Page 8 of Grayson

“I didn’t walk away, Jennifer. You were just a kid.”

“I wasn’t asking you to marry me, Grayson. I just wanted to be kissed like a woman.”

“But you weren’t a woman,” he said still holding her. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face.

“But I am now.”

He damn sure couldn’t argue with that. He leaned down touching her lips with his own, just one kiss. That’s what he told himself. Just one kiss and it would be done. But that one chaste kiss turned into a fever pitch. He couldn’t get enough of her taste, her smell. The feel of her hair brushing his arms.

She crawled up his body, wrapping her legs around his waist, clamoring to be closer. His big hand slid up the shirt, feeling the heat of her skin against his palm. Then a pounding at the door brought them both back to reality.

“Sgt. Major? Miss Michaels? We have some news about Father Kyle.”

“We’ll be right there,” said Grayson gently setting her down. She smiled up at him, her bright white teeth teasing him.

“We’re going to finish this, Grayson,” she said opening the door and stepping out into the cool evening air. He watched her walk with the Corporal and pushed down his erection.

“You’re fucking right we will.”

CHAPTER SIX

“Father Kyle’s real name is Kyle Lacroix, the French-born son of a flower-grower in southern France. His parents were completely normal, average parents, selling their flowers to local markets in the area.

“When he was seventeen, he met three other young men who were ‘troublesome’ to his parents. He was suddenly caught stealing, breaking windows, juvenile shit,” said the young Corporal.

“Juvenile shit leads to grown up shit,” frowned Brunson, one of his men.

“And it did. His parents cut all ties with him when he turned eighteen, refusing to go to college or help with the family business. The French police have followed him for the last ten years, ever since joining Le Fraternité, the brotherhood.”

“Why do I know that name?” whispered Grayson.

“You know that name because they were the ones in the nightclub that night,” said Jennifer, swallowing and looking down. The men stared at her, then at Grayson. The slight shake of his head told them all not to ask questions. “I didn’t know it then but they were wanted for trafficking in at least a dozen countries. They have ties to the Russians, Koreans, Chinese, just about every bad guy network out there.”

“Well, he’s not just anybody. He’s one of their top men,” said the young corporal. “He’s nearly untouchable.”

“Nearly?” frowned Jennifer.

“The French government has protected them, somewhat. As you can imagine, he’s provided favors to them and has threatened to expose them to the French people. So they look the other way.”

“Of course they do,” frowned Jennifer.

“He’s got friends in high places, but not everywhere. With organizations like the one you work for, government agencies, private companies, especially companies like Voodoo Guardians and Shadow Warriors.”

“Yes, I’ve heard they’re amazing,” smirked Jennifer.

“They’re the fucking bomb, excuse the language, ma’am,” said the Corporal smiling.

“Hear that, Grayson. They’re the bomb,” she grinned. He glared at her and the men looked at one another with a strange expression. He took in a deep breath, sighing in resignation.

“You all know that this is my last mission,” said Grayson. “I should have told you all sooner. Jennifer and I know one another from childhood, through our parents. Parents who belong to Voodoo Guardians and Shadow Warriors.”

There was utter silence in the room. Jennifer said nothing, realizing that she’d outed him, unintentionally. She turned to him and mouthed ‘I’m sorry’. He just shook his head.

“Are you going to say anything?” asked Grayson staring at his men.

“Did you think we were stupid, sir?” asked Romeo. Grayson stared at him, frowning. “Sir. You seemed to always have the hookup. All the cool toys and tools. When we needed extraction, it was suddenly there. When we needed equipment, not sanctioned by the Corps, it was suddenly there. All of that and you possessed more skill than any Marine has the right to. We knew, sir. We just weren’t going to push you to tell us. We understood why.”

“Fuck me,” he growled. He stood, running his hand over the thick head of hair that desperately needed to be cut. When you run ops like his team, you worry less about things like hair growth and beards. It doesn’t fucking matter.