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“MIA as well.”
Sisters Elsa and Janet had also disappeared.
ShitGoddammit.
A plan began to form in my head. “I’ll go find them.”
“Negative,” Tracker Team’s second in command said in his intractable tone. “You will remain in place. Your priority remains the same.”
I needed to back King up as he’d backed me up. “But—”
“We do not know what this is yet.” Bozeman’s smooth bass yanked me out of my knee-jerk reaction. “This could be your partner making a strategic move, or your foe, forcing our hand. We do not cater to our enemy’s provocations, do we?”
“We don’t,” I agreed. “Ifthat’s what this is.”
“You’ve got your orders. You’re apprised of the situation. Expect the unexpected.”
“Copy that.” The line went dead, leaving my guts in a tangle.
My mind processed at high speed. Micah Bozeman’s distinctive voice was the reason he’d been assigned to make this quick contact. I’d recognized his voice and formal tone instantly without the need of further identification. The boss had taken the risk using a landline to warn me, but then again, a landline might be the most inconspicuous method to our tech savvy enemy.
Digesting the news, I stalked to the window, taking in the guests casually strolling the grounds without a care in the world.
Fuck.
Tracker Team was under attack. King was missing, and so were the nuns. I couldn’t tell Missy that. She’d want to go find her friends herself. This would only aggravate the danger. We weren’t going home yet, and I had no backup other than Allen and his people.
Worse, I’d heard the ominous warning lurking behind Bozeman’s words. Bekker and his beasts were on our asses. Missy was his final destination. He was coming my way. It was only a matter of when.
Chapter Twenty
Javier
“How do I look?” Missy asked, stepping out onto the deck where I sat on a chaise, working on my laptop, triple checking tomorrow’s guest arrivals with renewed zeal. I’d already added more cameras and motion detectors and assigned her more security guards. Bekker wasn’t getting anywhere near her, I swore to myself for the millionth time.
“Javier?” she asked again. “Do I look okay?”
Missy’s question surprised me. It was the first time she’d said more than two words to me since what I was now calling “the episode” last night. My lack of self-control and my need to give her pleasure had pushed us even further apart.
I dared to hope her question was a peace overture, and yet when I lifted my eyes from the screen, I did a double take. This wasn’t a peace overture. This was a blatant provocation.
How I got a hold of my expression and stopped my mouth from hanging open, I’d never know. A surge of steam shot through my veins and converged at my groin. In a show of force, my dick went into rapid reaction mode.
Oh, fuck.
Days into our stay at the resort, Missy stood before me on the deck, with her lustrous hair done up in a sleek chignon and her new bangs making her look beyond stylish. She wore a halter minidress that made her look hotter than the fires of hell. The little number clung to her figure as if glued on, showcasing her body’s efficient curves. The shorter than short skirt displayed her long legs almost to the top of her thighs.
911. Someone. Please. Anybody.
Trying not to ogle and failing, I shut the lid of my laptop, slid my Oakleys down the bridge of my nose, and took in thebeauty before me. The knitted blue and green zigzag dress was almost translucent, giving me a clear view of, well, everything.
My filthy mind immediately imagined my lips brushing over her inner thigh on the way to her juicy lips. I recalled the taste of her and salivated at the memory. I tried very hard to blink the erotic vision from my mind. I also fought an impulse to fall to my knees, reverse everything I’d ever told her about keeping things professional, and beg her to put me out of my misery and fuck me out of my mind.
After Bozeman’s call, I was strung tight, obsessed with Missy’s safety, hovering over her for most of the afternoon. It didn’t help that she’d become the exclusive focus of my runaway lust and that I wanted to feast on her again. Sexual restraint sucked. I wasn’t built for celibacy, especially now that Missy was on deck dressed like that.
Do the gods really hate me this much?
I balanced on a thin ledge. Not only was I suffering from a severe case of DSB—Deadly Sperm Backup—but I had other pressing concerns as well. If Omega wasn’t on me like a fly on a turd, it meant the attacks Bozeman had mentioned were serious business. I worried about the guys. And where the hell was King? Where the fuck were the nuns?
