Bane: Elite Operatives (Bad Boys of X-Ops Book 4) Read Online Free Page B

anymore, but who cared about that? I’d learned from being in prison freedom came with a price, and the price was always worth it.
    Bonus?
    Kiki sitting right next to me.
    I angled my head down at her. “What was your detail before you upped with T-Z?”
    “A little cleanup mission in the Korengal.”
    “Afghanistan?” Jesus.
    Some of the worst shit in the Afghan War had happened in the Korengal valley.
    She nodded. “Yeah. Couple of specialists fell off the radar.”
    “CIA?”
    “Off book,” she answered.
    “CIA?” I persisted.
    “If I told you I’d have to kill you.”
    “Good luck with that, Bond girl.” I handed her the bottle, watching her appreciatively as she took another swallow of the strong stuff. “So you’re a real life Sydney Bristow.”
    “ Alias ?”
    I grunted in acknowledgment. Now that shit had been good TV. Almost as top-notch as Nikita. I’d still take Kiki any day over both those spy babes.
    “What about you, Griffin?”
    “What? Before T-Zone?”
    Her fingers glancing against mine, she handed the tequila back. A hot spear of want skittered through my body.
    After taking a burning swallow of liquid that did nothing to cool the heat inside me, I deadpanned, “Mascot at Disney World.”
    With the back of her hand pressed to her mouth—her smile showing through—she asked, “So, in a fight . . . Mickey Mouse or Goofy?”
    We headed back to our room not long later.
    All was quiet on the home front . . . finally. Thank fuck.
    We went to bed kissless.
    In our own cots.
    Bummer .
    We’d bonded, but there wouldn’t be any boning tonight.
    This sucked.
    Morning came too early in the depths of our barracks. I’d set my damn alarm so I could check on Walker periodically throughout the remainder of the night. Watching him get loopy from the drugs took my mind off Kiki and her proximity. Her crazy hair and gorgeous body and those moments she made me laugh.
    Walker’s sleepily slurred confessions about Jade—her terrible cooking, her monthly obsession with streaking her hair that weird-ass red—made me momentarily forget I’d fallen for Kiki, the possible traitor in our midst.
    Blaize gave no shit about Walker’s wound or morning rations for our growling stomachs before she called us into the slapdash war room, AKA Justice’s little slice of heaven complete with a bank of flat screen monitors, cables dangling from the ceiling, and uplinks to his satellite bounce-back wifi.
    Six in the AM, and I rubbed sleep from my eyes.
    Justice wheeled in Walker’s gurney.
    Storm drooled over Blaize like he hadn’t torn up the sheets with her into the small hours of the night.
    Kiki?
    She showed up with that goddamn leather holster, her Glocks crisscrossed over her chest.
    Wanted her to wear that hardcore gear for me and nothing else.
    I glued my eyes to the computer screens in front of me as I lounged against a desk, the muscles in my thighs jumping, and something somewhat north jumping from my groin, too.
    Wasn’t sure how much longer I could maintain my defenses against Kiki. Not while we shared a ten by ten room.
    I swore sometimes that woman went braless just to torture me.
    For the meeting, she’d pulled on tight jeans, tight boots, and braided the multi-streaked hair into a thick twist down her back.
    A cord of tresses I could wrap around my wrist when I drove into her, doggie-style. Disgusted with the fact I couldn’t shake her from my mind, I dropped down into a chair.
    “Bane, Kiki, you’ve got one last chance to get in with Los Reyes before T-Zone pulls the plug, and that just isn’t an option, is it? We need to make a deal in order to start building trust.” Blaize’s eyes lasered first me then Kiki. “Unfortunately, it appears Walker may have compromised our mission.”
    “No more than Kiki did mine.” Walker grunted from the gurney.
    “At least I didn’t get shot in my ass.” Folding her arms across her sweet chest, Kiki winked at Walker.
    Me and Storm. Yeah. Mortal