Renegade Alpha (ALPHA 5) Read online

  And then they might end up shooting each other in the darkness.

  So not helpful, Callie.

  Okay, so she wouldn’t follow Lijah, but she could still get the gun and stand outside, prepared and ready in case he needed assistance.

  Just making that decision made her feel less helpless.

  Two minutes later, Callie was standing out on the tree-dappled street, in Georgetown, America, leaning against the side of the car with a .44 Magnum in her hand. A .44 Magnum, for God’s sake! Lijah really did like to live the part, didn’t he.

  She held back a snort of hysterical laughter at the ridiculousness of this situation.

  Reminding her of that throaty chuckle Lijah had given a few minutes ago. He looked younger when he smiled, laughter lines fanning out from his eyes and beside that deliciously sensual mouth, with his teeth very white in the darkness and his eyes gleaming a lighter blue.

  So where was he?

  It must have taken her at least five of the ten minutes Lijah had allocated to being safe for her to get out of the car and find the gun and bullets in the bottom of his bag. That had been an experience in itself. She now knew that Lijah favored black fitted boxers as underwear.

  So where is he?

  No shots had been fired to alert her of any danger. No lights had come on inside the house either, but maybe that was because someone had hit Lijah over the head the moment he stepped inside? Maybe, while she was chuckling at how ridiculous she must look standing out here with a loaded .44 Magnum in her hand, Lijah was lying on the floor inside the house surrounded by a rapidly increasing pool of blood—

  “When I tell you to stay put, I expect you to fucking stay put!”

  Callie turned with a gasp at the sound of Lijah’s growl directly behind her. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” She raised her free hand to her rapidly beating heart. “I could have shot you by mistake!”

  His eyes glittered in the darkness. “And landed on your ass for your trouble. The kickback on the .44 would have knocked you off your feet. It is loaded, I take it?”

  “Well, of course it’s loaded.” She glared, both for the fright he had just given her and for doubting her ability to actually put bullets in the gun she was holding.

  “Give me that.” He easily took the gun out of her hand before deftly removing the bullets and then pushing the gun into the waistband at the back of his jeans.

  “Did you find my father, or any evidence that he’s been here?” she prompted anxiously.

  “None.”

  “Oh.”

  “Would you have used the Magnum if you had to?” Lijah ignored her obvious disappointment, his eyes narrowed. “If the person who sneaked up behind you just now hadn’t been me but one of the men involved in Hammond’s death six months ago, would you have shot him?”

  Would she? It was one thing to learn how to load and shoot a gun, another thing entirely to actually aim and fire it at a living person.

  “Obviously not,” Lijah rasped disgustedly. “So you’re telling me you stood out here, at midnight in the middle of Georgetown, with a loaded gun in your hand and no intention of actually using it?”

  Callie felt the warmth heating her cheeks at Lijah’s accusing tone even as she bit back the disappointment she felt over her father not being here after all.

  She also knew the evenness of Lijah’s tone was in no way indicative of his emotions, not when the streetlight a short way down the street allowed her to see the black clouds of anger swirling stormily in his eyes.

  Would she have fired the gun if Lijah had been in danger?

  Of course she would.

  Probably.

  Maybe…

  Her father had taken her to a shooting range on base and taught her to shoot, and to shoot well. But learning to shoot and actually seeing the result of a bullet entering human flesh—living the result, as she had six months ago when Michael had been shot—was completely different to theory. Bullets killed. Snuffed out a person’s life forever.

  Could she have done that if she thought Lijah was in danger?

  “Well?”

  “Don’t snarl at me, you—you overgrown baboon—Lijah!” The last came out as a squeal as Callie once again found herself unceremoniously thrown over Lijah’s shoulder, the tension of his back and arm muscles as he strode purposefully toward the back of her aunt and uncle’s house telling her just how angry he was.

  “Peter should have taken a stick to your backside years ago,” he growled ominously.

  “My father is a gentleman—”

  Lijah interrupted with a bark of humorless laughter. “Well, I’m not, darlin’.” He affected a Southern drawl. “So prepare yourself to be disciplined!”

  “D—disciplined?” Callie repeated nervously.

  “If one of my men had disobeyed a direct order from me, they would have to take their punishment. Do you expect to receive any less from me?”

  When he put it like that… “Unless you hadn’t noticed, we aren’t in the army, and you aren’t my commanding officer.” Callie gave him a sharp slap on that deliciously taut backside in emphasis of the point. It was the only place she could reach when she was once again thrown over his shoulder as if she were nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

  Lijah came to an abrupt halt. “Did you just smack my ass?”

  Her heart turned over at the ominous rumble she could hear in Lijah’s voice beneath his obvious surprise.

  Maybe she had gone too far with that slap on his backside?

  Lijah obviously thought so.

  “I’m only trying to make you see reason—”

  “Oh, reason went completely out the window the moment you smacked my ass,” he assured her as he opened the back door to the house, kicking it shut behind them as he strode through the darkness of the kitchen, along the hallway, and straight up the long staircase, Callie still thrown over his shoulder.

  How on earth was Lijah able to see well enough to find his way? She couldn’t even see the glint of the gun tucked into the waistband at the back of his jeans, let alone find her way through the maze of her aunt and uncle’s town house, and she had visited them here several times in the past.

  “The lights—”

  “Stay off until I’m sure our position here is secure,” he bit out. “Now be quiet.” This last instruction was delivered with a stinging smack to her own backside.

  Pity Lijah had removed the bullets from the Magnum; Callie had a feeling a loaded gun might have come in handy about now. To use against Lijah rather than for him.

  Lijah was slightly incredulous—again—at the audacity of Callie Morgan. She had smacked his ass! Not lightly either. It had definitely been hard enough to sting—and to send a jolt of pleasure from the base of his spine along the length of his cock.

  A cock that was rapidly hardening and lengthening in readiness for enjoying Callie’s “punishment.”

  Who knew that having his ass smacked would arouse him?

  Unbelievable.

  Unacceptable.

  He was as disappointed as he knew Callie must be not to have found Peter holed up here, or at least evidence that the other man had been here. It was certainly going to make finding Peter more difficult.

  But for the moment, Lijah didn’t give a shit about any of that. Callie had smacked him on the ass, for God’s sake.

  Even more disturbing, he’d liked it.

  “You know, this caveman tactic may appeal to some women, but I’m afraid—”

  “Oh, be afraid,” Lijah warned. “Be very afraid,” he repeated as he pushed open the door to what he already knew was the main guest bedroom from his recce through the house just minutes ago.

  “What are you— Oomph!” Callie’s breath left her in a whoosh as she was thrown down onto what she assumed—hoped—was a bed. She bounced for a second or two before the hard length of Lijah’s body came down flush on top of hers, her hands easily pinned above her head by just one of his. “What are you doing?” she squeaked a
s she looked up at him helplessly in the darkness.

  “Punishing you.”

  This was her punishment for slapping Lijah? Having that over-six-feet-tall and muscled body pressing her down in the softness of the mattress was her punishment?

  She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m sure this can’t be how you discipline your men.”

  “No,” he acknowledged as he removed his hat and threw it on the floor. “But when it comes to you, I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t actually enjoy your punishment.”

  Callie gasped as Lijah’s lips now claimed hers. Not in that gentle exploratory way that had aroused her earlier today. No, this was a full-out taking, not an asking, a demand that she respond.

  And she did.

  Her lips parted beneath his instinctively, allowing Lijah to deepen the kiss as his tongue instantly thrust into her mouth, seeking, stroking, and sensitizing every dip and hollow as intimately as his free hand now roamed over the curves of her body.

  She gasped as she felt that hand cupping her sex, palm grinding down on her mons and clitoris, and sending shards of pleasured heat through her body.

  She moaned in protest as she felt his hand move, only to groan in approval as that warmth moved beneath her sweater, grazing across the warmth of her flesh before cupping and squeezing her breasts.

  Callie drew her breath in sharply as the lace of her bra was pulled down, calloused fingers gripping her exposed and swollen nipple, lightly and then harder, awakening nerve endings and increasing those charges of pleasure between her thighs.

  Lijah’s body slid slowly down hers before he pushed her sweater up, exposing her breasts, his breath cool against the heat of her bared nipple before she felt his lips close over her completely and he sucked that nipple deep into the heat of his mouth.

  Oh dear God!

  The pleasure was overwhelming as Callie felt the rasp of his tongue and then the sting of his teeth on her fully aroused nipple, shifting restlessly as she felt the folds between her thighs swelling and becoming slick with her juices.

  And still Lijah held her arms captive above her head, when she longed to bury her hands in the thickness of his hair, hold him to her, and silently plead with him to suck deeper, bite harder.

  It was as if Lijah heard her as he did exactly that, his hand now moving to the fastening of her jeans, unfastening the button and sliding the zip down so that his hand could move inside and beneath the lace of her panties, parting the dampness of her curls to seek out the erect nubbin that pulsed and throbbed as he began to stroke her.

  Not rhythmically, but fast and then slow, soft and then hard, never quite allowing Callie to arch her hips into meeting that rhythm, to seek out and find the release she now craved.

  “Lijah, please!” She groaned her frustration with those tormenting strokes.

  His mouth abandoned her nipple with a moist pop, and he released her hands. He slid down her body before moving up onto his knees to slip off her shoes before pulling her jeans and panties down her thighs to remove them completely. He lay down between her parted thighs, his lips and tongue taking over that remorseless stroking and biting.

  His hands on her thighs held her legs apart, his tongue licking round and above her clitoris and then dipping lower, lapping up her juices before thrusting past the lips of her channel and piercing deep.

  “Yes.” Callie gasped when she was at last able to entangle her hands in that dark and silky hair, her knees bending and she placed her feet flat on the bed to part her legs even wider in shameless invitation.

  She wanted more, needed release, ached and throbbed with that need—

  “Do you want me, Callie?” Lijah breathed the question against her wet, vibrating flesh.

  “God, yes!”

  “How much do you want me?” His tongue stroked mercilessly around her clitoris, never quite touching that sensitive nubbin and giving her the release she so desperately needed.

  It was torture.

  Absolute torture.

  “Lijah—”

  “How much?” He thrust two fingers inside her at the same time as his tongue continued the merciless rasp that almost but not quite touched the small bundle of nerves throbbing and pulsing in need. “Tell me how much!” he breathed against her hotly, continuing those long, slow thrusts.

  “Oh God, just do it, Lijah! Please—”

  “Tell me how much you want me inside you right now,” he repeated hoarsely, his fingers seeking out and finding that corresponding bunch of nerve endings inside her, stroking harder and harder as her juices flowed copiously over his fingers and he kept her balanced on that knife edge of release.

  “Please,” she all but sobbed, feeling as if she was going out of her mind in her search for the elusive pleasure he denied her. “I want to come now.” She half sat up to lean back on her elbows, looking down at the shadowed figure between her legs. “Desperately,” she pleaded as the only sound in the room was her own heavy breathing and the thrusting of Lijah’s fingers deep inside her dripping wet and open channel. “I want to come so badly, Lij—Lijah?” she prompted sharply as those fingers were abruptly removed and the shadow that was Lijah moved down the bed and then up, now standing at the bottom of the bed. Presumably looking down at her splayed body.

  “Punishment over,” he bit out coldly.

  It took several seconds for Callie’s passion-drugged brain to take in what he had said, only for a red haze to then wash over her as she realized exactly what he had just done. Aroused her. Pleasured her to the point of desperation. And then stopped.

  Deliberately.

  Coldly.

  As punishment for disobeying him.

  Chapter 7

  “You bastard!” Callie burst out vehemently, hating, loathing Lijah in that moment as she quickly straightened her bra before pulling down her sweater.

  Punishment?

  Lijah hadn’t punished her, he had deliberately humiliated her.

  Ruthlessly, calculatedly, and all because she had disobeyed him.

  Not that he hadn’t been aroused himself. The heavy length of his cock was evidence of that. But not so aroused he couldn’t pull back and step away the moment he had her begging and pleading for release.

  “Bastard!” she said again with just as much feeling as she swung her legs to the floor to gather up her panties and jeans, before standing up and running into the adjoining bathroom.

  “Don’t put on the light,” Lijah called after her sharply.

  “Go to hell!” Callie slammed and locked the bathroom door behind her before leaning back against it and then slowly sliding to the tiled floor, tears of humiliation falling hotly down her cheeks as she relived each and every humiliating moment of that deliberate seduction and arousal.

  Bastard.

  Lijah drew in a shaky breath as he ran a frustrated hand through the tousled thickness of his hair and continued to stare at the closed bathroom door.

  Hair that was tousled because Callie’s fingers had been entangled in it just seconds ago.

  God, he could still taste her on his lips and tongue. Sweet and yet spicy, and so fucking delicious. An addictive taste that he already wanted more of.

  Her nipple had felt so plump and succulent in his mouth, and the swollen nubbin between her thighs so responsive as it throbbed and pulsed against his stroking fingers and tongue.

  He’d wanted to ensure Callie never forgot to obey a direct order from him ever again. But not, as she seemed to think, out of vindictiveness or that punishment he had spoken of, but because her obedience could mean the difference between life and death. Her life or death.

  Whoever had stolen the Felix Griffith’s jewelry collection had been organized and well-informed as to Hammond’s movements and the security at the gallery that night. They had known exactly how and when the best time was to steal the collection. And they had succeeded. Killing Michael Hammond in the process.

  Lijah had brought Callie with him to Washington because he did truly believe the sa
fest place for her right now was beside him. But that didn’t mean her presence in Washington didn’t present a different security risk.

  Peter Morgan had come to Washington for a reason. And the only reason Lijah could think of for that had to be because the older man had tracked Hammond’s murderer here. The fact that Peter himself now seemed to have disappeared could mean that Callie was now also compromised. The murderer might now know Callie was Peter’s daughter and also the woman from the gallery the night Hammond had been murdered.

  If Lijah was going to get Callie safely through this mess, then she had to learn to do exactly what he told her to do. When he told her to do it. No questions asked. No argument given. She just needed to do it.

  Jesus, his blood had run cold when he came back out of the house a short time ago and saw Callie standing out in the open beside the car, with his .44 Magnum in her hand.

  What the hell she thought she was doing, he had no idea. All he had known was that he had to ensure she never did anything so stupid and reckless ever again.

  That she never put her own life at risk like that again.

  If she hated him in the process, then it was a small price to pay for keeping her alive.

  Wasn’t it?

  It had to be. He couldn’t— This wasn’t the right time—

  His actions just now had probably ensured there would never be a “right time” for him and Callie now.

  And I ache from wanting her. Fucking ache in every muscle, sinew, and pore of my body.

  Lijah dropped to sit on the side of the bed, glad of the surrounding darkness. It matched the bleakness presently devouring him from the inside out.

  Any other time, in any other situation, he would be inside Callie right now, his cock buried to the hilt as he thrust into her time and time again. And he would have stayed inside her too, even after spending, would have taken her time and time again throughout the night in an effort to assuage this deep-rooted desire he now felt to possess every part of her.

  He now ran his tongue across his lips for the sheer pleasure of torturing himself with the taste of her. Fuck, she tasted so good, had been so aroused, so wet and open, so ready for him.