Read Operation: Thrustmaster (Rock Hardin: Agent of A.S.S. Book 1) for Free Online

The great beast fell forward with the momentum of its jump, landing on an ungainly heap on top of Rock, knocking him back against the table and then down to the floor. His back and ribs bruised on the edge, he shoved the unconscious wolf off of him and dropped the empty, tiny canister, glad to be alive.  
          Agent Hardin took a breath as he stood, then wasted no more time in finding the switchblade he always carried with him. He cut the ropes holding his hands together, and grabbed his watch. He opened it up, saw it still carried a charge, and radioed Maverick. “Tex, come in, Tex,” he said, voice betraying the urgency of the situation. Silence. “Mav, come in, man,” he said, saying a quick prayer under his breath.  
         “ North, go for Tex,” came the faint, static-ridden reply.  
         “ Goldilocks is out of the cottage,” he said, lying straight out… but hopefully not for long.  
         “ Roger, putting Papa Bear to bed,” came the reply. Without further ado, Rock shut down and strapped on the watch. He didn’t have much time to catch them. Throwing his jacket on quickly, he stuffed everything else in his pockets, keeping only his switchblade out. They’d, of course, taken his gun, but he still had the mini-uzi in his boot if he needed it.  
          With care, Rock pushed on the wooden door, but it didn’t give at all. Instead of fussing around with it for much too long, he took a step back and kicked it, again and again. Wood cracked and splintered, then finally the lock on the outside gave way as he kicked the door open. No shouts were raised, so he took a leap of faith and plunged into the hallway outside. It was clear. He found his way to the steps upstairs, and slowed his pace slightly, trying to listen for enemies. The staircase twisted round in a circle, and he followed it up to a bright entrance, large wall length windows showcasing the French countryside… from on top of a large hill, or mountain.  
          As Rock moved through the room, he heard noises coming from the next. He slowed his pace, heart thumping in his chest as he approached the door. Easing it open, he snuck a glance and saw two ladies having what appeared to be a very good, if somewhat unusual, time. A tall, lithe black woman with an afro stood dressed in a black leather dominatrix outfit, complete with tall boots and silver studs lined up and down her costume. She circled around a smaller woman, naked save for a collar, who was on her hands and knees. The white brunette sobbed into what appeared to be a riding bit, like what was used to guide horses. As the tears streaked down her face, he just knew he had to get involved even though time was against him.  
          All he had on him was the knife, though since it was just a woman (even though she was a very tall and very strong looking woman, she was a woman nevertheless), confidence surged through him and he didn’t get the micro uzi hidden in his boot. Agent Hardin opened the door, and strode inside. He pointed the knife at the black woman coming fully into the room as he demanded, “Get away from her.”  
          Both women stopped what they were doing and looked at him. The black woman recovered much more quickly, and reached over to pick up something while the perfect ‘O’ of surprise on the white girl’s face made her drop her bit. “You should be dead!” she exclaimed.  
          The confusion which ran through him must have showed on his face, for when the taller woman turned back to him, holding a long bull whip in her hand. “Don’t worry, M,” she said, her French accent sexy and dangerous all at the same time. “He will be, soon.”  
         “ Uh…” he said, somewhat ungainly looking between the two of them. The white girl stood up, her perfect breasts bouncing as she strode towards him, following the taller black woman. “Aren’t you… in trouble?”  
          The white girl