Chapter Five

West

I'd taken this last assignment thinking it was going to be quick and easy. I'd meet up with Ben, threaten to slice his sister's neck open if he didn't return the stolen money, and that would be the end of it. Then, I could return home, get my affairs in order, and plan my future. But two days later, there had been no word from Ben, or on the Nissan. And my head was venturing into one hell of a strange and dangerous place.

I stared into the bathroom mirror at the bags under my bloodshot eyes and my jaw that needed a shave. I looked like pure hell and felt the same. I threw some water on my face then turned on the shower while a strange tinge of sorrow pushed through me.

Maynard Jones, my boss who I also considered a friend, died in his sleep last night. Seems he had excused himself from a meeting, retired to his bedroom, and was found dead in his bed two hours later. Deshawn Washington, a ruthless motherfucker of an ex-SEAL who claimed one out of three people deserved death, and Jones's right-hand man, had left a voicemail with the news. I'd been so wrung out and tired after the miserable on-and-off migraine that continued wreaking havoc on my head, that I hadn't even heard my phone ring.

Like both nights I had spent here, I'd made Brooklyn sleep beside me in the recliner after she insisted she would rather be shot through the eyes than to let me in her bed. Of course, she was lying through her pretty little teeth. I was no idiot and knew when a woman wanted me, and my pretty little deceiver was most definitely curious about my cock. I hadn't missed the way her breath accelerated, or her nipples turned to stiff points every time I called her sweetheart. I'd also caught her blue eyes lowering down my body more than once. Plus, both mornings when I had awoken to a horrific crick in my neck, her head was buried against my chest and her hand resting low on my abdomen, dangerously close to my dick. She looked so small when she slept, so peaceful, and so beautiful. Damned if I understood why she wasn't married to some lucky bastard and living the good life she deserved. Knowing the sins of my lifestyle could never involve a wife and family, sometimes I still thought about it. Wondered what it might be like to fall asleep with a warm body pressing against mine who was happy and content. Safe and secure. Well fucked and full of my cum.

Christ, my dick ached.

With my thoughts spiraling a dozen directions, I lowered a hand and stroked my raging erection. Brooklyn had stolen my breath the instant I looked into her gaze. Ignited a feral hunger that I'd never felt toward another woman. I wanted to throw her over my shoulder, lay her out in front of me, and rip the clothes from her amazing body. Once I made her scream my name as I tortured her with my tongue, I wanted to take her hard and deep, come inside all her holes, wreck her shit, and fuck the lies right out of her. As sure as the sky was blue, she knew more than she was admitting. I wasn't positive she had knowledge about the money, but she was protecting him. Still risking her own life for his.

The Nissan hadn't been located and I had no leads. This hadn't been the first time a hunted person had disappeared and never been found. People did some weird shit when they owed money. Ben could be in hiding, or even halfway across the globe by now. Hopefully, Deshawn would get word on the car by the day's end. Or I'd pull the truth from this stubborn woman.

This morning, same as the prior, I had left her sleeping, took her phone, and walked half a mile down the road to where my car was parked. Yesterday, to retrieve my tote bag with my belongings. Today, I'd just needed to clear my damn thoughts and try and walk off the relentless wood that I'd awakened to. Most times my job was complete within a few hours and by this time I was already back in my Houston condo and the comforts of my own surroundings. Granted, I had endured some strange assignments over the years for Stealth. This one trumped them all.

Once my balls were empty, I showered, shaved, brushed my teeth and hair, and hung my wet towel over the shower rack. I needed to make a couple of calls and check email, then planned on cooking breakfast. I was no chef, but I could fry up some bacon and scramble a few eggs. It seemed the least I could do, especially after last night. I'd awakened sometime well after midnight, roused Brooklyn from a deep sleep, and insisted she text Sam that she was closing the shop for an extra day or two for some minor repairs. She'd been so pissed off that I could almost see fire coming out of her little red ears. After calling me every foul name in the book and telling me what a piece of shit I was, after I reiterated yet again that there was an easy solution to it all, she did just as she had every other time. She lied her ass off. In this line of work, I'd come across some damn contrary people, but this woman was relentless. Not scared of a damn thing.

Bag in hand and on my way out of the bathroom, I reached for the light switch. That's when I saw it.

"Well, fuck me sideways. How did I miss that?" The Smart Mini Wi-Fi camera was small, compact, and discreet. Easy to set up, as well as install the mobile app provided by the manufacturer, they captured decent video and were popular amongst private investigators, law enforcement, and homeowners. I stared at the round disc that was no bigger than the pad of my thumb with anger rising inside me and my fists clenching. The worthless son of a bitch was involved in something a hell of a lot deeper than I anticipated and while I didn't know exactly what, one thing had become crystal clear. Ben Nelson was a sick, sadistic, voyeur and not the loving brother Brooklyn perceived. When he returned, I'd kill the motherfucker. Slowly and agonizingly.

Head stirring with chaos as I exited the bathroom, I froze when I passed Brooklyn's bedroom. She was naked from the waist down, her back and phenomenal full ass facing me as she stared at herself in a full-length mirror while pulling a tank top over her shoulders.

When a groan slipped from my lips and I lowered a hand over another growing erection, she blinked up into the mirror, her gaze connecting with mine. Horror flashed in her face and those blue fucking eyes turned to fire.

"Get the hell out of my bedroom, you sick stalker. Jesus!"

I had never allowed anyone, male or female, to speak to me the way she did. With my palm itching to turn her mouthwatering ass into every possible shade of red, my chest tightened with anger. I'd just about had enough of her lip service. If the woman hadn't wanted to be seen, she should have shut the goddamn door. But despite my head telling me to turn the hell around, leave her alone and focus on the reason I was here, I knew that wasn't going to be the case. God help me, but I couldn't take my eyes off the heat in her gaze or the luscious curves of her body. The site of her was mind-bending, drawing me in like a line of pure white cocaine to a drug addict. This was everything I didn't need, everything I'd been warned to avoid, and the one thing I couldn't turn away from.

I couldn't remember a time in my life that I had ever longed for a woman with such depth. The feeling was inconceivable. Torturous.

It was motherfucking agony.