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She wasn’t sure what she wanted more, to either respond to those hot, dancing sparks in his eyes by just leaning up a fraction and kissing the hell out of him, or give in to the attraction, let herself be caught up in this push/pull sensation. With a tingling rush settling low, all she could think about was all that naked muscle beneath his clothes. The man had a body to die for, and she wanted to see if he could deliver on that sultry promise in his eyes.
5
Iceman workedat keeping his cool, but not every day…no this was a second-by-second struggle.
He stood in the dim light of their bedroom, smelling every nuance of her still in the air. He walked into the bathroom, his heart catching at the organized mess of it all. At best, it looked like an attempt to corral chaos, and at worst, it looked like a grenade had gone off in there. Bras and matching panties of every shade and shape were hung on every available space. Rose didn’t like her underwear to be stretched out, so she hand-washed most of it. A thousand doodad makeup items were piled on most of the flat surfaces. He was lucky if he could get a patch of real estate for his razor, toothpaste, and toothbrush. But he indulged her.
He stood there for a long time, memories of her standing there, putting on her makeup, teasing him relentlessly. Something clogged his chest, tightening his throat. His insides were a tangle of rage, abject fear, and gut-deep love.
With a broken curse, he left the room and went and sat on the bed, the ache in his throat so intense it made his jaw hurt. He didn’t know what he would do if?—
Fuck, no!
He wasn’t going to think that way. He was going to get her back. Her, Karasu, and Celeste. He grabbed her pillow and closed his eyes, roughly turning his face against the soft fabric, her scent overwhelming his senses. He wanted his arms around her, he wanted her safe, he fucking wanted her!
They had planned so much and still had so much they wanted to do together. Everywhere he went in Virginia Beach reminded him of her. He wanted it all with her.
He was going to get it. His future with her.
Inhaling raggedly, he tightened his hold on the pillow, anguish running through him in waves of despair, clenching his teeth as he breathed around the agony, his face contorting with raw emotion. Everything he was called out to the woman who held his heart in her hands. Everything. The warrior, the man, the lover, and the husband. She was his touchstone, and he was going to use everything at his disposal. To see that she came back to him. Uncle Sam shelled out a million bucks for his training to mold him into an elite special operator. He was adept at mission planning and intelligence gathering, communications, reconnaissance, ocean and land navigation, and about a million other things. He’d qualified on the best weapons system in the world. He practiced patrolling, stalking, and military demolition. Experienced combat and fought through the fog of war.
He was the tip of the fucking spear, and nothing would stop him from getting to Rose and finding her alive, in one piece, and back in his arms. He would settle for nothing less. NSH had made it fucking personal.
They would see what a Navy SEAL could do.
The days of being reactive were behind him. No more playing catch-up. It was time to get in front of it all.
Three silhouettes appeared in his doorway.
“It’s time to go,” Volk said. Preacher and GQ’s stances were locked and ready for action. “They found the van at Richmond International Airport.” Ever since they got the news Karasu had been taken, Volk hadn’t spoken much. There was just a scary, blank look in the man’s eyes. That dark assassin craved a direction, a purpose, and he would extract the information they needed.
One of Iceman’s neighbors had spotted a black van on their street, and bless her busybody nature, she had made a note of it and gotten the license plate. Griff and Adrian had done some magic, working with the local cops in Richmond, and had now found it.
It was very early, the faint light of dawn casting the streets in a soft blue hue, and the birds were just starting to twitter as the men filed out of his house and into a waiting vehicle to take them to the airport for a fast ride to Richmond.
Thirty minutes later they were at the security station looking at the tapes. The van had backed up to a TransitExpress cargo jet, unloading a large crate, and after some digging into the flight plans, they discovered that the bird was headed to Las Vegas, Nevada. He turned to Kat.
“How fast can you get us to Vegas?”
It was a whirlwind, but then Kat Cross didn’t fuck around. He, Preacher, GQ, Bree, Griff, Adrian, and Volk were buckled into a private jet and in the air within fifteen minutes.A crate.His beautiful Rose had been put into some fucking crate. A cold, numbing sensation engulfed him. He dragged his hand down his unshaven face, his throat cramped up, his eyes smarting.
He stared out the window to get himself under control, his fists clenching as rage poured through him, obliterating that numbness. He wanted to tear out someone’s heart.
“Ice,” Preach said, the smell of hot food wafting through his senses, making his stomach lurch and grumble.
A heavy hand settled on his shoulder, giving him a light shake. “Come on, boss, eat something, and then we all need to get some sleep,” GQ said, his tone gruff.
He gave in and took the food. He would need fuel, and he would sleep as long as the flight lasted. For his Rose, for the fierce, beautiful woman he’d been lucky enough to marry. She needed him.
Iceman sensed that the days ahead would be some of the defining ones of his life. Preacher’s life and GQ’s. Justice walked a fine line with vengeance. He closed his eyes. Fuck justice. He wanted retribution, a reckoning.
The dogs of war had been released from their leashes and they were howling for blood.
* * *
New Orleans,Louisiana, Langdon Residence
Jennifer Langdon’s hands were shaking as she packed her clothes. Her stomach was full of butterflies and her head full of all the magic of her work and her passion. Her degree was in anthropology, but she was employed at Tulane University in New Orleans, Louisiana in the Newcomb Department of Music as an assistant professor of ethnomusicology, the in-depth study of global musical styles and a practical understanding of how music can work in the sphere of social development.
