Street Game Read Free Page A

breathing deeply. Here! Here! His men were spreading out, back-to-back, in a standard search pattern.
    What is it? What’s wrong? Find the answer! Find the answer! Mack moved carefully through the furniture.
    The furniture, Mack. All wrong, Kane hissed in his mind.
    A long plush couch, a hand-carved wooden coffee table, a priceless Persian rug. Beautiful, expensive. A small object on an end table. A dragon. Like in a living room. A home. Knowledge came a heartbeat too late.
    Something stirred just feet from him, a weapon glinted.
    “Break off! Break off!” He yelled it even as he launched himself toward the small figure crouched behind the recliner. His body, solid, heavily muscled, hit the smaller, softer one squarely, knocking the woman flat, pinning her to the floor.
    She shocked him by fighting hard, going for pressure points, obviously having a working knowledge of hand-to-hand combat tactics. It took some strength and finesse to subdue her. He successfully blanketed her body with his, tensed for the bullets he was certain would tear into him. His team was well trained, superb even. Not a shot was fired. Even so, as a precaution, Kane caught Paul’s weapon, pushing it away so it wasn’t pointed at McKinley’s body.
    There was a long, deadly silence. Mack could hear her breathing, her heart racing. There was no struggle once he’d pinned her; she lay perfectly still beneath him. For a moment he was afraid he had knocked her unconscious, but her breathing was too ragged.
    “Is anyone else up here?” He whispered the words in her ear.
    She shook her head.
    Kane and the others began a standard search pattern. McKinley hoped she was telling the truth. She smelled fresh and faintly exotic, her skin satin smooth, petal soft. The scent, the feel of her, was oddly familiar. Too familiar. His body recognized her before his brain did, reacting with enough testosterone for his entire unit, mixed with more adrenaline than any of them could possibly handle.
    McKinley slowly, carefully, eased his weight until he was certain he wasn’t hurting her, yet still kept her pinned. As each member of the team barked, “Clear,” he shifted enough to get a good look at her face. One leg remained firmly over her thighs, a warning not to move.
    Behind them, a lamp was switched on. “All clear, sir.” That was young Paul. His men were all staring, yet trying not to stare. The woman was in a long nightgown. See-through. One of those diaphanous, filmy things that clung to every curve and sent a jackhammer through the middle of a man’s skull. Her gown had pulled up her thigh, revealing a more than generous expanse of gleaming skin.
    She had tousled hair, a riot of curls, and large, haunting, sapphire-colored eyes. He would know her anywhere, anyplace.
    Jaimie. He said her name, at least he thought he said it, but no sound emerged. Maybe he’d just breathed her name. He touched her thick mane of silky, midnight black hair, his fingers sliding into one of the curls and tugging, letting the strands slide through the pads of his fingers, trying to regain the breath she’d stolen.
    “Get off me, McKinley.” The fear was in her voice, but she was striving for control. “What are you doing here? Hi, boys. I missed—most of you,” she greeted from the floor.
    “Hey, Jaimie,” Kane said.
    “Man, Jaimie,” Javier added. “Sweet damn security system. I should have recognized your work.”
    “Great to see you, Jaimie,” Brian Hutton added with a little grin. “Although we’re seeing more of you than brothers are comfortable with.”
    “What the fuck are you wearing?” Mack demanded. Lust punched hard and mean, his entire body tightening, his cock hard as a rock. He was furious with her, scared for her. Shocked at seeing her. What was going on? She had fucking left him. Left him. Disappeared without a trace.
    His hand gripped her throat and he trapped her there on the floor, letting her feel the strength of his anger—of his need.