him. Shawn was a handful, but that’s precisely why he’d chosen this particular sub for tonight’s demonstration. Emma wouldn’t get nearly as much from observing a wimpy, compliant sub. Indeed, Shawn reminded Blaze a lot of Emma in his attitude and independence, which made him perfect.

His gaze dropped to Shawn’s sensual lips… and his eyes narrowed, anger surging through him. “Who hit you?”

The boy glanced away. “I said something another master didn’t like.”

He sensed Shawn was telling the truth but that there was much more to the story behind the split and healing lower lip. A fading bruise was visible on his cheek as well, and Blaze wanted to find the bastard responsible and beat him unconscious. Shawn needed a permanent master, a protector. Blaze made a mental note to take care of it as well as the fucker who’d hurt him.

Seized by the need to replace the boy’s bad hurts with pleasurable ones, Blaze wrapped one arm around Shawn’s waist and pulled him close, ground his erection against the boy’s hard length. Ran a palm down the sub’s face to his throat and squeezed with enough pressure to make his eyes widen with a shiver of anticipation. Perhaps a dash of fear.

“Are you in the mood to play? To show my new sub how it’s done?”

“Yes, please, sir,” he answered breathlessly.

And then Shawn did something important — something Blaze wanted Emma to see from the passionate young man. He lowered his eyes and tilted his head down in an unconscious gesture of total submission.

That one simple acquiescence, done without pretense, shot straight to his cock, set his blood afire. “Both of you come with me.”

He downed the rest of his Jack and cola and headed for one of the club’s private playrooms he’d reserved for tonight. Where he’d bury himself balls deep in this pretty sub, and Emma would watch and be helplessly aroused. He groaned at the picture that the expectation prompted in his imagination and hurried his pace, confident that the pair was right on his heels. He wasn’t mistaken.

Sliding his card key in the lock, he pushed opened the door and slammed it behind them. “Strip to the skin,” he ordered, gesturing to them both, glad his voice didn’t crack.

The younger man did as he was told and in short order stood naked and awaiting his orders. His body was lean, his skin golden in tone, gleaming and gorgeous. His erection jutted proudly, flushed and weeping. Needy.

Turning to Emma, Blaze noted her vulnerable gaze, her expression filled with amazement and desire. “You’re going to sit in that chair in the corner and observe,” he directed. “You’re going to watch your master at work because it’s important that you see a scene done properly. As punishment for your earlier lapse with Master Ryan, you’re not allowed to touch yourself, no matter how badly you wish to. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” She did as she was told.

“Go stand between the posts,” he said to Shawn. He appreciated that he didn’t have to explain or soothe frayed nerves, that this sub knew precisely what to expect. That the younger man had just enough experience under his belt to enjoy what was about to happen, yet held a healthy respect for his master’s hand. The fear of the unknown that titillated, stoked the fires.

Without hesitation, Shawn went to stand between the posts in the center of the room, spread his legs wide, and raised his arms. Blaze fastened his wrists and ankles in the soft, padded cuffs and ran his fingers down the sub’s spine, loving how the boy shuddered under his touch.

“Lovely. But you’ll look even more stunning by the time I’m done with you.”

Striding to the supply table, he searched the items laid out on top and found the one he sought. He took the strip of leather and returned to his captive. Bending, he wrapped the leather around Shawn’s shaft and behind his balls, tightly enough to restrict him from coming but not enough to harm him. A soft gasp came from Emma’s corner, but he didn’t acknowledge it.

“You look so pretty with your cock and balls presented to me this way,” he murmured. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” Shawn answered hoarsely.

Next, he shed his own clothes, placing them in a chair, then fetched a bottle of oil and a medium-sized butt plug. Not as large as himself, but one that would prepare the boy sufficiently. After coating his fingers, he laid the oil aside and went to stand behind the quivering sub. Parting Shawn’s ass cheeks, he found the tiny hole and worked his fingers inside, encouraged by the boy’s moan of pleasure.

“That’s it — relax for me. Easy.”

After stretching him a bit, Blaze removed his fingers, placed the tip of the plug against the hole, and began to push, knowing that very soon it would be his cock sinking into the glistening flesh, splitting it wide. Patience. Draw out the pleasure until he begs, until he screams.

With the plug seated deep, he selected a flogger from its place on the wall, one with a smart leather tip. He held it up for Emma’s inspection. “See this? Wielded properly, it will mark this sub’s back with appealing lines, yet leave no permanent damage. Shawn enjoys a thorough flogging and could come from this alone if I allowed him to, which I won’t. The leather strap around his cock and balls will prevent ejaculation until I remove it and give him permission. Questions?”

“Have you ever come just from administering the flogging?”

“When I was younger and had less control, yes. Anything else?”

Mute, she shook her head.

“All right. Shawn, your safe word?” He had it memorized, so the reminder was more for Shawn’s and Emma’s benefit than his own.

“You know it, sir.”

With that, he snapped the flogger across the young man’s ass, causing him to jerk and cry out. “Too impertinent for your own good. Your safe word, boy.”

“Vanilla, sir!”

Shawn’s choice of a safe word made him smile every time. The kid was anything but vanilla, which made it a perfect choice. “Good. Now I’m going to mark that smooth backside, get you into the proper headspace.”

He ran the tip of the flogger down Shawn’s spine as his signal that he was ready to begin. Stepping back, he raised his arm and delivered the first blow, raising a red welt from the younger man’s right shoulder to his left side. Shawn jumped and gasped, pushing his ass back in clear invitation, already losing himself. Blaze laid another stripe, the line running parallel to the first.

“Ooh, sir… more, please…”

Lips curving into a smile, Blaze increased the strength of the blows, giving them more bite. The boy was lost to ecstasy, back arched, little whimpers escaping his throat. Blaze worked efficiently, painting a crisscross pattern of lines over the supple skin, pleased with his efforts.

“You respond so beautifully. Look at you, completely in your zone, ready for me. Tell me what you want.”

“Please, Master,” he moaned. “Fuck me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’ve been good, and I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.”

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Please!” He writhed in his restraints.

“You want to be fucked, but what do you need?”

“Nothing except to please you.”

“Good answer.” On another night he might’ve drawn out the boy’s torment, possibly whipped him until he safe-worded or used some of his more wicked toys on the sub. But as much as Shawn would love it, he didn’t want to frighten Emma with too rough a display. Besides, he was so hot, so close to exploding before he even got inside that tight ass.

Quickly he sheathed himself and coated his cock with some of the oil. Then he eased the plug out and placed the head at Shawn’s entrance. He pushed forward, entranced as always by the sight of a sexy slave’s little hole being breached by the broad head. Yielding to his cock as his length slowly split and impaled the delectable flesh quivering underneath him.

God, yes, he’d been born for this. To be a master. To give and receive pleasure. Immersed in a world with strict rules where the masters ruled and the subs knew how to serve them, and were made safe in that knowledge, in their masters’ care.

The sensation of Shawn’s channel gripping his dick was electric. “Ahh, yes. You’re so tight, so good.”

He stroked faster, losing himself in the rhythm of fucking the boy harder and harder, in the slap of flesh. Wicked. His balls drew up, signaling his impending orgasm. He reached around the sub and ripped the strip of leather from his cock. “Come for me.”

Blaze wrapped his fingers around the sub’s cock and stroked in time to his thrusts. In seconds, the younger man stiffened. Heat flooded over Blaze’s hand as the boy cried out, which was all it took to send Blaze over the edge.

“Fuck, yes!” He buried himself deep and pumped his load into the sub’s ass, spasmed until they were both melted and limp.

After a moment, he eased from Shawn and disposed of the condom. Shawn, he noted, hung in his restraints, exhausted and apparently sated. Blaze pulled on his own clothing before releasing his wrists and ankles.

When Shawn was free, Blaze turned him around and brushed a kiss over his lips, careful of the wound. “Well done.”

“Thank you, sir,” the boy said breathlessly, profuse in his gratitude. “That was incredible, as always.”

“Before you leave, you will tell me who hit you.” His tone brooked no argument.

The boy touched his split lip and his gaze saddened, dropped to the floor. “M-master Vincent. Forgive me for saying so, but he’s a m-mean sack of shit, sir.”

He tilted the boy’s face up. “The bastard won’t bother you in the future — you have my word.” Before he and Emma left, he’d speak with the manager, who was also a good friend. Vincent wouldn’t darken the doors at this club again.

“Okay.” Relief flooded his sweet face. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome. You may get dressed and go when you’re ready.”

Shawn pulled on his clothing quickly. Giving Blaze one last grin and a wave, he slipped out the door. It shut and automatically locked behind him, leaving Blaze alone with a silent, watchful sub. He approached her, taking in how she was perched on the edge of the wooden chair, hands folded in her lap. Her regard was warm with some emotion he couldn’t name.

“What are you thinking?”

She tilted her head as though studying something interesting. “You beat that boy and he liked it.”

“‘Beat’ is a strong word. What I administered was a light flogging or whipping. By tomorrow the red will fade, and you wouldn’t even be able to tell we had a session.”

“You dominated him, and yet you were… gentle with him. Caring.” The wonder in her voice made him smile.

“I told you I care for my subs. I like them as people, and Shawn is a fantastic person who deserves a good master and lover who’ll take him on permanently.”

“You have great chemistry together, and he’s beautiful,” she said. “Why haven’t you snatched him up?”

“I might have, except my heart was already spoken for,” he said softly.

Her blue eyes filled with sudden tears. “Oh, Blaze. I lo—”

“No. Not here, like this. And not until you’re absolutely sure.”

Nodding, she looked away, and he ignored the pang in his heart that she’d been about to give voice to words she wasn’t certain she really meant. Almost as though they were expected in return for what he’d said.

“Stand up and spread your feet apart,” he ordered. When hurt or confused, he reverted to his best defense — being a Dom. When she stood in front of him, he knelt before her and ran his palms down her thighs. “Do you want my mouth, baby?”

Slender fingers tangled in his hair. “Please, sir.”

Needing no further encouragement, he nuzzled her pale curls, parted the slick folds. Angling his head, he tasted her essence, laving the slit. Then he delved inside, tongue-fucking her slowly, seducing her with his mouth. She groaned, clutching his hair in her fist and grinding into his face, trying to pull him deeper. He obliged, working her with lips and tongue. Stroking until she panted and writhed above him.

He had her on the cusp now, ready to fly, and he’d be the one to give her wings. Taking her in an open kiss, he sucked her clit, ate her without mercy. She was close, so close, muscles tensing.

She screamed his name, and he liked the rush it gave him, knowing he’d done this. Had pleasured her into losing control. In this case, he could forgive her slip.

He drank her honey, all she had to give. When the spasms died, he released her and stood. “Taste yourself.”

She leaned into his kiss, opened for him. Accepted their mingled flavors with a needy sound, breasts grazing his chest. Damn, he was a lucky man. He broke the kiss and smiled.

“Give you some time and a little more experience, and Shawn won’t hold a candle to you in the area of responsiveness.”

A blush heated her cheeks. “I don’t know about that, but thanks.”

“See, that’s what I mean — you just need confidence.” With his next words he marked her reaction. “Tell me — did you enjoy watching me dominate him? Take him and make his body sing?”

“Yes, very much,” she said in a husky voice. “It was one of the most visually stunning and wholly arousing things I’ve ever seen. The two of you were extremely hot together. I’ll admit it’s a female fantasy come true, and I wouldn’t mind your doing it again.”

His ego stretched and preened. “I’m glad you think so. I always want you to be happy with whatever we do in the bedroom, or out.”

“But if he’d been some woman…” She bit her lip.

“You wouldn’t have gotten into seeing me fuck another female,” he finished for her. “Is that right?”

Hesitating only a moment, she went on. “I don’t think I could handle that, Blaze — sir.”

He wasn’t surprised. “I anticipated as much, which is why I used Shawn for tonight’s demonstration.”

“Are you saying you won’t even touch another female?” she asked quietly.

“Is that what you want?”

“I want you to be satisfied.”

“I want the same,” he said, taking her hand. “Here’s my rule, one that isn’t in your contract: nobody fucks you except me. As many subs as I’ve shared with other masters, the thought of Ryan or anyone else actually fucking you makes me homicidal. Any other sharing is acceptable, but not that. Are you good with this so far?”

“Yes, more than,” she replied. “I don’t want anyone but you to have that right. But in return, I’d like that same exclusiveness as pertains to women. Playing is one thing. But your cock is mine.”

Blaze grinned, delighted at her fierce possessiveness. “Agreed. Even when we’re undercover, I’ll stick to that rule. But that’s for women. What about men? No problem with them?”

“None. Heck, I’d like to help you do Shawn myself.” She waggled her brows.

“That, darlin’, can be arranged. What do you say we get you dressed so I can take you home and love on you some more?”

“Sounds like a wonderful plan.”

After she was once again decked out in her eye-popping outfit, he let them out of the playroom, and they started down the long hallway toward the club proper. They’d taken only a few steps, however, when the muffled noises of a struggle reached his ears.

“Do you hear that?” he asked, tugging Emma to a stop.

“What — yeah, I do.”

They paused, listening. A deep voice came from the shadows at the far end, away from the club near the restrooms, harsh and dangerous. Another thump echoed down the corridor, followed by a frightened cry of “Stop! Please!”

“Shit,” he muttered. “Gotta check this out. Emma, go find the manager, Adam, and the bouncers. Hurry.”

They took off in opposite directions. As Blaze neared his destination the voice and the choked cries of distress became clear.

“You’re gonna pay for givin’ it to a master who ain’t me, you little whore!” Vincent, the asshole. Mean as a barracuda, dumb as a fence post.

Unfortunately, he was strong as a bull, and in a rage. Blaze rounded the corner to see Shawn pushed face-first into the wall by the restroom, pants around his ankles, the bastard’s thick cock poised at his entrance and big, meaty hands wrapped around his throat. The sub wasn’t making a sound any longer; the other man’s grip had completely cut off his air.

Shawn sagged, knees buckling, just as Blaze dove, tackling Vincent from the side and taking him to the floor. Caught by surprise, the man was slow to react and rolled to his back, his brain trying to catch up with the new turn of events. In that split second, Blaze saw the sweet boy lying on the floor, unmoving, and he unloaded his fists with a vengeance.

“You worthless fuck,” he sneered, knuckles connecting with Vincent’s jaw. “Scumbag. You like beating on boys? Try a man your own size.”

He pummeled the man with ruthless precision, easily deflecting the few blows the worm managed to get in. Vaguely, he became aware of pounding footsteps and shouts.

“Blaze, that’s enough! He’s down!”

Hands grabbed him, pulled him off the fallen man. He pushed to his feet to see Emma standing beside one bouncer, Thorn, who was crouched over Shawn. The other bouncer, Tiny, laid a hand on his arm.

“What happened, man?”

“Vincent had Shawn against the wall and was choking him, about to rape him.”

“He’s lying,” the asshole hissed through his split lip. “The little whore is mine.”

“Shut up,” Tiny said, delivering a kick to Vincent’s side. “Tell it to the cops.”

“Jesus Christ, I don’t think he’s breathing,” Thorn said, voice rising in panic. “Adam!”

“What the hell is going on?” Adam Langley, manager and head D/s master, jogged toward them, long black coat swirling around him.

“Master Vincent was choking Shawn, wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Blaze informed him, heart lurching.

Adam dropped to his knees beside Shawn and gathered the sub into his arms, black hair falling over big violet eyes filled with worry as he smoothed a fiery lock out of the sub’s face. “Shawn? Can you hear me?” Gently, he kissed the boy’s lips. “Breathe, baby. Come on, please.”

Shuddering, Shawn heaved a deep breath and coughed. A collective sigh of relief went up, and Blaze tucked Emma into his side. “Thank God.”

“I was so scared,” she whispered.

So, apparently, was Adam, who clutched the sub against his chest and murmured into his hair. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” he croaked, then coughed again.

“How long has this harassment been going on?” Adam demanded.

Shawn answered in a small voice. “A few weeks.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” When the sub cringed, Adam relented, but glared at the group in general. “Well, it damned well won’t happen again! That fucker is not to set foot in my club,” he said to Tiny. “Make sure everyone knows. And call the police.”

“Done.”

Adam gazed at the sub, his expression softening. “Seems you need a keeper, boy. And I’m just the right master for the job.”

“I–I didn’t think you wanted me.”

“You were wrong… and so was I.”

“Yes, sir.” The adoration on Shawn’s face said it all.

Well, damn. You had to love a happy ending.

Now, if Blaze could just save the world from annihilation and walk away with the girl? He’d get his rock-star cousin to write a frickin’ song about it.

Ten

Robert Dietz sat at the head of the table in the shitty little rat hole of an abandoned house and glared at his men. His top commanders, who’d failed to ensure that his headquarters was safe. Now he was stuck in this hellhole until another, better place could be secured, an almost impossible task when facing a ton of heat.

Yes, Ross would pay dearly for this — and much sooner than he believed. Even now, death was staring his nemesis in the face, waiting to collect another soul. He’d thought about ordering his man to take care of the AWOL Agent Foster as well, but decided she wasn’t worth it. The woman was of no importance, and her death would signify nothing.

Unlike Ross’s.

Oh, how he wished he could be there to witness the man’s demise in person, but that would be a stupid risk. He took only calculated ones.

Right now the most calculated risk of all was when and how to transfer the weapon to their foreign contacts, therefore making him an extremely rich man. The dictator overseas was getting restless and pissed, and they couldn’t afford to wait much longer. But neither could they make any mistakes.

Drawing himself up, he treated each man to a deadly stare before beginning. “Gentlemen, the clusterfuck at the estate was completely unforgivable. First, you allow a federal agent to hide among our ranks, and then you practically hand him our asses on a silver platter with apples in our mouths.”

Each man squirmed, no doubt sweating over who would take the fall. Allowing a small, humorless smile, he went on.

“Every one of you is to blame, yet none of you are willing to accept the responsibility. That, my friends, is plain bad business. Therefore, I believe it’s time for a demonstration — something simple to remind each of us the importance of paying attention.”

With that, he stood. Removed a pistol and a long silencer from inside his coat. He screwed on the silencer and calmly walked around the table, making certain his steps were slow and measured, like heartbeats echoing in their ears.

“Musical chairs, the Russian Roulette Edition,” he said. “Who wants to play?”

No one moved. Or breathed.

Finally, he stopped beside the chair of one of his men, a large man named Garr. Placing the muzzle to the man’s temple, he let the seconds lapse into minutes as Garr panted, sweat rolling down his fleshy face, too mired in terror to breathe.

Then he pulled the trigger — which snapped with a hollow click.

“Oh, my. No bullets. Well, waste not.” He met each pair of rounded, horrified eyes. “Now do I have your attention?”

Murmurs and nods in the affirmative met his question. As did the stench of Garr’s bowels.

Lesson learned.

Unfortunately for Ross, the next round would be loaded.

* * *

“Damn, I’m tired and hungry,” Michael Ross complained. “Can we discuss the rest of the details over dinner?”

Emma glanced at Blaze and Bastian, shrugging. “Fine with me. I could eat.”

The other two men agreed. Their final meeting with Michael had dragged on into the evening, and by now — almost seven o’clock — they all needed a change of scenery and some food.

Michael pushed out of his chair. “Great! I’ll even buy. Think of it as a good-luck send-off for Mr. and Mrs. John Chase,” he said with a laugh.

For a moment, Emma stared at Michael. She hadn’t seen him laugh in ages, and it looked good on him. He was a damned sexy man, with all that sable hair artfully mussed and sticking every which way. Shaking herself, she got back to the subject. “Do I have to be Brandi? I’m so not a Brandi — sounds too much like Bambi.”

Blaze tweaked her nose, teasing her. “It’ll fit just fine when you get those blond bombshell hair extensions. You’ll be Brandi-licious.”

“Like Pamela Anderson,” Ozzie joked. “All that’s missing is the boob job.”

Blaze poked her playfully in the ribs. “And the oversexed, rehabbed rock star on her arm. Hey, maybe we should give Ash a call?”

Everyone groaned.

“What? I thought it was funny.” Blaze strutted from the office, inviting her to stare at his ass.

Ogling his fine body was one of her favorite pastimes; learning the ropes, literally, in his dungeon was the other. The man knew how to tie a wicked knot and torment her until she screamed, for sure. But she pushed away those yummy thoughts. If she didn’t, she’d never make it through dinner.

The six of them drove separately, except for her and Blaze, since they’d arrived together. They followed their boss to a nice steak and seafood restaurant and, once inside, were immediately escorted to a private dining area, away from prying ears. Michael must’ve called ahead. They settled around the table, and the waitress took their drink orders and left. Michael then set about grilling them again on their specific roles, their check-in and safety procedures — you name it. With regard to this assignment, the man practically knew the color of their underwear. But with what was at stake, he couldn’t afford not to.

What she found most interesting during the evening was the polite tension between Michael and Bastian. When Michael wasn’t looking, the pain-filled gaze Bastian slid toward the man made her heart clench as she wondered what on earth had transpired between them in the past. When Bastian became distracted by questions or comments, the look Michael directed at his friend and colleague was riddled with guilt.

Didn’t take a crystal ball to figure it out — Michael was straight. Bastian wasn’t. And whatever had happened between them had left a divide in its wake the width of the Grand Canyon. She felt sorry as hell for them both.

“It seems we’re all on the same page,” Michael concluded, and gestured to her and Blaze. “You fly to Washington, D.C., first thing in the morning. Get yourselves integrated with Dietz’s moneymen at the Velvet Underground ASAP and get us the information we need.”

“Easy as pie,” Blaze joked. “It’ll be Rambo meets Die Hard times two.”

“Minus the part about blowing up shit,” Bastian put in. “Remember that.”

Ozzie snickered. “At least you get the girl while we have to sit in the stupid van. Wanna trade places?”

“I think not. Can’t blame you for asking, though.”

By the time their meals arrived, the business conversation had turned to more relaxing topics, such as when the hell any of them would be able to take a vacation — somewhere around the twelfth of never — and who at SHADO was getting laid by whom.

Now, that produced an interesting reaction. Ozzie and Willis immediately grumped that they weren’t getting any, while Bastian’s gaze snapped to Blaze, and her lover winked in return. Michael’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as he glanced between them.

Oh, boy, dinner and a show.

Ozzie and Willis didn’t even notice and Ozzie chattered away like a magpie on crack, making her wonder how her adorable friend ever became a covert agent. He’d definitely missed his calling as a gossip columnist.

“Damn, that was good,” Michael said, reaching for the bill. “I was starving.”

“You don’t have to pick up the tab,” Blaze protested. “We can pay for our own dinner.”

“Oh, you’re going to pay, all right. Think of this as a perk from me before I send you on a dangerous job.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

Their mood was optimistic as they left the restaurant and said their good-byes, then split up and headed across the parking lot to their cars. It was getting late, almost ten-thirty. The lot was nearly empty, the night clear. Emma reached for Blaze’s hand and was about to comment on getting packed for their early flight when a car screeched into the parking lot.

And roared straight for Michael.

“Look out!” she screamed.

Michael spun but had no time to react as the dark sedan braked next to him. An arm appeared out the driver’s window, the glint of a gun visible in the assailant’s hand.

Pop, pop, pop.

Three quick shots, their boss’s body jerking. Crumpling to the asphalt.

She was already running toward Michael as the sedan sped away. Barely heard Blaze’s voice yell, “I’m going after him! Stay with Michael and call McKay for help!”

His Viper revved to life and peeled out, but Emma’s focus was on Michael. Heart in her throat, she dropped next to him just seconds before Bastian and Ozzie ran over and did the same, encircling him. Willis fired off a couple of rounds at the fleeing vehicle, to no avail.

“Oh, God!” Bastian cried. He pushed aside his friend’s coat and ripped open his white dress shirt, rapidly being soaked bright red.

“Bastian,” Michael began, choking. His eyes were glassy as they found his friend.

“No, don’t talk. You’re going to be okay, do you hear me?” Bastian’s voice broke and his chest heaved. Desperately, he pressed on a chest wound with both hands, trying in vain to stanch the flow.

“You’re in charge now.” Michael coughed, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “This has Dietz’s fingerprints all over it. M-make that sonofabitch pay — swear it.”

Bastian nodded, tears streaming down his face. “If it’s the last thing I ever do, I swear it.”

“Good. And Bastian?”

“Yes?” The man swallowed hard and wiped his eyes, visibly struggling to keep it together.

“I’m s-sorry,” he whispered, voice fading as his eyes closed. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive! You never lied to me.” He shook his friend. “Michael? No!”

Emma’s shaking hand went over her mouth. Their fallen leader’s breathing was shallow and raspy, and blood was spreading around his body with frightening speed. She was no doctor, but anyone could see that if McKay’s team didn’t get here soon, Michael wasn’t going to make it.

“Please hang on,” Bastian pleaded. “We need you.”

I need you. That’s what Emma heard in his stricken voice, and the tears she’d been holding in finally escaped.

“McKay and his team are almost here,” Ozzie said, flipping his cell phone shut. “Can’t get the medical helicopter in between all these buildings, so they had to bring the van.”

That would take too long. They all knew it.

She waited with her friends, praying Blaze caught the assassin and Michael would survive to see justice served. Silently, she added her promise to Bastian’s.

If it was the last thing she did, Dietz would pay for this.

Blaze raced after the dark sedan, running red lights, dodging oncoming traffic. His mind was focused to a laser point on nothing but catching the assailant and wringing every bit of information from his sorry hide.

And then killing him with his bare hands.

The image of his boss and friend being gunned down in cold blood threatened to wreck his concentration, but he pushed it aside. He couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now, tomorrow, or the next day. Not if he was going to burn out this nest of rats and exterminate them like the vermin they were.

An important key to getting that done was the man ahead, driving like a bat out of hell, trying to shake Blaze off his tail.

No such luck, asshole.

The sedan took the ramp and entered the freeway, no doubt hoping to lose him in an all-out race, or hoping he’d wipe out. Spotting an opening in traffic, he shot the gap and floored the accelerator, closing the distance between him and the sedan. It was a dark Infiniti, he could see as he drew near and began to pull even with the driver’s side. Jerking the wheel, he slammed into the other car, causing it to swerve.

The driver, a big bald man, bared his teeth and stuck his arm out the window, firing off two shots. Blaze ducked as his passenger’s window exploded in a shower of glass, then sat upright, swerving just in time to miss rear-ending a car that wasn’t flying at one hundred miles per hour down the interstate.

“Jesus.” Close call.

He pushed it to catch up again, and rammed the Infiniti’s left rear quarter panel, not giving the assassin another shot at him. Christ, they were attracting all sorts of attention, having an all-out battle on the highway. Someone had probably already called the cops, and he absolutely could not let the police get into this situation. SHADO didn’t officially exist, and neither did its agents.

To involve the cops would entail a helluva problem making them shut up and go away, especially without learning that American citizens were under a direct terrorist threat.

He had to get this bastard off the road. Now.

Up ahead the road was all clear of traffic. A sharp embankment lay off the right shoulder of the highway. He wasn’t going to get a better chance.

Gunning it once more, he hit the rear of the sedan again and this time cut the wheel all the way to the right. The other car fish-tailed and spun around. Blaze kept coming, using his car as a battering ram, and together they hurtled down the embankment in a spray of flying shrapnel, tires squealing.

The Infiniti rolled once. Twice. Then came to a stop right side up, the driver slumped forward. Blaze leaped from the Viper, sparing a sorrowful look for his mangled pride and joy, and then turned his attention to the unconscious henchman.

The driver’s door was stuck, and he had to yank it several times before getting it open enough to get his hands on the man. “Wake up, motherfucker.” After unbuckling the seat belt, he dragged the groaning man onto the ground. “Wake up! Who’re you working for? Dietz?”

Another pitiful moan was his answer. Cursing, he grabbed his cell phone and placed a call. Bastian’s muffled voice greeted him.

“Chevalier.”

“It’s Kelly. I’ve got the assailant. He’s a little banged up, but he should be able to talk. I need a cleanup crew here fast, before the cops arrive.”

“Okay, I’m on it.” His friend sounded wretched.

“How’s Michael?” God, he dreaded the answer.

“I’m escorting him to the compound with McKay now. It’s not looking good,” he said, voice wavering.

He closed his eyes briefly, sending up a prayer to whomever was listening to cut Michael a break for once. The man deserved to live, to be happy. “Hang in there, buddy. He’ll make it, if for no other reason than to see Dietz in hell.”

“He’ll have to stand in line.” Bastian paused, and when he spoke again, steel threaded his orders. “Don’t come to the compound, any of you. I’ll keep all of you updated on his condition. Get some rest and carry on with the assignment as planned. That’s what Michael would want, and it’s what I want.”

“You’ve got it. And Bastian… when he wakes up, tell him we won’t fail.”

“I will,” he said hoarsely. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

Jesus Christ. Michael couldn’t die. He was the heart of SHADO, and his agents loved him, down to a man.

There was no way now to help Michael except to do what he knew best — his job.

And unfortunately for Dietz and his host of murderers, he’d just been handed a personal motive to succeed.

As they emerged from the sedan Blaze thanked the agent who’d given him and Emma a ride home.

“No problem, Kelly. Again, awesome job catching that bastard. We’ll make sure he doesn’t see the light of day again.”

Blaze nodded and waved, then took Emma’s hand and led her toward the front door. Rage coiled in his gut, black and dangerous, and it needed a safe outlet. Michael, Dietz, the weapon, and innocent endangered citizens all vied for the top spot among the jumble in his head, and he needed to escape. Had to before he went crazy.

Letting them inside, he locked the door and turned to Emma. She stood in the foyer staring back at him, looking as strung out as he felt.

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms.

She launched herself at him, and he held her close, inhaling her scent. Drinking in her warmth, reassuring himself that she was all right. It could easily have been Emma who’d been shot. Hell, the assassin could’ve taken out any of them before they even blinked. The idea of losing her at all, much less so cruelly and suddenly, made him want to wallow in her.

Mark her.

Tilting her head up for a kiss, he tasted her briefly before letting her go. She shrugged off her coat and tossed it in a chair, giving him a sad smile.

“I’m tired, but I doubt I could sleep if I wanted to, considering.”

“I know how to fix that.” Stepping close, he ran a finger over the swell of her breast just visible over the vee of her blouse. His cock was slowly awakening at the prospect, filling his jeans. “We’re going to spend some time in the basement.”

She blinked at him, then gave a humorless laugh. “After what happened tonight? You can’t be serious.”

“That’s exactly why we both need this,” he explained, his patience thin. His sub challenging him proved she needed a firm hand, and now he couldn’t let it go. “If we don’t release the tension, the pressure, we’ll never get any sleep, and we have to be on our toes tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe you’re thinking about sex while Michael is fighting for his life,” she spat angrily. “Forget it.”

“I’m not asking, Emma.” He injected a thread of steel into his tone.

“I don’t care.” Blue eyes snapped, and her jaw clenched.

“You will.” With that, he bent, scooped her up, and tossed her over his shoulder. Ignoring her shriek of protest, he strode for the stairs that descended to the playroom.

“You jerk! Put me down!” Her fist pounded his back uselessly.

“I will, soon as we get there.” He started down, careful not to drop her despite her wriggling.

“I mean it! I’m not putting out for you, buster,” she fumed.

“Then use your safe word.”

“What?”

“You know how it works. Use your safe word.”

Silence met his demand, and he allowed himself a small smile. Just as he’d thought — she needed this as much as he did. At the bottom, he carried her to the middle of the room and set her on her feet. “Take off your clothes.” He crossed his arms, waiting.

“Damn you.”

Tears shone in her eyes, but he held firm. “Damn me all you like — just remember I’m your master. Clothes off. Now.”

Flags of color darkened her fine cheekbones as she stared back at him, chest heaving. After several long moments she grabbed the edge of her shirt, hands shaking, and pulled it over her head. Next, she unhooked her bra and dropped it onto the shirt, then kicked off her shoes. As she pushed down her pants, he enjoyed the sight of her full breasts swaying with her movements. The tips were hardened to points, a dark rose. She straightened and stepped out of the pants, and lowered her gaze to the floor.

The unconscious move took him completely by surprise and filled him with pride. Yes, she was pissed, but she had submitted to him.

And she was magnificent.

“Very good, Emma. Let’s go over here.” He took her hand and led her to a piece of gym equipment called a horse, one gymnasts normally used for floor exercises or vaults. His use for the device was something much different. “Bend over the bench and spread your arms down it on either side of you, so your wrists are near the rings.”

A grumble met his order, but she did as she was told.

“Not another word from you, or I’ll give you the punishment you’re asking for regardless of the stress we’re both under. Nod if you understand.” She did, though awkwardly with her head resting on the padding. “All right. Spread your legs wide. No, wider.”

With his sub in position, he used rope to bind her wrists to the rings on the bench. After a tug to make sure they were secure but not too tight, he retrieved a spreader bar and attached either end to an ankle. Finished, he stood back and surveyed his handiwork.

“God, yes. That’s beautiful.”

His hungry gaze followed the line of her back to her rounded buttocks, tilted up and presented to him like a tasty treat, pussy gleaming. She belonged to him, and he’d do whatever he wanted with her gorgeous body. His cock was already leaking in anticipation as he shed his clothes and tossed them aside. Every primal instinct screamed at him to plunge into her, and he would, but not yet. Tonight called for something with a harder edge than he’d used before. Something to push her boundaries even more.

Walking over to his collection hanging on the wall, he selected a flogger with a supple leather tip. This one was perfect to deliver a sting, but wielded properly it would not leave permanent marks.

Eager to get started, he moved behind her and let the leather slide over her spine, her rear. Teasing, he rubbed it against her pussy lips, using the barest pressure. “You’ve probably guessed this is a flogger and that I’m going to use it on you.” Her breath hitched, but she remained quiet. “I’m going to find out how much of a pain slut you really are, and when I find that zone you’re going to sob with wanting to be fucked, my girl.”

Taking a step back, he got into position and flicked the leather across one pert ass cheek. She whimpered but remained still. He gave her another lick, this one a bit harder, bringing up a faint line of red on her pretty skin. She wriggled, and he began laying stripes in earnest, working methodically, his tempo slow and even. He didn’t give her time to fully recover before he laid the next mark, and after a few moments, another breakthrough occurred.

The helpless noises in her throat took on a huskier tone and she began tilting her bottom into the blows as much as her position allowed. Her cries became pitched with arousal, desperate for more.

“You like that, baby?” he asked between strokes. “Jesus, that’s so pretty. Your ass is so red, your pussy pink and wet. Do you need my cock?” A hoarse cry was his answer. “Don’t worry, you’re going to have it.”

A few more strokes and she’d melted in her restraints, mindless with desire and ready for him. Unable to deny either of them another second, he pitched the flogger away and nudged between her slick folds. Grabbing her hips, he buried himself in her pussy in one smooth movement, almost shouting in sheer pleasure.

“Feels so good,” he rasped. “Gonna fuck you until you scream.”

He withdrew slowly, then slammed home. Again and again, loving the mewling noises she made, his helpless captive. The clench of her channel around his cock, the sight of his length disappearing into her heat, drove him insane. Before he knew it, he was fucking her hard and fast, pounding his cock as deep as possible.

All too soon, she tightened around him and cried out, “Master!”

His control disintegrated, and his balls drew up. One last plunge, and his orgasm exploded, filling her with his cum. The spasms went on and on until he lay draped over her back, spent. And centered as never before.

Carefully he withdrew and set about releasing her ankles and then her wrists. Taking her arm, he helped her straighten and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “Are you all right?”

“Much better now,” she said softly. The anger was gone, her expression sated, face glowing. “I never knew I could feel that way. Like I was flying.”

“Those crazy endorphins again.” He smiled and was gratified when she returned it.

“And one crazy man.”

“I don’t dispute that. But this crazy man is your master.”

“I doubt I’ll forget that again.” She rubbed her bottom for emphasis.

“If you do, I’ll take great pleasure in reminding you,” he teased.

“I’ll bet.” She hesitated, suddenly unsure. “What’s my punishment for speaking to you the way I did upstairs?”

He shook his head, sobering. “I think we’ve both been punished enough for one day. Let’s clean up and get some sleep while we can.”

He got no argument on that score.Together they headed upstairs, and his mind drifted to Michael and the upcoming assignment.

And whether their boss would live to see Dietz in hell.

Emma gripped Blaze’s hand as the plane lifted off the ground, nails digging into his skin.

His free hand covered hers, and she heard the sympathy in his voice underneath the exhaustion.

“I take it you don’t like to fly?”

“I’m worse when it comes to helicopters, but no. If I was supposed to fly, I’d have been born with feathers.”

A tired chuckle met this declaration. “You know the stats say that flying is the safest way to travel.”

“Maybe, but if the engine in my car dies, I can just pull over to the side of the road.” She gave him an arch look.

“True.” Leaning over, he gave her a kiss. “What can I do to take your mind off your fear? Meet you in the restroom and make you a member of the mile-high club?”

She couldn’t help but grin at the image. “Do people really do that? As tiny as those spaces are, I find that hard to believe.”

“It can be done.” He looked rather smug. “Not that I’d know or anything.”

“You and another person fitting in there? No way.”

“Way.”

“I’m sure I don’t want to know the details.”

“Probably not, especially since the sky marshal threatened to arrest us. Talked my way out of it, though, when he realized I was undercover.”

“You must have the devil’s luck.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Briefly she entertained the suggestion, but decided against it. They didn’t need attention called to them no matter how lucky Blaze believed himself to be.

“I like your hair long,” he commented, gesturing to her extensions. “It really does suit you.”

“Thanks. Most men prefer long hair, I guess.”

“Not necessarily. I think you have one of those faces with great bone structure and you’ll look terrific no matter what style you pick.”

“How sweet.” Reaching out, she fingered a lock of his newly highlighted mane. “You look pretty sexy yourself. Told you these tints would match your golden eyes.”

He snorted. “Looks weird on me, especially the way you teased it. I feel like the frickin’ Cowardly Lion.”

“You’re my lion and you’re anything but cowardly. Rrrrr.” His laugh made her smile.

“God. Okay, how about Barry Gibb? I’m feeling the uncontrollable urge to break out into a Bee Gees song.”

“You’re terrible!”

“That’s what they tell me.”

They snickered as quietly as they could, trying not to draw too much attention to themselves. Blaze was pretty funny when he wanted to be, a little nutty. So at odds with his Dom persona, especially the powerful master of last night, yet it endeared him to her even more.

She leaned into his shoulder and they fell silent for a while, the mood turning quiet. Reflective. Michael’s condition dominated her thoughts, and she sensed Blaze was thinking about him as well. Despite Dr. McKay’s grave prediction, he’d survived the night — just barely — and was still hanging on when she and Blaze had boarded the plane.

“Thinking about Michael?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, he hasn’t been far from my mind for more than five minutes at a time.”

“Mine, too.”

She squeezed his hand tightly. “He’s going to make it. He has to, or SHADO would never be the same.”

“Neither would Bastian.”

“What do you think happened between them?” she asked, peering up at him.

“Bastian wouldn’t say. He didn’t even admit it was Michael who broke his heart, but I’m pretty sure that’s who he was talking about. If I had to take a guess, I’d say Michael marrying Maggie had something to do with the estrangement.”

“And Michael being straight.”

“Or in denial.”

“Could be,” she admitted. “I’m just glad he pulled through the surgery. Maybe now they’ll have a chance to really reconcile.”

“I hope so.” He paused for a few seconds. “Have you heard anything about that federal agent who helped you escape Dietz?”

“J.C.’s fine. He called before we left, and he’s recuperating at home now.”

“You two really bonded in a short time, didn’t you?” A tinge of jealousy colored his words.

“Yes, but you have nothing to worry about, honey,” she said seriously. “He has his life and I have mine. We crossed paths for a time, but that’s all there will be.”

“I can’t say I’m sorry to hear it, though I’ll always be grateful to him for looking out for my baby.”

“I can’t believe he fooled Dietz for a second into thinking he was dirty.”

“Well, Dietz’s ego is pretty big. He probably never thought anyone could infiltrate his nasty group.”

“He’s about to be proven wrong. Twice.”

“Damned right.” He smiled and gave her a sweet kiss.

The rest of the flight passed in companionable quiet and sporadic conversation interspersed with reading a magazine and looking out the window. Funny, with Blaze beside her she wasn’t nearly as nervous about flying. It was as though since the man was so invincible in her eyes, nothing bad would dare happen to him, and to her by association. Silly, but it kept her calm.

Despite his comforting presence, the plane being brought in for a safe landing gave her a familiar rush of relief. She’d taken on a hunk of hurtling metal held together with spit and rivets, and cheated death once more.

They collected their bags and walked through the terminal, as casually as any couple in D.C. for a visit. Innocuous. Throughout the long night, in between getting updates on Michael, she’d made certain their choice of travel clothing would blend them into the background. Jeans and muted colors for their shirts and jackets. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and Blaze’s was loose on his shoulders.

Glancing at him, her throat closed a bit, the place between her thighs heating even though it had been mere hours since their session. There was only so much she could do to make this sexy-as-hell man fade into the scenery. She might be a master costume and makeup artist, but she wasn’t a miracle worker. Short of altering his face with stage makeup to render him ugly, there was no way to hide his beauty. And this assignment called for an attractive couple.

She was a novice when it came to performing undercover rather than simply preparing an agent to do so, but she managed not to search the lot for Ozzie and Willis. They had arrived first to retrieve the surveillance van Michael had arranged for them, and were here somewhere, watching and listening. They’d never be too far away to come running if absolutely necessary, and only if their cover was blown.

It gave her peace of mind and at the same time was a source of embarrassment. With their electronic listening technology, backed up by the minicams she’d sewn into Blaze’s and her clothing, they’d see and hear everything.

If Ozzie thought to make her the butt of his jokes for the next few years, she’d fix his wagon real quick.

In long-term parking, they located the black Mercedes Michael had also provided as part of their cover. Once away from the airport, they became Mr. and Mrs. John Chase, well-off socialites who’d just moved to the area outside D.C. and who were looking for a new D/s club.

Which would take them to the Velvet Underground. Tonight.

Blaze loaded their luggage in the trunk and they were off, following directions to a McMansion in a nice outlying suburb. The idea of staying in a hotel had been nixed, partly because of the privacy this assignment would require but mostly to ensure they had a real address should one of their targets get suspicious and check.

When they pulled into the drive a half hour later, her lover whistled through his teeth. “Dang, I’m glad we’re not footing the bill.” He glanced over at her. “I don’t do badly for myself, but even if I worked until I’m seventy and saved every penny, I’d never be able to afford living like this. Does that bother you?”

“Of course not.” She frowned. “Why would you ask me such a stupid question? I won’t deny this is nice, but a home is what’s on the inside.”

He winked. “I knew it. One of the many reasons we’re perfect for each other.”

“I think so, too,” she said, warmth spreading through her.

Blaze carried the two heavy suitcases full of clothing, leaving her with the two lighter duffels filled with makeup and wigs. On the front porch, he set down a suitcase, dug for his keys, and found the right one.

In the foyer, they paused at the marble entry and stared in awe. White columns, arches, and vaulted ceilings soared, while a zillion windows filled the interior with light. By contrast, the furniture was darker, perhaps walnut, with fabric in shades of red and gold.

“I wouldn’t be comfortable living like this all the time, but it’s cool to pretend, just for a while,” she admitted.

“I’ll say.” Leaning into her, he nibbled her ear. “What do you say we check out the master bedroom?”

“I like the way you think… sir.”

Dropping the luggage, he grabbed her hand. “I’ll come back and get these!”

She giggled as he dragged her up the wide staircase and dashed to each doorway, looking for the right room. Finding it, he pulled her inside and took her in his arms, delivering a blistering kiss.

“God, I’ve been wanting you ever since you nixed joining the mile-high club. My cock is so hard I could pole vault. Feel.” He guided her hand to the pole in question, proving his point.

“Poor baby,” she crooned. “What can I do to make it all better?”

“Strip, fast.” Grabbing the edge of his jacket, he held an innocent-looking button to his lips. “Go for a long walk, you two perverts.”

They made short work of their clothing, and Blaze hung their bugged jackets in the closet for good measure. He pulled her over to the king-sized bed and fell backward, bringing her down on top of him. Straddling his hips, she leaned over and kissed him slow and deep, loving how his erection rode the crack of her rear. Somehow, just kissing, being naked on top of him, seemed as intimate as actually making love.

An idea formed, and she gazed down at him. “You said you used to be a sub.”

He tiled his head. “Yep. I wasn’t a natural, but it did have its rewards.”

“What did you like best as a sub? The actual sex, I mean.”

Pausing, he thought about that. “I didn’t like being topped by a man, but I loved being dominated by a strong woman, letting her do what she wanted with my body.”

Oh, my! And I’m the woman on top at the moment, lucky me.

“What are you thinking, baby?” he asked curiously.

“That it’s highly unfair I never got to have you submit to me,” she whispered into his mouth. “Do you think it’s fair?”

“Mmm. No, I believe you were robbed,” he answered seductively. “Why don’t you show me what you’re made of? Take what’s yours.”

She needed no further invitation. “Stay very still.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His cute grin and sparkling gaze fired her blood.

Scooting to the side, she kissed his sexy lips and his jaw. Worked her way down his throat, nibbling and kissing. Then on to his nipples, taut brown discs that obviously loved the attention she lavished on them. She worried them with her teeth, feeling very smug that his breathing had become more audible, a bit faster.

She moved on to his flat stomach, tonguing his insy and making him laugh. But he held still for her, letting her do as she pleased. When she crawled between his legs he obediently spread them wide, giving her complete access.

“Beautiful man,” she murmured in approval, lowering her head to lick his balls. “I wish I had some of those toys you packed in the suitcase.”

“I think you’re doing just fine without them.”

“From the size of that juicy cock? I’d say you’re right.”

She laved and rolled his testicles, working them with her mouth until he was groaning, hips thrusting upward to stab empty air with his erection. Good — she wanted him mindless by the time she was finished.

“Knees up and give me your ass, tough guy.”

He readily complied, and she parted his ass cheeks, revealing the puckered hole awaiting her attention. With gentle flicks, she lavished the small entrance with the same attention she’d given his sac, getting him nice and wet. Then she inserted one finger, carefully pushing past the resistant ring of flesh, fucking him nice and easy.

“Oh, shit… Emma! Oh, God, yes,” he moaned, writhing on her hand.

“Can you take this, honey? Do you like me finger-fucking your ass?”

“Christ, don’t stop!”

“Oh, I have no intention. Not until you shoot your sweet cum all over.”

Adding another finger, she slid them deep. In and out, working him, driving him insane. She couldn’t resist taking his cock into her mouth as well and sucking him down, giving him a double whammy of sensation.

She sucked and fucked him harder, faster. When her fingers brushed a soft, spongy spot inside him — a man’s magic button, so she’d heard — he cried out hoarsely.

“Ahh! Damn, I’m gonna — gonna—”

Pulling off his cock, she demanded, “Come for me.”

Thick, ropy streams of cum pulsed all over his belly and chest, painting his skin with pearly cream. His shouts were music to her ears, puffing up her ego big-time.

She’d done this to her man — made him lose control. Beg for her touch.

If this was even a fraction of the powerful feeling her lover experienced when he dominated a sub, she knew why he loved it so much.

“God, you rocked my world,” he said breathlessly.

“Does that mean I get to do it again sometime?”

“Anytime you want, darlin’. Just say the word.”

Smiling, she crawled up next to him and snuggled into his side, content to put their mission out of her mind for a while.

But tonight, the naughty game of cat and mouse would begin.

Eleven

The first two nights were a bust.

The third, as they say, was the charm.

It had been only a matter of time before at least one of their targets showed his face at the Velvet Underground. Blaze spotted one of the men from their file, and his blood surged with the familiar thrill of the chase.

Bending to Emma’s ear, he pretended to kiss and nibble — not a tough task. Instead, he spoke into the listening device doubling as her earring. “Kosta’s at the bar, alone. Look alive, folks.”

Emma nodded, and they had to trust that their fellow agents heard the message. The equipment was state-of-the-art spy gear, but they had no way to copy a response without wearing receivers in addition to the transmitters. Too big a risk of discovery. If he and Emma executed their parts well, Ozzie and Willis would need only to be there, recording every damning word for evidence.

The trick now was to gain Kosta’s attention and entice him over to talk without the man realizing he was being lured. It had to be his idea to approach, not the other way around.

The problem was that Emma wasn’t supposed to make direct eye contact with another master. A forward move from her would be frowned upon and might make him suspicious. Added to that, Kosta was absolutely straight. No men in his stable whatsoever, which meant he wouldn’t look twice at Blaze. Something had to be done to turn the man’s attention in their direction.

He bent to her ear again. “Go get us a drink and make sure you brush against him. Nothing obvious, though.”

Taking a fortifying breath, she met his eyes, her gaze conveying a hint of nerves and the desire to pull this off well. For her, this went way past helping agents play dress-up.

They could die trying to obtain the information needed to save their country, just like countless covert operatives before them.

She moved gracefully through the crowd, turning heads as she passed, and he felt a surge of pride. The tall, striking woman in the purple leather skirt, bra, and knee-high boots was his, and he wanted everyone to know it.

At the bar, she squeezed in between Kosta and another patron, not looking at either of them. Signaling the bartender, she crossed her arms on the counter and leaned over, giving anyone who chose to look a damned fine view of her cleavage.

And Kosta’s attention immediately dipped into the flesh on display. Blaze wanted to pound his face. But this was what they were counting on, what needed to happen. The man’s dark eyes never left Emma as she smiled, paid for the drinks, and returned to their table.

“Here you are, sir,” she said, sliding his beer in front of him. “Is he watching?”

“Like a rabid wolf. I think he plans to bide his time, though. Maybe he’s suspicious, or just trying to decide whether we suit his tastes.” Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her close on the seat of the booth, tucking her into his side. With his free hand he toyed with the silver zipper on the front of her bra, lowered it a fraction at a time. “Let’s help him along, shall we?”

She licked her lips and lowered her gaze, hiding the trepidation that flashed there from prying eyes. The slight hitch in her breathing was noticeable only to him as he revealed more of her than she’d likely ever believed she’d willingly show a roomful of people — the party at Dietz’s hideaway notwithstanding. Parting the leather cups, he exposed her breasts, almost revealing her nipples. Almost, but not quite. One wrong move and she’d spill from the garment, and while such displays were par for the course in this type of establishment, he didn’t want to exploit her in public more than was necessary for the job.

Even if playing with her did make him hard as a friggin’ rock.

It wasn’t entirely for their target’s benefit when he traced the swell of her breasts and teased the edge of the leather bra where her nipple hid. Slipped his fingers inside and gave the little nub a light pinch with his thumb and forefinger, rolling it. She gave a gasp, pressing into his touch rather than away. So sensual, his baby.

“Is this a private party, or can anyone join?”

Blaze looked up at the deep voice and into the rugged face of Augustine Kosta. He wasn’t a handsome man, but his presence was commanding. Dangerous. Dark hair was swept back from his face; dark eyes penetrated the soul of his quarry. Here was a man who demanded your attention and was used to getting it by whatever means necessary. He pushed every one of Blaze’s ass-kicking buttons, and reining in the compulsion was getting more difficult by the second.

“Please, have a seat,” he answered with false congeniality. He hoped Kosta couldn’t hear the note of threat in his voice. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Yes, thank you.” The man accepted offhand, almost as if the offer was simply due him.

He signaled a server, gritting his teeth. “Please bring the gentleman whatever he wants.”

“Scotch on the rocks.”

The server hurried away, and Blaze held out his hand. “John Chase. Nice to meet you.”

His target accepted, lips curving upward slightly. “Augustine Kosta. And who is the shining star on your arm?”

“Mr. Kosta, this is my wife, Brandi.” He gave Emma a squeeze. “You may address the gentleman, love.”

“Hello, it’s good to meet you,” she said pleasantly, glancing up at the man, then lowering her gaze respectfully again.

“Likewise, my dear,” he murmured, lust apparent in soulless, glittering eyes like onyx. He spoke to Blaze while still studying her. “You’ve trained her well, Mr. Chase.”

At this point it was crucial that he extend the olive branch of becoming acquaintances by offering more familiarity. But shit, how it grated. “John, please. And yes, she’s done fine, though she was an easy sub from the start. Quite malleable.”

Now, that was a big lie.

“Mmm. I can see that,” Kosta commented with undisguised appreciation.

The arrogant fuck couldn’t see anything at all. Blaze didn’t have to guess that Emma longed to kick him in the shins for the “malleable” remark. He knew her very well, and she was doing an admirable job keeping her irritation under wraps. Under other circumstances, he would’ve laughed.

“I haven’t seen you two here before,” Kosta said, turning his curious inquiry to Blaze.

“First time. We just moved to the D.C. area, and we’ve been searching for another club to call home.” Blaze waved at the sleek interior. “In terms of sheer extravagance, this one beats any I’ve ever tried, hands down.”

That was true, though he much preferred his own club at home. Adam Langley and the rest of his staff lent their establishment a welcoming, friendly atmosphere that was disturbingly absent here.

“What do you do, John?”

Here we go. “Oh, some investing. Real estate, flipping property. This and that.”

A gleam of interest lit the other man’s eyes. Avarice, not a sexual interest. “You do well for yourself, I suppose.” Not a question. His attention lit briefly on Blaze’s gold Rolex.

“Not too bad. Business has its ups and downs. What about you?”

“Much the same. I invest in property and consumer products… and the occasional special project.”

A thrill of anticipation shivered along his spine. “Sounds intriguing. Such as?”

“I back entertainment acts, mostly rock. Have you heard of Ash Kelly?”

Oh, no fucking way. “Who hasn’t?”

Kosta chuckled in a way that came across as mocking. “I own him, and several other entertainers besides.”

Own? What the hell did that mean?

“I’d hardly think a star of Ash Kelly’s stature would need independent backing anymore. No offense.” You slimy piece of dung.

“True. It’s amazing what rights a man will sign away when he’s desperate to make it big.” He smiled as though he’d made a great joke. “Though I’d be willing to sell Kelly’s song rights, seeing as how he’s less than a stellar investment at the moment. They’d be a steal at a mere one hundred million.”

Jesus Christ on roller skates. He stared at the asshole, trying hard to keep his mouth from dropping open. Ash had sold his soul to this devil — Ted Turner’s evil twin — to gain fortune and fame? God, he wished he was a rich man. If he was, he’d take the man up on his offer and free his cousin from his clutches. How much did this pressure have to do with Ash’s downfall?

He’d have to figure that out later. Right now, he had to steer the offer toward a particular investment — one that affected the lives of many.

“That’s a bit rich for my blood,” he replied, forcing a smile. “But I’m always open for new opportunities. If something else comes along, let me know. Here’s my card.”

Removing his wallet, he extracted a fake business card embossed with a cell phone number they’d set up for this op, and handed it to Kosta. The man tucked it inside his jacket and continued to study both him and Emma for several long moments as the server set down his drink and left. He took a sip of the scotch, studying them.

“Do you two play nice in the sandbox?”

Blaze gave him a slow, appraising look. “We’re highly selective. You? I suppose you could watch.” He let his tone suggest he could care less.

Kosta’s eyes narrowed, and Blaze resisted the urge to give him the finger. Here was an SOB who wasn’t used to being denied in any way. Well, surprise, dickhead. You ain’t touching my woman.

As he returned the cool gaze he got the distinct impression Kosta was close to simply calling it a night. But something held him there, and he had a feeling that something was linked to the conversation they’d just had about investments. As he’d hoped, the other man saw him as a golden opportunity — to fund Dietz, with any luck.

Would that temptation be enough to allow him and Emma into their viper’s nest?

He resisted the urge to hold his breath or act like he gave a crap one way or the other. Just two Doms shooting the bull, one inviting the other to watch him play with his sub, the talk about money forgotten.

“Yes, it’s been a while since I’ve played the voyeur,” Kosta said, a small smile curving his lips. “I have a regular room here. Shall we?”

“Absolutely.” Blaze rose and took Emma’s hand, finding it a little clammy. She was nervous, as was he, but there was no help for it. Undercover, they did what was necessary to survive and attempted to minimize the damage to their moral compass.

Such as it was.

Kosta led them to a room much like Blaze’s at home, equipped with every decadent play toy imaginable. Despite the company, Blaze felt the familiar rush in his veins. Adrenaline and lust, coupled with power.

This was his element. He ruled here, and he wouldn’t be inhibited.

“Strip,” he told Emma, shucking his own clothes.

She had more reservations, sliding Kosta a hooded glance before complying. Blaze noted that she turned her body away so the other man could see only her profile. Perhaps it was an unconscious move on her part to protect herself from a distasteful enemy.

Kosta didn’t appear to notice, but sat on a stuffed chair and immediately freed his half-mast rod from his dress pants. Gripping himself, he began to stroke it to full attention, his eyes never leaving the scene Blaze was staging.

The man’s silence was so strange that Blaze forced himself to ignore him altogether. He ordered Emma over to a padded table. “Bend over at the waist and take the hand grips. That’s it — now spread your feet wide and brace yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Not too uncomfortable?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. I want you to remain in position until I give you permission to move. No matter what I do, you’ll be still, but feel free to be as vocal as you need to.” From a nearby table, he fetched a bottle of lube and a butt plug. “Know what I’m going to do? I’m going to slick that tight hole of yours and fill it with this plug. Then I’m going to deliver a bit of pain with your pleasure.”

He squirted a generous amount of lube on his fingers and parted her cheeks. Began to work in the liquid gently. Her moan didn’t sound rehearsed, and he wondered whether she’d managed to forget their audience — as his own dick certainly had. Fortunately for women, they could fake it if necessary.

Luckily for him, his libido wasn’t intimidated by their watcher, at least not enough to deflate his throbbing erection.

“So tight and hot. Gonna fill you now. Easy.”

Setting the lube aside, he took the plug and began to push the tip past the ring of flesh. Oh, yes, this got to him every damned time. The dark thrill he received from owning a sub’s body, spread and ready for him. He loved watching the little device slide deep into her channel, loved her little whimpers and how she pushed her ass out to meet him. Begged for more.

“Sir, please!”

“Don’t worry, there’s more. Much more,” he said softly. This time, he located what he wanted — a leather paddle with a nice grip. An instrument of pleasure, one that would make a nice pop but wouldn’t do more than sting a bit. “Feel this.”

He rubbed one flat side all over her pert ass cheeks, letting her grow accustomed to what was in his hand. To the idea of what he was about to do. Not wishing to startle her, he delivered a couple of very light taps to begin, and then increased the strength and frequency of the swats.

And they were no more than swats, simply given to stimulate the plug in her hole, heighten the sensation of it rubbing inside, causing delicious friction. No more than that because he’d been telling the truth when he’d told her that he wasn’t into hurting or humiliating his subs. Like their last session in his basement, he wasn’t about to bruise her lovely skin or cause redness that stayed for hours. No, he wouldn’t harm a hair on his baby’s head.

His restraint produced the desired results, too. She couldn’t possibly be faking the husky moans that became louder with each strike.

“Ooh, sir! Oh, God!”

Pleased with her response, he rid himself of the paddle. Stealing a glance at Kosta, he saw the man was fisting his cock, working it furiously, his enjoyment of the scene before him obvious.

Something primal took over, a fierce need to claim his woman in front of this intruder. To let him know to whom she belonged and would always belong. Quickly, he parted her folds, lined up, and pushed into her sweet pussy. Drove himself in to the hilt, exclaiming at the wondrous feel of her gripping his cock, rippling and rubbing all around him. Stroking.

“Fuck, yeah, baby. You’re so wet and hot. All mine.”

“Yes, yours!”

“Don’t forget it.”

He took her with languorous thrusts, fingers digging into her hips, faster and harder. The slap of skin on skin filled the room as he took her again and again. Brought them both to the highest peak and over the edge.

She came first, pushing back against him with a loud scream, wanting him deeper. He could do nothing but oblige; he slammed home one last time and let himself go. Gave up all control to ride the wave of sheer heaven threatening to break him apart.

But somehow he survived the onslaught, all the shattered pieces coming back together to render him whole again. Sated and new. After a moment, he withdrew, though he really wanted to stay right there forever.

“That was wonderful, baby. Thank you.” He kissed her shoulder. “You may get dressed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Blaze turned and began to clean himself off with a moist wipe. Kosta’s eyes were closed, and cum dribbled down his cock and over his fist, evidence of a successful scene. Blaze turned away; this snake did nothing for him sexually.

Apparently the man believed otherwise. “That was most satisfying,” he said, his praise almost sounding reluctant. “I’m glad to see that you two were as pleased as I was by our interlude together.”

It wasn’t any compliment to you, dirt bag.

How he wished he could say it. Maybe he’d get to it before the case was done. For now, he just nodded, thinking it best not to comment at all if he could avoid it.

He and Emma dressed and straightened their clothing. Kosta, who’d needed only to wipe off and zip his pants, waited, expression revealing nothing.

“I’m glad you enjoyed our scene,” Blaze finally said. “Perhaps we’ll meet again sometime.” He couldn’t say more than that without sounding too eager for a repeat performance. They couldn’t let him get suspicious.

They needn’t have worried.

“Be here tomorrow night,” Kosta said. “I’d like to introduce you to some friends of mine.”

Yes! Swish.

“We’d love nothing more,” he said, offering his hand. That, at least, he could declare honestly. Yeah, we’d love nothing more than to put your whole organization of traitors away for good.

Kosta shook his hand and then strode out the door, not looking back.

Emma opened her mouth, but Blaze shook his head and put a finger over his lips. Later, he mouthed. Aloud, he said, “You really were fantastic. Ready to go home?”

“So were you. And yes, I’m tired.”

He led her out of the club and into the night, scanning all around them for possible dangers. He believed their cover had held, but it paid to be careful. The hit on Michael was proof that none of them were invincible.

He’d best remember that lesson until this case was over.

Emma had never wanted to curl up and die of embarrassment the way she had tonight when she’d had to perform in front of that creep Kosta. And with Ozzie and Willis listening! Ozzie would never let her live this down. Ugh.

Only her lover’s incredible talent could make her forget less-than-pleasant circumstances like those.

“Thank you for not letting him touch me,” she said softly. They were safely in the car and under way, Blaze at the wheel, their two agent friends following somewhere at a distance.

“Are you kidding? There’s no way I was about to let that slime-ball put his hands on you. Besides, we got the objective accomplished tonight all the same — make contact and forge inroads.”

“Yeah, for tonight. It’s how far we might have to go tomorrow or the next night that I’m worried about.”

“Nobody touches you without permission, especially not someone we both loathe,” he said sharply. “Job or no job. Do you honestly think I would allow that?”

“No, not if you felt like you had a choice. But anything can happen undercover, Blaze. You know that.”

“Not with scumbags like Kosta — not when it comes to you.”

A hard knot in her stomach loosened. “You have no idea how good it makes me feel to hear you say that.”

The quiet buzz of Blaze’s personal cell phone broke into the conversation, and he answered, frowning. “Kelly.” A pause. “How’s he doing?”

His frown deepened, and he swiped a hand down his face, expression grim. He exchanged a few more words with the person on the other end and then extracted a promise to be kept updated before flipping the phone closed.

“That was Bastian,” he said. “Michael’s still fighting. He took a turn for the worse today, and they almost lost him.”

“God. I’d hoped—” Her throat closed on the futile words.

“Yeah, me, too. Goddammit, this isn’t fair!” He pounded the steering wheel, letting loose a stream of curses. “It’s not right that a good man like him is clinging to life while these sons of bitches are running around free, preying on innocent people and destroying lives.”

“We’re trying to stop them.” She laid a hand on his thigh. “That’s all we can do.”

“I know, but that doesn’t help Michael.”

The truth of that statement silenced them both. No matter what happened with this assignment, Michael’s fate was out of their hands. And it hurt more than she’d ever imagined, feeling so powerless.

Another call followed so close on the heels of the first one that she stiffened, heart pounding in alarm. Oh, God. Please don’t let him be dead!

“Hey, Oz, what’s up?”

She sagged in relief, head on the window, staring into the night. Once again the exchange was brief, and he hung up, checking the rearview mirror.

“We’ve got a tail, a few cars back. Silver BMW. Oz said they’re following a good distance behind, and the car has made every single move we have.”

“Kosta?”

“Probably. Or one of his henchmen, though my gut says it’s him. I don’t think he would’ve had enough time after we all left the club to call someone else to follow us.”

“Me, either. Unless he’d already made us.” The thought of the game being up before it started gave her chills.

“No, he didn’t. If he had we wouldn’t have walked out of there.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a comfort or not.”

“Believe me, it is. We’re still alive.”

Hard to argue with that logic. “So if he hasn’t made us, why is he following?”

“He’s checking us out. It’s what anyone would do if they had their eye on a wealthy mark. He wants to funnel our money into their little group of terrorists, and he needs to be sure we’re legit.”

“Which we’re not, so let’s hope our cover holds up to scrutiny.”

“We have the best people creating the paper trails necessary to make sure it does, and in reality that’s not what usually gives us away. It’s the small things that seem innocuous. A personal habit that doesn’t jive, a turn of phrase, even a facial expression. One single detail being the slightest bit off can get you killed. It’s all in the performance.”

“Frightening as hell.”

“Yes, and don’t let go of that fear. Once you get complacent, it’s over.”

She took that kernel of advice to heart, frequently glancing in the rearview mirror as they rode the rest of the way to their temporary home. There was no way to tell which car was the one tailing them, but that didn’t stop her from looking.

Only when Blaze turned off the highway onto the road leading to the house did she spot a pair of headlights a fair distance behind them doing the same. She thought she caught a flash of silver but couldn’t be certain.

“Looks like the bastard’s going to trail us all the way,” he muttered. “Get our address, run a check.”

“You’d better hope our boys are as good as you claim.”

“They are — trust me. This ain’t my first rodeo, darlin’.” With that, he shot her his familiar grin.

It was hard not to trust him when he pulled out the charm. If she didn’t know him so well by now, that would be dangerous. She almost felt sorry for his enemies, but not quite.

Hitting the button to raise one of the three garage doors, he pulled inside. Instead of closing it again right away, he got out of the car and met her as she came around the back.

“Shouldn’t we close up?” she asked as he wrapped her in his arms. “He can see us in this light.”

He pulled her flush against his body and brushed their lips together. “That’s the whole point. He needs to see a couple who doesn’t have a clue they’re being watched.”

“Oh.”

She gave herself to his mouth and melted into him, boneless. He tasted her, seared her from the inside out like no man ever had.

When they finally came up for air, she scanned the neighborhood out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t see anyone, even our guys.”

“You’re not supposed to. That would sort of defeat the purpose of being spies, baby doll.”

Making a face, she stuck her tongue out at him and started for the door leading into the house.

“Hey! Why don’t you do that again and bring it over here where I can show you how to use it properly?”

“Oh, I know how to use it, tough guy.”

“Prove it,” he challenged with a leer, stalking her like a lion.

“You’ll have to catch me first!”

Bolting, she took off with a shriek, her lover giving chase.

It was a footrace she had no intention of winning.

Twelve

“Daayam, you are the best-looking woman I’veever seen!” “Shut up, Willis.” Glaring over Emma’s shoulder, Ozzie scowled at the other agent, who hadn’t stopped hooting like an owl for the past fifteen minutes. “Wanna trade places? I hear being a girl is kinda natural for you.”

“Not as natural as it is for you, obviously.”

“Aw, sweetheart, no need to be testy,” Blaze drawled. Ozzie was pretty funny when he was flustered, and watching Emma do his makeup while he glared — looking eerily fabulous as a woman — was pretty damned hilarious. “Having a pretty face is a good thing, right?” Reaching out, he squeezed one of Ozzie’s fake boobs. “Unless this is too much for your manly ego?”

Ozzie smacked his hand away. “I’ve got your manly hangin’ right here, buddy. Anytime you want to compare with a ruler and come up short, you just say the word.”

Emma rolled her eyes, dabbing at Ozzie’s lips with some gloss. “Jeez, everybody’s so weird this morning. Didn’t you guys get any coffee?”

“Must be the lack of coffee,” Willis put in with a chuckle. “ ’Cause it sure ain’t the pussy.”

Willis and Ozzie thought that was funny, and Blaze couldn’t resist joining the laughter. Those two were a never-ending source of entertainment.

Emma turned bright red and muttered, “I have a hard time believing either of you is getting any, no matter how you’re dressed,” she flung at Willis.

“Ouch!” Ozzie winced. “She scores.”

“Have you heard from Bastian this morning?” Willis asked Blaze, thankfully changing the subject.

“About an hour ago, right before you got here. Good news — they’re starting to think Michael will pull through.”

“Christ, that’s a freakin’ miracle,” Ozzie breathed, serious for once. “I mean, three rounds to the chest and abdomen at point-blank range…”

“No shit. He’s just lucky the hit man didn’t take time to aim between his eyes.” A torso made for a lot easier target on the fly. Blaze shuddered at the memory and pushed it aside. “There’s more news, too. They finally ID’d the assailant, one Arthur Lee Burns, an enforcer for the Liberation group. Like the others we captured, he claims no knowledge of where they’re keeping the weapon, but he named a few names. Guess who was on the list?”

“Augustine Kosta?” Ozzie guessed.

Blaze shot an imaginary gun at him. “Correct. And Major Fontaine.”

“Cool. Nothing about the others in Kosta’s band of merry investors?”

“Nope, not a word.”

“Well, it’s something, anyway. At least their names are more than just ‘under suspicion’ now.”

“Right. And if all goes as planned, we’ll soon have some solid evidence of exactly what’s going on and where Dietz and that fucking weapon are hiding.” Blaze continued to observe Emma work and was highly impressed with how easily she transformed a person into someone else.

“Your turn,” she said, straightening to smile at her lover. “Ever wonder what you’d look like thirty years from now? Well, you’re about to find out.”

“Do I have to? That’s not something I have a desire to know just yet,” he said, only half joking.

“Yep. Pull up your big boy pants and get over it. Sit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He liked the way her eyes twinkled at him merrily when he gave in to her order without more complaint. Sometimes a man’s survival depended on knowing when to shut up and do what his woman said.

He switched places with Ozzie, taking the stool at the makeup station she’d set up in their master bathroom. She tilted his face up and started to work, her cute face scrunching in concentration as she smoothed and dabbed, spreading God-knows-what sort of crap on his face for so long he thought he’d get a crick in his neck.

“Dang,” Ozzie said in amazement. “Wait until you see yourself.”

Blaze tried to turn his head to peek in the mirror, but she stopped him. “Not yet! Now for your hair.”

“Don’t cut—”

“I know, I know. I’m not going to cut it, I promise.”

“Okay.” As she dug in a plastic tote on the floor he could feel the unspoken question hanging between them. She still wanted to know what his deal was, and their two friends were regarding him curiously. Suddenly, for the first time in years, it felt right to confide in friends. Safe.

Clearing his throat, he heard himself say, “When I was seventeen, my father came home early and found me on my knees, servicing his best friend’s son. The guy was three years older than me and dominant. He had a good grip on my shoulder-length hair and was rather enthusiastically telling me how much he loved holding on to it while he fucked my mouth.”

Emma stood up straight, a wig in hand. “Oh, no.”

“Yeah. I’ll never forget the shock and then hatred on my father’s face when he stared at me, seething with rage. Here I was, this young, hot-blooded kid trying to figure out his sexuality, and I didn’t believe I’d done anything wrong. My father thought differently and sought to show me the error of my sinful ways.”

“What did he do, honey?” Emma stepped close and laid a hand on his shoulder. Ozzie and Willis remained silent.

“He beat the hell out of me, and while I lay there damned near unconscious, he left and returned with a pair of shears,” he said quietly. “Cut off every single strand, down to the scalp, and said, ‘Let the bastard hang on to that.’ I still have the scars on my head, which is the practical reason I don’t wear it short. The other is pure rebellion.”

Without a word, Emma hugged him and rested her cheek on his head. For once, Ozzie had nothing smart-assed to say. Blaze had always thought he’d feel too ashamed to tell the story, but instead he felt liberated.

“I’ve never told a soul about it, until now.”

Emma bent and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “I can’t imagine how horrible that must’ve been for you. What happened after that?”

“I left home and never went back. I haven’t seen my father in twenty years.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. My life turned out just fine, thanks to my uncle and the rest of my family.” He gave her a smile to punctuate that statement, and she returned it. “We about done?”

“Almost.”Taking her cue that he’d closed the subject, she worked on stuffing his hair under a rubbery thing fitted to his skull — no easy task.

Next came the wig, styled clean-cut, over the ears… and silver. By the time she had the rug situated to her satisfaction and taped into place, he was dying of curiosity. Especially when she stepped back to survey her work and their two friends exclaimed in disbelief.

“Holy crap!”

“No way.”

“Can I look yet?”

She giggled. “You sound like a little boy. Sure, I guess I’m done.”

He stood, turned to the mirror. And his mouth fell open. “That’s kind of freaky. At least I don’t look anything like my father, thank God.”

“I think you make a very handsome older gentleman!”

“I’m glad you think so. You did an amazing job,” he assured her. “Everyone know their part?” Three voices answered in the affirmative. “Good. Let’s get going.”

They filed out, he and Ozzie wearing blue uniforms that included polo shirts stitched with the logo PARADISE CATERING over their pockets. The difference between them was that Blaze wore navy pants and Ozzie wore a skirt that showed off smooth, shapely legs and blue pumps.

“You’d have quite a future as a drag queen should you ever decide to give up dangerous covert op stuff,” Blaze remarked.

“Bite me, Dad.”

He laughed. Oz sashayed down the stairs, and he thought it weird and fascinating that a guy would be able to move like that, so gracefully. But that’s what made Ozzie good at what he did — being undercover and catching bad guys.

In the surveillance van, which Willis had parked in the back so it wouldn’t be seen from the street, Willis took the wheel while Emma sat in back with Blaze and Ozzie. Wouldn’t do for her to be seen, and besides, she was busy outfitting them with their electronics.

“These gold name tags are actually pinhole cameras. The hole in the center is hardly visible to the naked eye. They’ll ensure that Willis and I see and hear everything you do.”

“Cool.” Blaze took his, embossed with the name Bob. “There’s a microchip in here?”

“Yes. It’s not much thicker than a sheet of paper, and it’s no bigger than the nail on your pinkie.”

“Awesome,” Ozzie said, fascinated. His name tag had JANIE on it. “This high-tech stuff never ceases to amaze me. I feel like freakin’ James Bond.”

“Make that Janie Bond,” Willis snickered.

“Shut up, asshole.”

Blaze smothered a laugh. It really looked funny to hear that masculine expletive coming out of a “woman’s” mouth. “I sure hope you can halfway talk like a girl if you’re forced to say anything.”

“I can when I need to, hot stuff,” Ozzie replied in a sultry falsetto.

Blaze blinked at the younger man. “God, that was creepy. But good.”

“Thanks.”

Willis made a scheduled stop at a restaurant, picking up the catering they’d pass off as their own. Ozzie helped Emma load the white boxes of food onto the silver cart they’d stowed in the back of the van, and then but one crucial detail was left. Blaze palmed several tiny bugs and handed some to Ozzie.

“You know the drill — once we locate Kosta’s office, plant them wherever you can.”

“Got it.”

The rest of the ride progressed in silence, and the tension stretched taut. Each of them knew the dangers involved, but the risk must be taken. They couldn’t count on gleaning enough damning evidence simply from infiltrating Kosta’s group at the Velvet Underground. A good agent never put all his eggs in one basket, so to speak. The bugs would provide extra likelihood that they’d gain information they could pass on to Bastian and the president.

The building that housed Kosta’s company was twenty stories, the company itself taking up several floors. A bit of recon by Willis and Ozzie the day before had revealed Kosta’s office and conference room to be not on the top level, as they’d feared, but on the fourteenth floor. If they were stopped, it would be much easier to make the interrogator believe they’d gotten the wrong floor than if they had to go to the top.

Willis parked the van in the front drive and then got out and walked around back, casually helping him and Ozzie remove the serving cart before climbing in the back and closing the doors. A glance told Blaze that few people were about and none were paying them any attention. Lunch was still an hour away, and nobody would care about a pair of caterers setting up for a noon meeting.

He hoped.

Ozzie pushed the cart inside, and Blaze smiled at a pretty receptionist in the lobby, who gave him a blank stare and then completely ignored him. Shit. He’d forgotten he looked to be nearly seventy. Being old must suck. Though it was better than the alternative.

Once in the elevator, he let out a deep breath. They didn’t speak as it ascended, and when the door slid open, they found themselves in another lobby area facing a slightly more curious receptionist.

“May I help you?” Polite, but to the point.

“Why yes, young lady. We’re from Paradise Catering, here to set up lunch in the conference area,” Blaze said in his most fatherly voice. Like he’d know shit about being fatherly.

The lady frowned. “Um, I’m not aware of Mr. Kosta ordering lunch for his meeting today. Hold on just a minute while I find out.” She picked up the phone, punched in an extension. “Mr. Kosta? There’s a — my apologies, sir. I just need to ask — yes, sir. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“Is everything all right, dear?” Blaze asked politely.

“Yes, I suppose so. He told me to handle it, so I’m guessing it’s fine for you to go ahead and set up in the conference room.” She waved a hand down the hall. “Third door on the right, across from Mr. Kosta’s office.”

“Excellent. Janie?” He waved a hand for Ozzie to follow and breathed a sigh when they were out of the woman’s sight. Another hurdle crossed. At the conference room door, Blaze held it open. “After you.”

Once they were inside, he closed the door behind them, and they set to work. Quickly and efficiently. They didn’t speak as they set out the catering boxes, pretending to take great care with the presentation of the food even as they placed the bugs in strategic spots — under the conference table, under two chairs, and one in the phone.

This done, Blaze nodded at his companion. They’d planned for Ozzie to remain here and protect their cover while Blaze tried to slip into Kosta’s office to plant the rest of the bugs. Easier said than done. Moving to the door, he eased it open a crack and saw that at some point in the last few minutes, the man in question had left his office. He wouldn’t get a better opportunity.

With a last glance at Ozzie, he peered right and left, then hurried across the hall and eased Kosta’s office door shut. Faster than he’d ever worked, he placed the devices in the phone, into a potted plant, and under the desk and a guest chair. He couldn’t do more to ensure success, and if Kosta held a single damning conversation, they’d record it. He’d just thought they might get away clean when Blaze heard raised voices from across the hall. One was Ozzie’s, exclaiming in a frightened woman’s voice.

Shit!

Blaze hurried back across the hall and into the room to find Kosta well into Ozzie’s personal space, fingers wrapped around the agent’s arm.

“I asked you a question,” he hissed. “What are you doing in here?”

Ozzie stared at the man, eyes wide. “We’re from Paradise Catering, and we were just setting up for your luncheon! Please, let go of my arm.”

“I didn’t order any damned—”

“Excuse me,” Blaze interrupted in a chilly, cultured tone. “Is there a problem?”

Realizing the “lady” wasn’t alone, Kosta let go and stepped back, pinning Blaze with a glare. A glare that narrowed as he tilted his head, as though trying to work out a puzzle. “I didn’t order any luncheon for my meeting, so perhaps you can explain all of this food.”

That stare. Blaze’s heart did a slow roll in his chest. There was no way the man could possibly recognize him. “Obviously there’s been an error. Allow me to call my office and we’ll get to the bottom of this.” Extracting his cell phone, he placed a call to Willis and made the rehearsed speech, explaining that they’d delivered an order to the fourteenth floor of the Sands Building, and waited an appropriate length of time before exclaiming. “Oh, no! What are we going to do? Yes, all right.”

“Well?” Kosta demanded.

“It seems we have the wrong address! We’ll be lucky if we don’t lose our client over this,” he lamented. “Please accept the luncheon as our apology. We can’t possibly serve it to our first client now. We’ll have to go fetch another order for him.”

Kosta seemed placated by the idea of free food and smiled. A crocodile smile. “In that case, you’re forgiven. You can show yourselves out.”

The man turned and walked out, leaving them alone. They took the cart and split as fast as possible without attracting attention. Mission accomplished.

“Jesus, that was close,” Ozzie whispered as they exited the building and headed for the van. “That dude doesn’t have a soul in his body to be found.”

“I’ve noticed.”

He kept thinking about Kosta’s appraising stare. The recollection gave him goose bumps.

And then it hit him.

Despite their care and the success of their mission, they’d made a grave error today. One that might doom them all if Kosta figured it out.

When altering Blaze’s appearance, they’d completely forgotten to use colored contacts to hide his golden eyes.

“We didn’t use contacts.”

“What?” Emma studied Blaze’s grim expression. He settled across from her in the van and leaned his head back against the side, looking drained.

“We forgot about my eyes. Didn’t color them.”

Emma felt the blood leave her face. “Oh, crap. That’s all my fault! Do you think he recognized you?”

“No, but if he thinks about it, he could figure it out.”

“I’m such an idiot. I can’t believe I made such a crucial mistake,” she said miserably. God, she’d placed his life in danger. Unforgivable.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t think of it, either.”

“It’s not your job to think of those details. It’s mine!”

“We’re a team, Emma,” Ozzie reminded her. “We all dropped the ball on that one, but there’s no help for it now. We have to go on as planned.”

“That’s right,” Blaze agreed. “No choice. Tonight we keep our date with Kosta and his group, see what we can learn.”

A lump of ice settled in her gut. She wanted to call the whole thing off, but as he’d said, what choice did they really have? They had to find that weapon, period. There wasn’t time to bring in another team.

Their mood was pensive on the drive back. Worried. In under an hour, they’d bid good-bye to their friends with plans to be in motion that evening by nine. Everyone was to rest up for a long night.

Once inside, Blaze took her into his arms and held her tight. “It’s going to be all right, baby.”

She wasn’t so sure. “Make love to me. I want to forget all this for a while.”

“My pleasure, always.”

Upstairs, they shed their clothing piece by piece, never taking their eyes off each other until he disappeared into the bathroom.

“I’ll be just a minute.”

True to his word, he returned shortly, the wig gone and hair loose, most of the makeup washed from his face.

“Damn, I was kinda looking forward to getting done by my sugar daddy,” she teased.

He grinned. “We can save it for when I really am old.”

“You’ll never be old. Not in my eyes.”

Hands clasped, they moved to the bed, and he pushed her onto her back, melting against her body as though they shared the same skin, the same soul.

Her legs were nudged apart as he settled between her thighs, pressing his hard length into the soft cradle waiting for him. With one hand, he raised her arms above her head and pinned her wrists to the bed, sliding inside. Home.

His lovemaking wasn’t entirely gentle, but not rough, either. More like a passionate claiming, a man taking his lady to new heights. Letting her soar while keeping her safe.

She reached the pinnacle with a cry, bursting into a million shards. He followed after, thrusting deep, throbbing within her, face buried in the curve of her neck. She was floating down to earth thinking that in spite of this mission, her life with this man couldn’t get much better, when he raised his head, stared into her eyes, and proved her wrong.

“I love you, Emma Foster. I’ll cherish you until my last breath.”

Tears stung her eyes, and she twined her arms around his neck, drawing him to her lips. “I love you, too. And let’s make that last breath a long, long time from now.”

“It’s a deal, baby.”

As they snuggled, she shoved reality away for a few hours. This man was hers.

Danger and intrigue would have to wait.

Thirteen

Blaze escorted Emma into the Velvet Underground, striving to mask his dislike of the establishment. His first impression, that the place was a bit too polished, hadn’t changed. In addition, this second visit gave him the impression that the clientele was made mostly of poseurs. Wannabes. People hung out here to be able to say they lived the lifestyle when in truth they merely dabbled.

A more thorough inspection told him that most of the players were here to drink and fuck, and the vast majority had no idea what they were doing when it came to D/s. The rules were loose, mostly nonexistent, with no clue to the outsider who were the Doms and who were the subs.

All talk, no walk.

Blaze found a table against the wall, and they settled in to wait for Kosta and company. Adopting a casual pose, he pulled Emma to his side and ordered them a couple of drinks to nurse slowly. He draped an arm around her neck and let his fingers dip into the cleavage of her bustier, toying with the creamy swells of her breasts, just barely grazing a nipple. She wriggled, breath catching a bit, expression both aroused and uncomfortable. She might never be amenable to public sexual displays, but he didn’t mind. It showed a sweet, vulnerable facet to her that shied from showing off what belonged to him.

He’d decided that the delicate shell of her ear needed some serious nibbling and was making her giggle when a now-familiar and loathed voice cut into the fun. Ah, yes. They were here to work.

“I see you started without us. Having a good time?”

Blaze looked up at Kosta and the man with him, not liking the way the men loomed over him. Will he recognize me? God, he hoped not. He knew men like these, and the stance wasn’t accidental. “You bet we are. Have a seat,” he invited, waving at a couple of empty chairs.

“Don’t mind if we do.”

He took a moment to study the man with Kosta and recognized him from the file. Ralph Meyer. A stocky redhead who, while not unattractive, certainly wouldn’t fuel any fantasies on his part — or Emma’s, either, if he had to guess. Meyer was a rather plain man, his physique giving way to a bit of paunch around the middle in the way of desk jockeys all over. His eyes were cool and calculating as they swept him and Emma, sizing them up, though not in a sexual manner. Every nuance told Blaze that Meyer was all about the bottom line — money. And Blaze would bet his savings that Meyer was working out how best to divest them of as much green as possible.

Another fact hit him — why this club had been chosen for their activities. The Velvet Underground, being full of dabblers and not those seriously into lifestyle, made the perfect cover. None of these guys were very experienced with D/s, but very few in this place were, so the men wouldn’t stand out. Hell, meeting in dark corners was the norm.

He wondered where Major Fontaine was hiding, but wasn’t surprised he hadn’t come. If he were the major, he wouldn’t risk this meeting, either.

“Chase, I’d like for you to meet an associate of mine, Ralph Meyer,” Kosta said. “Meyer, this is John Chase and his lovely wife, Brandi.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Meyer said with a nod.

Blaze held out his hand, which the man shook. “Likewise. Brandi?”

Emma smiled briefly and then lowered her gaze. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Blaze corrected firmly. Even though this scum didn’t deserve the distinction, he wouldn’t ignore the rules. If he did, these men might get suspicious.

“Oh, y-yes! I’m sorry, sir!”

Her lack of a blush and her tone were a dead giveaway to him that she wasn’t the least bit sincere in her apologies. The brat had dissed Meyer on purpose, though he was probably too thick to get it. Blaze let it go.

Meyer tilted his head, studying their interaction. “You two are really into this Domination/submission shit, huh?”

Okay, score one for Red for simply admitting he wasn’t all that into the scene. Clever, really. It lent him a certain ring of sincerity that would help win the trust of unsuspecting prey. He decided to counter with a question.

“You aren’t?” He knew, but he wanted to hear the man’s reaction.

Meyer shrugged. “Kosta got me coming here. It’s interesting, I’ll say that much. Might as well mix a little pleasure with business, ya know?”

Here we go. Excitement rushed through his veins like a hound dog on the scent, and he schooled his face to remain only mildly interested. “Business? What sort?”

“Hey, sorry we’re late! Damn — the traffic was a bitch, and we almost got creamed by some guy in a Benz.” Pausing, the newcomer smiled at Blaze, then glanced between him and Emma. “Hello, I’m Landon Hart.” He offered his hand.

Blaze shook it, assessing the gorgeous man before him. Honey-brown hair fell into vivid turquoise eyes that danced with good humor. He had a handsome, honest face with full lips and a hint of shadow on his cheeks. Lean build, but strong, as evidenced by the sinewy chest and torso hugged by a simple black T-shirt tucked into black leather pants. A trim waist, long thighs corded with just the right amount of muscle.

Two words — male perfection.

“John Chase, and this is my wife, Brandi.”

“This is my sub, Nicole Andrews,” Hart said warmly, his affection for her obvious as he reached for her hand, brought it to his lips.

Emma greeted the pair, and they did likewise, the picture of happiness, their ease with each other apparent. The woman, Nicole, was a real looker, with long, dark brown hair and big brown eyes. She was about a foot shorter than Hart, and slender, but there was a strength about her, a presence that demanded attention. Blaze couldn’t put his finger on it, but he would. Eventually.

The new couple sat, and Hart was very solicitous of Nicole, making certain she was comfortable and asking whether she’d like a drink, which she accepted, giving him a smile that lit the air around them. He noticed Emma studying them from underneath her lashes, expression unreadable. Kosta’s face, however, betrayed faint disgust at their lovey-dovey display.

A hunch began to form: Hart was their fall guy. If Hart had a clue what was really being done with the money he was handing over to this crew, Blaze would eat his own leathers. They’d probably lied to him, showed him false documentation of how worthy his investments were in their grubby hands.

Hart was an honest man who was being used for his money and as a smoke screen to lend them credibility. He’d stake his reputation on it. He might be wrong, but he didn’t believe so. Wouldn’t be too difficult to find out for sure.

“So, how do you know my colleagues here?” Hart asked, curious but friendly.

Colleagues, not friends. He filed that away.

“I don’t. We had the pleasure of Mr. Kosta introducing himself to us last night, and we had quite an… eventful evening.”

At this, Hart’s smile dimmed the barest fraction. “I’ll bet. So what’s your occupation, Mr. Chase?”

“John, please.” The lie about his name was stale on his tongue. The honest ones always bothered him when he was undercover, like he was using them. Which was true.

“Lan,” the man responded in kind. “That’s what most people call me.”

“Lan,” he acknowledged with a faint smile. “I take on short-and long-term investments, such as flipping real estate and buying and selling stock. I win some and I lose some, but fortunately the win column is larger.”

A meaningful look passed between Kosta and Meyer, a look Lan didn’t catch. But Nicole did, and her eyes narrowed briefly before her expression smoothed out to neutral, which Blaze found intriguing.

Kosta leaned forward, elbows on the table, apparently ready to get to the point. “I know. I took the liberty of doing some checking on you, and your financial portfolio is very impressive indeed.”

Kosta’s avarice seemed to indicate that the man had not recognized him. Yet.

“I’m not sure whether to be insulted or flattered,” he drawled, arching an eyebrow. He allowed a hint of anger to darken his tone. “Do you run background checks on every person you meet? Or am I just special?”

“It’s a compliment, I assure you. Few people possess the intelligence to become a success or the capital to make it happen. You, my new friend, have both.” That smile was so corrosive, it could eat paint off the side of a house.

Now that Kosta had made the bold move forward to schmoozing him, he had to tread carefully. Not appear too eager. “Right. And I didn’t become successful by caving to every scrap of flattery tossed my way.” He ended on a slight note of humor to take the sting from his words.

“Nor did you get where you are by being blind to good business,” the man countered. “Isn’t that so?”

“True enough,” he allowed reluctantly. “I assume you have a point?”

“You’re forthright and don’t waste time, Chase. I like that about you, because I carry those same traits myself.” Kosta leaned forward, earnest, as though he were about to impart the location of the lost Confederate gold. “What would you say if I told you I had two exclusive investment opportunities for you to consider, too big to pass up?”

“I’d say tell me about them and I’ll be the judge of how passable they are.”

“Smart man.” Kosta waved to Meyer. “I’ll let Ralph tell you about the first one, since it’s his baby. But first, why don’t we let the ladies take themselves off to the bar to get their drinks and get acquainted?”

Dismissed as useless females. Blaze winced as Emma’s gaze snapped up, eyes on fire. Thank God she recovered before the other men noticed, rising and shooting a smile at Nicole.

He tracked their progress to the bar, then looked at Meyer again. The guy was Ralph now that Kosta was playing the familiarity card. Making Blaze feel included in their circle. Was it transparent only to him because he’d been working as a covert spy for so many years?

“We’re starting an arena football team,” Meyer said, warming to the topic. “In the Eastern division, the Richmond Rebels. It’ll be—”

“Hang on. Didn’t the AFL fold last year?” He frowned.

Meyer shook his head. “No, they filed Chapter 11 and suspended the season. But now they’ve come to an agreement to get under way again, and the league is expanding. Exciting new changes are coming, there’s money to be made, and we want in on the action.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been a follower of arena football other than what little I catch on the news,” said Blaze skeptically. “I’m not sure I could invest in something that’s teetering on the brink of extinction.”

“Sounds more dire than it is.” Meyer waved off his concern. “They’ve got it all worked out, no problem. We have a detailed plan to show you, with the bottom line clearly laid out, if you’d care to take a look. Listen, you don’t have to be a fan to appreciate making money. What can it hurt? Looking’s free, right?”

Clever bastards, mixing just enough truth with the lies — the lies being that the millions “invested” would ever be used to start any team. “Sure, what the hell. I’ll go over the information, but don’t hold your breath on that one. I’m not sold on the idea of sinking cash into sports teams, period.”

“Fair enough.”

“What’s the other one?”

“Importing coffee beans and soybeans,” Kosta said with a small smile. “Not nearly as glamorous, but profitable. I’ll get you the file on that as well.”

Oddly enough, Blaze had a change of opinion. His gut told him that the arena football thing was legit, while the products were the scam. A stroke of genius when you thought about it. The investor would be so dazzled by the idea of being a team owner — what was a few hundred thousand more for coffee beans and soybeans?

He turned his attention to Lan. “I take it you’ve been satisfied with these ventures?”

“Well, everything’s in the fledgling stages, and it takes a while to turn a profit, but yes — I am so far. I don’t even have to handle any of the details. Augustine and Ralph see to all the legalities.”

I’ll just bet they do.

“All right, I’ll study both and we’ll go from there. Now, Lan, why don’t you tell me about that pretty sub of yours?”

The man’s face lit, and he spent the next half hour doing just that, listing exactly why Nicole was the most perfect woman who’d ever lived. Not only was she a wonderful sub, but apparently she had a wicked sense of humor, was a great cook and a gifted pianist, and had a black belt in karate. The last seemed so “one of these things is not like the other” that his eyes widened.

Well, okay. A woman should be able to defend herself, after all.

Whatever. He couldn’t help but like a guy who was clearly gone over his woman.

Adding his own praise about his “wife,” he settled into the conversation while keeping an eye on their ladies sitting at the bar. Lan did the same, his protective instincts showing.

Yeah, if circumstances were different, he wouldn’t mind getting to know them better.

A lot better.

* * *

Emma found stools at the bar for her and Nicole, silently fuming at being ordered from the table like an annoying child. “Rude asshole,” she muttered, earning a throaty laugh from her new companion.

“My thoughts exactly,” Nicole agreed. “From the day I met Augustine and Ralph, I’ve wanted nothing more than to push them both off a bridge.”

“Then it’s not just me.” With a sigh, she beckoned to the bartender, who hurried right over.

“What can I get you ladies?”

“A glass of Chardonnay for me,” she said.

“Jack on the rocks, and make it a double, please.” The other woman made a face. “It’s been that kind of day.”

“You’ve got it.” The man moved away to fill their orders.

Emma studied the beautiful woman, finding her to be an intriguing mix of tough and feminine. What woman drank straight whiskey? None she knew.

“How long have you known those men?”

“I met them several months ago, right after Lan and I became a couple. Why he puts up with them, I have no clue,” the woman said with a frown. “Sometimes I think he’s got too good a heart, too trusting a soul.”

“Is it possible, I wonder, for a man to be too good?” The bartender set down their glasses, and Emma waved her off when she reached for her money. “I’ve got this round.”

“Thanks. I’ll get the next one. Anyway, I suppose not. There aren’t enough heroes in the world anymore, and Lan is one of the few.” She smiled, her feelings shining in her eyes. “I worry about his trusting nature, though. He’s just so damned good and kind he doesn’t see the evil in people.”

“And you do?”

“Oh, yes,” Nicole said softly. “I’ve seen more than most.”

“How so?”

“You don’t want to know. But trust me when I tell you that you and your husband don’t want any part of the shit those other two are shoveling. Whatever they’re trying to get him into, talk him out of it.”

“Pardon me for saying so, but if you feel this strongly, why haven’t you done the same with Lan?”

The other woman took a sip of her whiskey and paused, her face suddenly sad. “I can’t. As much as I love him, I can’t keep him from doing business with them. It’s… not my place.”

“As his sub?”

“Yes.”

Emma sipped her wine, mind whirling. Nicole’s words didn’t ring entirely true, as if she had other reasons for letting Lan make a huge mistake. Reasons she couldn’t or wouldn’t share. One thing that did ring true was her love for Lan. The strong emotion fairly radiated from the woman.

“I can’t tell Bl — John much, either, but I’ll try. He’s hardheaded to a fault.” Jesus, she’d nearly blown it! For all that Nicole seemed nice and Emma liked her, this woman could be her enemy. The thought that they might find out about her and Blaze had her breaking into a cold sweat.

“A regular alpha male, huh?”

“Down to his DNA. But he’s got a mushy heart, too. It’s in the little things he does, like his concern for others, how he helps everyone he can. How he always shows me how much he loves me, not just telling me.”

“You’ve got it bad, like me.” Nicole grinned. “A toast to good men who happen to be hot.”

They toasted, and Emma started to giggle, completely unaware that they had company until fingers grazed the back of her neck and she started, ready to defend herself against some fool who wanted to get frisky. Instead, she saw with relief that Blaze and Lan were standing behind their stools, looking amused.

“You two are getting pretty chummy over here,” Lan teased. “Is this a hen party, or can the roosters play, too?”

“Hmm. Depends on how the cock is willing to play,” Nicole quipped. “Naughty or nice?”

The men laughed, and Blaze elbowed Lan. “I think our ladies have had too much time on their hands, sitting over here drinking and getting full of themselves. What do you think?”

“I believe you’re right, my new friend. I think it’s time to remind our beauties who their masters are, employ a bit of discipline. What do you think?”

“The best idea I’ve heard all day,” Blaze said, leering at Emma like a hungry wolf. “Do you want to get rooms in the back?”

Emma’s nipples perked under his attention, knowing she was in for it tonight.

“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you both come with us to my house, join us for a nightcap?” Lan suggested. “Then we can go from there.”

“We’d love to, thank you,” Blaze said, accepting for them both. He appeared excited by the prospect, and not simply because it was a good idea to get inside one of the investors’ homes and look for clues.

No, she had a feeling his reasons were far more carnal in nature and would involve getting naked as soon as possible. She had to admit the prospect of playing with the gorgeous couple revved her libido into overdrive.

“Follow us, then. It’s not too far from here.” With a wink, Lan helped Nicole from her stool and laid an arm protectively about her shoulders, leading her toward the exit.

Blaze took Emma’s hand and tugged her along, outside and to the car. Once safely buckled in and on the road, Emma turned to him.

“Kosta! What a chauvinist pig, sending us off with a pat on our heads while the ‘big men’ discussed business. Boy, that tweaks my titties!”

He snorted. “I’ll be the judge of that.” At her murderous glare, he relented. “Sorry, baby. He’s an arrogant prick, I agree. But remember, we’re in his camp, so we play by his rules. For now.”

“I know. Give me the rundown. Your impressions?” The recap was as much for Ozzie and Willis, who were listening as always.

“He and Meyer were talking up their plan to start an arena football team, which is going to require millions. Strangely enough, I’m leaning toward that one being on the level.” He entered the freeway behind Lan as he continued. “The other is investing in coffee and soybeans. After the glamorous lure of being a team owner, I think the boring product investment is a clever scam.”

“That would make sense. When the coffee beans and soybeans don’t pan out and the football team does, their mark will be so dazzled he won’t care. Hell, if he has that much money, he won’t miss it and might even make some off the team eventually.”

“In which case they hit him up to invest in something else. After all, they’ve gained his confidence, and he’ll be willing to shell out more. They get to keep the symbiotic relationship going without the mark getting suspicious for years, if ever.”

“And meanwhile, they’re funneling the mark’s ‘bad investment’ into the Liberation terrorists’ fund. Damn, they’re good.”

“Yes, they are.”

“I think Lan is innocent, Blaze,” she said earnestly. “Every instinct is screaming that this man is a mark, not their partner, and has no idea about the Liberation group.”

“I agree.” He fell silent for a moment. “What about Nicole? Where do you believe she fits in?”

“I’m not sure, but unless she’s a really good actress, she loathes Kosta and Meyer by her own admission and doesn’t want Lan having anything to do with them. But she claims she can’t stop him from doing what he wants.”

“Well, she can’t really, if his mind is made up.”

“Yes, but there’s more — I feel it. There’s more to her than meets the eye, but I don’t get the sense that she’s dirty. She loves Lan to distraction… the way I love you.”

He shot her a smile and squeezed her hand. “You hear that, boys? Weep into your beer. She’s mine.”

Good grief, she couldn’t get used to having an audience and looked forward to the day they could ditch the minicams. On that day, she planned to run naked through the house and drive Blaze wild.

Moments later, they left the freeway and took the same exit as the one they used to return to the house they’d moved into temporarily.

“Hey, their neighborhood is close to ours,” he observed.

The words gave her a tiny thrill. Would there ever be a real neighborhood that was theirs, together? When this was over, would he ask her to move in with him, or vice versa?

God, she longed to share her life with him completely. Without barriers.

But that was another issue for another day.

At the moment, they had inroads to forge.

And pleasures to explore.

Fourteen

“We have a new investor, Mr. Dietz,”Kosta informed him. “A man named John Chase, self-made. Not quite as wealthy as some marks, but he’ll fatten the Liberation’s coffers nicely.”

Dietz’s fingers gripped the phone as he imagined it was Kosta’s throat. “You’re getting careless, Augustine, speaking too freely of details over the phone.”

“I’m careful,” the man replied coolly. “I’ve never failed you before.”

“As evidenced by the fact that you’re still alive. No one fails me a second time.” A pause ensued on the other end, and Dietz snapped, “What is it?”

“This man, Chase…”

“Yes? What of him, dammit?”

“He checks out, but his appearance is almost too neat. Still, I approached him, not the other way around,” he added thoughtfully.

“Then dig further.” God, he was surrounded by imbeciles today. “Do I have to come there and wipe your ass as well?”

Kosta’s answer was low and pissed. “Of course not. I’ll look into it more, and if I come up with anything you’ll be the first to know.”

“Good. Now, go do your job.”

He hung up on Kosta, wondering if the man had almost outlived his usefulness. He was ruthless but also a bit impulsive. He wasn’t quite as emotionless as his partner, Meyer.

Yes, perhaps when the timing was right, Meyer would deserve a promotion. His first task would be to see that Ross was put in his grave once and for all — if Ross survived his wounds.

Until then, he had a forest fire to put out in his dealings with some very angry and impatient foreign terrorists whose leader didn’t understand that one didn’t just haul a weapon of mass destruction down the highway like a load of chickens.

Plans must be firmed up for moving it swiftly. Smuggling it out of the country would be the real challenge.

And if they failed, every one of them, to a man, would be executed for treason.

Off the record and unbeknownst to the American people, sheep to their own government, the wolf.

There was an irony in there somewhere for one who cared to search.

With a deep sigh, he picked up the phone.

Emma’s eyes bugged as Blaze turned into Lan’s driveway. “Holy shit! Does this guy rob banks for a living? This mansion is three of the one we’re staying in!”

Blaze barked a short laugh. “No kidding. And it’s just him and Nicole living here, from what I’ve gathered. They must need walkietalkies or cell phones if they need to talk when they’re across the house from each other.”

“I’ll bet it has an intercom system.”

“Probably.” Parking, he shut off the ignition. “Ready? We don’t have to socialize if you don’t want. I can make our excuses and we can go.”

“Is that what you want? To leave?” Lord, she hoped not.

“No, but only if you want to stay. You’re what’s most important. Don’t forget that.”

“You’re too sweet.” She gave him a quick kiss. “But I want to stay. I’ll confess I’m so hot and bothered I could combust just thinking about the juicy possibilities tonight.”

Groaning, he moved her hand to cover the hard rod pulsing in his leathers. “You’re not the only one. I think if you’d refused my prick would’ve died of strangulation.”

“Not happening. Besides, you would’ve jumped me as soon as we got home, anyway.”

“I still might.”

They got out of the car and met the other couple on the wide porch. Lan stepped to the massive door, unlocked it, and let them in, then trotted off, supposedly to turn off the alarm. In a moment the high-pitched whistle was silenced.

While they waited Nicole ushered them into the spacious living room. “Come, sit down. Something from the wet bar, perhaps?”

“I wouldn’t mind a glass of white wine, since I didn’t get to finish mine before our men dragged us away.” She returned the other woman’s smile.

“Coming up. I believe I’ll replace that whiskey I was enjoying.”

“Same for me,” Blaze said. “On the rocks.”

Lan returned holding a brown bottle. “I’ve got beer.” He stopped and nuzzled Nicole’s neck. “Thanks for taking care of our guests, sweetheart.”

“My pleasure.”

Lan helped his lady pass out the drinks, and then they sat close on one end of a sofa while Emma and Blaze took a seat on a smaller matching sofa, facing them. The seconds ticked, and she worried things were about to get awkward. Fortunately, Blaze spurred the conversation.

“How long have you two been into the lifestyle?”

Lan dove into what was obviously a favorite subject. “I’ve been a Dom for years, but Nicole is new to the scene. We’ve been together for a few months, and she recently moved in with me, making us official, I guess you could say. I’m the luckiest man on earth.” He beamed at her, and she returned the happiness.

But not before Emma caught a flash of something in her brown eyes. Guilt? Maybe she’d imagined it.

“Brandi is new, too,” Blaze said, hugging her shoulders. He wove a tale, mingling fact with fiction. “We had a falling-out when she found out I was into D/s, but we reconciled, and she decided to give it a try. We married a month ago, and I’ve done my best to make her happy.”

“You have and you do,” she assured him. “Being a sub is nothing like people think. I’ve discovered that the stigma attached to D/s is highly unfair and inaccurate.”

“Sad, but true,” Lan put in. “And most people are unwilling to give it a chance and to change their thinking. I’m glad you found your way.”

“Me, too.”

Lan pinned Blaze with those lovely turquoise eyes. “I have to ask this, and please don’t get offended, but… do you enjoy ménage? Do you share your subs?”

Emma gave her lover’s lap a covert glance to find that he was harder than ever. The answer was plain for all to see, but he spoke all the same. She knew her master would want the rules clarified, leaving nothing to chance, and she was right.

“I enjoy ménage, and in the past I’ve allowed another master to top my sub. However, with my wife I have a slightly revised, simple ground rule — I’m the only one who breaches her with my cock. Should we trade subs, you, for example, may pleasure her or have her pleasure you in any way you see fit except that. You can’t fuck her.”

“Fair enough. It’s a good rule I can respect, and in fact, I prefer the same when it comes to Nicole.” Lan paused, a smile curving his sexy mouth. “Are we going somewhere with this, or just exchanging naughty talk?”

“I’m all for doing more than talking if the ladies agree,” Blaze said, voice husky.

“Yes,” Emma croaked, nerves assailing her. She’d never done anything like this in her life and never imagined it. Until Blaze stormed her life.

Nicole agreed as well, drinking in Blaze with undisguised hunger, which she’d obviously kept hidden until now. In unspoken agreement, both men rose and switched partners, holding out their hands. Emma took Lan’s, finding his to be elegant and smooth. The hands of a wealthy man, yet no less masculine. He led her to a huge fur rug in front of the fireplace and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Take off your clothes while I start a cheerful fire. Gas logs, so it’ll take only a minute.”

Swallowing hard, she unlaced her bustier and wriggled out of it, pulling it off over her head. Breasts freed, her nipples puckered to little points, and she shivered, partly from nerves. Nearby, Blaze had commandeered another big rug and was peeling apart Nicole’s tiny leather bra to reveal pert breasts. She stared, mesmerized, as he bent to flick a rosy tip with his tongue.

With the contact, she felt electrified, almost as though he’d tongued her breast instead. How strange to watch him suckle another woman. How arousing. God, she was wet from that much alone!

“You’re in for a real treat, my dear,” Lan said, stepping in front of her. “Don’t be shy or nervous. A gorgeous lady like you has no need to be.”

“I’ll try. And thank you.” She gave him a weak smile.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” He gazed at the other couple.

They were. Lan had turned off the main lights, so that the firelight licked at sleek bodies, bathing them in golden colors. A visual feast as their partners devoured each other’s mouths and sank to their knees on the rug, naked and entwined. Blaze’s erection pressed into Nicole’s flat belly, needy, insistent. Her fingers wrapped around his shaft and began to stroke lazily, unhurried. His hands buried themselves in her dark, wild hair as they kissed and caressed, already lost to desire.

Clever fingers plucked and twisted Emma’s nipples, and she tore her gaze from the lovers to stare at Lan, who’d undressed while she stared at their partners. The man was a visual banquet, every bit as sexy naked as he was clothed. Tall and cut with lean muscle, boyishly handsome, the glitter of lust in his amazing eyes. His cock was long, not as thick as Blaze’s, but nicely formed and flushed red, arched and leaking at the tip.

Reaching around her, he unzipped her skirt and worked it down, his expression showing his delight to discover she wore no underwear. She stepped out of the skirt and he tossed it aside, then skimmed his palms down her sides.

“Spread your legs.”

She complied, and one hand slid between her thighs, fingers grazing her folds, the little clit. Teasing.

“Your pussy is bare, the way I love best,” he said in a low voice. His fingers spread the moisture there, driving her slowly mad. “I’m going to love tasting you, but not yet. On your knees, sweet thing.”

As she knelt he angled his body so that they could both watch their partners as they enjoyed each other. A jolt of arousal went through her to see Nicole mimic her position with Blaze.

“Take me in your mouth,” Lan said, gaining her attention once more.

Grasping the base of his cock, she eagerly brought the head to her lips and licked the little drops of pre-cum. So salty and earthy. Good. Pulling him in a bit more, she sucked the broad head, almost laughing at his moan of pure want.

“God, yes. Suck me, gorgeous. Take it all.”

Inch by inch, she took him in. It wouldn’t do to give him what he wanted too quickly. After all, she’d learned that subs had a great deal of power over their masters and loved exercising it. Who exactly was the slave here?

She bathed him with her tongue as she drew him deep, keeping the pressure just right — not too hard or too loose. She laved every ridge, tasted, explored. Sliding a hand up the inside of his thigh, she found his heavy balls and manipulated them, squeezing and rolling them gently as she sucked.

“Ooh, yes,” he whispered. “Fuck, yeah.”

His cock slid all the way down her throat, hit the back. She relaxed, letting him thrust, allowing him to own her for as long as he wanted. Why hadn’t she known she’d been made for this? Why hadn’t she realized sooner how freeing it was to give up control and be mastered? Her straight-edged black-and-white world was now happily blurred with shades of gray.

Or maybe living color was a better description.

“Stop, honey!” Lan ordered hoarsely, pulling from her carefully. “You’re far too good at that, and I’m not ready to come. Spin around and get on your hands and knees.”

“Yes, sir.” Her response earned a caress on the cheek and an approving smile.

Doing as she was told, she positioned herself, butt in the air, legs spread. For a moment, she was spellbound by the sight of Nicole still on her knees with Blaze’s cock buried in her throat to his groin, his head thrown back in ecstasy. It was eerily reminiscent of the scene she’d interrupted that had caused her to toss him from her life, but this time there was no jealousy or anger.

Only the glow of love, of sharing. She felt connected to him in a way she never had been before; new threads were forming to strengthen the ones already present.

And then she didn’t have time to think on it anymore because Lan’s palms smoothed over her flanks, moved to her pussy lips, and parted the tender flesh. Exposed her to do whatever he wished. She whimpered, needing him to do something — anything but leave her twisting in the wind.

“Lovely. I’m going to taste you, eat you until you scream and come in my mouth.”

Oh, please — yes! She thought she might’ve begged aloud but wasn’t sure. At the first touch of his warm tongue on her bare pussy, she was mindless. A sexual creature with no awareness except of decadent sensations.

His mouth, devouring her essence. Tongue plunging into her channel again and again, joined by two fingers. Fucking her deliciously, lapping her up.

Through a haze, she saw Blaze behind Nicole giving her the same treatment. As Lan worked her, she watched Blaze’s face press into his lover’s pussy, eating her, and knew how glorious he was making the woman feel.

Wanton and wicked.

She began to unravel, felt the familiar quickening, and wanted both to fly apart and to make it last. Couldn’t have it both ways.

Especially when Lan ordered, “Come for me, all over my face.”

That was all it took. She exploded into tiny particles with a loud scream, spasming on and on until she was sated. Butt still raised, she rested her head on her arms, offered like a sacrifice. Elsewhere, another feminine cry followed, and she blinked to see Blaze’s face buried in his lover’s pussy, drinking every drop she had to give.

“Very good, love,” Lan said, patting her rear. “You tasted wonderful. Stay just like this, ready for your master.”

The men swapped places, and suddenly Blaze was behind her, murmuring encouraging words of love as he placed the head of his big cock between her folds and pushed inside.

“Shit, yes! Hang on, baby, ’cause I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel me next week.”

“Please, sir…”

One thrust. “Needy little slut. You’re mine. Say it.”

“Oh! Yes, yours!”

“Don’t forget who you belong to.” Another thrust.

“N-never! Always be yours.”

His control shattered, and he began to fuck her deeply, without mercy. She loved the rawness this time around, loved him. Bracing her knees wider, she accepted her master in an ageless dance, reveled in his claiming.

Because his claiming was her power — she’d driven him to this state.

He was hers.

Even so, she was surprised and happy to find that he was quickly driving her toward a second climax as he reached for his own. Several more thrusts, and he plunged deep with a shout, hot cum pulsing inside her, cock twitching and jerking.

Her orgasm washed over her like a warm tide, her voice mingling with his. They came down together, and finally he pulled out, kissing her between her shoulder blades.

Their new friends had reached completion as well and lay spent, tangled together, laughing and breathing hard.

For a few long moments, no one spoke. They simply basked in the firelight and the afterglow of great sex, with no thoughts of moving. Eventually, however, it had to be decided whether the evening was done or they were merely taking a break. Lan proposed a yummy solution.

“I’m guessing we’re all tired, and I have a really big bed.” He leaned up on one elbow, sending her and Blaze a seductive grin. “More than large enough for four, and stout enough to take whatever pounding it receives.”

“I’m in. Baby?” he asked her, his face hopeful.

She giggled, ruffling his hair. “How can I say no?”

Lan led his naked entourage upstairs to his enormous bedroom, where they piled into his comfy bed and snuggled in, replete for now. Emma’s eyes grew heavy and she gave in to sleep, thinking that life with her lover would never be dull.

She couldn’t wait for whatever the future held in store.

Blaze came slowly awake to the marvelous sensation of silk sliding over his naked torso. Multiple lips, too, placing nibbling kisses all over his chest, his stomach, his inner thigh. “Mmm.” Wait. No, not silk.

Opening his eyes, he groaned at the sight that greeted him. Lan and Nicole were bobbing over him, Lan tonguing his nipples while his sub trailed kisses down his exposed belly, hair draped over him like a waterfall. Emma was crouched between his thighs, nipping the tender flesh close to his sac, making him shiver.

“Hey, what’s up, guys?” he croaked.

Nicole gave a husky laugh. “You, apparently.”

Oh, yeah. His erection made an exclamation point, proving just how enthusiastic his body was about this particular interruption in his sleep. “Now that you three have me, what are planning to do with me?”

Emma’s head appeared from between his legs, her expression full of mischief. “Permission to blow your mind, sir?”

He sucked in a breath. “Like I’d refuse that request. How?”

“Any way we’d like. In fact, we already have an idea, but you’ll have to trust us. Will you?”

So while he slept they’d been conspiring about the best way to do him? His cock twitched and his balls tightened at the idea. “I do trust you,” he said to Emma, grin spreading across his face. “And I’d be a fool to turn down being thoroughly ravished. Do your worst.”

The ladies giggled, the sound women make when they communicate Oh, boy, he doesn’t know what he’s in for, and rose from the bed, each one retrieving two long black scarves. Nicole tossed one to Lan, and they settled on either side of him, each taking a wrist and tying it to a bedpost. Emma placed a pillow under his hips and then tied his ankles as Nicole fetched what appeared to be a briefcase — though he figured it held something more interesting than Lan’s business papers.

“Do you have a safe word?” the other man asked him.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve needed one,” he replied, his heart thudding in anticipation. “ ‘But I’ll use turtle.’ ”

Lan smiled. “Good. Now lie there and let the ladies take care of you.”

Nicole set the case on the bed, and as Blaze stared at it a sneaking suspicion of what it contained began to form. The thought made his balls tingle, and a chill washed over him, equal parts fear and excitement.

Abandoning the case for the moment, Nicole turned her attention to his cock. Emma handed her a small bottle of oil, and the other woman drizzled a generous amount over his straining shaft, both of them cooing as the stuff slid over his heated skin. The cool liquid coated his sac and oozed between his ass cheeks, and he resisted the urge to squirm. Nicole wrapped her fingers around his erection and pumped in a slow rhythm, spreading the oil, while Emma palmed his balls and did the same, letting her fingers venture between his cheeks to his back entrance. When a finger slipped inside, he tensed.

“Emma—”

“Shh. You said you trust me and to do what we wanted, so relax and enjoy,” she ordered, a mischievous little smile playing on her lips.

Forgoing a protest that might make him look weak, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, giving himself over to the delicate hands working his cock, the fingers massaging his balls and sliding into his hole, stretching. Masculine lips brushed his, and then a tongue pushed into his mouth, tasting, exploring. He refused to let himself think, only feel the strokes and kisses, and he was soon lost, floating on a sea of desire.

Nothing mattered but their touches, and he ached for more. And more was exactly what he got.

Lan moved back, and Nicole released his cock, fiddling with the case. Blaze heard the latch open, felt the lid hit the bed. Emma continued to play with his ass, two fingers now inside him, rubbing but avoiding his prostate and the possibility that he might shoot too soon. Curiosity getting the better of him, he cracked an eye open in time to see Nicole lift a metal wand from the case. His eyes widened, an involuntary moan rumbling in his chest at the realization of what they planned to do to him.

Nicole held it aloft for his inspection. Or torture, to be exact. “Have you ever experienced having a sound in your cock?”

His voice emerged as a harsh whisper. God, he hoped he could keep his orgasm from exploding. “Yes, but not in years.” The memory alone was enough to nearly shatter his control.

“Then you know what to expect,” she replied, clearly pleased. “Stay completely still and breathe deep. Emma, would you put on the cock ring so our captive doesn’t lose it before we’re ready?”

Somehow Blaze managed to remain still, but his breaths came in short pants of excitement as Nicole oiled the wand and Emma fastened the strap around his cock and balls. His sac felt full to bursting, but not nearly as stuffed as he’d feel in a moment. Jesus, he couldn’t wait! When was the last time he’d been taken, totally under others’ control?

His thoughts scattered to the wind as Nicole steadied his cock and parted the slit in the bulbous head with the tip of the wand. Allowed it to slip inside a couple of inches, enough to let him feel the delicious burn. Sweat rolled down his temples and into his hair.

“Emma, take the wand,” Nicole directed.

“I’ve never done it before.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Part of being a good sub is learning how to pleasure your master. Now take it, and I’ll guide you.” Nicole’s tone was firm, brooking no argument.

After a brief hesitation, Emma nodded. “Okay. But don’t let me mess up.”

“I won’t.”

Emma sat up on her knees between his thighs and scooted forward, taking the device from Nicole. Lan placed a hand on his chest in reassurance as Nicole went on.

“I’ll keep his cock straight. You concentrate on keeping the wand pointed straight down, lowering it nice and easy. All the way in until the ball at the end is resting on the head.”

Emma’s face reflected her fascination with the procedure as she began to slide the instrument inside him. Blaze was glad he was restrained and grateful for the cock ring — he’d never seen anything more decadent than Emma filling him, owning the most intimate part of him. He relished the slight burn, which rapidly became a fire of arousal that swept through him, his entire body throbbing with need.

“Oh, God,” he pleaded hoarsely. “Please…”

Emma sat back, looking extremely satisfied with herself. Blaze took in his appearance — cock pointed at the ceiling, the little silver ball riding the tip; bound, spread, and helpless — a feast ready to devour. And devour him they did, the trio licking and sucking his cock and balls, his ass. Three mouths working him until he forgot his name, was nothing but willing, tormented flesh. He writhed, pulling against the bonds, needing more and past articulating what that might be.

Nicole touched Emma’s shoulder. “Now that you have him mindless with lust, what would you like to do with him?”

Emma’s blue eyes darkened, and she moistened her lips in anticipation. “I want to ride him… while Lan fucks him.” She looked at Lan for confirmation.

“Hell, yes,” he said. “I’d love nothing better than to ream that fine ass.”

Blaze’s rule that he never bottomed anymore had flown right out the window a few minutes back. As Lan took Emma’s place between his legs, parted his ass cheeks, and began to push his lubed, sheathed cock inside, he couldn’t think why he’d resisted for so long.

“Ah, fuck.” Lan tilted his head back slightly, gazing down at where their bodies joined. “Damn, that’s good. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he rasped. “So full, but it’s — ah! Yes, it’s so good.”

“God, they’re beautiful,” Emma breathed, reaching between them. Her fingers explored as Lan pumped him, grazing both men, driving Blaze mad.

“E — Brandi.”

Nicole laughed. “I think your master needs his cock inside you. But first you have to remove the sound.”

As Lan fucked him with leisurely strokes, Emma carefully pulled the wand from his cock. Once it was out, she handed the instrument to Nicole, who laid it out of sight. Blaze couldn’t see where and didn’t care. He was just grateful for the cock ring, or he would’ve shot already.

Emma climbed astride him, facing backward, toward Lan. Blaze was surprised, but quickly came to appreciate the view of his length disappearing into her wet pussy, her heart-shaped ass lowering onto him. Blaze let out a ragged moan. His whole body was a giant nerve, a ball of lust that had to be sated or he’d die. He barely registered the few awkward moments as Emma and Lan experimented and finally found a suitable rhythm. Hell, they didn’t have to move at all, he was so far gone. He could blow just like this if he was able.

Nicole moved to kneel beside her master and Emma, playing with both of them. Stealing kisses and stroking them. Blaze couldn’t see everything she did, but he sure knew when she splayed her fingers around Lan’s cock and his own, rubbing both of them as they slid in and out of their sheaths.

Blaze’s head fell back and he closed his eyes, fucking Emma furiously, as hard as his bonds would allow. Lan drove into him without mercy, and when the other man angled his thrusts to hit his prostate, Blaze cried out at the wonderful, forceful shocks that rocketed through his body.

Someone fumbled with the cock ring around his balls and ripped the strap free.

“Come for me,” Emma panted.

“Ahh, yes! Shit!”

His orgasm roared through him like a tornado, leveling him with its raw power. Breaking him down, leaving him devastated — but in a fantastic way. He filled Emma with his cum, spasm after spasm. Suddenly Lan stiffened and gave a shout, finding his release as well. Nicole cried out, and Blaze cracked his eyes open to see Lan’s fingers working her clit, bringing her relief.

Spent, they remained in place, breathing hard, trembling in the afterglow of their orgasms. A part of Blaze wished they could stay like this indefinitely, and he regretted it when Lan pulled out and Emma climbed off. His disappointment, however, was tempered by his lady snuggling into his side and giving him a thorough kiss, love shining on her face.

“You were beautiful,” she said softly. “I had no idea you’d allow the things we did.”

“Baby, I’d do just about anything to make you happy.” He grinned. “And I enjoyed the hell out of it, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“I could, and I’m glad. Maybe we can do it again sometime?”

The hope in her expression melted him. Some big, tough Dom you are. “Sure, baby. Sometime.”

Wrung out, he drifted off to the sounds of Lan and Nicole heading to the bathroom, laughing together. He wished tonight would last forever.

Just like his love for Emma.

The chirping of his cell phone pulled Blaze reluctantly from his nice dream of bending Emma over his kitchen table, poofing it to mist. “Damn it.”

For a moment, he blinked at his surroundings in vague alarm, not recognizing them. But then the evening rushed back to him, curving his mouth upward at the memory.

Unfortunately, reliving them would have to wait. Careful not to awaken the others, he slid from the bed and followed the noise out into the hallway. Yep, he’d left the thing downstairs in his pants, and whoever was on the other end wasn’t giving up until he answered. However, by the time he fumbled in the darkness all the way down and found the device, it had gone to voice mail. Checking the missed calls, he winced and hit dial. Instantly, Ozzie’s strident voice blasted his ear.

“Christ, man, I thought those two had ax-murdered you both! Are you going to stay in there all damned night? Some of us would like to get some sleep.”

“Sorry, Oz,” he said, and meant it. “I had every intention of slipping off to call you guys and tell you to call it a night, and I fell asleep.”

“Glad you could sleep,” he grumped. “It’s torture listening to you guys get more action than I’ve had in the last year! My dick is so hot from beating off it could start a campfire!”

“Jeez, sorry. You know, there’s always Willis…”

“Fuck you, shithead. I wouldn’t touch his ugly ass with latex gloves and wearing a hazard suit.” A protest of “Hey!” sounded in the background, and Ozzie relented some. “Just sayin’.”

Blaze brought them back to the point. “You guys can go. If there’s anything to find here, we’ll locate it, but I doubt that’ll happen. These two are innocent victims, I’m positive.”

“Famous last words. Anyway, there’s another reason I need to talk to you. Our bugs we placed in Kosta’s office are doing their job. We caught a damning conversation between him and Dietz, and Kosta was dumb enough to mention the money going into the Liberation’s fund.”

Blaze pumped his fist. “Yes! Anything else? We’re going to need more, like the location of that damned weapon.”

“Not yet, but you need to watch your back. Kosta told Dietz he has a new investor — you — but he also said he’s suspicious of you. Said there’s something about you he can’t put his finger on, and Dietz told him to dig deeper.”

His elation deflated some. “Fuck me.”

“Yeah. Be real careful, my friend.”

“I will. Get some rest. Or some pussy, then some rest.”

“Yeah, right.” A click signaled the end of their little chat.

Blaze sighed and flipped the phone shut, reaching for his pants. After dragging them on he listened, and heard nothing except the soft tick of a clock from somewhere. He stuck his phone into the back pocket, along with his penlight, and studied his surroundings, wishing he dared turn on a lamp. He could probably explain it away, but it was best to leave the house dark, or the glow might bring someone to check.

The house was so big that he fervently hoped his hunch was correct and the office was on the ground floor, perhaps off the living room. He found the dining room and kitchen first, then tried the opposite direction. One sunroom and a storage closet later, he found Lan’s spacious office. In the moonlight, he could make out a computer on a large desk, a file cabinet, and a hutch filled with what appeared to be awards and trinkets.

He considered the file cabinet, but he knew few people filed incriminating papers like in the old days. A person’s computer was the most likely place to find the most immediate, damning information — if there was any.

Wiggling the mouse, he was glad to see the computer had been asleep instead of turned off. The screen came to life, presenting a wallpaper scene of a mountain and river, little icons lined up in rows. That the man hadn’t password-protected his screen spoke volumes; either Lan was a fatally stupid criminal, or he was innocent. Blaze doubted he was an idiot.

He launched Internet Explorer and waited, ears tuned in for noises. Finding his e-mail was easy — as with many folks he simply closed the program without logging off. Child’s play to scroll through and read them.

But other than the usual hodgepodge of business correspondence from his employees — seemed Lan was a CEO and a more powerful man than he let on — and jokes from friends, there was nothing. Not even an e-mail from one of Kosta’s other contacts that would enable Blaze to get an e-mail addy to trace.

Dietz and his minions weren’t stupid, but he’d get them. Somehow.

Blaze closed out and put the computer back to sleep. He was thinking of searching the file cabinet anyway when the overhead light suddenly flicked on. He squinted against the glare, letting his eyes adjust.

His gut sank to see Lan dressed in cargo shorts, standing in the doorway to the office, handsome face a study of barely restrained fury.

“I think it’s time you tell me who the fuck you really are, and what you hope to find by searching my office.”

Fifteen

Blaze pushed a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling a billion years old. “Come in, close the door, and I’ll try to explain as best as I can.”

Lan gaped at him, incredulous. “You’re summoning me into my own office where you’ll try to explain? After I catch you snooping on my computer and God knows where else? That’s mighty big of you.”

“Please, Lan. Come in and hear me out.”

The other man moved inside and closed the door. “This had better be good, or I’m calling the police. In fact, I probably should, anyway—”

“No. You really don’t want to do that — trust me.”

“Are you threatening me?”

He shook his head. “It’s not me you have to worry about. I need to ask you… have you ever wondered what Kosta and his cronies are really doing with your millions?”

“A few hundred thousand, not millions. And I’ll answer with a question — why do you ask?” His expression was wary, mistrustful.

Blaze didn’t blame him. But the man’s shock was about to be doubled.

“Because Kosta and Meyer, as well as the organization they’re working for, are under investigation.” He paused. “For espionage, treason, homeland terrorism. You name it.”

Lan stared at him, face draining of color. “You… you’re making that up.”

“I wish I were. Then you’d be able to throw me out and go back to your life with your new lady. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. I’ll ask you again whether you’ve had any suspicions about these men.”

Lan’s gaze dropped to the floor, and he didn’t speak for a few moments. When he did, his voice was tired. “Yes. Not at first, but lately I’ve been frustrated at the lack of details about what my money is earning. They were so forthcoming in the beginning, providing me with printouts of data, reassuring me that my money was being well invested and would turn a profit eventually. For the past few weeks, though, all I’ve gotten is the runaround.”

“Why didn’t you say something at our meeting with them? Give me a hint that you had doubts?”

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “I was going to, but not in front of them. Call it a keen sense of self-preservation, but I don’t want them to know that I’ve lost faith. They seem dangerous, crazy as that sounds.”

“No. They are dangerous. As in ‘sell grandma to the devil and spit on her grave’ evil.”

“Great.” He gave a humorless laugh. “And where do you fit into all of this, John? Or whatever the hell your name is.”

“Blaze Kelly, and my ‘wife’ is Emma Foster, who really is my sub, by the way. We’re undercover, and before you ask, we can’t tell you who we work for. You’ve never heard of them, anyway, but rest assured we’re the good guys.”

“You’ll pardon my skepticism.”

“Doubt is healthy as long as it doesn’t cloud your view of the truth.”

“And what is the truth, Mr. Kelly?”

He cringed at the man’s distant tone, but couldn’t blame him. “Blaze, please. The truth could get you killed, so be real sure you want to hear it.”

“Well, if it’s that bad, then I’m likely already on their list of dumbasses to dispatch at their earliest convenience, wouldn’t you say?”

He couldn’t deny that. “Yeah, almost certainly.”

“Give me the easy version.”

“Okay. Kosta and Meyer, along with a player who didn’t show up at our meeting last night, work their money scams with a man who’s high up in the food chain in the U.S. military.”

“Would that be Major Reed Fontaine?” Lan asked.

“The same. You know him?”

“Not well. He doesn’t show up very often, and when he does, he’s a pompous prick. I wouldn’t care if I never saw him again.”

“You’re not alone. Major Fontaine and his merry band report to a man name Robert Dietz, who’s an enemy of the U.S. government and the American people. He’s on every wanted list in existence. Have you ever heard his name?”

Lan frowned, thinking. “I can’t say I have.”

“I didn’t think so, or you’d already be dead.”

“Jesus!”

“Gets worse. Dietz works with a homegrown terrorist group who call themselves the Liberation Organization. In fact, he’s pretty much taken them over. Just over three months ago, with crucial information provided by the major, the Liberation group stole a weapon of mass destruction right from under the military’s nose. It was the largest, most potentially deadly security breach in our nation’s history… and if we don’t get it back, there won’t be a nation left when all is said and done.”

“Oh, my God! You mean—”

“The weapon has been sold, and Dietz’s group is waiting for the right time to move it, smuggle it out of the country. Where, in all likelihood, it will be aimed at us. Millions who survive the initial blast will be killed by the virus it releases. There’s no cure.”

“Why in God’s name did we make a weapon like that?” he whispered, stricken.

“Good question. My guess is to make sure other nations play nice? Except — whoops, we lost it. Now we have to find the goddamned thing before it’s moved.”

Lan hung his head, one hand covering his face. “And I’ve been funding these murderers. I thought the worst that might’ve happened was I’d been taken for some cash. How could I have been so blind?”

Rising, Blaze rounded the desk and laid a hand on Lan’s shoulder. “This isn’t your fault. The blame for this lies squarely on the government. The problem is, it’s guys like me who have to come in and try to clean up the mess without the public getting wind of what’s happened.”

Lan met his eyes, worried. “How the hell are you going to do that?”

“I have help. All you need to do is sit back and act normal. Don’t panic. These bastards can smell sweat at a thousand paces.”

“Well, that’s reassuring. Thanks.”

“I always say a little fear keeps you on your toes, but don’t let it overwhelm you or the game is over.” Lan looked away and was silent for a couple of minutes. “What?”

“I want to help,” he said firmly. “I want to do something more.”

“No. You’re doing quite enough by keeping them happy and their suspicions soothed. I don’t want you any closer than this. In fact, you need to pull back. Distance yourself.”

“I can’t. I have a meeting with Kosta this afternoon. If I cancel, it’s going to look bad. What if—”

“Forget it. I know what you’re going to suggest, and the answer is no.”

“But what if I can get them to let me in on the whole scheme? I might be able to get some good stuff for you and the government, or whoever. Has it occurred to you that they’re setting me up to take the blame for working with this Dietz guy, and planning to disappear with the money? They could plant all sorts of evidence on me.”

Dammit. “Yeah, I thought of that. It’s a possibility.”

“Listen, let me go into this meeting and push a bit. Maybe I can get them to open up and include me in the real plans.”

“Lan—”

“Please, Blaze. I’ve never done one important thing in my life except make money. Let me do this.” His earnest plea found a mark.

“Christ, I must be crazy. Okay, but you’ll be fitted with a camera/ microphone so we can monitor the situation. If it gets out of hand, we’ll get you out.”

“Fine. And Nicole is not to know about this. Agreed?”

“Absolutely. The fewer people who are in on this, the better.” He rubbed his tired eyes. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

If he’d had any idea how correct that statement would prove to be, he might never have gotten out of bed come morning.

* * *

Emma patted Lan’s tie clasp and attempted to quell her reservations about this meeting. She and Blaze had a heated argument about Lan’s involvement, and she’d lost. End of story.

Damned infuriating man! But he was convinced Lan would do fine as long as he didn’t push too hard. Kept his cool.

“You’re all set,” she told their new friend.

“Thanks, Emma.” He shot her a nervous smile.

“You’ve got to chill, or you’re going to arouse their suspicions. Find your center.”

“I will. It’s just that this is a lot scarier now than it was at two in the morning. I’m fine, though. Honestly.”

“How did you get mixed up with these bozos, anyhow?”

“Through business circles. Our paths crossed one too many times at parties, which I’m now guessing probably wasn’t an accident. I’m such an ass.”

“No, you aren’t.” She cupped his sweet face in her hands and tilted it up. “At any point did you ever wake up and say to yourself, Gee, I think I’ve been targeted by loony terrorists who are out to destroy the world? Give yourself a break.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

Blaze hovered in the corner of their living room, glowering, arms crossed over his yummy chest. Seeing as how she was still pissed, she ignored him. Mostly.

“We have two other operatives besides Blaze who’ll be listening while you’re in there,” she reminded him. “You’re in good hands, so don’t worry.”

“That does relieve me quite a bit.” He turned to Blaze. “You’re meeting me back at my house afterward?”

“That’s the plan unless something goes wrong, in which case we’ll meet in the park about six miles from Kosta’s office.”

“Got it.”

Blaze couldn’t hide his concern despite his argument with Emma. “Are you sure about this? You can cancel, make up an excuse.”

“No, I’m in this all the way. Something’s going to happen. I feel it. Maybe this is what’s needed to shake it loose.”

Emma felt it, too, but bit her lip to keep from voicing her opinion again. Her lover was already testy, and it wouldn’t help matters.

Lan left first, and they gave him a head start to avoid following too closely. Ozzie and Willis trailed at a safe distance in the van; she and Blaze were last, in their car. Her lover had insisted they bring another vehicle just in case — the only thing they’d agreed on all morning. Well, that and the fact that Nicole didn’t need to be in the middle of what was going on. Lan had sent her shopping or something.

Nearing Kosta’s office a short time later, they parked on a side street about a half mile from the building. She and Blaze hurried to the back of the van and climbed in, immediately fixed on the bank of monitors against one side. Lan’s tie-clasp camera showed a view of the front doors getting closer as he walked up the steps.

“Going in,” he murmured, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear a response. “Wish me luck, guys.”

“Don’t let him fuck this up,” Ozzie said, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

“If he’s successful and they let him into their fold, he might be able to learn where the weapon is,” Blaze reminded them. He sounded a tad defensive.

Emma exchanged a look with Ozzie. There was no talking to their prickly leader right now, so they didn’t bother.

They tracked Lan’s progress through the lobby and up the elevator to the fourteenth floor, where he got out and greeted the receptionist with polite calm.

“I’m Landon Hart. I have a four-thirty appointment with Mr. Kosta.”

“Oh, yes. Go on back, he’s expecting you.”

Emma waited tensely as he walked to Kosta’s office, the place where Ozzie and Blaze had been caught by the bastard just yesterday. She did not have a good feeling about this at all.

The camera showed Lan’s fist reaching out to knock on the man’s office door, and he was told to come inside. Kosta rose from behind his desk to greet Lan, his smile not reaching his dead eyes. How could anybody be taken in by him for very long?

“Lan, sit down,” he said pleasantly. “Let’s get right to the point and discuss what’s bothering you, shall we? You know I have nothing but the greatest respect for you, and I don’t want you to lose faith in our endeavors.”

“Then show me some solid figures to prove where my money has gone, and I’ll be happy.”

“Now, Lan. You of all people know that large investments take time to pan out.” The man’s tone was patronizing.

“Not this long. I began lending you money more than six months ago, and I’ve not seen one shred of documentation to support my investment in more than four.”

Willis spoke up. “Smart of him, getting that on record.”

Everyone nodded and continued to listen and to watch Kosta’s posturing.

“What’s the sudden hurry? Give me a couple of weeks and I’ll have a report for you that shows everything you want to know. Will that suffice?”

“He’s stalling. He’s caught and he knows it,” Ozzie muttered. “Get out of there, Lan.”

Then, the unthinkable spilled from their friend’s lips.

“Tell me, Augustine — who is Robert Dietz?”

“Oh, fuck me,” Blaze moaned. “Jesus Christ!”

The camera got a great picture of Kosta’s mouth falling open, his eyes wide with unguarded shock for about a split second. Then he pulled himself together, a cold mask slamming down over the jovial façade of moments before.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“You’re not the only one with contacts, friend. You’ve forgotten that I’m a wealthy man same as you, and I can get information if I’m motivated to do so.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“I don’t think so. Does the term ‘weapon of mass destruction’ mean anything to you?”

A black hole of silence ensued, and Emma leaned forward. The poison between them was so thick that she felt ill.

“What do you want?” Kosta’s lips tightened, and his hand strayed under his desk.

“Uh-uh, not a good idea. Do you think I came unprepared? If I don’t walk out of here, my lawyers contact the FBI and the media. Is that what you prefer?”

“Your price,” he said softly.

“A cut equal to yours and Meyer’s, plus fifteen percent for my trouble.”

“I had you figured for the banner-waving American citizen, Lan. I must say I’m surprised.”

“Don’t be. I’m a businessman first. Do we have a deal?”

Kosta paused, hatred and the promise of retribution unmistakable in his steady gaze. “We do.”

“I’ll expect you in my office with a real report by Tuesday of next week.”

Emma was about to hyperventilate with the urgent need to get Lan out of there. Even Lan had to know that meeting would never take place. He’d placed himself in grave danger.

Kosta stood. “Show yourself out.”

Everyone in the van sat stunned as Lan exited and took the elevator. They glanced at each other, their unspoken questions the same: What the fuck do we do now?

“Talk to me, Blaze. Where do I go?”

Blaze started at Lan’s voice. Flipping open his cell phone, he punched speed dial. When the other man answered, he barked, “Don’t go home. They’ll be waiting on you by the time you get there. Revert to Plan B.”

The park.

“I’m going,” Emma told Blaze as he hung up.

“Not this time. Stay here and monitor.”

She pursed her lips, trying to hold her anger at bay. “Is that an order?”

“Damned straight it is.” Leaning over, he brushed her lips with a quick kiss. “I’m sorry, baby. I don’t have time to argue with you anymore. Help me from here, okay?”

She relented some. He knew what he was doing, and she’d only hamper him by being a pain in the ass. “All right. But be careful.”

“I will.” Giving her a wink, he was gone.

The pit of sick dread in her stomach grew wider with every passing minute after he left. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this op was about to go FUBAR. Glancing at her two companions, she slipped from the van for a moment.

Fingers shaking, she made an executive decision and placed an emergency call to Bastian.

* * *

Augustine Kosta braced his hands on the edge of the desk, seething with rage. How dare that son of a bitch come in here issuing threats?

How had things gone south so quickly? First that newcomer, Chase, appearing so conveniently, and then the weird scene in the conference room…

“Fuck!”

He’d been so stupid! He’d be lucky if Dietz didn’t have him eliminated. But he had no choice except to do damage control. Picking up the phone, he punched in Dietz’s number and waited, sweat rolling down one temple.

“Another call so soon? What’s going on?”

“The new investor, John Chase, is an undercover operative,” he said without preamble. “He was here in my office yesterday posing as a lost caterer. I might not have known except for those weird golden eyes.”

“Golden? What does he look like?”

“Big. Long dark blond hair streaked with all sorts of highlights. Probably a disguise, except for those eyes.”

“I have a couple of ideas about who it could be, and if it’s who I think, he bugged your office,” Dietz hissed, voice deadly. “Which means they’re listening! I’m mobilizing a unit. Catch them before they get to Bastian Chevalier! I’m on my way — and this Mr. Chase? Save him for me.”

Goddammit, he was a businessman, not a mercenary.

Even so, he grabbed the pistol from his desk and raced out of the office.

“Dietz and Kosta are onto Kelly!” Ozzie shouted. “Go, go!”

Willis floored it and yelled, “Call Blaze and let him know!”

Bracing herself, Emma made the call, and her blood chilled to hear the message declare service was not available.

As they careened toward their destination, she kept trying, palms clammy.

He’ll be okay. He will.

He’d fought his way out of tougher scrapes. He just had to do it one more time.

Blaze sped along the gravel road to the wooded end of the park, a secluded place where he could give Lan instructions on what to do next. Like get the hell out of Dodge.

He spotted the man’s car next to a copse of trees and breathed a sigh of relief. How the fool had gotten out of Kosta’s building in one piece was a mystery. Throwing his own vehicle in park, he strode to where the man paced, body strung taut as a bow.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” he shouted, grabbing Lan and shaking him hard.

“I didn’t know what else to do! I wanted a confession and I got it, right?” His turquoise eyes were wide.

“Not exactly, because he didn’t actually admit anything. But what you got was damning. It’ll probably be good enough.”

“Probably? Shit, I just risked my neck for nothing?”

“No, I didn’t say that. Listen, the main thing is to get you out of here ASAP to someplace safe. I’ve got clearance to send you to our compound until Dietz and his men are either brought in or terminated. You’ll be safe there.”

Lan paced a few steps from his car and turned — just as a dozen or so armed men in fatigues burst from the trees.

“Get out of here,” Blaze shouted, going for the gun under his shirt.

A pop sounded, and another. The bullets caught him in the shoulder and leg, flung him backward. The impact took him down, but he didn’t feel the burn. He knew only that he wasn’t going to make it, and Lan had to get out of here.

Pushing to his hands and knees, he raised his arm and popped off a few shots. Had the satisfaction of seeing two men go down before dizziness overtook him and he slumped to the ground.

God, this was it for him. He prayed they’d kill him quickly instead of taking him to Dietz.

“You bastards!” Lan screamed, dropping to his side. “Why?”

The men surrounded them both, laughing and taunting. With his cheek pressed against the earth, Blaze had a great view of their boots as they began kicking him in the ribs. Grunting, he curled into the fetal position, but it was no use. He couldn’t protect himself from the relentless blows. One man delivered a hard kick to his head, and the world spun crazily.

He heard Lan yelling and wondered what they were doing to him. Wished he could help.

Then oblivion took him, and he knew nothing more.

Sixteen

Still no answer. Emma was in a state of near-panic, desperate to reach him.

“Are you sure we’re on the right road?” she called to Willis.

“I’m sure. We’ve got to approach with caution, though. I’m going to park in the trees about a mile from his meeting point. Then we’ll walk it.”

“That will take too long,” she protested.

“We don’t have a choice. You want to get caught?”

She clamped her lips shut before she became a hindrance and they left her behind, though it wasn’t easy. After they left the van in a relatively secluded spot, they struck out through the woods toward the parking lot where Blaze should’ve met Lan.

When they were halfway there, the noise of several vehicles coming down the road toward them broke the stillness.

“Get down,” Ozzie yelled.

They dove for cover. As the vehicles passed, Emma chanced a peek, and her pulse stuttered. “Military style,” she said, voice shaking. “Oz, they’ve got them.”

“We don’t know that for sure.” After the last one was gone, he rose. “Let’s go.”

They hurried now, pushing on almost at a dead run. When they broke through the trees, the sight of two abandoned vehicles brought them up short.

As did the pool of blood next to Blaze’s car.

“Dammit, no,” Ozzie yelled to the heavens.

“Oh, God. We’re too late.” Dietz had them. “But Blaze has on a camera, and a tracking device, right?”

Willis answered grimly. “Yeah, let’s just hope Dietz’s men don’t think to look for it until we lock down their location. We need to get back and call in reinforcements.”

“I already did,” she confessed. “Had a bad feeling and called Bastian right after Blaze left to come here.”

“Good girl,” Ozzie praised. “You should’ve gotten clearance from us, but I’m glad you didn’t, this once. I would’ve told you to wait.”

They’d just started back for their van when they heard an engine coming up the road. The car was moving fast. They hurried for cover again, just in time to see a snazzy sports car slide to a stop beside the other two vehicles. To Emma’s surprise, Nicole jumped from her car, screaming.

“Lan? Lan!” She looked into both of the other cars and then spun around, scanning the trees frantically. “Lan!”

Ozzie glanced between her and Willis. “What the hell?”

“Let’s find out.” Emma stepped from the trees and called out softly. “Nicole? What are you doing here?”

The woman spun, pulling a gun from her jacket. It was tough to say which of them was more shocked. Emma held up her hands as though soothing a crazy person.

“Okay, whatever your involvement in all this is, we can work out a deal. You don’t have to go to prison for something you didn’t do. How long have you been working for Dietz?”

Nicole stared at them, momentarily stunned, then lowered her weapon. “I’m not working for that scumbag! I’m trying to put him away.”

“Come again?”

Sticking the weapon back into a holster in her coat, she brought forth a small black wallet-sized folder and flipped it open.

“Nicole Ventura, FBI.” She flipped it closed again and angrily swiped at a tear that had escaped to roll down her cheek. “It seems we have a lot more in common than we thought. We both want to put away the asshole who took our men.”

“Does Lan know you’re a Fed?” she asked gently.

“No. After I knew he was innocent, I still couldn’t tell him who I really am. The fact that I fell in love with him made it ten times harder. I’m not sure he’ll forgive me.”

“I’m sure he will, but first we have to find him. We’ve got backup coming, and in the meantime we’ll tell you what we can about who we are.”

Nicole frowned. “The FBI has jurisdiction in this case.”

“Um, not really. Our orders come from the president.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Black ops?”

“Something like that.”

“Fuck me.”

“Yeah. You with us?”

“Try to keep me out of it and see what happens.”

She wouldn’t dare. Shoving down her fear of what was happening to her lover, Emma accompanied her sad little band to the van.

And prayed Bastian would arrive soon.

* * *

Blaze came awake to a dank, musky odor. To the smell of death and decay. Lying on a hard surface, his shoulder and leg killing him. Unbearable.

He tried to move his arms and legs, to raise his head. The attempt promptly made him sick, and waves of misery lapped over him. Was there a bone they hadn’t broken? If so, he had no doubt they’d find it.

Heavy footsteps approached. This is how I measure the remaining hours of my life. By the staccato rhythm of boots on stone. One heartbeat at a time.

A jangle of keys turned in a lock, and then the metallic grate of a door slid open. A holding cell, he realized. Dietz must’ve found a new home for his legion of monsters to operate from. Where he was being kept was anyone’s guess.

He pried his eyes open, then wished he hadn’t. Robert Dietz strolled into the cell with three men on his heels. Those fucking Liberation bastards. In a far corner of the dim space, a fire had been built, adding to the torrid atmosphere in the room. Something had been placed in the flames. He didn’t want to know what.

“Strap him to the table,” Dietz ordered.

The three goons yanked him off the floor, lifted him, and dropped him onto a large wooden picnic table. He gritted his teeth against crying out. He was stripped to the waist, his socks and boots removed, arms and legs spread and tied down with rope. His shoulder and leg had been wrapped, he noted. Probably to keep him from bleeding to death while they had their fun.

Dietz walked to the fire while the others stepped away. This was the boss’s show, and they wanted as little part of it as possible, from their wary expressions. Blaze couldn’t see what he was doing, but the sonofabitch took his sweet time. Stoking his fear.

“Where’s Lan?” he croaked.

“Waiting his turn to experience what happens to those who cross me.” Dietz came to stand by his feet. In his hand was a metal rod, the tip bloodred. “The bottom of the foot is a particularly sensitive area, among many. Did you know that? Scream for me, Agent Kelly.”

Blaze glared straight into the traitor’s cold eyes, showing all of his hatred and defiance. He would not give him the satisfaction.

White-hot lightning seared his flesh, scorched every nerve ending. Clamping his lips together, he threw back his head and strained against the ropes. Breathing hard through his nose, he endured without a sound through the pain in one foot. By the second, he was making animal sounds of pain in his throat.

The hideous torture took on the quality of his nightmares, and as he drifted from himself he thought, this isn’t real.

He didn’t scream once.

But he dreamed of a blond angel holding him in his arms, kissing away the pain.

Emma couldn’t cry. Not yet.

Not when there was hope that Blaze could still be alive.

And if she lost it, Bastian would never allow her to fly out with the rest of his operatives. He was pacing now in the huge hangar where everyone had assembled, about to start the briefing. The tall blond was grim, not having much to smile about except that Michael would likely survive, and they had a bead on Blaze’s location.

With any luck, the location of the weapon as well.

Once the group was quiet, Bastian stood before them and ran through the particulars. “We’ve got a signal from Agent Kelly’s tracking chip, which hasn’t moved for the past several hours. The location is marked and locked down, and we fully believe this to be the site of the actual Liberation compound where the weapon is being kept.”

He paused and waited for the excited murmurs to fade.

“We’ve got twenty-four agents of our own, including me and one who’s FBI — Agent Ventura — who was undercover and will accompany us. Does anyone have a problem with that?”

“The FBI might, sir,” one young agent piped up.

“Do I look like I give a flying rat’s ass what the FBI does or does not like, especially since we don’t officially exist?”

The agent reddened. “No, sir.”

Dismissing him, Bastian went on. “We have six stealth helicopters outside, which we’ll bring in low and quiet. We’ll all be dropped in a landing zone at a safe distance from the Liberation compound and hike it. Once there, we’ll split off into the teams we’ve formed and take the compound by whatever force is necessary. Should you find the weapon, get on the radio for backup, secure the fucking thing, and defend it with your life. Is that clear?”

A chorus of shouts in the affirmative echoed in the vast hangar, and Bastian nodded. “One more thing — let’s come back safe.”

Head high, Emma walked out with Ozzie and Nicole, who were on her team.

Nobody was going to stop her from bringing home her man.

His body burned. From the inside out.

He stretched, groaning, and took stock. They’d beaten the living shit out of him and burned his feet. But outside of that and the bullet wounds, he thought maybe he had only a couple of cracked ribs, not multiple broken bones, as he’d initially believed. He could move, even if it hurt.

And if he could move, he could fight. Given the chance.

The cell door scraped open again, and Dietz strode inside with two of his men. Without a word, they hauled him upright and dragged him from the cell, forcing him to stumble along on blistered feet. He ignored the screaming pain and shut out everything except making note of where they were going.

They stopped outside a big metal structure that looked like a barn, with double-wide doors fit for a semi to drive through. Dietz studied Blaze for a long moment, and just when it seemed he’d speak, two more men appeared, shoving Lan ahead of them.

Blaze’s knees went weak with relief, however temporary. His friend was alive, and for all his cuts and bruises, nothing else mattered right now. Their gazes held, and Lan tried to smile despite his swollen lip.

Dietz got to the point. “It occurred to me that no man should die for a cause without seeing what he’s fighting for. Especially this cause. Gentlemen.” He waved his men on, and they hustled their captives through the door and into the warehouse.

“Oh my God,” Lan breathed.

Blaze could only stare. There before them, on a platform mounted on a flatbed eighteen-wheeler, was the weapon — a bomb.

The thing was a metallic cylinder painted a plain gray and had the American flag proudly displayed on its side. The bomb was as big as a tank on a gasoline truck, and a billion times more deadly.

“You can’t know true power until you stand in its shadow,” Dietz said reverently. “You can’t understand why several nations would stand in line to possess it until you see. Do you get it? This isn’t just a bomb, isn’t just death. This is the annihilation of all living things, bound in a single innocuous container. Mankind, turned on itself like a cannibal. Our government created a monster, and now it must pay.”

Blaze stared at the cylinder, shaken in body and soul. In a twisted way, he did get what Dietz was saying — you reap what you sow. But innocent people didn’t deserve death and destruction.

“You’re bat-shit crazy, you know that?” He swayed on his aching feet, dizzy. He hurt and he’d lost a lot of blood. But if he held on a bit longer, Bastian would send in the troops and clean house. He had faith.

Dietz laughed. “Perhaps. But I’m the crazy bastard with the bomb and the money. Survival of the fittest since the dawn of time.” He flicked a hand at his men. “Tie them up and leave them in here to enjoy the view and think of the day when this baby will be dropped on the East Coast. Not that either of you will be alive to see it.”

The men dragged them over to the truck and tied them to the back, then left them to contemplate their fate.

“It’s weird being tied to this thing, and scary,” Lan said in a tired voice.

“That’s what he’s counting on. The beating and torture was something he tired of fast enough. Dietz prefers mind games, when he plays games at all.”

“Yeah, that’s coming through pretty clear.”

“My team is coming, my friend. Don’t worry.” Of this he was positive.

“Yes, but will they arrive in time?”

That he couldn’t answer. He could only hope he got to see Emma again this side of heaven.

Emma and her team spoke when necessary, voices quiet, pushing through the trees as fast as they dared. Wouldn’t do to stumble across a booby trap or a guard. They hunted a vile monster, deadlier than any poisonous snake to be found here, because their enemy violated the most basic law of nature.

Dietz was a discriminate killer, taking life because it suited his wants and desires. In his mind, this power made him more than other men. The lord of his own sick universe.

But not for much longer.

They reached the walls of the compound just as the fingers of sunset reached across the sky. Pulling her gun, Emma looked to Ozzie for direction. He halted them, and they listened. Watched.

The place was too quiet and still. Guards were posted near the buildings, but it was as if they were all waiting for something.

“What the hell’s going on?” Ozzie asked, more to himself. He waved to team three, gesturing for them to continue. They were getting into position, encircling the compound.

Just then, more men drifted from the building, talking and laughing. They walked over to a grassy area and milled around for — what? A meeting of some sort?

Then two men were dragged from a big warehouse-type building, and she gasped in recognition. Blaze and Lan. Her confusion morphed to understanding when they were brought into the grassy area and forced to their knees amid the jeers of the soldiers around them.

“Ozzie,” she choked.

“Shh. Be ready to move, and pick off the ones closest to Kelly and Hart,” he ordered them.

Her horrified gaze met Nicole’s in understanding. The men they loved were about to be executed.

Blaze hit his knees beside Lan, gut churning in helpless rage. So this is how it ended? Shot like a dog, as if his life meant nothing?

“I’m so sorry, Lan,” he whispered.

“Not your fault,” his new friend said bravely. “They were going to kill me, anyway. At least we’re not dying alone.”

“Yes, there is that.”

He’d always heard that a person’s life flashes before his eyes when he faces death, but he found it to be untrue. His mind was strangely blank of everything except Emma and losing her so soon. Or rather, her losing him. But she was a strong woman, and she’d go on. Perhaps J.C. would come running to soothe her battered heart? He didn’t wish to delve into that too much.

Dietz would pay for everything he’d done. He had to believe that, or he’d give in to despair.

His enemy came to stand beside him, toting an M16 and staring down at him, eyes so devoid of emotion his blood froze. “Have you anything to say?”

“Yeah. Fuck you.” He spat on the bastard’s shoes, and beside him, Lan snorted. Last acts of defiance and all that.

“Heartfelt, but not terribly original. Good-bye, agent.”

Cold steel kissed his temple.

Emma, I love you.

Terror seized Emma’s heart as Dietz strode to the two kneeling men carrying a big automatic weapon. He and Blaze exchanged few words. Blaze spat on Dietz’s boots.

“Get ready to move!” a voice barked into Ozzie’s radio.

“We’re ready!”

Dietz loomed over Blaze.

Lowered the barrel of the weapon to his head.

Oh, God!

“Move the helicopters in! Let’s go!”

Emma launched herself from her hiding place with the rest of her team, opening fire. Dietz jerked the rifle away from Blaze and returned a few short bursts of fire before disappearing into the confusion. At the moment, Emma didn’t care about anything except getting to her lover.

Blaze pushed unsteadily his feet, face twisted in anger or pain. He tackled a nearby soldier and snapped his neck, divesting the fallen enemy of his rifle.

Emma picked off a goon who was taking aim at Blaze, and then he saw her. His eyes widened, and he aimed to her right, taking out a soldier who’d drawn down on her. She felt a stinging in her arm but paid it no attention. Her objective was to get to Blaze, fight at his side.

Her team as well as the others were busy vanquishing the opposition in other areas, and even a man as skilled as hers could take on only so many alone.

Halfway to her destination, a man in fatigues raised his rifle. Took aim at Blaze’s heart.

Legs pumping, she charged, yelling. The man spun, but he was too late. She pumped his chest full of lead and kept coming, not stopping until she reached her lover’s side. They fought back to back until the last traitor fell and all that could be heard was a random burst of gunfire as their teams cleaned house.

“My God, baby,” he panted, spinning her to face him. Throwing down his rifle, he shook her hard. “You’ve been shot!”

Numbly, she studied her upper arm. “It’s a scratch.”

“A scratch! Dammit, what the hell are you doing here? Why would you put yourself in danger?”

“You know why,” she managed, tears threatening. She’d been holding them back for endless hours, and they spilled over. “I love you. You’d have done the same for me.”

His anger melted, and he crushed her to his chest, holding her tight. “Damned right. But don’t ever do it again.”

“Can’t promise that.”

“Stubborn woman. My sub is supposed to do as I say, you know.” His voice was fading, fast.

“Not when it comes to a situation like this. Forget it.”

“You will do as I…” He swayed and his knees buckled.

“Blaze!” She lowered him to the ground, laying him on his back. In the heat of battle, she hadn’t noticed that his shirt and pants were dark with blood. His face was pale and his breathing was harsh. As she moved around him to check his leg, she saw his blistered feet and stifled a cry. “What did they do to you, honey? Talk to me.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, eyes drifting shut. “Lan?”

She searched around to find Lan sitting on the ground not far away, wrapped in Nicole’s arms. Something told her that Lan would forgive his lady for holding out on being an FBI agent.

“He’s okay, I think. Nicole’s taking care of him.” No response. “Honey?”

Bastian squatted beside her, concern etched on his face. But his tone was reassuring. “He’ll be all right. I’ll make sure of it. You did good, Emma.”

“Thank you.” Tears filled her eyes. “He’s been through so much. I can’t lose him now.”

“You won’t. Nobody is losing anybody they love. Not today, or ever if I can help it,” he said firmly.

She nodded, and she had to wonder whether he was referring to Michael as well.

“Did we get Dietz?” she asked suddenly. His jaw clenched, and deadly anger lit his eyes.

“The teams are searching, but it looks like he got away. I swear if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll put him in his grave,” he seethed. “I just got word, however, that Kosta, Meyer, and Major Fontaine have been apprehended by two of our teams. Kosta and Meyer were packing, presumably to leave the country, and Fontaine was in his office, oblivious.”

“Good, I hope they rot in prison. The weapon?”

“Secure, thank God. I’ve already contacted the president, and he’s dispatching a detail to retrieve it as we speak.”

That, at least, was one major victory. When Blaze was better, she knew they’d feel proud to have played a part in locating the bomb and saving so many lives.

But that was another day. For now she wanted nothing more than to see him open his eyes and smile, reassure her that he was fine.

The medical team rushed over and worked on him for a few minutes, attaching an IV and checking his vitals. Finally, they declared him stable and ready to transport. She was right behind them.

A stick of dynamite wasn’t going to blast her from his side.

Blaze emerged from his safe, warm cocoon even though he didn’t want to. It was fuzzy and nice here. Quiet and sleepy.

A voice kept droning around him, though. Wouldn’t let him remain in limbo. A woman’s voice, familiar. Suddenly he longed to investigate but couldn’t think why. He struggled to surface from underwater, and it was harder than he imagined.

Open his eyes. That’s what he had to do, but it seemed impossible.

“Come on, Blaze. Wakey-wakey.”

Huh?

“Nap time is over, big guy. Let me see those pretty eyes of yours.”

Okay. He really wasn’t one for naps anyhow, couldn’t fathom why he’d want one now that he’d heard such a pretty voice. Probably had a pretty face attached.

After significantly more effort, his lids eased open and he blinked to clear his vision. His eyeballs were gritty, but he made out a form hovering over him. A blond woman. With long hair where there should be short.

“Emma?”

“Welcome back, sweetie!” Her joy was apparent, and it made him smile.

Or he thought it did. His face seemed to be broken or something.

“I’m back? Where’d I go?”

She laughed and sniffled at the same time. Women were weird with the emotional stuff.

“You were in surgery to remove a bullet from your thigh. The one in your shoulder went clean through, so they closed you up. You’re going to be fine.”

“Bullets?”

“Don’t you remember? You were shot while being captured by Dietz’s men, and then they beat you. Burned your feet, too. You need to stay off them for a few days.”

“Oh.” His scrambled brain tried to remember.

“Don’t worry — it’s the drugs,” she assured him, kissing his cheek. “You’re still trying to wake up. I’ll probably have to repeat all of this later.”

“Will you repeat that you love me?”

“You bet. Every minute.”

“Will you say yes — that you want to marry me and get our own house together?”

“You know I will, if that’s what you really want. I love you, sir.”

Now that he’d remember with no problem at all.

“I love you, too, baby.”

Smiling, he let himself float into sleep once more, safe and secure in the four little words he’d waited a lifetime to hear.

I love you, sir.

Seventeen

Blaze picked at the bedcovers, fidgety. Restless. “I want to go home.”

Emma glanced up from the magazine she’d been thumbing through and smiled. Damn, that smile always made his heart trip.

“You sound like a little boy. Never mind,” she said, laughing. “I can already hear your response to that.”

A small smile curved his lips as he studied her. She still hadn’t had time to get rid of the hair extensions, and her clothes were rumpled because she’d been spending too much time at SHADO’s hospital sitting with him, but she was beautiful.

“I haven’t forgotten, you know.” He watched her reaction intently.

“Forgotten what?”

“You said you’d repeat that you love me. Often.”

Giggling, she scooted closer and bussed his cheek. “I’ll tell you that all the time.”

“Just reminding you. And you said you’d say yes, that you’d marry me,” he said, nervous as a schoolkid.

“Well, I would, except you haven’t technically asked,” she pointed out, expression merry.

“How about I fix that, since I’m now coherent?” He took a deep breath. “Emma Foster, will you do me the honor of being my wife? Of making a home with me and sharing our lives?”

Leaning over, she took his mouth in a lazy, sensual kiss. “I’d love nothing more than to be your wife. Yes, my sexy, wonderful man.”

In that moment, he felt like Superman.

“You’ve made me the happiest man alive, baby.” He couldn’t stop smiling.

A knock sounded on the door, and Bastian stepped inside. “Am I interrupting?”

“Nope,” Emma said cheerfully. “You’re just in time to congratulate us — we’re getting married!”

Bastian’s smile lit his face, and he strode over to hug Emma, then to shake Blaze’s hand. “Hey, that’s fantastic! Huge congrats! When they spring you, a celebratory dinner is on me. We’ll invite a small group of friends, if that’s okay.”

“Sounds perfect. Why don’t we wait until Michael is on his feet so he can celebrate, too,” Blaze suggested. Bastian’s smile dimmed some, but he nodded.

“Perfect. I know he’ll like that.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Better each day. I spend as much time with him as I can, but SHADO won’t run itself,” their friend said ruefully.

“How’s he coping with Dietz still being on the run?”

The other man sighed. “He’s pretty quiet about it. Hard to tell what’s going on in his head. It has to be weighing on him that the bastard might come after him again. All I can say is Dietz can try, but the fucker will have to come through me first.”

“He’ll have to come through all of us,” Blaze corrected. “We won’t allow a second attempt, no matter what.”

They fell silent for a few moments, and Blaze contemplated the road ahead of Michael, finding Dietz to ensure his safety once and for all.

“There’s a reason I dropped by, besides checking on you,” Bastian informed him. “Are you up for a special visitor?”

The lilt in his voice, the sparkle in his eyes, captured their undivided attention. Something important was up. “Sure. Anyone I know?”

“Not personally. I think—” Another knock interrupted. Giving them both a secretive smile, Bastian walked to the door and spoke with someone in a low tone. Then he stood back and announced, “Your visitor.”

A tall, imposing man with a head of dark hair going silver strode into the room, accompanied by a burly man in a suit. As the man strode forward, smiling, Blaze stared in absolute shock, as did Emma.

“Mr. President,” he croaked, dumbly sticking out his hand to receive the shake.

“Agent Kelly. It’s a privilege to meet you, son.”

He cleared his throat. “The honor is mine, sir.” Funny, that was the first time in years he’d called another man sir, and this title carried a weight of new meaning.

“I had to come myself and extend my deepest gratitude for what you and your fellow agents have done for our country,” said the president in a sincere, ringing voice. “Sometimes a man must do what he must, knowing he won’t receive accolades from the news media or from the public. Sometimes the call to duty requires sacrifice such as the ones you and your colleagues have made in this delicate matter. You were successful, you’re alive, and on behalf of the United States of America, I thank you and Agent Foster from the depths of my soul.”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Emma whispered. The older man acknowledged her with a smile and a nod.

A lump formed in Blaze’s throat as he stared at the president, momentarily speechless. The older man, it appeared, was prepared to await his response, so he quickly gathered his scattered wits.

“You’re welcome, Mr. President. But I was one cog in the wheel, that’s all. It took the concentrated effort of all my team-mates to rout the Liberation group and take possession of the weapon. Without all of us working together, we couldn’t have succeeded.”

“And that, Agent Kelly, is what makes America so great. People like you and Agent Foster have kept this country safe and strong for over two hundred years, and will continue to do so for hundreds more. Wherever you go, whatever you need, know that I’m only one phone call away. Bastian knows how to reach me.”

The older man squeezed his shoulder, and Blaze wished he could place this moment in a time capsule to take out and examine and savor, over and over. He never wanted to forget this day.

“Thank you, sir.” He hesitated. “Before you go, can I ask you one question?”

“Sure. I may have to have you rubbed out if I answer, but go ahead.”

Everyone chuckled at the president’s joke, though Blaze wasn’t entirely sure he was kidding. “Why did we make this type of weapon? Why the risk?”

The older man’s humor died and the room held its breath. Blaze wondered if he’d trespassed too far, but the man answered with great dignity.

“Because one of our enemies, a terrorist nation I won’t name, was already making one, son,” he said quietly. “Many operatives gave their lives getting us the information we needed to assemble the weapon and beat them to the punch.”

“Checks and balances,” Blaze concluded. Now it made sense.

“Yes. Isn’t that what the universe is made of? Rest assured that weapon will never go astray again, and the men who’ve been captured won’t see the light of day, ever. Same goes for Robert Dietz when you locate him, and I have every faith you will.” The president smiled, ready to make his exit. “And now I have a few more rounds to make. Good-bye, agents.”

Blaze stared after him, feeling like he’d fallen down the rabbit hole. “Holy crap, did that just happen? The president came to visit us!”

“He did indeed,” Bastian said. “And he’s clearly happy with the job we’ve done. Now to find Dietz, and it will be finished.”

“Wonder what he did with the traitors who were captured?” Emma speculated.

Bastian’s brows rose. “Trust me — you don’t want to know.”

Blaze settled in, not nearly as restless as before. A man could bask in the glow of a personal visit from the president for a very long time.

He’d gotten the girl and saved the world after all, and the thought made him grin.

Yeah, he’d get Ash started on that song. Right away.

“I hope you like it.” Emma’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, and she stole a glance at her sexy master. He was lounging in the passenger’s seat like a lazy cat with no cares in the world. Except loving her, it seemed, which suited her fine.

“I told you, if you love it so will I.” He grinned. “As long as it has a basement for our toys, I’m good. Oh, and a hot tub out back.”

“It has both. You’ll see.”

She peeked at him as they turned in the drive, noting how well he’d healed in the past couple of weeks. He still got tired easily and walked with a slight limp, thanks to the leg wound and his healing feet. But he was out of the woods and looking fantastic, his skin a healthy color and his black hair falling like lustrous silk to his shoulders, the blond gone.

He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

As she turned onto their road, nervous excitement skittered through her. When she pulled into the driveway of the remodeled, two-story white frame house, she held her breath.

“Emma, sweetheart. It’s gorgeous!”

She smiled and shut off the engine. “The house was built in the early nineteen hundreds, but the previous owners did a major renovation, so it’s in mint condition. Master bedroom and an office downstairs, guest rooms up. Two fireplaces. A new redwood deck complete with a spa for soaking those tired muscles. Well? What do you think?”

His lips quirked. “I think my brain short-circuited when you said the word mint.”

She rolled her eyes. “Spoken like a real man.”

“Just teasing. I don’t care how much it costs as long as you’re happy.”

He leaned over, and his lips claimed hers, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth. The heady taste of him spiked her need to be held by him after a couple of long weeks — just the two of them. She needed to be as close to him as possible. To crawl under his skin and stay there, safe from the world.

“Want to go inside?”

They got out, and she took his arm, steadying him as they climbed the steps. Fishing out the keys from the Realtor, she unlocked the door and let them in.

“It’s every bit as beautiful inside,” he commented, grinning at her. “But not as much as you are. Come here.”

Leaning against a wall in the foyer, he pulled her between his legs and cupped her bottom. Pressed her against his arousal, letting her feel his need. He kissed her again with slow thoroughness, and by the time they broke apart, they were both on fire.

“Why don’t you show me the master bedroom?”

“Yes, sir.”

His eyes glowed. “God, you know what that does to me!”

“Oh, I do, sir. Believe me.”

“I think you’re learning to top from the bottom, manipulative little minx.”

“Who, me?” She batted her lashes.

With a playful growl, he swept her into his arms, chuckling as she squealed. She resisted scolding him for aggravating his injuries. It wouldn’t do any good when the hardheaded man did exactly what he pleased.

“Which way?”

She pointed, and he took off. Reaching their destination, he placed her gently on the king-sized bed.

“This bed isn’t ours.”

“The owners are selling it with the house,” she said.

“It isn’t our house yet because we haven’t put in an offer.”

She held her breath.

“Hmm, I like my bed better, but it will be fine for one of the spare bedrooms.”

Happiness burst inside her. For Blaze, that was his way of saying yes. He loved the house and already thought of it as theirs.

His eyes never leaving hers, he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. Following suit with his jeans, he unzipped and pushed them past his hips. His cock sprang free, ready to play, and she drank in the sight of him, all six feet plus of battle-scarred man.

Big, naked, and hers. She gave him a seductive smile.

“Considering what you’ve been through, you don’t look all that tired, tough guy.”

“Two weeks of forced abstinence is excruciating torture to a man like me. I need you, baby.”

“You’ve got me, however you want.”

“Strip for me,” he said hoarsely.

Oh, she’d make this worth the wait. She wanted to see him squirm. Holding his gaze, she peeled off her blouse and tossed it away. Her fingers toyed with the front clasp of her bra for a few moments, then flicked it. Freed from their confines, the tips of her nipples puckered in the cool air of the bedroom, hardening to eager points. Ready for his touch. But not yet.

The bra followed her blouse, and she reclined on the pillows. Giving him a sultry look from under her lashes, she took the small nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. Rolling them, playing with them until they had tightened into even more impressive peaks than before. Not nearly as impressive as her lover’s erection, however, which cranked up several notches.

His chest rose and fell unevenly, and he knelt on the spread at her feet. “Emma…”

“Not yet.”

Next, she unzipped her jeans and slid them down, along with her panties. She let Blaze pull them off, but when he started toward her, she shook her head, loving the control he was giving her. His groan of pent-up sexual frustration heated her blood, giving her wicked new inspiration.

Knees bent, she slowly opened her legs, spreading them wide. With her middle finger, she touched herself. Rubbed all around sensually, collecting the first pearls of moisture, parting herself for his viewing pleasure.

“Jesus,” he gasped, practically salivating.

His golden eyes darkened when she pushed the finger inside, stroking. Completely exposed before him, she felt powerful. Wanton.

Relaxed, she savored the feeling of wielding that power over a man who embodied the word. Of reducing him to a feral beast, quivering, barely restrained. But any beast will pounce when pushed too far, and he was ready. She wasn’t about to put him off any longer.

Taking her ankle, he lifted her foot and tickled her instep with light kisses. The pleasant tingling became tiny erotic flashes when he began to use his tongue, and she sucked in a surprised breath. She hadn’t known feet could be sexy — but that was before Blaze.

He kissed and licked a path up her calf, then the inside of her thigh. Lingering, he raised his dark head. “Sweet little witch. I’ll show you what happens when you torment your master. You’re going to beg to have me inside you by the time I’m finished.”

“Prove it.”

The man had nothing to prove, damn him! The instant his tongue found the center of her, lapping at her sensitive clit, she melted. With each expert swipe the pressure built, unraveling her.

“Ooh, yes!” She fisted her hands in his hair, arched her back, seeking. Needing more.

He fastened his mouth to her, setting her body afire. Shattering her control. Drinking in her surrender. Mastering his woman and making her beg, as promised.

“Sir, please!”

He lifted his head, a dark predator, eyes glittering with lust. “Please, what?”

“Make love to me!”

He rose over her, covering her body with his, the muscles of his chest and arms standing in relief under his bronzed skin. Nestling between her thighs, he probed her entrance, then pushed himself into her slick heat.

Gathering her against his chest, he held her tight, resting his cheek on top of her head. The gesture was fiercely protective and oddly sweet. He cradled her like a treasure and began to move, each thrust deeper, deeper, until they became one body, one soul.

Her arms went around him, hands clinging to his broad back. He filled her in every sense, his lovemaking transcending mere sex as always. Bringing them together to complete the mystical bond between man and woman.

He drove into her again and again, the intensity increasing, sweeping them away on a molten tide. He lunged once, twice, then went rigid. They exploded together, his body shuddering as he spent himself.

She wasn’t sure how long they remained locked together, but she relished the security of his strong limbs wrapped around her. Of being safe. With Blaze, she didn’t have to be a tough SHADO agent in a man’s world. She could be a woman, too. Safe and desired. Loved.

At last, she’d found heaven on earth. She’d happily spend the rest of her life loving him. Smiling, she combed her fingers through his inky hair. “Wow. I knew there was a reason I hooked up with a master lover, so to speak.”

“And you have me for as long as you want me, baby.”

“How about forever?”

“I think I can cope with that just fine. I love you, Emma.”

“And I love you. We got our happy ending, handsome.”

“No, our happy beginning.”

She thought of Michael, still struggling back from the brink, and sent out a silent wish that he’d find his beginning, too. She refused to think of Dietz still out there somewhere, posing a threat to them all. He had no place here, today, amid their joy.

“Yes, you’re exactly right,” she told him. “No endings allowed here.”

“That’s right. This is our home, and our lives, starting now. I’m the luckiest man who ever lived.” He paused, grinning. “Especially since you lost our bet.”

“What? When?”

“I bet you that by the end of our assignment, if you didn’t love every part of being my sub, I’d be your sub for as long as you wanted,” he said smugly.

She remembered and let out a playful groan. “Oh, damn! I wanted you at my mercy indefinitely.”

“Believe me, baby, you have me at your mercy. Forever.”

His mouth captured hers, sealing the vow in a sizzling kiss, filling every corner of her soul.

Seemed she’d come out on top after all. Now, that was a position she could get behind.

Again and again.