Power Relinquished (D.C. Power Games Book 3) Read online

  He brushed her lip with his thumb. “No pouting, little one. I have to stop touching you or I’m going to get us both arrested by taking you right here on Gary’s front lawn.”

  She sucked in a breath and swung her feet into the vehicle. “Drive, Mercer.”

  His laughter rang out into the night as he closed her door and jogged around to the driver’s seat.

  “Such a bossy little thing,” he murmured as he pulled into the street. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

  The drive home felt like it took forever, but it was really only about thirty minutes.

  When Peter unlocked his front door, he paused before swinging it open.

  “Are you sure you want this?”

  Carrie nodded eagerly. “I’m positive.”

  He didn’t need anymore confirmation than that, because he pushed the door open and pulled her inside.

  “Strip,” he commanded when the door was locked.

  The rebellious girl that still lived in her wanted to argue, but the heat in his gaze told her that if she did as he asked, there would be a reward. So, she didn’t over think it, just lifted her dress over her head and handed it to him. Then, she kicked off the sandals she wore and took off running down the hall to her room. She had a feeling he fully intended to take her in his bed, but she wanted to make sure they stayed on equal footing, and there was a perfectly good bed in the room she was using.

  To his credit, Peter didn’t say anything, just followed her. Once they were in the guest room, Peter leaned against the door, clearly waiting for her to finish stripping. She toyed with the idea of not doing it, insisting that he do it, but that heat was still in his gaze and she wanted to be naked under it. Her fingers slid under the band of her bra and she deftly unhooked it before letting it fall down her arms revealing her small but firm breasts. Peter groaned from his spot at her door, and she flashed him a grin as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties.

  Slowly, she inched them over her hips and further down until just the top of her smooth pubic area showed. Turning, so he could see the top half of her ass, she pushed the panties the rest of the way down, bending over dramatically as she pushed them to her ankles.

  When he grabbed her ankle, she nearly screamed, never having heard him move. He lifted her feet one at a time and stole her panties. Then she heard him inhale and felt her face heat.

  “Think I’ll keep these,” he murmured. Then he stood and palmed her ass. When she tried to squirm away, he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. His movements were painstakingly slow, as one hand drifted from her ribcage until it rested just above her pubic bone. Pushing up on her tip toes, she tried to coax his hand down just a little bit, but he knew her game and kept his hand planted exactly where he wanted it.

  His thick erection was pressing into her back, and she couldn’t wait to get his clothes off of him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Peter rested his chin on top of Carrie’s head and enjoyed the feel of her heavy breathing. He purposely kept his hand just above her clit, knowing it was driving her mad. Part of him wanted to shed his clothes and bury himself in her with no further foreplay, but the other part of him, the part that was winning out, wanted to take it slow and tease her mercilessly.

  He pressed his lips to her bare shoulder, and she sucked in a sharp breath. He’d hit a sensitive spot. Good. With his free hand, he cupped her breast, avoiding the nipple and lifted it in his palm. “Perfect fit,” he murmured.

  She let out a little whimper and tried to turn in his arms, but he kept his hold tight. “Want something sweetheart?” he asked, close to her ear. Her head bobbed up and down and he chuckled. “All in good time. I can’t wait to bury myself in you, but first I’m going to make you come a few times.” Her entire body shuddered beneath him and he finally gave her what she wanted… almost. His fingers barely brushed her clit and slid through her folds. Slick moisture coated his digits and he brought them to her mouth.

  “Taste yourself,” he commanded. Much to his pleasure, she obeyed, eagerly sucking herself off of his fingers.

  “Is that a vibrator?” she asked with a giggle.

  What? Shit. No! His work phone was buzzing in his pocket. “Fuck. I have to answer this,” he said, keeping one arm around her as he fished the phone out of his pocket with the other.

  “Mercer.”

  “There’s a bomb in the vehicle parked in front of us. It’s just big enough to take out both cars.” It was the night shift agent in charge.

  “I’ll leave in five minutes,” he said releasing Carrie with an apologetic squeeze.

  “We’re at the Doll House Cabaret.” That got his attention.

  “One second, I’m putting you on speaker so I can change.” Tossing his phone on the bed after he turned on the speaker function, he stripped his shirt over his head and tossed it at Carrie who grinned and slipped it on. Meanwhile, the agent on the phone continued to give him details.

  “We’ve called in the bomb squad and the FBI and started sweeping the club. So far, we think people are safer inside than they are out, so we aren’t evacuating yet.” He watched Carrie’s eyes grow wide when she bent down to pick up a pair of jeans on the floor, he shook his head and gripped her wrist, pulling her to him. At first, she struggled, but he kept a tight hold on her.

  “I’m hanging up now. I’ll be on site in less than thirty,” Peter said, reaching over to end the call.

  “I want to come with you if it’s the Doll House.”

  “Out of the question. You shouldn’t even know about this. If your boss calls you in to report on the scene, I can’t stop that, but I would feel better if you stayed here.”

  She seemed to study him for a moment before she said, “OK.”

  “Good girl. Wait for me in the living room. I need to change.” With long strides, he crossed to her door and into the hallway.

  In his own room, he pulled on his standard secret service suit and strapped on his gun. In the living room, Carrie sat perched on the edge of his couch in nothing but his t-shirt. He dropped to his knees in front of her.

  “I’m so sorry about this sweetheart. I swear I’ll make it up to you soon.”

  She leaned down and kissed him. “Duty calls,” she murmured when she pulled away.

  Standing, he crossed the room to his front door.

  “Wait,” she said jumping up. He looked at her quizzically. “Is it OK if I give myself an orgasm while you’re gone?”

  His hand froze on the doorknob. Not what he was expecting. Crossing the room to her again he took his face in her hands. “Carrie, baby, I really have to leave, but I need to know why you felt the need to ask for that.”

  Red creeped up her neck and onto her cheeks and she tried to look away from him. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “Not good enough. Tell me, baby.”

  She shrugged. “With everything going on between us, I thought it might disappoint you if I didn’t wait for you to come back to orgasm. I’m still not on board with the whole submissive thing but I’m also not OK with ruining whatever this is between us.”

  A slow grin formed. “Oh sweetheart. You’re making me so happy. But since we don’t have that dynamic, you don’t have to ask. Maybe someday I’ll get you all worked up before I leave and make you wait until I’m home again. But tonight, nothing would make me happier than leaving here knowing you’ll be thinking of me as you play with that gorgeous pussy. In fact, I think you should play with yourself until I come back, or until you fall asleep.”

  She nodded with big eyes as she twisted the hem of his t-shirt and he knew she would obey his directive. With a final kiss, he strode out the door and didn’t look back, because he knew if he did, he wouldn’t leave.

  When he arrived on scene, the bomb squad had set up a wide perimeter. Director Upwood and everyone else was still inside the club so Peter flashed his secret service badge. The FBI agent controlling the scene reluctantly let him past the barrier. To P
eter’s surprise, there were no news cameras on site yet, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be long.

  “We’ve determined that the radius of the bomb wouldn’t hit the club, so we’re keeping everyone inside,” a bomb tech told him. It was odd not to evacuate but Peter wasn’t going to argue with a bomb technician at this hour.

  “I’m the agent in charge of Director Upwood’s protection detail. I need to speak to him and anyone else who may have seen who planted this device.” When he entered the Doll House, he spotted his men flanking a furious Corbit Upwood.

  “Mercer. How the hell did this happen?” the old man growled as Peter approached.

  “We’re looking into that now, Sir. For now, we’re going to work on getting you home. I’m placing you in protective custody until we catch this guy. He’s getting way too close for comfort. You’ll be placed in a nice safe house with your wife and son.”

  Peter knew even before he finished that the director would protest.

  “Like hell I will. I’m the director of the God damned CIA. I’m not going to cower in some safe house when I’ve got agents in the field putting their life on the line.”

  It was a nice speech, but Peter wasn’t buying it anymore. Though he didn’t have solid proof yet, the more he studied the files Carrie had been sent, the more he believed Corbit Upwood was dirty. Guilty of what? He didn’t know yet, but he was determined to find out. For now, though, it was still his job to keep the man alive.

  “Frankly, Sir you don’t have a choice in the matter. I’ve been tasked by the President of the United States to keep you alive and that’s what I intend to do.” Turning his back, he effectively dismissed Director Upwood as he scanned the room for the agent in charge of the night shift.

  “Ellerman, as soon as we’re cleared to leave, we’ll be moving the director to his wife and son’s safe house. Coordinate with their detail.”

  “Yes, Sir,” the agent said.

  Behind him, he could practically feel Director Upwood fuming and he was counting down the minutes until he was on the phone with his boss or the president.

  They were kept in the Cabaret for another fifteen minutes, before an FBI agent said it was safe to leave out the back. Peter sent his men to arrange transport. Ellerman came back less than a minute later.

  “We’ve got a problem, the press is camped out at all our safe exits, it’s going to take some time to move them unless you just want to push past them.”

  Peter tried not to let his disdain for the press show, it didn’t seem fair considering where things seemed to be going with Carrie.

  “Let’s just push past them. Any of them get out of line, draw your weapon. Obviously don’t shoot but make it clear we aren’t open to questions, and a written statement will come out tomorrow.”

  Ellerman nodded and went to finish readying the vehicles for transport.

  When Peter and another agent brought the director outside, he groaned. Every news agency in the country had taken up camp just outside the perimeter. He quickly scanned the available exits, looking for the least crowded one. Part of him was hoping to avoid the CBS trucks too.

  “Let’s take that route,” Peter said to the driver as he pointed toward the CNN van.

  “You got it boss,” the driver said.

  “I’m going to walk beside the vehicles and push the press back along with the uniformed officers. Once we get past them, I’ll get in the follow car and they can drop me at my SUV.”

  With the plan in place, Peter began the slow walk alongside the cars. The crowd of press was too thick to drive very fast. As they approached the CNN van just outside the barricade, a microphone was shoved in his face.

  “Gina Whitman with CNN, what can you tell…” the reporters voice trailed off and Peter felt his blood run cold. “Hello, Peter,” Gina said waiving off her camera man.

  “What are you doing here Gigi?” Peter asked through clenched teeth.

  “Didn’t you hear? CNN gave me my own show.”

  “I never thought they were a very good news agency.” The insult came out of Peter’s mouth before he could stop it. With closed eyes, he prayed that her cameraman had actually stopped recording.

  “Are you on the protection detail assigned to the CIA director?”

  “No comment. Back up so the cars can get through please,” Peter said placing his hand on her arm. She jerked her arm away from him but backed away. Smart girl, thought Peter.

  As he walked past her, he heard her talk into her microphone again about being stonewalled by the Secret Service and he fought the urge to make impolite hand gestures over his shoulder.

  By the time he got the director settled at the safe house, it was late, and Peter was angry. He wondered if Carrie had been called into work or if she was still waiting for him at his apartment.

  As he climbed in his SUV to drive home, a piece of paper caught his attention. It was flapping in the night air, tucked under a windshield wiper. Climbing back out, he retrieved what turned out to be an envelope and turned it over in his hands. Pulling out the single sheet of paper, he frowned as he read.

  My cover is about to be blown if I’m not careful. The last photo I sent you is of a missing woman but I’m pretty sure she’s already dead. Some of the others are still alive though. Keep looking. Let Carrie Davenport blow the lid off this story. It’s important. Lives are at stake.

  RIP

  Who the fuck was this guy? It was definitely someone working for the CIA or the FBI, but Peter was having trouble coming up with anyone. As far as he knew, Boomer was still in the middle east, and Gary and Reggie were already retired.

  Driving home, he thought about how much he wanted to tell Carrie about the note, but he knew he shouldn’t keep any of it from her. Not when they were becoming close. His mind wandered to the last time he got close to a reporter and he scowled. It had nearly gotten his father killed and his mother still hadn’t forgiven his ex or the journalism profession as a whole.

  At his apartment door, he took a deep breath trying to calm himself and put Gigi out of his mind. She wasn’t worth his time.

  His breath caught when he opened the door. Carrie was stretched out on his living room couch fast asleep, still in his t-shirt and nothing else. The TV was on low in the background. Careful not to make any noise, he locked the door behind him and crossed the room to her. Lifting the blanket off the back of the couch, he draped it over her small form, smiling as he watched her chest rise and fall. Her eyes opened and she blinked rapidly, adjusting to the dim light of the room.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered.

  “It’s OK. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Everything OK?” she asked as she sat up, pulling the blanket around her waist.

  He sat on the couch next to her. “I wouldn’t say OK, but everyone is alive.” He grimaced. “Almost everyone,” he said handing her the note from RIP.

  Her eyes went wide. “He thinks Savannah is dead? That’s so sad.”

  They sat quietly for a moment while she reread the note. As he waited, a familiar voice came across the TV.

  “Oh my God! You’re on TV,” Carrie exclaimed. “Hey, I know her too.”

  Peter cringed as he heard himself say, “I never thought they were a very good news agency anyway.” That bitch.

  “Peter! How could you?” Carrie asked.

  He picked up her hand. “It’s not what it looks like. Gigi and I have… history.”

  “Gigi? You call her Gigi? Oh, my goodness you dated her, didn’t you? Is that where your hatred of journalists comes from? Is she the one who fucked you over?”

  He sighed. “That’s a really long story but yes. Can we please not talk about it?”

  Carrie stared at him a minute longer before relenting. “Sure. OK. But you should know I’m friends with her. Not like besties or anything but she’s a former colleague and I respect her.”

  Peter wanted to lay into her about the things Gina Whitman had done to his family, but he restrained himself.
Now wasn’t the time.

  “I’m exhausted, do you mind if we call it a night? I’m going in to work late tomorrow so we could get up early and maybe have another look at everything this mystery person sent us.”

  Carrie nodded her agreement, but Peter noticed the disappointment in her eyes. Was she hoping to pick up where they had left off? Peter felt like a bastard for not thinking of it sooner, but right now he just wanted to sleep and put all of this out of his mind. Seeing Gigi again had stirred up some of his more bitter feelings and he didn’t trust himself to hold them in.

  “Goodnight Peter,” Carrie said as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

  “Goodnight Carrie, I’m sorry I’m not better company.”

  “It’s OK. I got a few orgasms out of the deal anyway.”

  With that, she scurried out of the living room in nothing but his t-shirt, leaving him open mouthed staring after her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Carrie spent most of the night tossing and turning, wishing that Peter would have shared a bed with her. After the last couple of days of what felt like emotional whiplash, she wasn’t sure what was going on between them. Feeling his disdain for Gina Whitman last night had given her at least some insight into his early animosity towards her though. Now she glanced at her phone and saw that it was after six in the morning. Peter hadn’t been kidding about going to work late today.

  Crawling out of bed, she made her way to the bathroom and took a long shower. When she emerged from the bedroom forty-five minutes later, she found Peter at the bar eating oatmeal and drinking his one cup of coffee. It still amazed her that he kept the hours that he did on so little caffeine.

  “Good morning. Got any coffee left?” she asked.