Page 2 of Blake

Blake left the Scotland Yard building for the final time and shoved the card in the back pocket of his black trousers. He would give him a call, maybe. But first, he wanted to check for himself that the Monarch, Queen Lydia II, was in fact okay.

Taking his phone from his pocket, he dialled the number he knew by heart and waited.

“Hello?”

“It’s me. Is she okay?” he asked not beating around the bush.

“Yes, she will be. She’s a bit shaken, but the Duke is on his way home and should be here in due course.”

“Good. Listen, tell her to take care and if you need anything just ask.”

“I’ll tell her,” the man on the other end of the phone said.

Blake hung up and sighed. He felt like he was abandoning a good woman and her family, leaving them to fend for themselves, but he couldn’t be part of cost-cutting that put people in danger. Pulling at the tie around his neck he headed to the tube. He needed a week off, a willing woman, and a large bottle of Vodka. Then he would see what his future held.

Chapter One

TODAY

The pounding of his feet was the only sound he could hear apart from the ones he associated with nature and he loved it. Blake had taken to having his morning run at five am since he had settled in this beautiful part of the country.

The river Wye flowed beside him as he ran, the sound of birds singing in the trees. Just him and the ground in front of him as he ate up the miles. His muscles beginning the warm burn at the eighth mile, his breathing unaffected by the strenuous pace he kept up. His knee was another matter though, but he dismissed the pain.

This time allowed him to think, his mind was clear, no white noise from Liam or Gunner prattling on like old women. No barking orders from Jack, no woman screaming he hadn’t called her. Blake had a lot on his mind, not least the fact that the last two missions they had gone on—not including the one with Alex and Evelyn—had been huge clusterfucks and resulted in at least one of the team injured every time.

The last one Mitch had just missed having his head taken off by a stray bullet that still couldn’t be accounted for. The time before that, he himself had almost stepped on an IED. A fucking IED that had been set on a private piece of land in the Cotswolds for fuck sake. It was only by the sheer grace of God that Liam had spotted it and pulled him out of harm’s way or he would have more than a torn ligament to worry about. He would have had bits of his body missing at best and would be dead at worst. Not something he wanted to think about.

Something was up. Jack and Alex were staying tight-lipped about it and he didn’t fucking like that. They had always operated as an open team and he had liked that about them, but now closed-door discussions were going on and it made him feel vulnerable and Blake didn’t like to feel vulnerable.

He was still on sick leave until he could prove to Jack and Waggs—the team medic—that his leg was up to scratch. That meeting was later today, and he was going to do everything he could to get back on the rota. He wanted answers and he wasn’t going to get them doing physio in the gym. He was lost in thought, but he knew that for the last mile he’d had a tail and wondered what that was about.

She had been running behind him for a few minutes now and while Blake was a lot of things, an idiot wasn’t one of them. Blake grinned at the image that popped into his head—tight lycra shorts and sports bra, luscious rich red hair pulled back into a ponytail, sexy curves bouncing as she ran. It made his dick twitch thinking about the controlled, smartass redhead being all sweaty after a run. Pulling to a sudden and deliberate halt he spun, allowing her to collide into him. Grabbing her upper arms to stop her from going over on her sexy derriere, the oomph that slid from her mouth as her tits collided with his chest was the hottest thing he had heard in months. And considering he’d left the bed of a sexy blonde this morning too exhausted to move let alone nag him for his number, that was saying a lot.

“Pax, what can I do for you?” he said running his eye suggestively over her fucking knockout body.

Her eyebrow raised at his blatant perusal, but her nipples hardened delightfully almost making him forget where they were and who she was. He let go abruptly and stepped back causing her to stumble forward an inch.

“What makes you think I want anything?” she asked tilting her head making the hair from her ponytail skim the porcelain perfection of her skin. He watched her raise her hands to her hips and followed the movement before mirroring it.

“So, you want me to believe you just happened to be out running at five-thirty in the morning on the same route as I was using?” he asked with a note of disbelief in his voice.

“Well aren’t we Mr Conceited today. What’s the matter, Blake, not fucked anyone yet today and it’s making you grumpy?” Her voice held a touch of disdain and something else. Pique if he wasn’t mistaken. Heat mottled the skin of her chest as her anger rose.

“Not conceited. Just know what I know.” He moved an inch into her personal space, his head tilting down at her, a ghost of a grin on his face.

“Oh my God, you already fucked someone today! You are disgusting!”

“What’s the matter, Pax?” He raised his hand and followed a droplet of sweat as it ran down her cheek and neck and then disappeared into the top of her sports bra. His finger just grazing the curve of her breast. He felt her shiver and knew it wasn’t from the cold. “You still pissed I wouldn’t fuck you in Monaco?”

He saw the second his crass comment broke the desire in her heavy-lidded hazel eyes.

“You jerk,” she hissed stepping forward and shoving him back on his heel making him grin further. “As if I would let you anywhere near me.”

They both knew she was lying. They had come very close to fucking on that mission, leftover adrenalin and an attraction that would burn hotter than the sun but also burn out. He had put the brakes on that one in an uncharacteristic move that still made him wonder if he had lost his mind.

Pax was fucking stunning in every way—tall, slender, perfect English rose complexion, even though she was from California. Thick red hair he wanted to wrap his hand around as he fucked her from behind. Curves to die for, sexy curvy ass, beautiful tits he could get lost in, and a cool composure that made a man want to break through it. Made him want to find the soft middle and make it his.

Make it mine? No, that was wrong. He just wanted a taste, but he hadn’t. She was Evelyn’s friend and he didn’t fuck over his friend’s friends. No matter how often he dreamt of them together or jerked off to their image. Goading her was fun though.