Chapter Fifteen

Two days of hard grafting and the fence was up with cameras installed. They’d even set up a basic alarm system that alerted the staff to intruders on the property.

Lizzy invited the men back to her place for dinner and left the orphanage early to dash home to cook a delicious roast. As the food simmered away, she slipped into the shower. Soaping up, she let out a loud shriek when firm hands wrapped around her waist.

“James Johnny Cane! Do you want me to keel over from fright?”

Already naked, he twisted her around and shoved her against the tiles. “That’s what happens when you give your ‘friend’ a key to your apartment. Now don’t move. I need to get clean and then please my woman.” He wrenched the soap bar from her hand. He’d already sheathed himself in a condom and she ran her eyes over the very male picture he made.

“I’m not your woman.”

“At this moment, you’re my very wet and slippery woman.”

She stepped up and he gently shoved her back, then raised her arms. “Against the wall—like that. I told you not to move.” He went back to rinsing the remaining suds off his chest.

His firm command had her obeying. She liked this rough side to him. That first time, he’d been so cautious. Too gentle. Now, he seemed more himself, eager to climb onboard her adventure train.

After washing, he rubbed up against her. His hard body slid along hers and Lizzy reached out.

“I said no touching.”

He caged her in, as callused hands explored her wet flesh. Her nipples hardened, and he growled, sucking one into his warm mouth. Steam rose around them, and her back felt cool against the wall. He cupped her breast as he sucked and Lizzy arched back. His other hand ran over her hip before tracing her entrance. Her moans had him raising her into position and sliding his erect shaft home. Strong fingers tightened on her ass, lifting her and slamming her back down. The sudden desperate tempo had her screaming as his hard length surged in and out.

Rocking, she desperately craved a release. John swore as she latched on, digging nails into taut muscle. Shoving her against the wall and propping her up with one hand, John used his other hand to tweak, then twist her nipple. Pleasure verging on pain had her shattering into a million shards. She writhed, spasming uncontrollably. With deep thrusts he came, jerking and slapping her against the tiles with violent enthusiasm.

Lizzy panted in his arms, then buried her head in his neck. The raw emotion at that moment had her questioning everything. She’d never felt so in sync with a man and wanted to yield to the sweet emotion. Was it like this for everyone?

Too soon, he moved, gently lowering her and placing a kiss on her forehead. “Hell, baby. I don’t wanna get out, but we’d better get dressed. The team will be here any minute.”

She didn’t want to get out either. This moment they were cocooned in a misty world where nothing else existed. She wanted to explore every inch of him or even just lie beneath the warm spray in his arms. Her roast sat in the oven and she needed to put her hostess hat on. She ran a hand over his firm ass, then gave it a hard slap before leaping for a towel.

***

They sat around the table, stuffed to the gills, listening to Lizzy tune her guitar. She sat next to Johnny as he traced lazy fingers over the back of her neck.

“Why do you refer to Ryker’s team as the ‘threes’?” Lizzy asked.

Donnie looked for confirmation from Johnny before answering. “We can’t give you any specifics, but there are six teams situated around the world. We all work for a task force that identifies key militant leaders and topples them from their infamous perches. Leaders who have gained momentum and power and are a direct threat to US assets and facilities. Men who are protected by money or power. Our team is called MIT2.”

Lizzy leaned forward. “So, it goes, MIT1, MIT2, MIT3….”

“Yes. All the way up to MIT6.”

“So MIT2—your team—covers East Africa and MIT3 are situated in the Middle East?”

“Correct, and MIT1 covers West Africa—”

“Like Mali and Nigeria?” Lizzy asked.

“Yes, the ‘Ones’ are based out of Lagos—in Nigeria.”

Lizzy tweaked another guitar string. “I’ve been to Lagos a couple of times—wasn’t much fun, we had an armed escort stationed outside of our hotel rooms. The airline insisted it was unsafe, which was frustrating. I wanted to visit the Lekki Conservation Center in Lagos. What about the rest of the teams?”

Slater handed them all a beer from the fridge. “MIT4 are in Europe. MIT5 are based in Southern Asia—Sri Lanka, the Philippines. MIT6 cover mainly Russia and China.”

“That’s a lot of area to cover for one small four-man team.”

“We focus on specific individuals and not their whole army of extremists. We utilize allies, informants or the resources available in various regions—like the local police and military.”

“So, who are you currently chasing down?”

“That, sweet thing, is where classified lines get drawn in the sand.” Slater winked at her.

Lizzy grinned. “So, out of all the MIT teams, who’s considered the best, if you went head-to-head in a training exercise?”

“Who do you think?” Johnny winked. “No contest—MIT2 has Tank aka Jay Jay on their team.”

She laughed. “Well then, a toast to MIT2.”

The men smiled and raised their beers.

Lizzy clinked her bottle with Johnny’s. “Here’s to sexy Jay Jay making my day, cause baby, the twos are here to freaking stay!”

Johnny laughed at her silly toast. Her phone jingled on the kitchen counter and she ran over, sifting through piles of pans, oven gloves and leftovers. Johnny shook his head at the chaotic scatterbrain that was so Lizzy.

“Why does that sound so familiar?” Slater asked when she discovered the device under a dish towel.

“It’s the soundtrack from ER,” Lizzy replied before placing the phone to her ear. “Everything okay?”

Johnny frowned and got up to clear the plates.

“When, now? I have guests…” She paced the kitchen. “Okay….no, I understand…I fly in two days…sure…if you need me…I can get a taxi.” The men paused. “I’ll be there in thirty.” Lizzy hung up.

“Was that JetHaven?”

“Um…no. It was Garri—Dr. Bankes. He needs my help at the clinic.”

“Lizbug, it’s ten-thirty at night.”

“I know. A family just came in—throwing up with raging fevers and diarrhea. He’s understaffed. Our nurse worked a double shift, and she’s only just left the orphanage.”

“You’re a volunteer, right?” Donnie said.

“Yes, but—”

“It’s not your job; you’re putting yourself at risk. If they’re throwing up and running a temperature, it could be contagious. There’s a risk of them having cholera, Ebola or hepatitis A. Treating them in a low-level clinic with tiny kids sleeping in the next room isn’t exactly wise, Bankes should ideally be transferring them out.”

Lizzy looked torn, and Johnny’s lid flipped.

“If you decide to go, I’m taking you. I don’t understand why that arse-biscuit is calling you out this late. You’re not a nurse.” That earned him a glare. “You’re a lone woman traveling through Nairobi late at night; it’s irresponsible for him to ask you to do that.”

“I can’t not go, and don’t be mean. He’s a good man and a good friend.”

“Call him back and tell him to transfer the family to the general hospital.”

“I feel responsible—”

“For what?” Johnny raised his voice in frustration.

Slater stood. “We’re gonna head out and let you guys sort this out.”

“I’m sorry, I’m a bad hostess.”

“Are you kidding? For the first time in five months, I’ve eaten a home-cooked meal. Thanks, sweetie, for the incredible food. We’ll see ya when we see ya.”

She hugged the guys and they headed out the door. This conversation was past due, and Johnny needed to have his say, barely giving her a chance to close the door.

“What do you want, Lizzy? Do you want to be a nurse?”

“Garrison thinks I’ll be a great nurse. He’s encouraging me to finish my degree, and wants me to help him on his next assignment in Peru.”

Johnny clenched his fists. Over his dead body—the ass-hat wanted to run his surgical hands all over her sweet-smelling skin. “Is that what you want? To run to South America, to be a nurse. Does that excite you?”

“I don’t kn—”

“Because, the way I see it, you’re racing in a hundred different directions. Now you’re a flight attendant, before that, you were a masseur, and a beautician, a possible nurse, a fashion designer, a singer…”

“Thanks for the shitty feedback. I know I’m directionless. I know I’m screwed up.”

He drew in a patient breath. “Lizbug. If you want to be a nurse—to go back to what you were doing before Ivan—I’ll support you. That quick brain of yours can do anything. You’re incredibly talented, but I hate seeing you like this.”

“Like what!”

“Wearing a hundred different masks to cover the pain.”

“Screw you.” Tiny hands shoved at his chest.

“I won’t pussyfoot around you. That’s not who I am—all flowery words. If you’re looking for a man who’ll be less than honest, then you’ve chosen the wrong guy.”

“I haven’t chosen you! This was supposed to be a fun reset.”

“Yeah, I know.” Hurt balled in his chest.

Folding her arms, Lizzy turned to the door. “Can we shelve this for now? I need to get changed.”

“If you’re going, I’m driving you to the orphanage. I’ll wait for you downstairs in the truck.”