Page 8 of How Much For a Life of Lies?

“Maybe,” I said.

“Damn fine flying out there today, pilot,” he remarked and shifted a little so that he blocked me from anyone’s view.

“I know,” I replied.

He chuckled. “Zach,” he said and offered a hand, which I shook.

“You don’t look like a Zach,” I said, just for something to say.

“You don’t much look like a Henderson.”

“Kai.” I gave him that much.

He chuckled, and a surge of interest coursed through me. What was he doing? Was this flirting? Was he trying to be subtle? Hell, he wouldn’t be this close if he didn’t play for my team, right?

“You’re dangerous, Kai,” he said, and tilted his head as if I was a puzzle he needed to solve. “You were one second away from punching your LT.”

I shrugged. “Fucker deserved it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Beer?” he asked, and headed for the bar.

I could leave now, and that would be it. Insanity whirled in my thoughts, and I joined Zach at the bar, kicking a stool loose and sitting down. He called for two beers, and leaned in close, his breath warm across my ear, and I thought he would proposition me.

Only he whispered, “I give it a month before they kick you out of 427.”

I snorted and made a show of checking my watch. “I give it less than ten hours. Meeting at oh-eight hundred. I’m done.”

His teasing smile dropped, and he was serious. “You really don’t know how to play the game of rank and respect, do you?”

“People have to earn my respect,” I said, then couldn’t help but push. “Do you play the game with your chief? Listen to his shit orders and never question a single one?”

Zach’s eyes narrowed. “I’d walk through fire for McKenzie,” he said without drama. “He’s earned my respect.”

“That’s nice for you,” I deadpanned. “So, you wanna fuck in the bathroom?”

He blinked at me. “Do you have any self-discipline at all?”

“Do. You. Wanna. Fuck?” I asked again.

He rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t want to fuck in a bathroom.”

We sat in silence for a while, and my cock had softened when I got used to the idea that sex wasn’t happening here. Seemed like Mr. SEAL was intent on lecturing me, the same as my team had. Lectures weren’t sexy.

“So if your 427 career is over, what’s next?” He broke the silence, taking a swallow of his beer.

I leaned into him. “Assassin.”

He shifted on his stool, rested his hand on his thigh, and he was so close, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Oh, this was on. My cock stiffened. I leaned a little further. He was so down with assassins. He wanted dangerous.

“Assassins are disciplined,” he murmured. “You might be great at your job, but you’re a square peg in a round hole.”

“Mmm, hole,” I said and licked my lower lip, seeing his pupils dilate as he shifted in his chair. I slipped off the stool. “Anyway, if we’re not fucking, I’m leaving.” I headed outside.

He could follow me or not, but it made me hot knowing he was right behind me, and I didn’t fight when he grabbed me and pulled me into a dark corner of the parking lot, up to the wall. Our lips collided in a heated kiss as he caged me there. The air crackled with tension as we stood inches apart, our breaths mingling, ignoring the magnetic pull as I searched his expression for any hint of regret. There was none, and in that moment, all thoughts of fucking up, and the 427, faded away, replaced by the intoxicating rush of passion, and want.

He reached out, his fingers tangling in my hair, scraping my scalp, pinpricks of pain as he pulled me closer.

I gripped his shirt and tugged him back to me, my hands on his waist, hard, as I tilted my head to deepen the kiss. Our tongues tangled in a fierce kiss, and a firestorm of desire burned hot and bright inside me. The kiss was hungry and urgent, fueled by adrenalin and fight, leaving us both breathless and me wanting more.

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