Except it would never come to that. Grif made the silent vow. Malin wasn’t coming within twenty feet of his captive.
The silence stretched.
Ryker blew out a long, slow breath. “Time to let Grif get back to work.” He pointed down the cliffside. “Let’s hustle. I want to deliver this news to the commander ASAP.”
Along, Grif suspected, with the news that their top interrogator was still behaving strangely.
He could feel that second-in-command position slipping through his fingers like Dragath25 sand.
A chorus of goodbyes and the other males headed down the hill. Malin was the second to last to go, offering Grif the middle finger and a smirk as he left.
Bastard probably thought he had the promotion in the bag.
“I don’t need to tell you what’s at stake.” Ryker’s comment dragged Grif from his thoughts.
“No, you don’t.” He dropped his ax back to his side.
“Or that the Commander will likely support bringing Malin in as a last resort if you can’t deliver.”
“I know.”
“Does what happened with your sister make this harder?”
Hells, Grif had told the male more than intended one evening while they’d both been drinking. The fact that his teammate was rehashing it now was not a good sign. Thank the Goddess, he hadn’t been drunk enough to mention his own shit with his sick fuck of a father. He could only imagine the looks he would have gotten, then.
He’d intended this interrogation to prove he was back on top. Instead, he’d ended up raising more doubt and making his superiors consider past shit he didn’t want considered.
Still, he knew enough to pretend not to be bothered. “Actually, it makes this easier. I see my sister’s eyes and I remember I don’t want those missing females going through what she did.” He unclenched the fists he hadn’t even noticed he’d made. “I wasn’t able to save her, but I’m not a kid anymore. I’m stronger and meaner. I won’t fail those women. I won’t fail Melody and Hope.”
“Got it. Right. Grif to the rescue.”
This time, it wasn’t so easy for him to keep the glare from his face.
Ryker lifted his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “All I’m saying is, I’ve seen you break a hostile in a few heartbeats and then sleep like a baby right after. Seems like this situation might be more complicated.”
“She’s a flesh trader who abducted Hope and Melody’s mom and put me in 223’s prison camp. I think I’m okay.”
“Jade was a fucking Council assassin and I still fell for her. Ava was the breeder of the Commander’s worst enemy. Things get messy.”
“I don’t do messy.”
“Right.” Ryker grinned. “How could I forget? No gray for you.”
Grif didn’t smile back. “I fucked up with you, but I won’t be doing that again.”
Ryker’s expression shifted to a scowl. “What are you talking about?”
“I was so busy trying to protect someone I thought was helpless, I got us both put in the enemy’s hands back at 223’s camp.” The admission had been a long time coming. “I’m sorry.”
“You take way too much on yourself.” Ryker waved his hand in dismissal. “Jade and I did that all by ourselves. We were out to kill each other when we should have been watching our backs. We all made mistakes on that mission, but it was also the way I met my reason for living.” His expression softened. “I will thank you for that until the rotation I die.”
Grif doubted Melody and Hope’s mother was feeling as forgiving over his inability to save her. He knew his sister hadn’t.
But he appreciated his second letting him off the hook. Didn’t mean he did the same for himself, however.
“Well, all I know is, I am not making the same mistake again.” And because he refused to give up on the promotion he added, “That strategy works for me. My mission success rate is the highest of the crew.”
“True enough.” Ryker’s agreement came easy and fast. “You’re one of the best we have, but just remember, the harder the line in the sand, the easier it can be to trip over.”
“Not me.” He pointed to his boots. “Both feet planted firmly.”
“Lucky you.” Except Ryker didn’t sound as if he meant it. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He walked backward, heading in the same direction the others had gone. “We’ll be back sooner than you want, so work fast.”
Grif waited until his second was long gone to let the scowl return to his face. For a short period there with his crew, it had felt like things were finally getting back on track.
Then, he’d gone all squirrelly and screwed himself over. He wasn’t sure where the hells the surge of protectiveness and possessiveness for his captive had come from, but he was damn well going to grind it to dust.
If he didn’t get the information he needed, his commander would send Malin, and that was unacceptable.
He could not afford to screw around, or let himself get confused. He’d learned firsthand that his captive was the enemy during their first two run-ins, and he wasn’t sure why he was suddenly acting as if he’d forgotten.
There was only one way for this to end.
11
“N-no more.” Sweat plastered her hair to her neck. Her wrists rattled her chains. Her body so hot and desperate she could barely form words.
A thousand times he wound her body to a fever pitch.
A thousand times he brought her to the edge of white-hot need.
A thousand times he took his touch away, hurtling her back to the ground with a brutal crash.
“Begging won’t help.” Like before, his fingers moved faster, his caresses relentless.
She’d hoped to become used to the sensation of touch by now. Instead, the opposite was happening. Her hunger was growing.
She’d woken from her daze to find him staring over her, his expression hard. It almost felt as if something had changed, but what could have? She’d been out for mere moments.
He’d given her water—an unexpected surprise—and felt her pulse and she’d almost begun to wonder if she had somehow gained a respite, until he seized her wrists and strung her up once more, so high she balanced on her tiptoes.
He’d rearranged his ropes around her body—and so the sensations were different, too. This time, he’d overlapped the fibers across her breasts so they lifted upward and out, the press of the ropes and the rush of blood flow making her breasts exquisitely tender, and shamefully sensitive to every tug and caress. He’d roped her bottom too, spreading her cheeks wide and leaving her rosebud open to the air, and the brush of his fingertips.
She shivered. It was bliss. It was torment.
“You ready to tell me what I want to know?” One finger gently traced the curve of her jaw.
His other hand pumped between her thighs.
Panting, frantic, helpless to resist, her hips moved to the rhythm he set. Her body primed, her woman’s center so wet and slick, his drenched fingers slid easily through her folds.
Every muscle tightened, the base of her spine tingling as pleasure coiled in her belly and—
His hand lifted away.