Sweet Seduction Stripped (28 page)

"Guns," I said.

"Set up," Ric finished.

But we were too late, the AOS were banging down our front door.

"Where the hell would Lauofo have put them?" Nick barked over the speaker once Ric had advised him.

"The camera in the gym is jammed. Only just noticed it because it gives a wide unhindered view of the main room, but not the lockers against the far wall," Ric advised, cursing himself softly under his breath.

"On it!" Nick shouted. "Delay the AOS."

Ric stood up and moved to the main door to control. Then promptly spun back and stalked towards me, pulling his gun from the belt of his jeans and placing it on the desk beside me.

"Do you know how to use this?" I shook my head. "Look here," he instructed, lifting the weapon up again.

"Is this wise with cops storming the building?"

"Don't touch it unless you have to. When they request access in here, open the door and move well away from the firearm, hands up and open for them to see. But if shit hits the fan like I think it will, and it's not the AOS on the other side of that door, you shoot the son-of-a-bitch."

"You think he's here," I breathed, stunned.

"This is where the show is, isn't it?" Yeah he was right. Jaxon wouldn't miss this for the world. "Now pay attention," Ric ordered and gave me the fastest lesson in using a pistol that anyone had probably ever received.

And then he kissed me. Desperately. Frantically. As though I was the very air he needed to
breathe. And with tears stinging the backs of my eyes I watched him walk away from me, feeling like a part of my heart had been ripped from my chest and left a gaping, bleeding hole in its place.

I followed his progress on one screen, the AOS about to ram the main door - which would be unsuccessful as that door was built bank vault thick - and Nick on another tearing toward the gym in the far corner of ASI HQ.

For the first time since I'd stepped foot in this room, I felt it was too small. Too silent. Too achingly closed in. I wanted out there. I wanted to be standing next to Ric. I wanted to protect him. How, I did not know. I just wanted it.

I kept looking for Jaxon, expecting to see him in amongst the men dressed like a SWAT team. He was behind this, I was sure.  But he wasn't at the front door when Ric opened it. He wasn't the police office who moved forward with lightning speed and whacked Ric with a baton. Not on the head, where most would suspect to be targeted.

But on his bad leg, directly above his bad knee. Because they
knew
who he was and where his weakness was, and they knew this because the man who had told them stood right outside control's door.

I was shaking and tears were falling and I guess that's why I'd missed Jaxon appear. I should have been watching, but how could I look away from the more than dozen hits Ric was receiving to his legs and lower body?

I tried to be thankful that it wasn't his face, wasn't his head being fucked up. But I couldn't. Because the brutality was so significant it made bile surge up my throat and flood my mouth. I choked it back down as Jaxon casually knocked on the control room door and my eyes skidded across the desk to Ric's gun.

Then I picked up some papers sitting on a nearby table, covered the weapon with them carefully, and sat down within reaching distance, before I turned all the monitors off and unlocked the door.

He walked in with pure relish in his eyes, the same eyes that I had gazed into on many occasions while he whispered sweet nothings in my ear. The same eyes that devoured me when I danced around the pole in our lounge in nothing but a thong. The same eyes that had stared lethally at Ryan Pierce.

"Baby, I'm so glad you've decided to play the game at last."

"This is a game... Mitchell?" He flinched, but covered his surprise with a nasty smirk.

"I would have told you everything, there was no need to lower yourself to Anscombe Securities & Investigations' level."

"As opposed to your level?" I couldn't shut up. I thought it was probably a bad idea to be goading him. But I couldn't shut up.

I hated him.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Amber," he advised. "Take it from me, you won't like the hard way. It involves the IT geek getting hit one too many times by accident with a reinforced metal baton. It might even involve a secondary explosion at the hospice where they're still trying to reach your dad. No matter what, it will involve ASI getting caught with a shit-tonne of police issue weapons stolen some time last year and the crime never solved."

"You're a psychopath, you know that? You're crazy."

"Psychopath," he said, rolling the word over his tongue like he was tasting it. "But not crazy. Far from it. Do you have any idea how hard it was to ingratiate myself into Declan King's inner circle and not have the infamous radar hear about it? Do you have any idea how hard it was to get King to agree to accompany the team that infiltrated the District Court Building? And what about head office? They think my shit smells sweet. The young police detective who gave up a promising career in the limelight to go so deep under cover even the local Criminal Investigations Bureau couldn't shine their Maglite torches on me. That's not crazy, baby. That's genius."

Huh. That word suddenly lacked the power it'd had only a short while ago.

"Well," I said, turning to my keyboard and entering a command. "You and I have differing opinions on genius then."

"What? You've recorded everything I've said? How predictable." Oh, he
knew
I'd hate being considered that.

"No, that would have been too clichéd, wouldn't it?" I said, smiling sweetly, then enlarging the image on the screen showing the shot of him shooting the bound man in the head.

"What's that?" he said, voice lethally quiet.

"It's a verified, non-doctored, true-blue image of you killing a blind-folded, bound, and beaten man."

I hadn't had time to test it. But I wasn't lying when I'd said to Ric that it wasn't necessary.
I knew
. And by the look on Jaxon's face right now, I'd been right.

"Are cops allowed to do that sort of thing?" I went on. "Or is it OK if you're so deep under cover not even the local CIB can shine a light on you? I'm not sure," I said conversationally. "I think it might go over a little bad for you, Mitchell. Especially considering it's been accompanied by half a dozen further shots implicating you in a number of illegal activities, that I could swear were not sanctioned by head office."

"Stop calling me that!" he snapped. "And what do you mean, 'it's been accompanied?' Accompanied where?"

"The New Zealand Herald for one. Copies to TVNZ and TV3. I threw a bone to Sky News, as well, just for the hell of it. Oh, and in case I forget, I also cc'd your old bosses. You know, the ones in head office."

"You little bitch!"

And there was the snapping of that coil. The unravelling of that tight, tight spring. The fallout of his pent up rage and anger. All of it directed at me.

But it was OK. Because I
had
sent copies to all those people. Because I'd also recorded our conversation, as clichéd as that may be. And because I'd broadcast that recording throughout the entire building. Including the reception area where I prayed Ric was still alive and breathing.

It was OK. Even if I couldn't reach the gun under the papers quick enough. Even as I felt his hands wrap around my throat and begin to throttle the life out of me. It was OK. Because I could see the fire had been extinguished at the hospice on the reinstated LED screens. Because Pierce's car had arrived out the front of ASI, along with Koki and Brook's black motorcycles, and several more SUVs.

And it was OK, because I'd kept my head like Ric does, when he's in control and overseeing a dangerous job for his team. I'd not vomited with fear or burst into tears. I'd trapped the bad guy, I'd reversed the pieces. I'd tricked him. Fooled him.

Like he'd fooled me.

So, it was OK when my vision blurred and my breaths stopped. And the world started to turn grey. It was OK.

And then he suddenly flung me away from him as though he'd only just realised he was killing the one person left in his life that meant a damn thing.

He knew I was no longer his. More proof he could not have received. And yet, at the last moment
my Jaxon
emerged and he released me. Pushing me away in mortified panic, allowing me to get close enough to the door release to disengage the lock before collapsing.

He staggered back as an AOS member slipped in to control, held a gun to his head and proceeded to read him his rights.

And as Nick came storming in on the heels of more AOS members, with Brook rushing behind carrying a medic bag, I knew it
would
be OK. At least for me. Because I was breathing, and Nick was congratulating me, and Brook was shaking his head and whistling at the bruises on the side of my neck and saying, "Girl, you got some fine moves on you."

So, it was OK.

Until I rasped, my throat so bruised and battered the words sounded like a knife being dragged over a chalkboard, "Ric. Look after Ric."

"You call him Ric?" Brook asked, lips spreading in a wide smile. "Cool. I'm gonna call him Ric from now on, too."

"Ric," I repeated, no
pleaded
.

"No one gets to call me Ric, but my Dancer," a voice said over Brook's shoulder.

Dragging his bad leg behind him, leaning on Koki with a determined scowl on his face, and piercing, vibrant, astonishingly beautiful green in his eyes.

Yeah. It was OK. It was more than fucking OK.

It was transcendent. That's what it was.

I think I'd died and gone to heaven.

It sure as fuck beat the hell I'd been in for the past few weeks. Physiotherapy and me are not on good terms. Unless of course the physio nurse is dressed in golden glitter and an itty-bitty thong.

Oh, hell yes.

I watched as Amber swung herself around a dancer's pole in a move that defied gravity and had me drooling like a fucking pervert from my vantage point spread out on the couch looking up into pools of melted chocolate, sex-messed chestnut tresses, and an arse that was still pinked up from our recent disagreement.

Oh, hell yes.

Amber knew how to disagree just right. Perfectly. And then beg for a spanking afterwards.

I adjusted myself in my pants determined to hold out for the finale. If I was lucky, it'd be like the finale I received last night when we checked into the resort. If I was really lucky - and I'm thinking I might just be that guy - it'd be like the finale I get every single night of our very long and happy married life.

A married life we were starting this evening, because fuck it! We don't play by the rules, Dancer and me.

She'd been through hell too, and I was determined to make it up to her. Harding had gone down swinging fists, but the evidence Amber had accumulated - and fuck me, spread around the world to every major news channel there was, forcing the upper echelons of the New Zealand Police Force to answer some hard questions, like who the fuck employed Roan McLaren's brother? - had sent the man down for years. Right alongside big brother. Lauofo and Messing got swallowed by the fallout as well, tying up a case we'd been working on for far too long.

But that wasn't what really had made my Dancer's world turn to hell. Not even the fact her fiancé couldn't stand upright for three whole fucking weeks without someone to hold on to could be blamed for that kind of hell.

No. Her dad had passed away. Amber was still in mourning, but the last words her father had said to her, along with, "I'm proud of you, darling," were "Do it."

So here we were, in Fiji, about to
do it
.

And there she was giving me one last pole dance, which would hopefully turn into a lap dance, before we both said "I do."

Nine fucking years younger than me and she was all woman. She stole my breath. She owned my heart and soul. I was lost to my Dancer, and fuck me, I hoped I would never be found.

She twirled one final time around that slippery sucker and then sashayed over to where I was currently sprawled out in what could not be called a sexy pose, rock hard, ready to party, with a fucking splint covering the entire length of my left leg.

A four inch high heeled foot came up and rested between my thighs on the couch, right by my groin.

"Ready?" she whispered.

"Oh, baby, I am so fucking ready. Climb on."

She smirked. The minx. Then removed the lethal weapon and spun around, placing her back toward me. Then, thank you to all that is holy and good in this world, she bent over at the waist removing her thong and giving me the best
ever
wedding present a hot blooded male could want.

"You've shaved," I rasped, running a hand over my head, then rubbing my eyes to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was.

Heaven. Fucking heaven in the shape of a naked pussy; lips glistening, clit begging for my touch. How the hell did she hide that from me?

"Waxed," Amber corrected me, looking over her shoulder and making me start to pant. "I had it done in the Spa this afternoon. Do you like it?"

A strangled sound escaped me and I was on my feet and stalking towards her, about to show her how much I
loved
it because words just failed me right then.

"Ric! Your leg."

"Fuck the leg," I might have growled, before guiding her to the table a few feet away, bending her oh so fucking gorgeous body over the top, and unbuckling my trousers while I was at it.

"What are you...? Oh," she finished as I sank myself deep inside.

Fuck...ing... heaven.

"Baby," she purred as I thrust forward and pulled back, almost to the tip, then surged back again.

"Oh, fuck," I breathed against her naked back, which needed more attention, so I leaned forward and kissed all the way up her spine. "Not gonna last long, sweetheart," I whispered.

"Me neither," she cried, just as my finger and thumb found her clit and she screamed out her release for the entire resort to hear.

Heh. I the man!

"Oh, fuck," I groaned as she threw her arms over her head, wrapped them around my neck and changed the angle I was pounding her at.

I came in a star burst of colours, her name a sweet prayer on my lips. I shuddered, emptying my load inside and praying to every god that existed that maybe, just maybe, we'd be making a kid. I wasn't too fussed about it, but the thought of her looks and her brains with my... fuck, who cares. The thought of a mini Amber running around control just did it for me.

I may have come again after that.

"You OK?" she said in huffs of sexy air. "Your leg?"

"Didn't feel a thing, baby. Just you," I whispered. "All you. And heaven. I felt heaven."

And it was the God's honest truth. With Amber there was no pain. There were no nightmares. No hauntings from my past. Just her. My sweet, sweet Dancer. The woman who owned my body, my mind, my heart.

This girl had stripped me of everything. Everything that had held me back and pushed me down. She'd stripped me bare, made me a better person for it, and then filled me up with light and laughter and love and lust, lacing it all with the sexiest of intelligences and making me whole.

She was everything.

"Come on," she said, spinning around and wrapping me up in a boob filled embrace. And OK, I may be a better person, but I'll still be perverted.

Loved those boobs.

"We'll be late," she urged, just as a knock sounded out on the door of the luxury Bure we were booked in. "Who could that be?" she asked, helping me back to the couch, as she grabbed a robe to slip on and headed to investigate.

I'd just managed to do my trousers up, thinking who gives a fuck who's at the door I'm still floating down from heaven here, when it happened.

When my heaven was invaded by ASI and Sweet Seduction and everyone else of those bastards who'd clearly lied their arses off and followed us here.

"What? You're not ready?" Genevieve demanded.

"It's all right," Kelly chimed in. "I brought make-up."

"Darling, she doesn't need make-up. Look at that glow." Katie.

"Ha. I bet I know what that glow's from." Adam.

"Save it, Savill. You wouldn't remember what a glow like that even looks like." Ben.

"And you do?" Brook. "Shit, sorry, Abi. Of course he remembers. Just don't hit me,
please
."

"I'll fucking hit you all if you don't get out of my way so I can see to our IT guru and make sure he ties the knot before the night is through, so we can all get pissed."

"Nick!" Eva. "You are not getting drunk."

"Cowgirl, you know I'm joking."

"He's not." Dom. "It's all he talked about on the flight over when you were asleep."

"Thanks, arsehole," Nick growled at his brother.

"Just keeping it real," Dom replied.

"I'll show you fucking real."

Amber walked over and slipped onto the couch at my side, resting her head on my shoulder as I wrapped an arm around her back, pulling her close.

"Are they always like this?" she asked, voice quiet, but it was still heard.

"Pretty much," we all chimed in as Nick said, "No. We're usually more professional."

Silence, and then my beautiful, stunning, mind-blowingly clever bride threw back her head and laughed her pretty, little, perfect butt off.

"Fuck me," someone said, but I was lost in Amber-Nirvana so I wasn't sure who. "You lucky bastard."

Yeah. I fucking was. I was the luckiest man alive.

I was in heaven.