Black and Blue_Black Star Security Page 4

  She also had large breasts barely contained by a tight pink top. Over it, she wore a lightweight white sweater which wasn’t fastened.

  Those luscious tits made his mouth water. West was a breast man and always had been.

  He was willing to bet she had a big brass pair of balls as well, at least in the metaphorical sense. She was taking a risk, being all alone in a place like this. A sweep of the room confirmed a lot of male attention was focused on her. At least West thought she was unaccompanied because he didn’t see anyone with her.

  Although somehow he had the impression, she’d wanted to draw attention to herself. Something was off about her, although he couldn’t quite figure out why.

  “Who says we can’t do both?” King asked.

  “King and I never agree, but he’s right,” Zane said. “It’s time to get back on the horse. You’ve been divorced forever, Chief. Why don’t you ask her out?”

  “Drop it.” West sighed and tossed back the rest of his watered down whiskey.

  He and Paige had been separated for months before they had formalized the divorce. Since then, West had screwed around with plenty of women, but none of them held his curiosity or captured his attention for more than one night. He’d been in a dry spell for a bit while he focused on Black Star.

  As per usual, they ignored him.

  King spoke up. “It looks like I was wrong, and this operation is a bust anyway. I don’t see Ryder anywhere.” After they’d gotten Huck’s fax, they’d studied the target’s picture.

  West didn’t reply.

  “Come on, West, you can’t spend all of your time locked up in your room with the latest Penthouse magazine.”

  “I resent that, Zane, I’ve joined the digital age and I get my porn online, like any other red-blooded American male.”

  “Go on over and say howdy. Maybe get her number, brother.” King nodded in the direction of the bar. “Come on.”

  West gritted his teeth.

  He almost longed for the old days when he could threaten them with real sanctions. He’d been the team leader back in the day. They called him “Chief” as a sign of respect since he was in charge, but they also called one another “brother” in the field. During their deployments, they’d all gotten very close, like a family.

  “Uh-oh, it looks like someone beat you to it, Chief. And he’s comin’ in hot.” Evidently, Zane was providing color commentary along with his overwatch duties.

  Sure enough, a man in a trucker hat and a flannel shirt sat beside the brunette and reached across the counter to grab a bowl of peanuts, conveniently brushing an arm against her breasts, copping a sly feel. Fixing the dickhead with a glare, she hopped off the stool and moved two feet away from him.

  Unfortunately, the bastard followed her.

  Gritting his teeth, West forced himself to stay put.

  He didn’t want to blow this opportunity by calling attention to himself, but he couldn’t stand to see the woman manhandled.

  “This would be the perfect opportunity to play hero.” King lifted a brow, urging West to get off his ass.

  “And then you could offer to buy her dinner, but I’d take her someplace else.” West could practically hear the scorn dripping from Stormy’s voice. “Because, damn. That place looks like a staph infection waiting to happen.”

  “And here I’d thought we’d lost you. Welcome back,” West said.

  “I have eyes and ears on all of you, but I’m also cruising Vitacost for some melatonin supplements. It’s called multitasking. Hmm, I wonder if they have any matcha powder for my smoothie bowls.”

  Lord help me.

  West turned his attention back to the brunette. The guy reached for her hand, and his beer toppled over, drenching her shirt in the process.

  “Fuck me, it’s a wet T-shirt contest.” King whistled real low in his ear. West had the urge to offer her the shirt off his own back.

  He was about to get out of his seat and handle the situation when she grabbed the man by the lapels and got in his face. West had no idea what she said, but afterwards, the man slunk away with his tail between his legs.

  West was proud of her. Apparently, she could take care of herself.

  “Well, damn.” Zane snickered. “Looks like the little brunette don’t need anybody to stand up for her.”

  “You done missed your chance, Chief,” King said.

  After a quick trip to the bathroom, she emerged with a handful of paper towels and cleaned herself off. It didn’t help. There was still an eye-popping amount of cleavage on display, because the thin material of her shirt showcased her ample attributes.

  “Heads up.” Zane cleared his throat. “The tango’s about to walk in the door.”

  “Are you sure it’s him?” West asked.

  “I think so. What do you say, Stormy? Can you zoom in?”

  “Let me take a look. Yup, he’s a skinny dude and can’t walk a straight line. He must be high.”

  And then the tango walked in the door.

  “I’ve got eyes on him,” King said. “He’s walkin’ right past you, Chief.”

  Ryder headed over to speak with the bartender. The target stood right next to the brunette, and his eyes just about popped out of his head when he glanced down at her impressive chest. The junkie didn’t even sneak a peek either, he just stared like a crass frat boy.

  West was expecting another smack down. Instead, she laid a hand on his arm and leaned up to whisper something into his ear.

  Licking his lips, he nodded.

  “The fuck…?” King shook his head. “Seriously? She’s got a thing for junkies?”

  Or maybe my instincts were right about her. Something’s up.

  With a sultry smile, she headed out the back door, hips swaying. The brunette glanced over her shoulder and gave Ryder a coaxing smile. West felt a strange stab of jealousy, which was ridiculous since he’d never even spoken to the woman.

  Dammit. I’m just worried about the op.

  She’d put herself smack dab in the middle of their takedown and he didn’t want anything to happen to her.

  The tango watched her go. After catching the bartender’s eye, he handed over a wad of cash. In a blink-and-you-might-miss-it move, the bartender placed a small plastic baggie into the junkie’s hand. And then Ryder scuttled off to the bathroom, presumably to get high before his back alley date.

  “King, make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.” Although, West doubted wild horses could drag the junkie’s ass out of this place with such a sweet young thing waiting for him.

  “I’m on it, Chief.” King headed for the men’s room while West made his way outside.

  In the alley behind the bar, he found the shapely brunette lounging against the wall. She glanced in his direction and then her shoulders drooped once she realized West wasn’t Ryder.

  “Ma’am, it ain’t safe out here.” West grasped her arm, and she slapped his fingers away.

  “Don’t touch me. And don’t ever call me ma’am again.”

  He held his hands up. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Please go back inside.”

  “Why?” Her eyes narrowed.

  West refused to explain himself. “Who are you?”

  “Who are you?”

  “The name’s Jackson West.” He stuck his hand out, and she reluctantly shook it. “And you are…?”

  “Annie Foster. Now, leave, you’re in my way.”

  He squinted at her. “Wait. Are you lookin’ for Ryder, too?” Was she a bounty hunter? Had she set some kind of honey trap for the target?

  “Why are you watching Ryder?” Annie lifted her chin.

  “Hey, Chief, we got a problem.”

  Fuck me. Seriously? Talk about a real shit show.

  “What is it, King?”

  “The tango must’ve gotten spooked and climbed out the window. I don’t see any sign of him.”

  “Copy that. We’re done for the night. It’s exfil time.” It was short for exfiltration or finishing a mission. Only th
ey hadn’t finished it, they’d fucked it up.

  And even worse, they’d inadvertently tipped the target off. Now Ryder knew they were looking for him.

  West glared at Annie. “You got in my way.”

  “No, you got in my way. And who the hell are you talking to?”

  “My teammate.”

  “Do you work for the police? The FBI?” She glared. “Maybe the Marshal Service?”

  He ignored the question. “How did you find out he would be here?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I have my sources. What about you?”

  “The same.”

  “Great. Let’s never do this again.” She turned, as though to walk away

  “Come with me, we’ve got a few things to discuss.”

  This time he gripped her arm tighter so she couldn’t break his hold. With Annie in tow, West headed for the Jeep Grand Cherokee he’d just purchased. When he arrived at the passenger side, he found King and Zane already in the backseat.

  “You’re abducting me.”

  “No, I’m escortin’ you to another location so we can have a detailed discussion.” He opened the door and pushed her toward the seat. “Get in.”

  “Which is also known as kidnapping.”

  A round of laughter came from the backseat, but West ignored his buddies.

  “Damnation, you could make a preacher cuss.” He pulled himself together. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want some straight answers.” West wasn’t certain if he wanted to kiss her or give her a hard spanking. Probably both and in that exact order.

  Prior to sliding his cock into her sleek…

  Now isn’t the time to think with your dick.

  “Fine, but once we talk this out, and you agree to back off, you’ll take me back to my car.” She hopped into the Jeep.

  “Deal.”

  Although, he had no intention of backing off. West closed the door and rounded the car, before climbing in the other side. He started up the vehicle and took off down the road.

  “What do you want with Ryder?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t answer that question, it’s classified.” The words just popped out. Although to be fair, he’d had a lot of practice giving that particular explanation.

  “Are you kidding me with this shit? You’re a bounty hunter, aren’t you?”

  Another snort of laughter came from the back seat.

  West fixed King with a dirty look—his infamous steely eyed gaze—the one that made enemy soldiers quake in their boots.

  King shrugged. “Well, she’s not exactly wrong.”

  “Shut it.”

  More snickering followed, but neither of them spoke up. West was glad they found this so fucking amusing.

  “Regardless, I already know everything about Ryder.”

  “How?”

  “It’s classified.” She crossed her arms over her spectacular chest.

  He huffed an inpatient breath. Give a little, get a little.

  “I run Black Star Security, and this is our first case. Ryder’s a fugitive, and I’m gonna bring him in.”

  “No, I’m going to bring him in. Ryder’s mine.” She said the words with so much heat, he was momentarily taken aback.

  “Why are you so hellbent on catchin’ him?”

  Annie turned to glance out the window, as though she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze.

  “Because I’m the federal marshal who lost him in the first place.”

  Chapter 4

  I’ve landed in a Norman Rockwell painting.

  Annie couldn’t believe her own eyes.

  After driving a few miles West pulled up in front of a rustic red and white barn, which must’ve been converted into a house. It sat atop a brick foundation on the edge of a hill, surrounded by a couple of grassy acres. There were large windows on the front of the structure. It was encircled by a brick patio with a large fire pit.

  Annie liked the place immediately. It was homey, in a country way.

  “Come on. Let’s go.”

  While she was gawking, West must’ve gotten out and then opened Annie’s door for her. She didn’t know what to make of his stiff, awkward chivalry. And she was pissed that he’d gotten the jump on her. How do you learn to be so freaking stealthy? And where do I sign up for that training?

  “You live in a barn.” She pointed, as though he’d somehow missed it.

  “Yeah, but I wasn’t born in one. Move it.”

  His teammates had already gotten out and headed inside.

  Great, they’re all ninjas.

  West was heading for the front door.

  “I’m coming.” Annie trailed after him, taking it all in.

  Annie hated to admit it, but she was jealous. This place looked like it should be featured in Architectural Digest. She’d spent the last six months in dingy one star hotel rooms, as she chased down leads and battled cockroaches.

  The barn must’ve been recently renovated. Annie could smell the fresh paint and a faint hint of sawdust. Evidently, the business was just starting. It held the promise of a new beginning, a fresh start.

  Too bad I’m stranded in the past.

  In the foyer, a huge brick fireplace was situated in the middle of the room. Roughhewn stairs led up to the second floor. Another staircase led to a third floor, and when she leaned to the side, Annie glimpsed an open bedroom door.

  Those must be living quarters.

  West led her down the hallway, past an industrial-sized kitchen, a small gym, a comfy-looking living room, a bathroom, and eventually, they stopped in the doorway of a meeting room.

  West opened the door for her. “After you.”

  “No, after you.” Annie scowled.

  “Are you goin’ in or do I have to toss your ass over my shoulder and carry you?”

  Annie frowned.

  They stood there, eyeballing one another, having a silent standoff. Finally, he went through the door, but he did it swiftly, striding away like an Olympic runner bursting out of the starting gate.

  Oh, yeah, this is freaking fantastic. One pissing contest right after the other.

  Like the rest of the place, the room was rustic.

  There were three brick walls, and one large floor to ceiling window, with a breathtaking view of the woods behind the barn. It made Annie want to grab a cup of coffee and come in here during wee hours to watch the sunrise, maybe see a few woodland creatures milling around.

  I won’t be here a few minutes from now, so what’s the point?

  In the center of the room, stood a farmer’s table surrounded by several brown leather chairs. There were a series of framed posters on the wall, all of them featuring motivational sayings.

  The only easy day was yesterday.

  All in, all the time.

  Don’t run to your death.

  She gulped. Damned good advice, especially that last one.

  Annie recognized another poster in the center of the rest. It was the Navy warfare special insignia—a golden eagle clutching a trident, an anchor, and a rifle. These guys must have been Navy SEALS.

  “I’ve got a million and one questions to ask you, but we gotta do this first, for everyone’s safety.”

  After taking off his earbud, West sat down at the head of the table and began disarming himself. First, he set a Glock down. Then he pulled a Bowie knife from a sheath at his waist, and then he unstrapped yet another gun from a holster on his ankle.

  When she didn’t participate, he turned to face her.

  “Are you armed?”

  “Always.” Especially these days. She slept with a gun under her pillow. During the night, Annie sometimes grasped the steel handle, for a bit of cold comfort.

  “Put your arms on the table, where I can see everything.”

  “No.”

  Annie felt naked without a weapon. She’d vowed no one would ever get the jump on her again. She didn’t perceive West as a threat, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She’d been duped before. Subconsciously she touched
the wound on her chest.

  His hand hovered over the gun instinctively. “I gave you an order. It wasn’t a request.”

  “You’re not my boss.” Annie notched her chin and gave him a “what are you going to do about it?” look.

  “Don’t make me take it from you.”

  She flashed her teeth, but it wasn’t a smile.

  West watched her with a irritated expression, waiting her out.

  Annie knew she was being difficult, but couldn’t help herself. Annie was no longer the same person she’d been six short months ago. Everything had fallen to pieces around her.

  Annie had lost her best friend in the world, and then she’d had to break the news to her other friend, Becky. Handing over the blood-soaked blue velvet box had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. Becky had sobbed over the ring as Annie told her how Mike had planned to propose to her.

  After an inquiry, she’d lost her job and hadn’t been able to find a new one in her field. In a couple of months’ time, her roommate had kicked her out when she’d met the latest love of her life, so the man could move in.

  Annie was at rock bottom.

  She worked a fast food job, while she hunted down those fucking fugitives. She’d put them back behind bars if it was the last thing she ever did.

  West still stared at her.

  A thin white line had developed around his mouth, and a vein throbbed in his temple. His right eye twitched just a little.

  Excellent. She’d made the right impression.

  And then he squared his shoulders and gave her a dispassionate once over. He systematically picked her apart with his unwavering gaze.

  Under his scrutiny, her bluster fizzled, like air escaping an old balloon.

  “Fine.”

  Slowly, she grasped her gun, from the shoulder holster and set it on the table. Annie grabbed the knife from her pocket and tossed it on the pile as well.

  “Damn you’re a prickly woman.” He raised a brow. “Was that so hard?”

  “Yes.”

  He snorted.

  Annie wished he weren’t so easy on the eyes.

  West had to be in his early thirties. He had short-cropped blond hair and piercing blue eyes. His features were refined— high cheekbones, full lips, and arched brows. West had big quarterback shoulders, too. With the golden boy image he exuded, he’d probably been captain of the football team. And the prom king, too.