I love writing futuristics. They are so much fun and yes, I plan on writing some more. Not sure when, but I am going to fit it in. This one is one of my favs. I love Mila, because she has a mouth like mine. This is the sequel to Seducing the Saint.
Mila doesn’t need an overgrown Neanderthal in her way. She has a mission to accomplish. So what if she is a thrill junkie and that is the only reason she works for the good guys. She does her job, and does it well.
But before she can dump Hunter, her little game becomes a little more dangerous than she expected. So, getting his help means keeping him around, and keeping him around makes it impossible to keep her hands off him. But even if she does end up in bed with him a few times…okay a lot of times…it doesn’t mean she wants him butting in her business. And that is just what John does best. Uncovering her secrets could get both of them killed…if they don’t kill each other first.
Fingers wrapped around her upper arm, dark-skinned and, thankfully, human. When she looked up—and it took a long time because he was a tall one—she gulped. Jesus. Long dreadlocks hung about his shoulders. Even in the dimly lit hallway, she could see his strong jaw, full lips, high cheekbones, broad nose and black eyes.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he asked, his uppercrust English accent threading his words.
At first she didn’t respond. No one talked to Mila that way.
“What does it look like I’m doing, asshead? I’m trying to get my ass out of here.”
His eyes widened, then narrowed, irritation flashing in them. There was something vaguely familiar about them, but she knew she’d have remembered meeting this man.
He took a deep breath before speaking. “Listen, sweetheart, I’m not here by choice. So I’d appreciate it if you would shut the fuck up and just come along with me.”
She wrenched her arm free, then brought her weapon up and pointed it directly at his groin. It was a tactic she’d used more than once because it would bring any sane man to his knees. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the usual reaction human men had when faced with a gun pointed at their most prized possessions. He looked even more irritated. Moving faster than she’d expected, he grabbed her weapon, pulled it free and then grabbed her arm with his other hand.
“I don’t have time for this guanashit.” He slung the strap of her weapon over his shoulder. Without asking, he just started dragging her down the hallway. She tried to dig in her heels, but he paid no attention. “Interrupt my work, freaking travel halfway to the fucking Genarla Sector just to save your lily white rich ass, and now I have to put up with your complaining. I’ll tell you something—Franklin owes me for this.”
In a flash, it hit her where she’d seen him before. Her mother’s fiancé had an illegitimate son. She’d seen his picture on Franklin’s desk and then a few more in his library at home. As she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that her soon-to-be stepfather had sent his bastard son to save her, said son continued pulling her down the hall. Really, he made her feel like a five-year-old.
“Like I have the time because some little debutante gets herself in trouble and needs someone to pick up the pieces so she can go to her next party.”
Now that was just too much. “I hate to point this out, but I was doing just fine without you. And another thing, I was never—”
An explosion from the direction of the room where she’d left George and Harry interrupted her. Both of them looked behind them. Smoke billowed around the corner. The acrid smell of chemicals filled the air. Shouting started, along with heavy gunfire and the sound of more than one person running in their direction. It sounded like George and Harry had made some friends.
“Shit. Do you know how many there are?”
Even as annoyed as she was with his tone, she knew he was her best chance out of there now.
“There were only two in the room. I didn’t see anyone else.”
He muttered under his breath and pulled her in front of him, releasing her arm. “Didn’t you check on guards? I didn’t see any and I wasn’t going to hunt any up. I was locked in a room. What is your excuse?”
“I didn’t see any and I wasn’t going to hunt any up.”
He snorted but said nothing else as he ushered her down the hall. Picking up speed, she began running, his footsteps sounding behind her.
“Turn right,” he said when they reached another corner. She complied, but shots rang out behind them as they turned the corner. “Dammit. Pick it up, Mila—we need to get to the ship.”
She looked over her shoulder and would have cursed at him, but that was when she noticed the guard droids hot on their tails. Damn. Droids were the worst because they could care less about getting hit. Flesh-colored rubber covered the metallic base. Once they spotted you, you were bat shit out of luck. They just came at you until they malfunctioned.
Another rain of shots bounced off the walls, sparks flying off the metal. She turned her attention to the expanse of hallway in front of her. Using every ounce of the adrenaline pumping through her, she concentrated on getting the hell out of there.
“Mila, get to the end of the hall, hook a left,” he shouted over the continued gunfire. She could barely hear him, but she knew better than to slow down or stop. She nodded. “The doors to the hangar are there. No code, it should open. Can you start the craft?”
She didn’t even think to argue. It wasn’t a new situation for her, and she knew how to handle herself—probably better than he would expect. As she turned the corner, she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. He stood, legs braced apart, the butt of his firearm against his waist as he held off the droids. A thrill of heat lanced down her spine, but she ignored it and ran to the craft.
Knowing their time was limited, she rushed up the ramp leading into the craft. She didn’t even pause to sigh over the fact he had a Spindel 9345, black and gold, the latest and fastest of the smaller crafts. Once on board, she checked out the confines, reassuring herself no one had snuck on board. When she reached the cockpit, she paused, momentarily dazzled by the shiny control panel with its lights and up to date gadgets. Shaking her head, she jumped into the captain’s seat and flipped a few switches, then started up the computer.
The engines flared just as he came rushing toward the craft, a barrage of shots bouncing off the walls around him, a few even hitting the ship. He disappeared beneath the front of the ship and a moment later she heard his footsteps on the ramp. She pushed the switch to close it as soon as she heard him inside the ship.
Droids began pouring into the bay area as they continued to fire on the ship. Bright flashes of light sparked off the ship telling her it was ammunition proof. Of course it did have its vulnerable spots and knowing it was only a matter of time before they hit something vital, she decided to take off without waiting for her “savior” to get to the cockpit.
She flipped a few more switches and took hold of the steering mechanism. The roar of the engines was almost deafening in the small bay, even from inside the ship. Ignoring it, she pulled the ship around, barely missing one of the walls.
A crash sounded in the back of the craft.
“Where the fuck did you learn to fly?”
She ignored his comment as she flew out of the bay, sliding between the closing doors. As she sped away, she checked the sensors, noting that the ship didn’t seem to have a tail. They apparently didn’t expect her to have a way out of there, and if it hadn’t been for him, they would have been right. Angry footsteps sounded behind her.
“Woman, you don’t know how to fly.”
Glancing back at him, she noticed a trickle of blood running down the side of his face. She smiled sweetly.
“Bash your head?”
His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, thanks to your flying skills. Get up. I’ll take it from here.”
She wanted to argue, but the look on his face said he might just punch her. After hitting the autopilot, she stood and moved aside to let him take the seat. Their bodies brushed and hers reacted. It was really normal after what they had been through, the adrenaline coursing through her, the thrill of the chase. Not to mention the masculine scent of musky, sweaty man.
Oh Lord. Her nipples tightened. She loved a man who liked action, in and out of the bedroom. Arousal hummed through her. Reminding herself it was just an occupational hazard didn’t seem to help. Mila always liked a good chase and a good fuck afterward. But the moment passed as he collapsed in the chair. He apparently was oblivious to the sizzle she felt.
“Now I remember why I avoid debutantes.”
Mila didn’t bother hiding her irritation. She was thankful he’d shown up when he did, but she knew she’d have figured out a way to get out of there. She always did.
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
For a few seconds, the man said not a word. Then he leaned in, bringing his face within inches of hers. Even irritated as she was, she couldn’t help but notice that he was a beautiful man with high cheekbones, dreadlocks, blacker-than-sin eyes and full, sensuous lips, even if those lips were sneering at her. He almost made her sigh. He’d taste as good as fresh Venial strawberries in their second spring. Dressed all in black, his shirt clung to the contours of his chest, accentuating his pecs.
She’d love to run her hands, her mouth, over his chest. Another flash of heat spiraled through her. Liquid heat filled her stomach and then dropped between her legs. She shifted, the fabric of her pants rubbing against her already-sensitized skin.
Lord, she would love to have him, take him, be taken by him. The hum of arousal strengthened—her pussy throbbed. It was a fantasy that she definitely wanted to bring to reality.
Then he ruined it by opening his mouth.
“Guess what, Mila? I don’t care. I’m doing a favor. One I don’t want to do. If I were you, I’d sit down and shut the fuck up or I’ll make sure you can’t talk one way or another.”