AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ignoring his erection jabbing into Connie's curvy rear with intent, Thane stroked her pulse point and willed himself to go back to sleep. To do anything else would start their day off with a bang of epic proportions—not that his cock would complain, he was sure. After being blue-balled last night, he had a yearning for a tight, hot cavity to sink into and rut until he lost himself.
The annoying buzz of his phone vibrating on the bedside table pissed him off.
Grunting, he wrenched himself away from the warmth of Connie's body and rolled off the bed. Bare-assed naked, he snatched up the phone and stalked out of his bedroom, pulling the door almost closed behind him before heading downstairs. Growling, he answered the call with, “It's too fucking early.”
“You used to be up before the sun,” Stevens fired back. “Getting soft, son?”
“Far too fucking early,” he said in disgust. Padding toward the kitchen, he aimed straight for the coffeemaker—there wasn't a chance in hell he could have any form of civilized conversation with his ex-commander on four hours sleep and no coffee. “This is getting to be a bad habit, Stevens. I don't like it. I sure as hell don't need you calling me every few days just to piss me off.”
“I wouldn't have to if you'd talk to me,” he tried to reason. “I realize we left a lot of things up in the air when you transferred to the special unit. I shouldn’t have gotten angry by my perceived notion of you abandoning your team. Our team, Thane. It was wrong of me, and you had every right to better yourself with that opportunity.”
“Damn right, I bettered myself. Taking that step forward in my career helped people. I honed my craft, mastered it, and did good things for a long time. Until I understood that shooting people, even bad ones, was only adding to the problem. I’d already made the decision to stop being a sniper before the accident made it necessary.”
Hot black coffee splashed into the mug Thane shoved under the dispenser. If he didn't have a mouthful, he wouldn't be held responsible for what he said or did next.
“Will you accept my apology?”
Thane sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Apology accepted, when I get one.”
“Thank you. Look, I know you think you’re not fit to be a sniper, Thane, but you damaged your leg, not your eyesight or trigger finger. I need one person taken out, just one, on home soil. You wouldn’t be away from your new life for more than a day.”
He laughed in disbelief. “You just don’t give up, do you? Of all the snipers in the world—the fit, young, up and coming generation—you want the broken one. Why is that, Stevens? Why me?”
“Guthrie was released from prison six weeks ago.” Stevens didn’t blink at the mention of one of Thane’s team members. “He's been such a good boy, serving his time for drug offences, even if he fucked up what he was supposed to do. Wounding you instead of killing you certainly added a bigger prize to the pot.”
Thane froze in the middle of reaching for the cup of coffee. Shock stole his breath, and he couldn't say anything as he tried to wrap his mind around the attempted murderconfession. Stunned, he couldn't figure out the players and their motives. Hell, when Guthrie had shot him, Thane’s worth as a marksman had been considerably less than what it was now.
“Got that clever brain of yours working on overtime now, haven't I?” Stevens gloated, almost singing the words down the line. “I'll be kind and fill you in on the blanks, Thane. Seems the least I can do. Guthrie had his dirty fingers in a lot of pies you didn’t know about, making his biggest profit from dealing pretty white powder to half the goddamn academy. Right under my fucking nose.”
No. He wouldn’t. The protest was on Thane’s tongue, but wouldn’t spill.
“I couldn’t have that, could I, when the filthy thief was stealing my business. So I gave him an ultimatum, a choice between continuing peddling his inferior drugs,” Stevens told him without remorse, “or having the blood of his best friend on his hands. I’ll admit, I thought his friendship with you would be enough to put an end to his dealing, but he was certainly committed to making money. The little bastard shot you without hesitation, lining you up in his sights and pulling the trigger.”
“You changed the training schedule that day. We were supposed to be using blanks, and you switched it around, so he had access to live rounds. You gave him the opportunity to fucking kill me, you asshole.” Thane was perversely proud of the fact his voice was strong, not reflecting the shaken foundations of his whole fucking adult life. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go straight to the disciplinary board with this, Stevens.”
“With what? There’s no evidence, and who will they believe? You left the military, Thane. You headed out on your own and carved out a life killing people for money instead of in the name of your country.” Stevens laughed, and Thane caught the brittle rasp in the sound. “I’m a lifer, I’ve sacrificed everything to get where I am, with the shiny medals of honor to prove my dedication. I miscalculated with Guthrie, I’ll admit. Not only did I not expect him to shoot you, but I also sure as shit didn’t think he’d twist his dishonorable discharge around and blame you for it.”
Thane stiffened, recalling how angry his best friend had been when they’d kicked him out of the unit, a few years before Thane left of his own volition. Guthrie had claimed the DD had been handed down to him for someone else’s mistake in the field, which Thane knew for a fact was a lie. It was one of the reasons their friendship had fallen apart after so many years—he just hadn’t realized Guthrie held him responsible.
“They jailed him, you know. He served hard time for supplying drugs to serving soldiers, was held accountable for the reckless mistakes they made while under the influence. Saying that, he was off your radar by then, wasn’t he? You were too busy jetting around the world.” Stevens laughed again, then cleared his throat. “I have to give the man credit, Thane, he came damn close to killing you in that wreck on the I-90 three years ago. Coming after you was the first thing he did when he switched out prison orange for civvy clothes.”
Thane steeled himself against the stab of pain that came from having his heart ripped out, but it didn't come. He frowned at the lack of response his emotions provided, as though Guthrie was already dead to him. “God, you enraged a goddamn wolf and locked me in its sights, didn’t you? Then lost control of it. Guthrie’s the job, and you think I’ll take him out before he gets a chance to finish his mission and end me…” He shook his head. “No, it’s not me you’re worried about. You need me to kill him before he spills the data he has on you, right, and before he takes out the one guy capable of hunting him down. Fucker.”
Stevens coughed, wetly. “I’m dying, Isaacson. Less than six months left. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I don’t spend those months in a cell. We have a joint threat in common. Perhaps you'll rethink your answer once that pretty brunette sleeping so peacefully in your bed is brought to her knees. Guthrie knows where you are, who you’ve made friends with, what’s important in your life. I know he accessed files on a certain Connie Monroe. A doctor, isn't she? Psychologist? Not your usual style.”
Thane’s blood ran cold. Fists clenched, he was ready to rend the commander limb from limb and leave his bloodied corpse in the sand for the coyotes. “Goddamn it, you just can’t stop setting me up, can you? Deal with your own mistakes instead dragging innocent civilians into the clusterfuck.”
“This won’t be the first time she’s been used for someone else’s gain. She was treated worse than a dog, wasn't she?” Papers rustled as Stevens hummed under his breath. “Broken, battered, tortured. I imagine Guthrie’s spent an inordinate amount of time jacking off over the data, dreaming of all the ways he can…improve the experience for your little traumatized bird. I'm not a violent man, but the thought is arousing.”
How had he not known he’d been under the command of a psycho? Thane ended the call and refrained from smashing his phone into pieces. In all the years he'd been with his unit, not once had Stevens shown signs of being so unhinged. Had he hidden it from the team all those years, like he'd concealed his drug dealing? Or had his association with criminals turned him into this monster? What had he become and how far did his crimes extend?
That didn't matter. Stevens didn't matter. Right now, his immediate priority was Connie's safety, and he wasn't going to let Guthrie get within touching distance of his woman.
Pacing the kitchen, coffee ignored, Thane rubbed at a spot on his forehead and tried to concentrate. Never would he have thought his former friend was capable of not only putting a bullet in him, but orchestrating a pile-up that cost two lives—of course, he only had Stevens’ word that was true.
He ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't helpless, but this was way over his head. Taking Guthrie out was viable, but the thought of Stevens winning…both assholes needed to pay for what they’d done.
The Dominant in him was raring to go rip heads off necks and leave a trail of destruction from here back to Chicago. He wanted blood, he craved vengeance, but most of all, he was prepared to lay the world to waste in order to protect the most important thing in his universe. The single shining star navigating him from one day to the next.
