Page 94 of Rogue Mission
“We need to go faster, but truthfully I’m questioning your driving skills,” I screech, barely able to breathe.
“It’s a golf cart, not a Ferrari,” Ryker shoots back.
We hit the edge of the golf course, the cart bouncing over a curb and onto the asphalt. Ahead, I can see lights—a parking lot, maybe a clubhouse.
And beyond that, more vehicles. Including what looks like a delivery van.
“There,” I point.
Ryker sees it too. He aims us toward the lot, pushing the cart for every ounce of speed it has. We’re twenty feet away when another shot rings out.
This one finds its mark in the cart’s battery compartment. Sparks fly. The motor sputters.
“Jump!” Ryker yells.
I don’t think, just react, throwing myself from the moving cart.
I hit the pavement rolling, tactical vest absorbing most of the impact. When I come to a stop, my palms are scraped raw and my ribs are screaming. Justice and Parson land nearby. Ryker is somehow already running.
I swear I’ll go to the gym, God, I promise. Just let me live.
Justice is already on his feet, dragging Parson with him despite the blood soaking the man’s shirt. I force myself up, legs shaky but functional.
The van’s back door flings open. Ryker jumps in, scrambles to the steering column where he does something magic. Again. If there’s two things he’s good at, it’s stealing things and breaking into places.
Justice shoves Parson in, then reaches for me, and I fall into his arm, my breath coming in sobs. We made it.
“Good job, baby.” He kisses my cheek.
Ryker floors it.
For a moment, we just lie there in the back of a stolen van, breathing hard, covered in blood and dust.
“Everyone okay?” Ryker calls from the driver’s seat.
I laugh, covering my face. “We’re alive!”
“That’s a good day in my books,” Justice rasps, dragging me to him so he can kiss me. This time on the lips, and my heart leaps with joy. With a slow glide of his tongue that makes everything fade away for a few seconds.
“Are we really going to Costa Rica?” I prop up on my elbow to find Parson lying there, looking too pale. “Oh no! Is he dead?”
“I’m not dead, but you’re going to wish you are,” Parson says hoarsely, licking his dry, cracked lips. “You don’t know what you’ve just brought down on your heads.”
Justice feels around on the van floor, a satisfied look when he finds a muddy rag. The stench of something decaying floats off it as he waves it in front of our hostage. “Thanks for the heads-up. Why don’t you chew on this for a while as you think about who has the upper hand.”
When Justice is done, he pulls me onto his lap. “Now, where was I?”
I slide my hands over his strong shoulders, letting myself melt into his touch as he takes my mouth with a possessive growl. I’m so high on adrenaline and breathing Justice’s pheromones, it’s dangerous to be touching him. But I can’t stop myself.
Not when something wild and free has been set loose in my body.
Grabbing my hip, Justice rocks me against him. Whoa... is that? He gives me a hot wink.
Against my ear, he whispers, “Your badass little self’s got me all worked up.”
I giggle, champagne a poor second to what I’ve got going on inside my veins right now. No wonder people get addicted to adrenaline. And men like Justice. I totally get what Allison was saying now.
“Unfortunately I think it’s going to be a while,” I say as I press my lips to his again, taking another intoxicating taste. Because, why not?
