One Minute to Midnight (Black Ops: Automatik) (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

The initial bursts took out one security man and scattered the rest for cover. Ben and Mary reached a thick, battered tractor. It absorbed the rounds sent back at them. His friend’s blood smeared his hands. He couldn’t allow another drop to be spilled. Not tonight. Not by any of the guns Kit Daily and Pulaski were trying to push.

The two honchos continued yelling at their men to keep loading the train cars. Smoke billowed from the corner of the sabotaged warehouse, but the work continued through the doors and over the ramp.

Ben glanced around the corner of the tractor. Pulaski strutted behind the line of security men, fury on his face. Officer Green lurked at his side, flexed tight as usual, cranked on the violence. He gripped an assault rifle tight enough to squeeze the sap out of it.

More shots came after Ben ducked back behind cover. Mary switched places with him and sighted down the barrel of her weapon, barely peeking out.

“I have a shot.” Her ability to go from quick action to absolute stillness was amazing. “Let’s chip at the right edge. Give Sant and Raker a break.”

Sant chimed in, “Sounds brilliant to us.”

Ben crouched above Mary and aimed out where she indicated. Just at the base of a loading crane, a fragment of a man’s leg was visible. Mary fired and, with a nearly impossible shot, clipped the man. He stumbled forward, right into her second shot. Another shooter behind the crane popped out to retaliate, and Ben dropped him.

Some of the fire that had been directed toward Sant and Raker swung around to Ben and Mary. He sent a spray at these men, just to keep them honest, then returned to safety behind the tractor.

Clipped bursts chattered from Sant and Raker’s position, silencing two of the security men’s guns.

“Obliged,” Raker huffed, on the run.

The right edge of the security perimeter collapsed. Mary tapped Ben, then darted from the tractor to a steel shack at the base of a switching tower. There was only room for one person there. He hated seeing her alone, farther into enemy territory, but it wasn’t because he doubted her abilities. She motioned toward her next destination, an unloaded flatbed rail car. Ben indicated he’d cover her move and set up at the corner of the tractor.

She ran, and he swung around in time to see a security man aiming at her. Ben eliminated the man and sprinted out to join her at the wide steel wheels.

“No! No!” Kit Daily shouted like a twelve-year-old four-star general amid the crackling gunfire. “You’re paid for a reason, and that’s to load these trains.” One of the massive diesel engines revved higher.

Activity popped at the north side of the yard, followed by the com announcement from Marks, “Tak and Marks are on the scene.”

Sant sassed with his full British accent, “Green Berets put lead in your boots?”

Tak’s comments were interrupted by sporadic gunfire. “We’ll have you back to your bangers and mash in a minute, Sant.”

“Fuck that,” Sant scoffed. “Chicken tikka.”

Ben interrupted, “I’m going to have whatever Hayley’s cooking.”

Art grunted approval. “You got that right.”

“Shoot first, dinner later.” Mary grounded them all. Then she put her hand over her mic and burned him with a look. “And I’m going to need you alone for a few hours.”

Blood rushed to pound in his ears. The idea of that much time with her made him all kinds of hungry. He wrapped his hand around his mic. “I’ve got just the place.”

“Not the backseat of a car.” She shook her head.

“Luxury, woman.” He drew out the words, knowing she watched his mouth.

Her lips curled in a smiling sneer, and she shook her head at him. She slayed him.

He released his mic and informed the team, “Stirring it up.”

Mary pointed the way around the flatbed and ran to the next set of wheels. He glanced under the carriage as he followed and saw Pulaski and Green, the angry cop, were still rushing in the open, trying to rally the security. When Ben got to Mary’s side, he motioned that he’d go around the back of the flatbed first because he had a target. She slid out of his way, and Ben crept around the corner.

“Drop it, Green!” His shout startled the officer, who fired a round into the dirt, then started to yank his rifle toward Ben.

Ben didn’t give him the chance. Two rounds put the crooked son of a bitch onto the ground. Pulaski gaped in shock and staggered toward the cover of a forklift.

He reached for the pistol on his hip, but Mary commanded, “Don’t! Don’t!” She swung past Ben and pressed toward the police chief with her weapon ready. He shook with indecision. She tried to make up his mind for him. “You’re done, Pulaski.”

“What are you?” His hand hovered over his gun.

“I finished you.” She moved a little closer. Ben watched for any other activity, but the fighting was only taking place to the north and south of them.

Pulaski decided. His face scowled with hate and rage. He reached for his sidearm, and Mary shot him through the shoulder. But the man didn’t go down. Hissing through his teeth, he tried to use his other hand to grab the weapon. Mary fired again, piercing that arm. Pulaski spun into the forklift. His legs started to give out but he kept trying to force himself standing. Mary maintained her rifle on him, and Ben approached.

“You motherfucking—” Ben cut off Pulaski’s curse with a fist in his face. The man finally fell. Ben stripped his weapons, cuffed him with his own handcuffs and left him bleeding and mumbling in the greasy gravel.

Metal clashed in mechanical thunder. Train wheels turned. A set of three freight cars slid toward the south, pulled by a churning engine. The workers who’d been loading abandoned their equipment and fled back toward the empty black of the swamp.

“Shit.” Raker was out of breath. “That train’s heading for clean tracks.”

Ben turned to give chase but stopped when he saw two men running on the ground next to the last freight car. One man was larger and slower. Bad knees. “Kit Daily,” Ben called him out.

The train pulled away and revealed Kit Daily and a security guard standing among the tracks less than a hundred feet away. Mary fired before the guard could. Daily didn’t even look at the man fall. He drew his .45 and sent sloppy bullets toward Ben and Mary. They dove for cover behind a mound of gravel and leaned their backs against it.

She tossed her rifle aside and drew her pistol. “Empty.”

“I’m close.” He didn’t know how many rounds he had left in the mag, so he unslung his primary weapon and clicked the safety off on his submachine gun.

Mary dug her heels into the dirt and coiled. “He doesn’t have range with that automatic in those old hands.”

Ben felt her ready tension against his shoulder. “And his reload’s going to be slow.”

They rose together and turned to face Daily. He fired and fired, bullets tumbling high and wide or digging into the dirt far in front of Ben and Mary. The confidence he usually wore had been bleached away in the harsh work lights. His last round spun into the forklift back by Pulaski, then the slide locked open on an empty chamber. He reached for another magazine on his belt.

Ben and Mary both shot at once. She tagged him just above the knee, and Ben punched through his shooting shoulder. Daily howled louder than the train engine. The whole yard seemed to stop and listen to his pain and rage. His boots scraped and kicked over the gravel, but he couldn’t find any footing. A long groan punctuated his fall. His wounded leg remained outstretched and he jerked to one side.

He wasn’t done. Daily dragged himself backward and tried to reload his gun. Ben and Mary scrambled over the gravel mound and charged him. He managed to get a magazine into the pistol and snap the slide forward. Ben reached the downed man and kicked the gun from his hand.

Daily ground his teeth and winced. “Who...the fuck...are you?”

Mary searched him roughly for any more weapons and only came up with a pocketknife. She stood, foot on his shoulder to pin him. Anger rose in her eyes. She still pointed her pistol at Daily’s head and could end his life in a blink. Her tight mouth barely moved when she told him, “Balboa13.”

The stone face of a warrior returned, and she stepped away from Daily. All he could do was squirm. Ben understood her anger. But there’d be no satisfaction in killing the man. His disgrace would have to be loud, and take down his whole rotten network.

“Clear,” Tak announced from the north.

Sant responded, “We’re on the train and stopping it.”

Art joined in. “Harper’s holding up. Sirens approaching. We used the sat phone to call in the federal street sweepers.”

Mary walked away from Daily, took a long breath in, held it, then exhaled. “Dust us off.”

Ben moved to her side. She leaned on him and allowed him to lean on her. They stood that way while the rest of the team assembled in the center of the rail yard. Harper limped and used Art as a crutch. The lanky Marks looked like he’d just shown up after a round of golf, not a smudge on him. But his Japanese-American teammate, Tak, was covered in soot and had a long tear down one of his sleeves. Sant kept things cool and easy, as usual. Raker smiled genially, despite the series of bleeding scrapes on his jaw and neck.

The thumping of a helicopter soon drowned out the coming sirens. An unmarked Blackhawk landed toward the back of the rail yard, near the edge of the swamp. It stayed on the ground only long enough to collect all the Automatik operators. Ben strapped into the jump seat next to Mary. Their thighs pressed against each other. Their teammates tended to injuries or just allowed their bodies and minds to relax.

The helicopter rose, and he could see the flashing lights of the federal authorities whose job it was to bring the law and clean up the broken town. Mary also looked down. She traced the train tracks with her finger. He understood. The higher they went, the spread of the tracks went wider. They’d stopped it. A knot uncoiled in his stomach.

And a new excitement grew. He brought his lips close to her ear and spoke over the helicopter’s motor. “Ben Louis and Mary Long are gone.”

She looked at him with the realization. Was that apprehension on her face? He knew he felt it, but it wouldn’t hold him back from chasing down what was next.

He asked, “Are you okay with that?”

Her answer was the question, “Are you?”

“I’m ready to be real.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Cold Chicago glittered outside the tall hotel windows. But the bitter wind that had edged through the slightest gaps in Mary’s clothes as they’d walked back from dinner couldn’t invade the spacious suite. Most of the warmth came from Ben behind her. Closing and locking the door. Leaving the lights off so they could see the view with the curtains open.

His hands ran over her shoulders, firm enough to release some of the constant tension in her muscles. He helped her out of her coat and hung it next to his. She walked to the window and looked out at the city. Lit windows revealed strangers’ lives. She was a stranger to them as well.

Ben stood behind her, voice as velvety as the wine they’d shared. “It was as far up as I could get you.”

Twenty-five floors. “You know I like the high ground.” Yes, he knew her. Small tugs, like hooks in her skin, remained as she tried to remove her armor.

He never rushed her. “There’s no op on call tonight. No assignment. No target to take down.” His hand rested on the small of her back, and a comfortable heat wrapped around her hips. “No bullets flying.”

She leaned back into him. “I can’t guarantee that.”

He kissed her temple. “You already tagged me. One in the heart, one in the head.”

She pressed into his kiss, letting the simple touch soak in. “You always know how to say the right thing to a girl.”

“You packing?” He snuggled her closer into his chest.

“Always.” The compact 9mm was constantly within reach in her purse.

“Me, too.” Sadness threaded through his words.

She understood the constant caution. The distance from the everyday life those people on the other side of the window had.

Fresh energy rose in Ben and he wrapped his arm around her waist. His motor never let him get too down for too long. He took her up with him. “Nothing’s touching us tonight.”

She glanced back into the spacious suite. “Should’ve gotten separate beds.”

“Oh,
I’m
touching you,” he corrected and leaned his mouth close to her face. “If you’ll have me.”

“For a night?” Removing her armor was difficult.

He kissed her cheek. “I didn’t plan an escape route.”

She turned to look at him. His honest eyes helped the heavy steel fall away from her chest. And the need on his face, the real hunger, made her pulse race. The skin on her throat and the tops of her breasts heated. “We can escape together.”

“Hell yeah, we operate well.” He patted her ass and walked back into the suite. “I’m going to fill a bath.”

She sat on the bed and unzipped the sides of her boots. “I have showered since we were crawling around in that ditch in Morris Flats.”

Water rushed in the bathroom. Ben reemerged. “I know.” He came to her and helped pull her boots off. “You smell like roses again.”

The simple perfume was reserved for non-operational days and nights. Any distinctive odor during a battle could give away her position.

He ran his hands under her jeans and up her calves. She wouldn’t have suspected it would be erotic until his confident move made her the nerves of her legs tingle. She leaned back on the bed to revel in the sensation. He removed her socks and tossed them aside.

“But you got to know something about me.” His hands paused on her thighs. She leaned up with concern but saw the glint in his eye. “I don’t do bubble baths.”

“Do you soap?” She sat up completely and unbuttoned the top two buttons on his dress shirt, exposing smooth skin over defined muscles. She licked at him with her eyes and licked her lips.

“Occasionally.” He snarled under her gaze and stood, removed his shirt and let it drop to the floor. City light carved his torso. Her breasts felt heavy and heat bloomed low in her belly. He waved her forward. “Let’s get you naked.”

She placed her hands in his and rose from the bed on slightly shaky legs. The pleasure and anticipation mixed with apprehension. She still wasn’t used to being this open with someone. He unwrapped her scarf and helped her out of her sweater. Steam billowed from the bathroom door behind him, making Ben look mythical. She tried to let the fear fall away with her clothes, and removed her T-shirt and bra and brought her bare chest against his.

He growled. That need shook her, too. She kissed his collarbone. He stroked his hands through her hair. Her nipples grew more sensitive against him, and she was torn with wanting every sensation at once and drawing things out, one by one.

His fingers slid around the waistband of her jeans until they met at the button and the fly. Of course he was as adept at getting her out of her pants as he was field stripping a light machine gun. She kept her panties on and brushed past him, picking up her purse on the way to the bath. He kicked out of his shoes, socks and jeans and followed.

A wet, hot atmosphere surrounded her in the bathroom. The wide tub sat on a small platform in a corner, near another tall window with the curtains open. She placed her purse in arm’s reach at the edge of the platform and tested the water.

“How is it?” Ben leaned in the doorway, wearing only his boxer briefs but holding his holstered backup pistol.

“Too hot.” She turned the water off.

“Perfect.” He dropped his underwear and strode toward the bath. His arousal was already very evident. Her need flared, seeing him like that. Ready, inspired by her. He put his pistol down on the opposite side of the tub from her purse. First his toes tentatively dipped into the water, then his feet. He shuddered as he lowered himself into the bath. “Lord.” He motioned for her to join him.

He hummed a little song of approval while she slipped out of her panties. She braced herself on his shoulder to climb into the tub. Her skin tingled, tight, as the hot water rose up her legs.

Ben dipped his hands in the water and brought the heat higher up to her hips and waist. She sat into the tub and let out a groan.

He nodded with sympathy. “It wakes up all those scrapes and bruises, right?”

Only four days had passed since their action in Morris Flats. After the helicopter ride, they’d scattered to different airports through the Midwest in order to fly back to San Diego for a debrief with the Automatik logistics team. Harper got the hospital attention he needed, and Art was reunited with Hayley.

She’d been left with too many questions after the operation had been marked complete. What now? What had been with Ben, and what was next? Part of the answer came with a text from Ben, suggesting separate flights to a rendezvous in Chicago. He’d picked her up at the airport and taken her directly to dinner. And now she was naked in a bath with him.

“But the bruises are worth it.” She sank lower and leaned back onto Ben. He ran his palms down her arms. “Feds got what they needed. The mayor and her husband were rounded up trying to sneak out of town.”

“Daily’s active-duty Marines cronies were in irons as of two days ago.” He stretched his legs out next to hers. “And the only news people see is that it was an internal, bloody conflict between factions within the gunrunning operation. But the high school got a big anonymous donation for its gym.”

“You want a medal?” Her hands slipped under the water and over his thighs.

“I might have one or two of those somewhere.” His palms slid over her shoulders and collarbones and down to rest at the top of her breasts. She squirmed, trying to get his touch lower. “Are you wearing yours?”

“How can a soldier who doesn’t exist get a medal?” She took his hands and moved them over her breasts. Slick, hot skin rubbed against her nipples, and she arched her back.

He whispered, “You exist,” and kissed the side of her neck and her ear and her temple.

These were more answers. Slow and savoring. Ben’s attention to her, his understanding of her, hadn’t wavered. He’d been bold and open all along. She was learning to believe him. She turned her head and kissed him. And with her lips on his, she tried to tell him how their connection woke up so much within her, the way his touch woke up the pleasure in her body. He communicated himself as well with his firm mouth devouring hers and never seeming to get enough.

One hand remained on her breast and the other skimmed down her belly. His erection grew stronger on her back, and her blood pumped with the possibilities. She spread her legs for him. Hot water swirled along her pussy, then his fingers lay firm over her. But he didn’t move. She did. Swiveling her hips so he slid up and down her folds. She grew wet, but the bathwater diffused the slickness, giving a raw edge to the pressure of his fingers. Her blood kicked faster when he rubbed over her clit. The concentrated pleasure was too much, and she shifted so he moved lower along her pussy again.

His teeth bit gently into her shoulder. She gasped, filling herself with steam. Sensations bounced up and down her. His bite, his palm over her nipple, his fingers through her folds. She gripped his thighs and writhed to draw more from all these points. Water rippled and splashed against the inside of the tub.

But she couldn’t get the pace lined up. Everything felt good, but it tumbled awkwardly through her without order. She stopped moving and sighed with frustration.

Ben released his bite from her skin and stroked his hand over the spot. “We’ve got time.” He told her, “This is ours.”

“I’m...” She turned and faced him. “I’m trying to understand that.”

The lights outside glinted off his eyes and the water on his body. He reassured her, “You’re doing it. You’re already living.”

She took a moment to hear him. To feel the heat of the bath winding into her muscles. To let the time spin out in front of her without it turning into a countdown. “Dry me off.” She stood and stepped out to the soft bathmat. Ben followed and wrapped a large towel around her, more luxurious than she’d ever felt. The water soaked into the material, but the heat remained. She told him, “Get me wet.”

He smiled, carnal, and looped an arm behind her shoulders. “Come with me.”

Her training had taught her how to counter a move like this, and it was a pleasure to ignore her instinct for combat. He leaned low, scooped up her legs with his other arm and lifted her to his chest. She draped her hands around his neck and drew him into a kiss. There was enough trust for them both to reveal how much they wanted each other. The kiss progressed quickly as she opened her mouth, drawing his tongue in. Her breasts still tingled from the heat of the bath and his touch. Her pussy throbbed, wanting to find the pleasure again. He squeezed her tight to him, then took a moment to collect her purse and his pistol.

The air cooled as he carried her into the bedroom. She flew, free. Not weak. Or injured. But together with someone else who knew her. He set her down next to the bed. The towel slipped from around her chest and gathered at her feet. He placed her purse and his gun close and dragged the blanket to the foot of the bed, exposing the crisp sheets.

Nude and alone with Ben in the dark. Time and space all around them. Her head felt light and she enjoyed the rush. Her pulse hurried; her fingers throbbed. And her more sensitive areas felt like they could sense the smallest movement of Ben before he touched her.

He placed his hands on her waist and encouraged her to sit, then lie back. The sheets whispered, and the mattress conformed perfectly to her body. He leaned next to her, the smile in his eyes.

“Let’s see if you’re wet by the time I reach your pussy.” His lips followed his words on her ear. The way her breath rushed with just the suggestion, she could almost guarantee she would be. He kissed the front of her throat, then trailed his mouth down between her breasts. His tongue flicked across her nipple, and she moaned. It tightened, and he toyed with it between his teeth. She lost her voice. His hands smoothed down her ribs and slid under her ass. Then his mouth kissed over her heart and down her belly. She pressed her heels into the mattress and lifted her hips for him. Warm breath spread over her mons. He used his shoulder to gently part her legs. “Can you feel it?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her pussy pulsed, hot. Wet. “Find me.”

He moved one of his hands and stroked down the front of her cleft. Her moisture gathered on his finger, and he slipped up and back over her lips. She rocked with him and moaned with him. She bucked when the flat of his thumb rasped on her clit. All the moving pieces that had seemed a jumble within her were falling into place. Ben’s mouth on her pussy wound her into a single blazing sensation.

She arched higher and higher with each stroke of his tongue. The first hum of a climax centered through her. It grew, and she raked her nails over Ben’s shoulders. He quickened his pace and took her breath away. Then he slowed and slid his tongue into her. The orgasm spiraled closer. He licked out of her opening and back to her clit. The release snapped through her, and she came.

Hard waves rocked her. Ben held her hips and kept his mouth against her sex. She ground out more of the pleasure until her muscles gave out. He lowered her to the mattress and kissed the front of her thigh before crawling up next to her. They wound their bodies together, and the last of the climax thumped between her chest and his.

As soon as her voice returned, she urged, “Stand up.”

He raised his eyebrows at the gentle command but still complied. She brought herself to sitting on the edge of the bed and faced him. His body was poised, his cock rigid. She wanted to crash against him but let the moment draw out. This was the pleasure of time.

She rose. “Why don’t you sit in that chair?”

“This one here?” He pointed to a little reading setup in the corner. “Or this one?” A larger armchair loomed on the far side of the bed.

“By the window.” She walked behind him as he sauntered to the larger chair. “I want you to see this.”

Ben eased himself onto the chair. “This is better than the back of a car, right?”

“Much.” She kneeled in front of him. “But we’re resourceful operators. We can adapt to any environment.”

The muscles of his thighs firmed under her hands. She ventured higher, feeling the thick cords that moved him. His eyes blazed, locked on to her. She learned to savor the seconds as they stretched out. Stroking over his stomach. Smoothing her palm across his chest. She relished his quick intake of breath when she wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock. Solid and satin. He froze when she kissed the side of his shaft and flicked her tongue over his head.