Counter Terrorism Read online

  But now… I need her now in a way I didn’t back then. These missions for the SEALs are getting harder and harder on me. When I’m away, it’s the thought of her that keeps me sane. When the other guys on my team talk about their families or girlfriends, I talk about Brittani. Some of them probably have the impression that she’s my girlfriend and I haven’t done anything to convince them otherwise. I like people knowing that she’s mine, even if they’re assuming it’s in a way that probably won’t ever be true. The thing is, I need Brittani to be the same safe haven she’s always been for me.

  Right now, she needs me to be that for her.

  I drive aimlessly for a few minutes, waiting for her to start talking. After a few stops and starts, she does. The story she tells me of what she heard is startling, to say the least. From what I can tell, she overheard a scientist and a middleman talking about delivering a bio weapon to whoever’s planning on releasing it as a weapon. The local post office is just the shipping point.

  Sighing, I tell her the only thing I can.

  “We’re going to have to talk to my boss.”

  “You-you’re boss? Colt, you work at a nightclub, I was hoping that you could maybe call one of the cops that you know from working there.”

  “Not that boss. My real boss.”

  Chapter 4- Brittani

  If it had been anyone else who had just dropped that bomb on me, I would be freaking out right about now. But it’s Colt, so I just pause and ask again. “What are you talking about?”

  Next to me, Colt sighs and runs a hand across the dark shadow of his hair. He’d kept it long in high school, only adding to that bad boy charm. When he came back after high school he had shaved it off. Honestly? I prefer this look. The strong cords of his neck are visible now and he can’t hide his honey bright eyes behind his bangs when he laughs.

  He’s not laughing now.

  “Babe, I need to tell you something. I’ve been needing to tell you something for years, but I wasn’t supposed to, for your own safety. Now though…”

  “Now what?!”

  “I’m a Navy SEAL.”

  “… excuse me?” I ask breathily. Navy SEALs are the ones who are sent on all the extra dangerous missions, or at least, that’s what it sounds like from what I’ve seen on the news. They’re highly trained and super healthy, which fits Colt, but it’s because they have to be in tip top fighting shape. They’re the ones who are part of secret elite teams and are air dropped into enemy territory and expected to survive on just—

  “Brittani!” Colt’s shout gets my attention. I hadn’t even released that I was spiraling.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Without taking his eyes off the road, he reaches out and lays his hand palm-up on my bare leg. Like before, I tremble at the feel of his warm skin on mine. Grasping his hand tightly, I use the steady pressure as a focus point as I even out my breathing.

  “Good girl, you’re doing great.” The rumble of Colt’s praise makes warmth pool between my legs. His voice seems deeper than it normally is. Strange, that his praise affects me more than the pet names. It makes me want to do more to make him praise me like that. I look down to hide my blush and am confronted with the sight of our intertwined hands. His skin is a golden tan, the tattoos covering his hands a soft black. Subtly, I rub a thumb against the curve of a letter on his knuckle.

  “I’m taking you to my superior officer,” Colt’s voice startles me out of my reverie. “He’ll know what to do about what you heard.”

  “Am I going to have to be interviewed or give a report or something?” I ask nervously.

  “He’ll ask some questions, you’ll have to tell him exactly what you saw and heard, but I’ll stay with you the entire time, okay?” The deeper tone to his voice is soothing, and still familiar so I lean back into the car seat and try my best to relax.

  We drive the rest of the way in silence. I text my boss at the café and tell her that I’m calling in sick. She is understanding and it helps me relax that much more; it’s one less thing to have to worry about.

  Colt is quiet but attentive the whole time he guides me to his boss’s office. From the moment I get out of the car, he’s on me, a hand wrapped around my waist and tugging me into his broad chest. As we walk together, it’s like Colt transforms into someone else. He stands a bit straighter; his touch is a bit firmer. We pass through imposing doors and through dimly lit hallways until we reach an open office door.

  Colt sticks his head in without knocking. “Sir? Do you have five minutes?”

  The man sitting at the desk in the office looks up. He’s got dark skin and a neatly trimmed goatee. Despite what I expected out of a superior military officer, his eyes look kind behind his glasses.

  “For you Jennings? I’ve got ten. Who is this?” He stands up to greet us and extends a hand to me. “Chief David Carlsen.”

  “Brittani Travers,” I shake his hand. “You’re Colt’s boss?”

  “Yes I am. What brings you to my office?”

  When Chief Carlsen leans back against the front of his desk, I ease into one of the visitor’s chairs in front of it. Colt stands behind me and rests his hands on my shoulders. As I slowly relate my story to the chief, Colt’s thumb dips under the neck of my t shirt and rests against the skin of my neck. It’s a soothing point of contact and I remember to breathe.

  Chief Carlsen is quiet before talking to Colt. “Your girl is smart, Jennings.”

  Who, me? I know I should protest, tell Colt’s boss that I’m just his friend and that he isn’t just humoring his crazy girlfriend but my thoughts are interrupted by Colt’s response.

  “She is that, sir.” The pride in Colt’s voice makes me duck my head to hide my faint smile.

  “Would you be willing to repeat what you just told me while I record your statement for formality?” Chief Carlsen asks me.

  “Of course.” I take a deep breath and start my story over. Partway through, a feel a coolness drift over me and I realize that Colt has shifted so that he’s leaning over me ever so slightly. Not wanting to break my story and leave out something important, I keep talking but glance questioningly up at him. He nods reassuringly so I continue.

  When I finish, Chief Carlsen stands up. “I’m going to grab some files, you two wait here.”

  “Yes sir.” The moment his boss has left the room, Colt swings around to crouch in front of me. “You doing okay, babe?” He rests his hands on my legs, thumbs rubbing circles into the thin skin at the inside of my knees.

  “I think so, yeah. Thank you for doing this with me.” For some reason, I feel like I need to whisper. Colt shifts closer to hear me, seeking out my eyes with his.

  “Hey, my best girl needs me. Where else would I be?” For a moment, I just stare into his eyes.

  “So I’m your girl?” I can’t help asking.

  For the first time since I found out what he really does, Colt laughs. “Yeah, you know damn well you are.”

  Between the harsh lighting of the office and Colt’s thin white t shirt, I can see that he does have more tattoos. I can’t tell what they are, but there are dark lines making patterns across his shoulders and down his chest. I wonder if they dip down his abdomen, too. Would the skin feel any different where he has them?

  The reentrance of Chief Carlsen distracts me from my daydreams of tracing Colt’s tattoos with my tongue.

  “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Miss Travers,” he says. “I’d like to get you set up in a safe house while an investigation is conducted.”

  Before I can answer, Colt jumps in. “Where will we be staying, sir?”

  “Jennings, you don’t need to—”

  “With all due respect sir, yes I do. I’m not trusting Brittani’s safety to anyone else. Sir.” Colt stands tall against Chief Carlsen’s raised eyebrows. I’m starting to get nervous on his behalf—isn’t that insubordination, or something? Whatever it is, Chief Carlsen doesn’t look too happy but thankfully allows it.r />
  As we leave the room, address and orders in Colt’s pocket, he leans over my shoulder to speak lowly in my ear. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until this is over.”

  Chapter 5- Colt

  It’s a couple of hours before we pull up to the small safe house a couple of towns over and I’m already at my limit. Brittani had called her folks, given them a cover story for what was going on. I like the Travers’, they’ve always been good to me. Brittani and I were so close growing up that her parents and mine became friends as well. There are times where I suspect that her parents know how I feel about her, but they’ve never said anything to me about it. What they do know is that I care very deeply for her, and won’t let anything happen to her. There have been times in high school where I’ve had to call her parents to come get her when the stress became too much and Brittani would have an anxiety attack in the girls’ bathroom and text me to come help her.

  Those were some awkward encounters, but she needed me, so I was there.

  Shortly after we got on the road, she made the call to her parents and said she would be staying with me for a couple of days. That’s not unusual; since we were young, we’ve been sleeping over at the other’s home. She’s got a key to my apartment in town and permission to come over whenever she wants to. Once she finished with her call, she curled up in the passenger seat, using one of my sweatshirts as a pillow, and drifted off to sleep.

  That’s not the problem. I’m glad that she’s getting some rest, this was all so stressful for her. No, the problem is that Brittani talks in her sleep, she always has.

  It’s not like she has full blown conversations, she’s just… a noisy sleeper. At first, the little murmurs and exhales didn’t get to me. After puberty, every time she ends up sleeping in close proximity to me is an exercise in self-control. She’s usually such a quiet person when she’s conscious, this quirk of hers would be far funnier if it wasn’t so damn arousing.

  Brittani moans softly and burrows her face deeper into my balled-up sweatshirt, her t-shirt twisting with the motion. I’m so focused on the strip of skin that’s revealed that I have to swerve on the road to get back in my own lane.

  When she whispers my name in her sleep, blood rushes to my dick. Damn it! She’s not even doing it on purpose. Not that she ever does—she has no idea just how enticing she is.

  By the time we pull up to the safe house that Chief Carlsen assigned, I’m half hard in my sweats. I’m glad I didn’t change into jeans before leaving the gym because a zipper would really hurt right now. The downside is that my semi is pretty goddamn noticeable in these sweats. After I’ve parked in front of the nondescript brick one story that will be our home for the next several days, I press the heel of my hand down on myself. I close my eyes at the pressure.

  When I open them again, it’s to find Brittani blinking at me lazily. Quickly, I shift my hand to my rest against my leg, hoping she didn’t notice my reaction to her. “Good nap?”

  She stretches, breasts straining against the snug fabric of her shirt. “Yeah, it was.” Her voice is all breathy and satisfied. I know she’d sound the same way after I’ve made her come with my fingers and tongue a couple times. Shit, thinking about how she’d sound after she comes is not helping my situation.

  In lieu of answering, I nod and jump out of the car. “Welcome to our temporary abode,” I tell her as I grab my gym bag from the backseat and escort her up the walkway. That’s when some of the practicalities of our situation hit me. “Well, shit.”

  “What? What’s wrong?” Brittani looks around frantically as I unlock the front door and usher her inside. “Colt, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, Britt. I’m sorry,” I tell her, running a hand up and down her back. At her shaky exhale, I continue. “I just remembered that there aren’t any clothes or toiletries for you here. We don’t get a lot of female witnesses.”

  “Oh, that’s fine. I can sleep in what I have on.” I’m surprised at her response, as it isn’t that late in the day—just mid-afternoon. That’s when I remember what her schedule is. If she was supposed to go work at the café, she would have been up early. That, combined with the stress of the day? No wonder she’s already thinking about bed.

  So am I, for that matter. Just… different activities.

  Damn it Jennings, focus!

  “Okay, I’ll show you to the bathroom, let you freshen up a bit.”

  As she follows me down the hallway, she quips back with, “Are you saying I smell bad?”

  “Not in the least, babe.” Truthfully, she smells faintly of vanilla and espresso. The coffee smell is ironic, since she doesn’t drink the stuff, despite working in a café. She sticks to green teas, claiming she doesn’t need the caffeine.

  We reach the bathroom and I pass her my duffle bag. At her questioning look, I explain. “I’ve got some deodorant in there, body wash too. I sort of doubt you’ve got any in that purse of yours.”

  Brittani laughs and swats at the small cross body bag she wears. “Yeah. Are there any clothes in there?” She opens the linen cabinet outside the bathroom door. Inside are an assortment of men’s sweatpants and basic t shirts in among the towels. When she goes to reach for some, I grab her wrist. She looks over her shoulder at me, eyes wide with surprise.

  “There are clothes in my bag too.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to change? I called you away from the gym, after all.” She looks down, eyes welling with guilt.

  “Hey,” I raise her chin with a finger. “Don’t ever feel bad for needing me, okay?” Brittani nods, so I continue. “Use what I have in my duffle, okay? I don’t like the idea of you wearing some random guy’s clothes.” That last part slips out, blunt honesty brought about by sudden intimacy.

  “Colt, I’m sure they’re clean,” she says.

  Well, I’ve already started this conversation. Might as well continue it. “That’s not what I mean. I don’t want you wearing some random man’s clothes.”

  At my admission, Brittani drops her eyes and nods. Her small act of submission pleases me more than a full night of sex with any other woman. Before I release her wrist, I rub my thumb across the palm of her small hand and feel her relax. I watch her slip into the bathroom and close the door, my duffle and a towel in hand.

  Since she’s set in there for a little while I take the time to sweep the house and contact Chief Carlsen, update him on our situation. Official duties done, I settle onto the lone couch in the living room. This house is out of the way and safe, I’ll give it that but damn is it small. Complete with furniture that was probably new in the eighties, it’s got one bedroom, one bathroom, and a combined kitchen and living room area. Doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for privacy and I could really use some of that right now.

  Instead of giving in to the need to get off, I sit back and listen to the sounds of Brittani in the shower through the thin walls. The steady splash of water is torturous in the otherwise quiet house. I can’t help but imagine her in the shower. She’s probably washing up with my soap, so she’ll come out smelling like me. I can easily picture her in the shower, head tipped back, suds drifting down her delicate throat and over her pert breasts. Will she slip a hand between her legs, finger herself? Or will she wait until she’s done and get off to the feel of the rough towel dragging against her sensitive skin?

  The images in my head are too arousing to ignore. Lost in my own world, I slip a hand down the front of my sweats and give myself a few firm tugs. Surely I have time? Brittani will probably be taking a while, have some time to herself, whether it be to get off or to calm herself down. Being in her company, the two of us alone and isolated will be a real test of my self-control. I need to take the edge off. I spit into my hand and loosely pump myself. Should I be ashamed that I’m picturing Brittani the whole time?

  Just as my breathing is starting to pick up, I hear Brittani’s voice.

  “Colt?”

  And like she’s stepped right out of my fantasies, there she is,
standing in the doorway of the bathroom wearing one of my t shirts. No shorts. No bra. Just my t shirt.

  I’m so captivated by the sight of her I don’t even pull my hand off my cock.

  Chapter 6- Brittani

  As I shower, I can’t help but wonder what all of that was with Colt earlier. I am rather grateful that he insisted I take his duffle in with me, use his soaps and such. I’ve always found the cinnamon scent of him soothing—it’s what lulled me to sleep on the car ride over. I take my time washing up, letting the hot water beat against my neck and back. I can practically feel the stress washing down the drain. There’s something else I can do to de-stress, but should I, with Colt in the next room over?

  The idea of touching myself with Colt so near is too tempting to resist.

  I work one hand across my chest, slowly building up the sensations before working the other hand down between my legs. When we had gotten to the safe house, the feeling of the car stopping had woken me and I’d opened my eyes to see Colt pressing a broad hand to himself. I’m not sure what caused his erection, but it’s a sight I can’t stop thinking about. In my head, I imagine being bold enough to lean over and pull his sweats down, free his cock and put my mouth on him. I’d let him grab and pull at my hair as much as he wanted. I’d let Colt do anything that he wants to me.

  I’m so close—I’ve just worked a finger inside myself when the water starts to cool. There’s barely time to shut it off before cold sputters out of the old pipes.

  Now I’m cold and turned on.

  Determined to go to bed and be done with this day, I dry off and take a look at the options in Colt’s gym bag. All I find is a pair of jeans that would be enormous on me, two shirts, one a wife beater and the other a regular t shirt. I go with the t-shirt. I know I should probably slip my panties back on, but I’ve been wearing them all day and this shirt is big enough on me that it lands at mid-thigh. It is Colt’s, after all. He needs room for all those muscles…

  Nope! Not helping!