Execution Style (7 page)

Well, that might have been an exaggeration, but it was quite close.

I had a feeling that it had a lot to do with a certain sister of Nico’s, the last man on our SWAT team.

Speaking of Nico, he gave Michael a withering glance as he passed, shouldering him out of the way as he passed us to go inside.

“What was that about?” I asked him.

Michael grimaced.

“Nikki,” was all he said.

I raised my brows at that answer, but chose not to reply.

‘Nikki’ was the sister I’d been thinking about.

No one was brave enough to ask him, especially with the way he’d acted a little over a month ago when he’d seen Nikki on a date during one of our weekly SWAT meetings.

He’d gone fucking berserk, which was about the time he’d decided to start fucking anything that moved.
But I was the last person to talk. I was slowly falling in love with someone myself, and half the time I didn’t know what to do or say next.

Not that I’d just go off and fuck anything that had a workable, healthy vagina.

“Alight, ladies. Get these jumpsuits on. Spurlock’s, separate sides. Split up evenly.” Luke instructed.

“My ass won’t fit into a one-size fits all jumpsuit, fucker,” Downy grumbled as he held up the black jumpsuit.

“It stretches,” a young girl said from behind the counter.

I turned, seeing a cute little eighteen (at most) year old staring at us with googley eyes.

“Yeah, Downy,” Bennett jeered. “It stretches. The good thing is you don’t have to put that big head of yours in it, otherwise you’d be screwed.”

Downy flipped Bennett off, laughing quietly as he shoved his feet into the incredibly stretchy spandex.

“What the fuck? Are these fuckin’ leotards?” James asked as he looked down at his body.

“Ahhh,” the girl said behind the counter. “They’re supposed to be more roomy than that…but I guess y’all are too big for them.”

“Ya fuckin’ think?” Michael muttered, looking down his body at the way his body most certainly did
not
fit into the jumpsuit.

The pants portion of the jumpsuit hit him about two inches above his ankles, letting about two inches of his sweat pants peak out the bottom of the suit.

The same went for the top portion.

You could see about three inches of the Under Armour long sleeved t-shirt he was wearing.

“These aren’t one size fits all,” John grumbled.

I snorted and got into my own jumpsuit, barely containing the laugh that threatened to burst free from my chest when I saw the way the suit made me look like I had boobs.

“This is attractive,” I teased, rubbing my fingers on my nipples.

Nico snorted, looking down at his own body.

“This better be fucking good,” he growled.

When that comment left Nico’s mouth, a bright flash followed by the sound of a camera’s fake shutter pierced the silence around us.

We all turned to the source, the young girl, and glared.

She visibly wilted, hunching down into herself as she got not one, but all of our attention at once.

“If that gets on social media, I will literally bust your ass. I’ll find some way to arrest you, even if I have to follow you around and observe your every goddamn move to do it,” Foster growled.

The girl’s eyes visibly widened at that threat, and I had to suppress a snort of laughter that threatened to pour from my throat.

Jesus, Foster could be such a dickhead sometimes.

She turned quickly and started gathering plastic covered tubes as well as boxes, bringing them over to us.

“There are a thousand rounds here. I need to show y’all a how-to video before I can let y’all use…never mind,” she said quickly when she registered that we were all looking at her like she was stupid again. “I’m sure y’all can figure it out.”

“Each player has his own color. Let me know when y’all are ready and I’ll turn on the fog machine and lights,” she said quickly before hurrying away.

“You’re scaring the poor girl,” I teased Bennett.

Bennett raised his eyebrow at me. “She shouldn’t say stupid things if she doesn’t want to be called out on it.”

Shaking my head, I walked to the counter and picked my color. Pink, of course, and started filling up the three containers, as well as the paint ball gun.

“Have you ever done this before?” Nico asked as he eyed me.

I nodded. “Yeah, my mom used to buy us games at the local field all the time. She thought that we had too much energy.”

“She only took us when we beat the shit out of each other too much. Then we’d get all our rivalry out for a few weeks, then she’d take us back again when we started it back up again,” Foster replied, choosing yellow. “I always won.”

I snorted and threw him a look. “That’s ‘cause you were fat, and the balls bounced off of you without breaking because of all your fluffiness.”

He threw a ball at my face. “Take that back, fucker.”

“You were fat?” The girl asked from across the room.

Foster ignored her as did the rest of us.

Once we were locked and loaded, she led the eight us into the room.

“You’re not playing,
AC?” Downy yelled loudly.

“No, they can only play eight at a time. I’ll be upstairs watching though. I can’t wait to show this video to the chief,” Luke yelled.

AC stood for Assistant Chief.

Something that Luke hated to be called, because he hated the job as well as the title.

As we walked into the large warehouse and the lights turned on, I felt the first smile of the day turn up the sides of my mouth.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” I breathed, taking in the walls, fake rocks, ropes, and blinds.

“Heh,” Foster said. “You’re going down.”

I pointed my finger at him and said what I knew would rile him up. “Bring it, Fat Boy.”

With that, the lights went nearly black and we all scattered.

A smile took over my face as I listened to Foster’s outraged curse.

“I’m not fat, fucker!”

Michael peeled off his shirt, smearing paint from the bottom of his chin to the tips of his hair.

His body came into view, and my mouth dropped open.

I’d never actually seen him with his shirt off. He was always sure to wear a long sleeved t-shirt of some kind.

I was surprised as fuck to see tattoos and not scars or something with the way he was meticulous about not showing any of his skin.

“What the fuck, dude?” Foster shoved me to the side.

I shoved him back, and we got into a slight tussling match that landed with Foster on the floor and me straddling his chest.

I took a leftover paintball out of my pouch at my side and slammed it down onto the top of Foster’s head, totally drenching his curly blonde hair with bright pink paint.

“Fucker,” Foster twisted and threw me off of him.

I grinned. “You look good in
pink.”

He threw a paintball at me, but it didn’t burst.

Nonetheless, I bent down to pick it up right when the phone in my pocket rang.

“Are we done here?” I asked Luke.

He nodded. “Yeah, got a hot date?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

And I did.
With a woman that wanted something from me that I wasn’t sure I should give her.

Something that I wanted more than anything in the world.

Something that had the potential to change both of our lives.

Sex is like an Olympic dive. Head first.

-Coffee cup

Miller

I walked up Mercy’s front walk with determination. Determination to tell her no. Determination to tell her she was making a mistake.

But the moment she opened the door, eyes puffy from crying, I knew I wouldn’t say no, and I probably never could have.

My hand went up to her face, cupping her cheek in my large, work roughened palm.

A palm that had held the gun that had taken many a men’s lives. A palm that had killed multiple men. A palm that hadn’t ever had anybody touching it that had meant
something more to me than a passing glance.

And Mercy was much more than a passing glance.

“Do you know what you’re asking me?” I asked softly, pushing her inside and closing the door.

She nodded. “I know it’s disgusting to have sex with me.
The results of the blood tests came back showing that I was clean of all diseases.
I know what I’m asking you is wrong. But I can’t. I have to have that option. I don’t know if I’m pregnant, but if I am… I need to know that it might not be his. I need to know that there’s every possibility that it’s yours.
My brain needs that out.
”

My stomach dropped.

“Honey,” I said, leaning close until our foreheads touched. “Having sex with you doesn’t disgust me. It makes me hot. It makes my palms burn to even think about them running over your silky,
smooth skin. But I don’t think you’re ready. I don’t think you’ll be ready for a
long
time. I’ll wait for you. This,” I gestured between her and me. “This is something good
, and it has the potential to be something much more than just a friendship. I don’t want to taint that by moving too fast.”

Her head dropped forward until she was resting her forehead against my collarbone. “Please.”

Every shield I’d erected on the way over here fell, and I knew I would do it, I just needed to make sure this was what she wanted first.

“What if you’re not? What if, in how many ever
days, you get your period and all’s well?” I asked, truly wanting to know the answer.

She turned around and ran her hands through her hair.

“When you think about having a baby, you think about two loving parents, making that child out of something special. You think about two consenting people, who although
they may not love each other, chose
to make that decision to have sex. What if
,
when the baby grows up, he or she will hear about everything that happened to me? What will I tell her? At least
,
if we do this…there’s a slim chance that I really won’t know. That the baby could’ve possibly been conceived the right way
,” she said desolately.

“The baby might look like him and you’ll know anyway. It might all be for nothing,” I played the Devil’s advocate.

She shook her head. “You’re both tall with
blonde
hair. Both of you have blue eyes.
Please
. Just once.”

I looked at her, really looked at her. “If we do this…I’ll always be a part of your life. Part of the baby’s life. Are you ready for that?”

I refrained from saying
‘If there is a baby.’

She shook her head frantically. “I couldn’t ask that of you.”

I moved forward, pressing into her, letting her feel the hard length of me. Hoping that it’d scare her into changing her mind.

“You didn’t ask that of me, I told you. There’s a freakin’ difference,” I snapped.

She shrugged, leaning a little closer to me. Making sure I knew that she wasn’t running away. “I could go find someone at a bar right now. I could do it, but I don’t want just anyone. I want you. I will, though, if you won’t. I can’t live with thinking he was the one to make me pregnant. I need that cop-out. I need that escape.”

I pushed her until she fell back on the couch and I looked her over.

When she went to sit up, I followed her down until my body covered hers.

“You will not do it with anyone else but
me
,” I snarled, and then slammed my mouth down on hers.

My control was lost. Just the idea of her going to anybody else for this…for her to have yet another man, that wasn’t me, inside of her, was just unthinkable to me.

I couldn’t do it.

I wouldn’t let her do it, either.

She was mine, even if she did think she was just doing this for the escape.

What she didn’t know was that there was no
escape
. This was it for me.

I knew Mercy was mine, even if she didn’t.

It’d take time, but I’d convince her of that.

In the meantime, though, I’d give her what she asked.

It’d just be icing on the cake if we did conceive a child tonight, because if we did, she’d be stuck with me.

She’d be mine, and there would be a little tiny life that would always connect us. If I was the father or not didn’t matter.

Not one damn bit.

Her small hands came up, lifting my shirt as she went.

“Once,” she whispered again.

I shrugged out of the shirt, disconnecting our mouths for only moments before she was slamming her mouth back on mine.

“Once,” I confirmed.

All of the hesitance I expected from her was nowhere to be seen.

She was hot and crazy.

Her hands were everywhere, and her hot little pussy was rubbing on me, searing me through two layers of clothes.

“I want to be on top,” she pleaded.

I reversed our positions instantly, grabbing a hold of her hips and rolling off the couch.

I landed on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, Mercy’s mouth immediately seeking the softness of my mouth.

Her hands, though, went down between us where she started quickly yanking open the buttons of my jeans.

Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap.

All five buttons came undone in a rush, and my erection that wasn’t clothed in underwear, mostly because they’d been covered in paint, sprung out to greet her.

I hissed when her hand closed around me, fingers soft and smooth, yet strong.

My eyes watched her, taking in her expression, the set of her mouth, and the lines around her eyes. I was watching for any sign of discomfort while trying valiantly to stay in control.

But her urgency, the way she took control of the situation, was making that nearly impossible.

She stood suddenly, stripping off her shirt, followed shortly by the black sleep shorts she’d been wearing when I’d arrived.

When she went to sit down on me once again, my arms lifted and pulled her down, settling her to where each knee was planted into the carpet on either side of my hips.