Songbird

  Falcon Mercenary Group, Book 2

  Ian and Braden Thomas return to the U.S. to extract Katie Buchanan, the sister of the teammate who betrayed them. She could very well be the key to taking down the man responsible for turning Ian and Braden into unstable cat shifters. Unfortunately, they’re not the only ones after Katie.

  Katie has no intention of going quietly or of offering her trust on a silver platter. She’s got troubles of her own that don’t include two pain-in-the-ass men who claim her dead brother sent them. She’s too busy trying to stay one step ahead of Ricardo de la Cruz, the brother of a man she killed.

  As the bodies pile up, Ian and Braden are only sure of one thing: Katie makes them crazy. Something about her calls to their inner predator. They both want her, but she’s made a practice of making bad decisions and trusting the wrong men. And by the time she realizes that she can trust these two warriors, it might just be too late.

  Warning: Blood, gray matter, guts and gore. Ass kicking, potty mouths, acerbic wit. More mean people, mean people dying, mean people getting what they deserve. Sex…explicit sex, rough sex, ménage a trois, voyeurism, light bondage. Oh, and avalanches.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Into the Lair:

  Katie huddled under the steaming hot spray of the shower and let it pelt her skin until it was pink and raw. Even after she’d lathered her hair twice and soaped her body repeatedly, she stood still as the water cascaded over her.

  She didn’t want to move. Ever.

  But she had a strong suspicion if she didn’t get out soon, one of them would come haul her out.

  With a regretful sigh, she turned off the water and stepped out, reaching for a towel. She dried briskly, taking care around the more tender parts. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she grimaced. Then she pulled the towel away and let her gaze trail down her body.

  Her shoulders slid downward, and her eyes crossed with fatigue. She was starting to have some serious fantasies involving a pillow and a bed. Blankets were completely optional.

  An irritated sigh escaped when she realized she’d neglected to bring clothes into the bathroom with her. And there was no way she was putting the nasty stuff she’d taken off back on.

  She wrapped the towel around her and kept her arms pressed against the fabric so it had no chance of slipping down. Then she stuck her head out the door before exiting.

  Braden was lying on the bed, eyes closed, and Ian was perched on the edge of the mattress, his expression brooding. Ian looked up at her, his eyes shuttered.

  “I, uhm, just need to get some clothes,” she said in a low voice.

  Ian stood. “Not yet.”

  He walked toward her, and she blinked in surprise. His hand cupped her elbow, his touch gentle as he urged her toward the bed.

  “You can keep the towel wrapped around you for now,” he said gruffly. “I need to tend to that cut on your foot, and then I’ll take a look at your arm.”

  Braden opened his eyes and rolled to the edge of the bed before putting his feet down with a thud. He rubbed his face in a tired gesture then rose to stand beside her.

  “Get the kit,” Ian told Braden.

  Ian urged her down, and she sat awkwardly, keeping her gaze on her knees, bared just below the edge of the towel.

  “Lay back and let me see your foot,” Ian directed.

  She eyed him for a moment but did as he said. Her head bounced softly on the mattress as she settled down, and she focused on the ceiling.

  Gentle hands covered the top of her foot and tilted it back as he examined the instep. His fingers were firm and warm against her skin.

  Braden leaned over and took her arm, lifting as he examined the bruising and swelling.

  How long had it been since she’d simply enjoyed the touch of another? Close proximity, the feeling of not being so terribly alone?

  It was overwhelming and yet so deeply pleasurable that she couldn’t ask them to stop. She didn’t want them to stop.

  These were concerned touches. Caring and light. There was no desperate mark of possession, no shouted words, no deep-seated insecurity.

  She shivered even as she craved more.

  Ian felt her tremble beneath his fingers. He saw raw vulnerability behind a flash of sudden tears, and it tore at his gut. Here was a woman unused to any sort of tenderness. She expected the worst, and it seemed she usually got it.

  What the hell kind of life had she led, and why had Gabe left her to fend for herself?

  Trying not to let himself be too affected, he put antiseptic on her cut and quickly bandaged it. Braden was carefully manipulating her arm, but other than a few winces, she didn’t seem too bothered by it.

  He thrust the small bottle at Braden along with fresh bandages. “For her hand.”

  Braden took the stuff from him and settled next to Katie, his hip close to her shoulder. Her fingers shook against Braden’s as he carefully pried them apart.

  Ian eased down on her other side. “I need to look at your ribs, Katie,” he said in a low, soothing voice.

  Color flooded into her cheeks, and her eyes flickered away, her gaze focusing on the wall.

  Braden touched her cheek, running a finger down her delicate jawline. “Don’t be afraid,” he said quietly. “We just want to make sure you’re okay. I swear to you we won’t hurt you.”

  She closed her eyes and slowly nodded.

  Ian arranged the towel so that it hung loosely over her waist. He couldn’t cover her breasts and her pelvis and felt she’d probably be the least embarrassed to have them staring at her breasts.

  Bruises were scattered along her ribcage, some the size of a fist, others smaller, purple fingerprints against pale skin. When he saw the dark smudges close to her nipples, his jaw tightened in rage.

  “Did they rape you?” he demanded bluntly.

  Braden yanked his startled gaze to his brother, and his brows drew together in admonishment.

  Katie’s eyes flew open, and she too stared at Ian in shock.

  “N-no,” she stammered.

  “Did he try?” Ian pressed, not sure why it was so important that he know the depths of Ricardo de la Cruz’s depravity.

  A dark flush stained her cheeks, and her eyes glittered with anger.

  “I doubt he’ll be able to use that part of his anatomy for a long while,” she said darkly.

  A grin flirted with the edges of Braden’s mouth. Ian relaxed, unaware of just how tense he’d been until some of the edginess left him.

  “Okay, so what exactly did he do?” Ian asked as he tended to a cut just below her left breast.

  She let out a sigh. “Does it matter? I have no plans to get caught by him again. I wouldn’t have this time if you two hadn’t slowed me down.”

  Braden winced. “We were only trying to help.”

  She turned to look at Braden for a long while. “I’d like to believe that. Really, I would. But I still don’t know why you’re here. You say Gabe sent you. Why? You hint that someone else is after me, but I’ve spent all my time running from Ricardo.”

  Ian absorbed that latest piece of information. He and Braden exchanged glances, and then Braden cleared his throat.

  “Why don’t you get dressed, Katie. Then we can have that conversation we talked about.”

  Ian raised one eyebrow in question.

  “We worked out a trade,” Braden explained. “While you were…sleeping. She gives us information, and we give her the same.”

  Katie wrapped the towel around her body and struggled to sit up. Ian put his hand behind her neck and helped her forward. His fingers lingered at her nape, drawn to the softness of her skin. Tiny little goose bumps prickled and raced across her flesh, and her muscles quivered beneath his palm.

  She wasn’t immune to him any more than he was immune to her.

  Unsure what to do with that realization, he pulled his hand away and let her get up from the bed. For a brief moment, she hesitated and looked back at him, her eyes wide with equal part
s confusion and uncertainty.

  Then she clutched the ends of the towel tighter around her and grabbed her bag before heading to the bathroom.

  “I get the distinct impression that we’re not going to like what we hear,” Braden murmured. “What could she possibly have done to make a man treat her like he has?”

  “Sometimes a woman doesn’t have to do anything,” Ian said with a growl. “Maybe he just couldn’t take no for an answer. Whatever the case, we need to get her the hell out of the country.”

  “So we can use her,” Braden said in a low, dissatisfied voice.

  “Do you see another way?” Ian kept his voice as low as Braden’s. “Hell, Braden, I don’t like it either. She’s obviously had a shitty time, and God knows why Gabe left her alone, but do you really want to stay like this for the rest of your life? Half man, half wild animal with no control, no choice?”

  He cupped his hand to the back of his head and rubbed up and down to the base of his neck in agitation.

  “At least we’ll keep her safe. Hell, when was the last time you think she ate? Did you see how slim she is? She had, what, two hundred dollars on her? Yeah, we need her to draw out Esteban, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to throw her under the bus.”

  Braden stared back at him, brief uncertainty flashing in his eyes before his lips drew together in a fine line. “No, I don’t want to be this way forever. But maybe…maybe we need to be realistic. There might not be a way to fix this, Ian.”

  When love is threatened by truth, every moment counts…

  Steve’s Story

  © 2009 Jess Dee

  Steve Sommers is having a gut-wrenching week. His fiancée has left him, the woman who broke his heart is back in town—and they’re all gathered at the bedside of his best friend, who’s in a coma. The emotional ties between them are strained to the breaking point. Like it or not, it’s up to Steve to find the strength and compassion to support the four of them through the toughest ordeal of their lives.

  In the midst of the turmoil and trauma, passion unexpectedly flares anew between Steve and the woman he loves. Suddenly the future he’d believed lost lies within his reach. But she still carries the secret that once tore them apart, and determined to protect Steve from the truth, she fights their rekindled relationship every step of the way.

  Now the fragile bond they’ve developed hangs in the balance, threatened by a reality that love may not be strong enough to overcome…

  Warning: This book might just make you cry, but it’ll make you smile as well. The story will probably get you all hot and bothered too. It contains naughty activities in the car, sex on the kitchen counter (and up against the wall), a quickie in the garden, a little experimenting with scarves—oh, and some hot loving in the bedroom.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Steve’s Story:

  With the door securely locked behind her, she collapsed against the wall, panting.

  Oh God. Her heart hammered against her chest and her hands shook, her body desperately craving a fix.

  Steve infuriated her. He drove her nuts. He was the most stubborn, obnoxious, presumptuous man ever, and yet she still hungered for his body and his touch. Like an addict. She clenched her fists and howled in frustration—then nearly jumped out of her skin as the securely locked door opened beside her.

  She stared in horror as Steve stepped inside. “How…?”

  “Key,” he offered helpfully and held it up to show her. “The receptionist gave me an extra one when you checked in. You didn’t notice?”

  “What…?” Shit, what was he doing here?

  “Weren’t you listening?” He set the key on the table and stepped closer, trapping her against the wall. “I told you in the car. When we get back to your apartment, I’m going to kiss you.”

  “You can’t.” Could he?

  “Oh, but I can.” He pressed his hands against the wall on either side of her head and dipped his face towards hers. “And I will.”

  And he did. His lips claimed hers. In seconds, he was devouring her. Enticing her. Exciting her.

  Penelope reacted on instinct, in the same way any fuming woman in her situation would. She lifted her rage-filled arms and threw them around his neck, kissing him right back. Ravenously. It didn’t matter how hard she’d rallied against him in the car or how much she’d refused to take his verbal seduction seriously. The instant he touched her, any idea of resistance melted away.

  When he did as he’d promised and ripped off her shirt, Pen didn’t flinch. On the contrary, she yanked off her bra and pushed his head down to her aching, swollen breasts. As his lips touched her burning skin she couldn’t suppress the moan that burst from her throat. He suckled her tight nipples, his predatory mouth lighting fires all over her body.

  The five o’clock shadow on his chin grazed her sensitive flesh, the light burn triggering a sweet, urgent ache. “Steve,” she gasped, “please…”

  He raised his head from her breast, stared at her through midnight blue eyes. Eyes darkened by desire. “Please what?”

  “Please.” She couldn’t talk. Couldn’t think.

  “Tell me, Pen.” He nibbled her lower lip. “Are you wearing panties?” His hands covered her breasts, kneading them.

  “Oh.” Her head fell back.

  “Are you?” Fingers pinched lightly at the taut nipples, the erotic pain shooting through her in tiny bullets of pleasure.

  “Yes,” she managed to whisper.

  He sucked gently on her lip, running his tongue along the inside. “Do you want to be wearing panties?”

  “No.” That wasn’t a whisper. It was a heartfelt plea. She didn’t want to be wearing anything. She wanted to be naked. With Steve.

  She’d barely drawn breath when she found herself in his arms as he carried her to the bed. Her mouth was on his neck, feeding on the salty skin of his jaw line. Her hands were in his hair and her breasts were pressed against the steely muscle of his chest.

  Pen was a fool and she knew it. She was weak and in need of a hit and could not resist what Steve offered. While in theory she’d told herself repeatedly she would not make love to him again, in practice it was a whole other story. A whole other story of sleek, rugged sinew, of hard male muscle and of sensual, sexy man.

  He set her down on the mattress and tugged his T-shirt off. As his washboard abs came into view, Pen wanted more. She wanted to see all of him. When, still standing, he leaned over to kiss her, her hands went to his waist and fought with the buttons on his jeans. The task was tough—his tongue did crazy things to her, scattering her concentration, but the end result was worth it. She freed his erection from the tight confines of his pants and held it in her hands as he groaned.

  The taste of his salty skin lingered and she wanted more. With Steve she always wanted more. She pushed his jeans over his hips then pulled away to watch him shrug them off. She could not wait to dip her head down and wrap her lips around the tip of his penis.

  When she did, Steve muttered something unintelligible. She went to work making love to him, sucking and kissing and licking in ways she knew would drive him to distraction. His musky scent filled her nose and his masculine taste exploded on her tongue. His cock swelled and thickened as she caressed. The skin of his toned butt filled one hand, while round, soft testicles nestled in the other.

  For someone who knew the smallest morsel of Steve would only serve to fan the flames of her addiction, she was being given a sensory overload—and she only wanted more.

  “I thought,” Steve rasped, “you were not going to kiss me.”

  “I wasn’t.” Her answer was muffled.

  “Well.” Steve shuddered and pulled away from her. “I’m glad we’ve got that sorted out.”

  He drew her up until they stood face to face. “You said I couldn’t tie you up either.”

  “You can’t, and it’s not negotiable.”

  Steve blinked. Once. “But kissing is?”