Rush: A MacKenzie Family Novella (The MacKenzie Family) (10 page)

Rush leaned into her neck, nudging aside the damp fall of her hair to kiss her along her shoulder, punctuating harder thrusts with a bite that raised red marks on her pale skin. She pushed back into him, riding his cock now just as much as he was fucking into her. He wanted to wrap himself up in her, to crawl inside her and stay forever or as close to that time that people like him got.

He found himself talking, murmuring nonsense against her flesh. He knew he should shut the hell up but he couldn’t have if his life depended on it. “It’s never been like this with anyone else. I want everyone to wake up and see us, to know that you’re fucking mine.
Mine
.”

Livvy gasped at his words, her body jolting forward to lie flat against the table, pinned under his weight. She squirmed against his body, but her half-hearted attempts to shake him only made him hotter, harder. And it made his tongue looser, his need more primal.

“This pussy is mine. No matter who thinks they can take it, it’s mine. Nobody makes you come like I do. Nobody gets you so wet it runs down your thighs. Nobody.”

He looked down at her left hand clenched against the table and noticed that her finger was bare of his wedding band. The thought, only on his mind for the briefest second, hit him with such a force of anger and possession that he almost reeled back from it.

He lifted up and angled his hips in deeper, feeling the tingle of his orgasm in his balls, the small of his back. He was only going to get in a few more strokes before he blew and he wanted her to come again.

Lifting her up, he held her against his body, one hand supporting her as the other tangled in the wet curls covering her pussy. Fingering her clit, he stroked her, moving inside her at the same rhythm and never letting up until he felt her tighten around his cock, heard her loud groan as she came.

Rush shoved inside, his body taut with his own orgasm as he emptied himself into the rubber. Thrusting in and out, he rode the wave until it was nothing more than a bolt of energy along his spine, adrenaline coursing through his system.

He pulled out and turned her around, stepping in between legs that she wrapped around his waist, keeping them as close as possible. The kiss was wet and hot, a clash of teeth and a parrying of tongues that echoed the current of just-shy-of-violent need zinging back and forth between them.

Livvy wove her fingers into his hair, pulling hard every time he tried to back out of the embrace, forcing him to stay when some part of him was screaming for him to run away, to keep some distance between them, and the other side was telling him to cut open his chest and let her see it all, to let her have it all.

What had started as a simple act of sex was becoming a storm he couldn’t hope to escape. It was ripping every defense he had from his mind and his soul.

He couldn’t be that raw going after Figueroa’s men. Couldn’t be that vulnerable. It would get him killed. It could get Katrina killed. Rush pulled away but Livvy wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close, her breath warm against his ear.

“I know you need to go but promise me one thing.”

He nodded, unable to speak.

“Don’t get shot tonight. Don't get hurt. It would kill me, Atticus. Just promise me that.”

He nodded, swallowed hard and tried to clear the sawdust from his mouth. “I promise.”

Livvy then released him and he stumbled back, pulling his pants up and heading to a shower and distance from her.

The Marines said that everyone had an Achilles’ heel, the one thing that could get in your head and fuck with your game. Once you knew what it was, they said you could contain it, put it in a box when you needed to. They lied. Outright lied to his face because Livvy was his only weakness and nothing was more clear than the fact that he couldn’t control it.

Chapter Twelve

“What the hell are you wearing?” Atticus said.

Olivia looked up as she entered the living area of the loft, scanning the room until she found him standing next to the long table, checking over his weapons. Several handguns, knives, and what looked like mini-grenades were laid out on the table, disappearing into the different slots all over his black tactical clothing.

She glanced down at her own outfit. All black, just like his, but in a body-hugging catsuit style. She wore it on some of her jobs and knew it was perfect for tonight.

“It’s Dolce and Gabbana,” she offered with a smile.

“You look like fucking Catwoman,” he said, his face dark and unchanging when Brant snickered nearby. “Why the hell are you dressed like that?”

“For the rescue.” She was confused. Wasn’t it obvious?

“You’re not going,” Atticus said, dropping the magazine he was holding on the table and walking over toward her. He was pulled up to his full height of six feet five inches and looking down on her in an intimidating manner. She’d seen it before and it didn’t scare her. “What could have possibly made you think you were going?”

Anger rose in her gut at his stupid question. “I’ve been a part of this from the beginning and I want to see it through with the team.”

He was shaking his head before she even finished. “No. You can see it through here. We’ll let you know the minute we have her safe.”

“I’m going,” she said, stopping him with a hand to his chest when he meant to turn his back on her and go back to what he was doing. Atticus glanced down at her hand and then back up, his jaw tight with anger and frustration. He could join the club and get over it because she was feeling the same thing at his attitude.

“No. You’re. Not.”

She decided to change the direction. “Elena and Jade are going…”

He cut her off. “Elena will be in the communications truck, video monitoring the mission. Jade is a trained operative and has done this a million times before. You are very good at what you do but we don’t need that skill set tonight. You need to be here.”

“I can sit in the truck with Elena,” she said, edging her voice in steel to make sure he knew she was serious about not being left behind. Not now. “I can know you’re safe if I’m in the van.”

His expression softened at her words and she tangled her fingers in the loops of his vest and dragged him closer. “I’m going with you tonight. You can’t tell me no.”

And like a flash of lightning across the sky, any tenderness was gone and it was replaced by resolute determination. It was like he slipped on a mask and obscured anything of the Atticus she knew and replaced him with a stranger.

“Livvy, I said no.”

“I’m going.”

“Don’t tell me later that I didn’t give you the option,” he said, grabbing her around the waist and placing her in a fireman’s carry before she could get out a protest. The world was topsy turvy and only ended with her deposited in the middle of his bed.

The bounce dislodged some of the hair from her ponytail. It flopped over her eye and obscured her vision. She flipped it back and attempted to scoot off the bed, but he grabbed her around the ankle and dragged her back to where he’d placed her.

“Atticus, let me go,” she yelled, kicking out when he let go of her leg and reached for her hand. She nailed him in the gut and although he let out a grunt of surprise, it didn't slow him down.

A cool piece of plastic slipped over the hand he held tight in his grasp. She squirmed to look at it, recognizing the plastic wrist restraint too late to avoid him tightening it around her wrist.

“Atticus, you wanker. Don’t you do this.”

He stopped, holding her in place. His face was grim and determined. “Are you going to agree to stay here while we go to the cabin?”

She balked, hesitating a tad too long to be able to lie to him convincingly and he saw it. Olivia kicked out in frustration but it did no good. He was like a storm coming in from the ocean. All she could do was react to the inevitable.

He deftly grabbed her other wrist, looped the plastic restraint through the metal rungs on his headboard and slipped the open end over her hand. Three seconds of tightening and he was done and she was stuck.

“I can’t believe you just tied me to your bed,” she fumed.

“It’s not the first time,” he remarked, stepping back to stand by the bed. He was breathing hard, adjusting the gear she’d dislodged during her struggle. His expression was blank. He was already in the SUV and headed out to the kidnappers’ location in his mind. He didn’t care that she was furious. Not. One. Bit.

Cold-blooded bastard.

She was ass hurt because she had fooled herself into thinking this was different after the last few days. That maybe they were just different enough this time around to maybe get a second chance. Once again, she’d mistaken great sex and chemistry with this man as the foundation for a future. It hurt just as bad the second time around.

“I’ll never forgive you for this,” she growled out between clenched teeth, tugging uselessly against the restraints. She knew it wouldn’t do any good but she did it anyway. Surrender was not an option she would take lightly.

“And I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt.”

“You don't trust me.” He didn’t. Not like he trusted Jade or Elena.

“That’s not important when it comes to your safety.” He shrugged, reaching out to stroke her cheek, his face softer around the edges but she could almost see the rod of steel in his spine. She shook off his touch with a growl and a baring of her teeth, not wanting to get any kind of comfort from him.

Hurt crossed his face like a shadow as he straightened, backing toward the door. For a brief moment, she regretted her rebuff and almost called out an apology as the possibility that he might not come back. The fear was the only thing that cut through her anger for a moment.

“I’ll have someone call Carla in an hour to come and cut you loose. I’ll call you when Katrina is safe.”

She watched him go, helpless to do anything but lay there and fume…and worry.

Chapter Thirteen

“I can’t believe you tied her to your bed,” Brant said, his glare as clear as day in the darkened SUV.

The rest of the team stilled and he could almost taste their desire to be anywhere but in the middle of this discussion. He didn’t want to have it either.

Rush debated the merits of not answering him but he doubted that his friend would let it go. “She wouldn’t agree to stay behind and I know just how stubborn she can be. She would’ve hired a cab to get her to the location. A decisive action had to be taken and I took it.”

“Man, you’re a cold son of a bitch sometimes.”

He stiffened at the comment. It might be true enough in most instances but it was so far from the truth when it came to Livvy. She made him run too hot and wrecked his concentration. He answered the best way he could.

“These men are ruthless and they will not hesitate to kill Katrina if they get a chance…”

“I know that,” Brant said, his irritation coating every word.

“I have to have my head clear, focused. I can’t do that if I know that Livvy is within the range of danger. I need not to care about anything but making sure Katrina is safe and killing every dickhead that gets in my way.” He took a deep breath and tried to rein in the desire to punch something or someone in the face. “I didn’t have the time or the inclination to have a big fucking Oprah-talk with her about it. We were losing time and advantage and I did what I had to do. I’d do it again and if that makes me cold, then bundle up, motherfucker.”

Silence filled the vehicle, the only sound their breathing and the clack of Elena’s keys as she worked to hook up all the comm units and the satellite connection for global views of the site and infrared scans. She would be their eagle eyes when they were on the ground, giving him the information he needed in real time.

Rush bowed his head, getting his mind in the correct headspace. Running through the plan over and over, checking every detail against his training and his gut. The plan was solid and it should go off with only minor adjustments in the heat of battle.

They knew from early recon that there were three men on the grounds and three inside at all times. They had significant firepower and they carried themselves like professionals. This wouldn’t be easy, but it was feasible with the team he had in place tonight.

They also knew Katrina was being held at this location. Paulo had been there the day she’d been taken, ensuring that Figueroa’s men and the girl had adequate provisions for their stay. Everything for a successful rescue was in place and now they just had to execute.

His mind drifted back to Livvy and their time together in the early morning hours. Having her in his arms again had been the most tranquil moments he’d had in the three years since they split up. She was his center, his true north, and while he knew he’d crossed over a line tonight, he couldn’t regret what he’d done. Knowing she was safe was the most important thing in his life.

He wasn’t a praying man but he was superstitious when it came to going into battle. A prayer he’d learned in boot camp stuck with him and he recited it in a low voice:

“Lord, make me fast and accurate, Let my aim be true and my hand faster than those who seek to destroy me. Grant me victory over my foes and those that wish to do harm to me and mine. Let not my last thought be, if only I had my gun; and if today is truly the day you call me home, let me die in a pile of empty brass.”

He thought he heard a quiet “amen” from the other side of the vehicle as it came to a stop a mile away from the location, parked in a dark copse of trees just off the road. They waited, scanning the area before filing out as quickly and quietly as possible. Once they were all in a circle, he went back over the high-level mission plans.

“The goal is to rescue Katrina and get her out unharmed. Eliminate anyone who would harm her or you. They won’t hesitate to kill you.”

They’d debated whether they would kill or just incapacitate the men they found here and Rush had insisted on elimination. He wasn’t taking any chances. He’d seen Figueroa’s men in action before and it was a good thing to take them out of the picture for good before they could do anything worse to anyone else.