Page 66 of Under Pressure

She kissed him once more and whispered onto his lips, “Yes.”

Immediately, he pushed up, moving his thick manhood into her, driving a pleasure so deep that she nearly lost her mind.

Everything about his actions—the way he cared, the way he tried, the way he checked in—assured her that it was okay to fall so hard for him, to feel every good feeling she was having. He was no regular guy—and she’d finally found someone special. As he rocked his dick into her, he held her so firmly, and she just knew that it wasn’t a one-night stand. It had to be just the beginning of her fairy tale.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Present day

Delta ran his scabbed hands along the cold metal of his Harley as he adjusted the tension, lying on his garage floor. The vintage motorcycle was a cruel mistress—beautiful, but she loved to hurt him. Every time he found himself gutting her, massaging her back to life, she would find a new way to demand his energy—only ever just to break his heart in the end, leaving him shipwrecked.

Shipwrecked… That was how he felt now.

As he worked the wrench, making needed tunings to the Harley, he let his mind wander to a different time—when he had been in Syria, making needed adjustments to his kit. His assault rifle out, in his hands, he purged the stock ammo, replacing it with the bullets he preferred. The guys laughed at him, like it shouldn’t make a difference. But it made a difference to him.

It’s cold in the desert at night, he reflected silently to himself as he sank deeper into the stone walls of the compound. He was isolated in his position—deeper in enemy territory than any of his men. He was reconnaissance, in the compound first to determine positioning and threat. He wasn’t supposed to be alone, but he was the only one who’d made it in.

Carrick was stuck outside. Waiting for his sign.

“We’re going to pull the chute.” The chief’s voice came into Delta’s earpiece, a radio signal from their temp base miles and miles away in the mountains.

Warren was not a risk taker. He played by the rules to keep his men alive. Delta put his hand to his earpiece, pressing his mic closer to his mouth so he could whisper.

“No, I’ve got this,” Delta reassured.

“It’s too risky. You’re the only one in,” Warren reminded him.

“There’s an American hostage in there.” Delta’s whisper cracked, his emotions running high. “I can’t leave him.”

“Fall back. That’s an order,” Warren commanded. “This is a risk we can’t take. I can’t lose you guys.”

“Turn around, buddy. There are too many.” Carrick’s voice crackled into Delta’s earpiece, joining the conversation.

“They can’t hurt me,” Delta growled into his mic as he was assessing the wide expanse of the Syrian compound before him using his night-vision goggles.

From his tiny corner, under complete darkness, he observed many enemy combatants around the compound with assault rifles just like his. They were heavily armed and on watch.

Why wouldn’t they be? They’d just demanded millions of dollars in ransom from the American government in exchange for a journalist they’d kidnapped weeks before. Delta knew his President would not negotiate with terrorists—and that the hostage’s life depended on Delta’s next steps.

There wouldn’t be another chance.

Delta knew that for damn sure.

“Acknowledge your order,” Warren demanded, requiring Delta’s obedience.

Delta shook his head, lifting his night vision goggles up so his eyes could adjust to the dark. He always fought better with less tech…less gear. And it wasn’t just Delta’s skill anymore. There was something else about Delta that made him stronger, better, faster. The chief still didn’t know the extent of Delta’s enhancement and the price he’d paid. He could risk things that Carrick couldn’t.

Delta knew where the hostage was being held—right ahead in the main building, first floor. The damn guy was almost within reach.

“I’ll fall back once I have him,” Delta confirmed into his earpiece to the sounds of Warren’s arguing.

“Fuck. I’m coming in with you,” Carrick said.

“Like hell,” Delta replied.

Dropping his earpiece out, Delta spoke the final words into the mic. “Get medevac prepped—and give me ten minutes.”

Ten minutes turned out to be an overestimation.

---