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

crossed her arms over her chest and slid those stunning arctic blue irises my way. “Special task force. Two years ago. UC with Carlos when he was just starting as the supremo homeboy with Los Reyes. Couldn’t make shit stick.”
    “Special task force?” I flicked my smoked butt out the window. “As in the Feds?”
    “That’s what I said.”
    Kiki and the Feebs . And suddenly alarm bells weren’t just ringing in my head. Suspicion skittered all along my nerve endings. Because the fucking Feds had been tipped off during Walker’s mission, and that had led to the infiltration of Justice’s warehouse, and Walker, Jade’s, and Majedah’s near arrest.
    “Isn’t Mexico a little outside federal jurisdiction?”
    “Not when they’re on American soil, smuggling blow.”
    “So you trained at Quantico,” I flatly stated.
    Kiki had told me not even an hour ago she’d prove her innocence. Right now all she was doing was digging her own hole for the grave I was supposed to put her in.
    “That a problem?”
    “You know how everyone thinks you fucked Walker’s op from the ground up? If they knew you were a former Feeb you probably wouldn’t live through the night, Kiki.” I stomped on the brake. “Jesus Christ, girl. Do you have any fucking survival instincts at all?”
    In the flash of a second, Kiki pulled one of her Glocks and held the cold metal at the underside of my jaw. “I’d say I’ve got excellent instincts and reaction time, boy .”
    “Take that thing out of my face before I break your arm.” My jaw clenched when she pushed the gun muzzle harder against my skin.
    “You got another gun you want me to play with?”
    The windows fogged inside the truck as her free hand fell to my lap. The safety on her sidearm clicked—and I could’ve ripped her arm from her shoulder before she had a chance to blink—but I was the one left blinking, gasping, goddamn almost shooting off in my pants when her free hand traced the rigid length rolled tight inside my pants.
    Her gun slid down the side of my neck, replaced by her warm and wet lips on my jawline. “Your PA is fucking hot, Griffin.”
    She trailed fingertips over the bulge of my cockhead and the steel piercing.
    One danger of going commando, my sensitive shaft rubbed against the thin barrier of rough cloth, aided by the teasing flicks of Kiki’s fingers over the domed, pierced top of my cock.
    My throat bobbed, and I leaned my head back. “Why don’t you take it out and suck it for me?”
    A long lick up to my earlobe she bit with a stinging nip. A final stroke alongside my harder-than-hell dick. “I don’t think Miss Carmichael would think that’s mission imperative.”
    “Don’t play with me.” I stilled a last highly aroused shudder before it coursed through my entire body.
    “But it’s so much fun.” Kiki holstered her pistol with a smirk, finally dragging her hand off me.
    I punched the SUV into drive.
    By that point my cock stood up so hard and tall I bet it could steer the damn vehicle on its own.
    “How’d you get with the Feds?”
    “Oh, it’s a good story, that one.” Kiki reached for one of my cigarettes, and I lit it for her.
    She blew out a stream of smoke. “So, there was this little girl named Katherine Dillon”—she halted and looked at me—“it’s kind of a fairytale. Hope you don’t mind.”
    An unwilling smile cruised across my lips.
    “You know what? I might even rhyme this shit one day.” She huffed a laugh, took a drag. “Might as well start now, right?”
    I wound the vehicle through the streets, heading toward operations, and Kiki closed her eyes.
    “Katherine Dillon didn’t even have a shilling when her parents up and disappeared. Twelve years old, no place to go, no money to make unless she wanted to become a ho.”
    I cranked my neck around. She sat with the cigarette ember-red between her fingers. Eyes shut, a slight smile curling her lips, she tapped a rhythm with her free hand.
    “Through cold