Chapter 31

Hound

“He’s trying to keep us apart,” Gigi mutters from the bed as I grab clothes out of the dresser and shove them into my rucksack.

“It’s just work,” I counter. “I have to work.”

“He knows my birthday is in a week, and he’s making sure you’re not here.”

Her brow crinkles, and damn if she isn’t adorable.

“You want to celebrate your birthday with me?”

She gives me a small, sad smile. “I just don’t want to spend any time apart from you.”

Her confession makes my pulse thrum in my ears.

“Not tired of me yet?” I stuff the last of my clothes in the bag and pull the cord to close it. “You’ll miss me?”

Her head tilts, and she looks at me as if I’m an idiot.

“I’ll miss your cock,” she teases a few seconds later.

“Really?” I prowl toward her, arms on either side of her crossed legs. “You know I can deny you my cock even if I’m here.”

Her breathing slows, growing erratic. “But you won’t.”

I nip at her bottom lip. “You know better than to challenge me.”

Her delicate, pink tongue sweeps out to the injured flesh of her lip. “You know I like everything you give me.”

The tips of her fingers run down my chest, still naked from our shower not long ago, to the button on my jeans.

“I think you cause trouble just so I’ll spank your ass.”

She smiles, soft and knowing. “You’re a very smart man.”

We’ve spent the better part of the last two weeks barricaded in my room, only leaving every once in a while to ‘date.’

Her dad hasn’t cornered me, but he still has that look on his face, as if he’s tasting something nasty, when he sees us together. Shadow’s attitude from the kitchen has disappeared, so I’m certain Kincaid has told him the story about Gabby and her parents and the true reasons I’m not a father to my daughter.

I’ve heard bits and pieces about his and Misty’s story and the fact that she didn’t tell him she was pregnant. He missed the doctor’s appointments, feeling the baby kick, and his birth. Because of this, I know he has to have some apathy for my situation. Although he may feel bad for me, he hasn’t extended any courtesy or offered more than a working relationship. The guys hang out in the garage, and I chill in my room with Gigi.

This next mission, the first since we arrived back from Vegas will be a test. I was able to get along with the Cerberus men on missions before, but I have no clue how things are going to go now.

Scooter and Rocker have at least been courteous, but I can tell they’re keeping their distance, no doubt following their Prez’s leadership.

“One more time before you leave?” Gigi all but begs.

I chuckle. This woman is insatiable, waking up with sex, not going to bed until I’ve come inside of her, not to mention the times I wake in the night with her mouth or hands on my cock.

“You’re going to kill me,” I mutter against her lips.

“I’m just trying to keep you young.”

She moans, breathy and ragged when I slip my fingers under my t-shirt she’s taken to wearing for bed. Her heated flesh against my fingertips, the feel of her tight cunt fisting my cock is going to be hard to go without.

“I’ll let you come one more time,” I concede. “But you don’t get to come once while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” she pants against my mouth.

“Fine.” I shrug and pull my hand from where it was cresting her entrance.

“No,” she whines and reaches for me.

“If you plan to get yourself off while I’m gone, then you can just start today.”

“It’s not…” she sighs and crosses her arms over her chest, leaning and pressing her back against the headboard. “It’s not the same. When I come alone, it’s nothing like when I do it with you.”

“I know,” I agree because fuck if jacking off is anything like orgasming inside her mouth or pussy. I’ve only come with my hand on my dick once since we returned with news of her pregnancy, and even then I was edging her, teasing her as I refused to let her come.

“Please,” she begs.

“Now or later?”

Her eyes narrow and damn I hate leaving her.

“Now,” she decides.

I press my fingers back to her slit, toying with the bundle of nerves at the top. She whimpers, rolling her hips, begging me without words to enter her.

“I’ll know if you masturbate, Gigi.” I press the tips of two fingers inside. “And if you do, I’ll make you wait months before you get off on my fingers…”

I press deeper, my middle finger rubbing over that spot that drives her crazy.

“Or my mouth.” I lick inside of hers enough to tease her. “Or on my cock.”

“You wouldn’t,” she moans.

“Try me and find out,” I warn, before bending my head and biting her nipple through the t-shirt.

She’s lost, giving in to her release. By the time her eyes focus, my mouth is on her, and I’m licking her through a second orgasm.

She’s weightless, completely pliable, and begging me to stop when I’m done fucking her through a third and coming inside her.

“Remember what I said.”

I kiss her again, knowing we’re already on borrowed time.

“I’ll miss you,” I confess against her lips before turning to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

“You’ll miss this pussy,” she mutters, and I can tell she didn’t say it for me to hear.

We’ve been inseparable for weeks, and yet she’s still waiting for me to disappear, to toss her out and replace her. What the beautiful woman sitting on my bed doesn’t realize, is for the first time in my life I’m not planning on my next chick to fuck, because she’s the only one I can imagine fucking, now and in the foreseeable future.

“You, Georgia Leigh Anderson.” I give her a solicitous smile. “I’ll miss your pussy too, though.”

One last kiss and I pull away, lingering against her mouth. Feeling the heat of her body will only make things worse later.

“The guys,” she begins, but she’s shaking her head when I look over my shoulder at her.

“What is it?”

“The guys look for women after the missions are done.”

“Okay?” She’s right. They normally stay one extra day and use it to do the paperwork wrap up and finding pussy is on the top of the list for most of the guys.

“Will you be, you know, looking for a woman?” If she were jealous, I’d be turned on, but the insecurity in her voice nearly guts me.

“Will you go out and look for someone to fuck while I’m gone?”

Her head snaps up. “Of course not!”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re all that I want.”

“Exactly,” I tell her and walk out of the room.

Staying aloof and never really talking about the emotional side of what’s going on with us is difficult. Yeah, we can mask what we’re feeling with sex and depravity, but the heart side of things is always right there on the cusp. Well, it is for me. Unsure of how she feels about what’s going on between us is what keeps my lips closed tight.

“About fucking time,” Scooter complains when I walk down the front steps of the clubhouse.

“Listen, guys.” I look over to see Kincaid, Shadow, and Snatch standing near an SUV. It’s then that I notice that there are three, rather than the usual two, ready to leave. “This should only take us five days, six tops.”

“They’re going along with us?” I whisper to Scooter.

“Looks that way.” He claps his hands, rubbing them together in excitement. “Working with those guys is the highlight of my fucking year.”

“It was my understanding that they no longer did this sort of thing.”

“Like I said,” he repeats. “Highlight of my year.”

“Children,” Kincaid chides as he looks in our direction. “If I may continue?”

I shift my rucksack from one shoulder to the other and give him my full attention.

“This job is domestic. This isn’t a rescue.”

Scooter is all but bouncing around like an unmedicated child with ADHD.

“This is—”

“An assassination,” I interrupt.

Both Shadow and Snatch look in my direction, but it’s the hard look Kincaid gives me that makes me stand up straighter.

“I’m giving you a chance to opt out,” Kincaid says, and no one moves. “Your dossiers are in the trucks. Load up.”

I move in the same direction as Scooter and Rocker. They’ve been my men since our first mission.

“Hound,” Kincaid says just before I lift my boot to climb inside the SUV. “You’re with us.”

Scooter snickers. “Like a visit to the principal’s office.” He laughs again. “Maybe he’ll spank you like you spank his daughter.”

“Fuck off,” I hiss before turning back around and walking toward the Prez’s SUV. “We need to get our own place.” I mutter.

It’s not the first time I thought it, but Gigi hasn’t brought it back up, and I know I can’t do it without her dad’s permission. Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to ask him during this trip. When I climb in behind Shadow who’s driving and meet the tattooed stare coming from Snatch, I realize I may not get the opportunity.

I busy myself with the folder of information that was left in my seat.

“The President?” I ask. Knots form in my stomach.

“Ever met him?” Snatch doesn’t even look at me when he speaks.

“I—” I release the folder and run a rough hand over the top of my head. “We served in Glein together, when all of that Carpathian shit was coming to a head.”

“Fuck,” Shadow says from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Melwas Kocur is a piece of shit.”

“That’s putting it nicely,” Snatch mutters on my right.

“I went to the boat with Colchester and Moore to save the kids while the fucking church burned to the ground. My best friend died outside of the church that day.” I shake my head trying and failing to stop the flood of memories. “Severe food poisoning and a two-day hospital stay is the only thing that probably kept me alive in Badon. Colchester lost more than two-thirds of his men that night.”

“He’s our assignment.”

My eyes snap to Kincaid. Surely I didn’t hear him correctly.

“He’s our Commander in Ch—”

“Keep reading,” Kincaid orders.

I do, finding that my assumption is all wrong. We’re not there to assassinate the President of the United States but prevent an attempt on his life.

I look up nodding. We’ve all carried out commands in the military, and even now as a former Marine, my service to God and country doesn’t end. When I met Maxen Colchester, he wasn’t the President but a Captain in the Army.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” There’s only one way to get close to the President without causing questions and a media uproar.

Snatch smiles over at me, giving me his full attention this time.

“Yep.” Kincaid chuckles. “We’re gonna be Secret Service.”

“Dream job?” Shadow asks looking at me in the rearview mirror.

“Hardly,” I confess. “Don’t get me wrong, they have a serious fucking job to do. I’m more of an action man myself, but I can admit that it’s always been sort of a bucket list thing for me.”

Protecting the President? What soldier wouldn’t jump at that opportunity?

“This is the second time we’ve been called to do this. Once with Fitzgerald after Monica, and now with President Colchester,” Kincaid informs.

“Wait,” I say looking over at Snatch. I circle my face and point to his. “You just gonna stand in your black suit with all that ink and metal on your face?”

He laughs. “The jewelry has to come out. We can’t have anything metal on our persons. We have to go through security before we suit up with Secret Service issued weapons. The tats will be covered up with theatrical makeup.”

“That means,” I begin.

“The metal is going to have to come out of your cock, too.” Kincaid shakes his head at Snatch’s information dump and looks out the window.

“Joy,” I mutter as we near the airport housing the Cerberus private plane.

***

“He even kind of looks like a wizard,” I mutter to Scooter as we stand in the background while Kincaid and Shadow speak with Merlin Rhys about the night’s objectives. “Maybe because of his dark eyes?”

“I don’t know what it is about him, but he doesn’t look like someone I want to cross,” Scooter replies.

“Definitely not,” I mutter just as those dark eyes look from Kincaid in my direction. As if he’s somehow looking into my soul, I can’t break the hold he has on me.

I’m locked in his stare as he nods at Kincaid and walks past him, right in my direction.

“Lieutenant Rawley,” Merlin says as he holds his hand out.

“Sir.” I’m confused as to how he knows my name when I’ve never set eyes on this man before. He’s some sort of adviser to the Party, so I’m certain it’s his job to know everyone who has the chance of coming into contact with Colchester. I take his proffered hand, and a chill runs over my body at the contact.

“A moment of your time?” He tilts his head in the direction of a quiet corner.

I sidestep Scooter and turn in the direction Mr. Rhys indicates. Once in the abandoned corner of the room, he looks around, exhaustion crinkling the corner of his eyes.

“Mr. Anderson has your team’s directions, and he’ll go over those with you momentarily, but I need to speak to you about your expectations when the President dies tonight.”

***

“Thank you for having me as your President,” Colchester says as he concludes his side of the debate. “It’s been the greatest honor I can imagine.”

My eyes scan the crowd, searching for any sign of discord. I look in people’s eyes, watch their hands, trying to find someone, anyone that is disgruntled or pissed about any of the men standing on the stage at my back.

I can’t see the President, but his words echo in my ears. He sounds resigned, as if he knows what’s going to happen tonight. Having this debate, knowing there is such a serious threat to his life or the life of the former Vice President is a stupid idea, but I’m not a politician, and those decisions are way above my pay grade, which is exactly what Merlin Rhys said when I informed him of my opinion during our conversation.

A man in the corner rolls his eyes at Colchester’s words, but before I can inform Rocker, who’s closest to him, there’s a commotion to my right.

I’m moving the second I see the cameraman nearly knock over his camera, the dolly getting trapped around cords taped to the ground. I’m mere feet from him when he reaches into his pocket, like it’s the most natural thing in the fucking world to pull out a utility knife in the presence of dozens of Secret Service and the President of the fucking United States.

Shadow is taking action as well as one other Service member. The camera crashes to the ground, a deafening sound, as people scramble and scream all around us. Once we get our hands on him, he’s easier to wrestle to the ground than I presume a would-be assassin should be.

I stand once the cameraman is subdued, but as Shadow is talking into his mic, I hear a different kind of scream at my back. Turning, I see commotion erupt on the stage. The blood-curdling scream came from Greer Colchester, the First Lady.

“It was a diversion,” I yell.

Kincaid, Shadow, and I swarm the stage along with several other Service members.

“Strength in the Mountains,” the man under the President chants. The familiar Carpathian motto sends a shiver up my spine.

“There’s strength here, too,” Mr. President claims, and I’ve never felt prouder of a soldier in my life.

I notice a knife wound bleeding on his bicep, as the First lady and Embry Moore cling to him.

“The ambulance is ready. The paramedics are coming now,” Kincaid says as he pushes in closer to the injured President.

It isn’t until I slide in closer that I see the ceramic knife sticking out of Colchester’s stomach. My blood runs cold even while my body acts. Kincaid grabs Embry Moore who looks like he can’t decide between staunching the blood flow and cupping his President’s jaw. The First Lady is sobbing uncontrollably and whispering to him.

The gurney arrives, and Colchester is lifted from the ground in less than ninety seconds after the attack. Mrs. Colchester clings to her husband, kissing him frantically before I pull her away. This wasn’t part of my plan for tonight. Rhys told me to stay with Colchester no matter what, so after I grab her, I hand her off to another agent and go back to the President’s side.

I see a flash of a fist, as Embry Moore tries to fight Kincaid who is wrapped around his front. The punch doesn’t land, but it only takes seconds to get him under control and whisked away.

Protocol is protocol. We’re trained to act, to ensure the safety of both of them, and even though going one way while President Colchester’s bleeding body is pushed in a different direction is the last thing either of them wants, it’s exactly what has to happen.

“This way,” Mr. Rhys says as he directs paramedics who look more military than medical down a dark hallway.

They don’t question the man. They act, just like everyone did on stage, just like we’re all clearly trained to do. Seconds later the President’s gurney is being pushed into the back of the ambulance.

“Hurry,” Merlin urges when I go to step back.

Recognizing his intention, I climb in the back with them. I watch, stunned, as a man in scrubs works on Maxen Colchester. An IV is inserted, and blood from a bag begins to replace what’s spilled both from his arm and stomach wounds. The guy in scrubs works, the paramedics providing him with help before he even asks for it. I’m stunned by the silence, confused why we’re racing down dark city streets with no sirens, yet not having to slow once for traffic.

“We lost him,” I hear Merlin say into a phone I didn’t even know he’d pulled out. “Protocol says we head to the funeral home. He’ll be cremated immediately. Those were his wishes. Thank you, Belvedere.”

He ends the call and grasps the ashen hand of the President.

After no more than five minutes, the ambulance stops and the back doors are pulled open. I step out and take in my surroundings. A field hospital, one so advanced and equipped, it rivals many metropolitan ones I’ve been in.

The President, now with a solid heartbeat according to the machine connected to the gurney, is pushed further into the room where half a dozen medical staff wait, leaving Merlin and me alone.

He pulls an envelope from his pocket and hands it to me. “This is your debrief on what happened tonight.”

I take it, but I’m too stunned to speak.

“Maxen thanks you for your service, both here tonight and in Glein.”

I swallow. “I didn’t think he remembered me.”

“He remembers everyone. You were a Patriot then as you are one again tonight. You’re the reason Cerberus was called in.” And then he’s gone.