Black And White Ops: A BWWM BBW Military Romance (4 page)

“They’re
gone,” he finally told her.

They spent the night
in Monique’s bed, although neither was able to get any sleep.
Every sound in the apartment had her on edge; sure the police were
coming back. To make matters worse, it was an old building, almost
eighteen stories tall. The walls weren’t that thick and they
could hear the conversations in the units next to them. At four in
the morning the music became very loud from someone’s place. It
was the weekend but a party was underway. Monique was used to it by
now, but she could see Rick disturbed by all the sounds.

“So how did you
know where to find me?” she whispered to him in the dark of her
room. He was right next to her in bed with the sheet over him.

“I followed you
after we met at the coffee shop,” he said. “And figured
out what apartment was yours by the directory. There’s not too
many Monique Harrison’s in St. Petersburg. In fact, I think you
might be the only one. It occurred to me that knowing where you lived
might come in handy. It did.”

“But you got
into my apartment without my knowing,” Monique pointed out.

“The locks
around here aren’t that sophisticated,” he told her.
“Getting through them isn’t hard if you know what you’re
doing.”

“And my hiding
place?” she asked again.

“Really,
Monique,” he told her. “An icon in the closet? You might
as well put a red ‘X’ on it.”

Now she felt foolish
and scared at the same time. Five years she’d lived in Russia,
but Monique might as well have gotten off the plane yesterday for all
the stupid things she had done. If Rick had been waiting for her,
another professional could have accomplished the same thing. And the
next person who came through might not be so helpful.

At the same time,
this was the first time in years she’d shared her bed with any
man. Just feeling his hot proximity was making her wet. Monique
curled up against him and he didn’t pull away. Even if she was
a cover he was using, it was something she hadn’t had in a long
time. He wasn’t wearing a thing under that robe. All she had to
do was pull on the tie and it would unravel in the bed. She kept
wondering if he was uncircumcised. A few men she’d slept with
in Philadelphia were; it was a strange thing to see if you weren’t
used to uncut cocks. She didn’t notice any tattoos on Rick, did
he have some piercings she didn’t know about? She’d
played with a guy who had both nipples pierced once, back in the
states. He’d asked her to tug on them when they were in bed.
But Rick didn’t seem like the freaky type. Too bad, after this
evening she could use a lot of freakiness. Or at least a cup of tea
served by a naked man in handcuffs.

“Who do you
work for?” Monique asked him when he rolled over to face her.
“The CIA?”

“No,” he
replied. “I wish I did because they have a good retirement
plan. I’m an independent contractor. I work for a department
which Uncle Sam uses for jobs he doesn’t want any connections
to. I’m here because an office in that building needed to be
eliminated in a very spectacular way. Don’t you think it was
quite a spectacle?”

She looked into his
blue eyes with her brown ones. “Yes it was. Why the hell did
you draw all that attention to yourself? I thought you James Bond
types worked with extreme discretion or something like that.”

He put one hand out
and ran a finger down her face. Monique was ready to put it in her
mouth but didn’t want to give him too many ideas just now.
“Sometimes you want to make a point,” he told her.
“Sometimes you want the bad guys to know never to fuck with you
again,” he told her. “My job was to make them shit their
pants if they even consider it the next time. I think I succeeded
with no loss of life.”

“Except now
you’ll have everyone in St. Petersburg after your white ass,”
she told him in anger. “And me too. How long do you think it
will take them to figure out you planted the bomb?”

“Long enough
for me to say vos voy danya,” he told her. “I’ve
already arranged for my extraction tomorrow. You can come with me if
you want. As a matter of fact, I think you should come along, just in
case Mr. Rastolnikov comes back. This time he might not want to know
anything about your sex life.”

“Mr. Who?”
she asked.

“You know,
Crime and Punishment, the novel,” Rick explained. “The
one where the guy kills the old woman.”

“Sorry,”
she told him, touch his hand, “I never read that book.”

“I want you to
slap me,” he told her. “Do it hard so they can hear us in
the next unit.”

She gave him a little
pop in the face which barely registered.

“Oh come on,”
he said, “Do I have to get you mad?”

This time she could
hear it, but it didn’t carry very far. Why did he want her to
slap him?

“Hey,” he
said to her under his breath. “I’m the big bad man who
just stole your teddy bear.”

Slap! She hit him
hard across the face. Rick sat up and rubbed his cheek. Monique was
up on her elbows looking at him, ready to kill. Her eyes flamed wide
and he could tell her teeth were clenched. And at that precise
moment, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his
life.

“I hope no one
in the next room heard that,” he said. “On second
thought, I hope they did. It will back up your alibi if you need
one.”

“You have a lot
of nerve in my bed talking to me like that,” Monique growled
under her breath. “I never had a teddy bear!”

“Christ you are
a lively one,” he said rubbing his face again. “I think I
found the right combination of words. Little girl all upset?”

Slap again! This time
harder. Rick put one hand to his face and pulled it back, looking at
the blood on it. He licked the blood off his hand and smiled at her.

“Good,”
he said. “Now you can be sure they heard it. You can tell the
police I wanted to do something depraved and they won’t ask.
Well they might ask, but you can come up with something. I’d
say something but I don’t need you hitting me so hard I lose a
tooth. Now slap me some more, princess.”

Slap! Slap! Slap! He
grabbed her hands and she could feel the cold steel of his fingers in
her wrists. She was breathing hard from the blows she’d just
hit him with and was looking at him in rage. What she wanted to say
she couldn’t because the last thing she needed right now was
someone to call the manager. She was in a rage and wanted to pound
him into the floor, in spite of the danger to her. And then it hit
her: she was doing just what he wanted.

Monique looked at
Rick and seethed. He was smiling; she was just a game piece in
whatever he was playing. Monique could feel his breath on her face;
his hard muscles were pushing up against her body. And she could feel
his erection on her leg. She was tempted to slam her leg up and send
his Johnson to the hospital. Who the hell did he think he was to mess
up her life in St. Petersburg? Now the only thing Monique could hope
for would be to get out with the money she’d stashed for an
emergency. Good luck getting another job in the United States with
this on her resume. All she wanted to do was eventually open a day
care center in Philadelphia for poor families. Why did Mr. Secret
Agent Man have to come and mess it all up? She felt the tears start
to swell in her eyes. Why did she have to be walking past that
building when the bomb went off? It wasn’t fair!

“Don’t
worry, I’ll take care of you,” he said. “I’m
sorry this has had to happen to you, but you’re a small little
pawn on this chess board. I’m the knight who is running
interference for you so the bishop doesn’t crush us both.”

She started crying
and didn’t care who heard it. Hell, he probably wanted the
people in the next room to hear her cry. It was all part of some sick
plan and she didn’t even know what it was. He released her
wrists and Monique fell to the pillow, soaking it with her tears. She
was in some mess now. In the morning her mother would be reading
about her in the paper. She could see it now: “Local Teacher
Implicated in Russian Spy Sting”. She sobbed away for a good
five minutes while Rick laid back and sighed.

“Cry if it
makes you feel better,” he told her. “I can’t reach
my dead drop till tomorrow when the sun comes up anyway.”

“Dead drop?”
she said turning around. Monique was drying her tears.

“It’s
what you call a place to leave messages,” he explained to her.
“As opposed to a live drop. I have them all over St.
Petersburg. It’s how I communicate with my handlers when I’m
over here. I can’t trust the Internet in and out of this
country. Too many people monitoring the traffic to make that a
possibility. I need to check the one near your apartment tomorrow.”

Here she was, in bed
with a handsome and hunky man and all she wanted to do was get him
out of her life. A few days ago she was walking on air when he gave
her his business card. Now she never wanted to see him again. It
would have been better if she’d never walked into that coffee
shop.

“We need to get
a few hours’ sleep,” he told her. “The morning
traffic won’t be starting till six and I can check my dead
drop. I need to make sure they took what I left for them after I hit
the building.”

“I thought you
were sent in to blow something up?” she pointed out. Now that
the confrontation was over, Monique was starting to feel a little
better. She was still scared for her life.

“Setting the
bomb off in their office and destroying their database hack was
priority one,” he explained. “The bonus comes with
providing my employers a copy of what those bastards had copied. They
want to know how far they got into the system.”

“You still
haven’t told me what you were doing or why it was necessary to
blow up an office in the middle of St. Petersburg,” she pointed
out. “Isn’t the United States afraid of starting a war?”

“That’s
why they use me,” he explained again. “There is no
official record I exist. Something happens to me, it can be explained
away as an American with Russian mob connections. The SVR catches a
known CIA or NSA agent and it’s a little harder to deny.”

“Somebody got
in very deep to a pentagon database from that office,” he
explained. “Real deep. Like information identifying every
American intelligence operative in Europe deep. They didn’t
think the damage was too bad when they first found out, but when I
arrived here they discovered it was much worse. They don’t know
how it was done yet and no one knows who the office is connected to.
The best guess is some kind of rogue Russian mafia team that wants to
sell what they pulled out to the highest bidder. I was sent in to
destroy the office, but they also wanted me to get a complete back-up
of what they took. I was given a super flash drive that could store
the information they had several times over. It didn’t take me
long to unlock the door tonight and get into the office. I can’t
even remember what bogus name the office was called. ‘All
Russian Historical Institute’ or some other fancy name.”

“Anyway,”
he continued, “it took me five minutes to boot up the computer
system in there and find what I needed. My employers had given me all
the pass codes. I backed it all up on the super drive, put it in my
coat pocket and wired the computers to blow ten minutes after I left.
You saw me as I was leaving the building. The charge went off a few
minutes early. It’s what I get for using local sources for the
bomb parts and instead of building my own.”

“But I’ll
get you out of this mess,” he concluded. “I promise. The
extraction team is supposed to be ready tomorrow and they won’t
give me hard time about bringing another person home.”

Monique had her face
turned away from him in the bed and she felt drowsy. It was all so
much to have to endure in one day. She felt his strong hands massage
her back and she started to drift into sleep. She wanted to feel more
of him on her, but now was not the time. Monique felt his arms wrap
around her and give comfort. She sensed the day-old stubble of his
unshaved face nuzzled against her neck and she was finally at peace.
For the first time in years she had a man in bed with her and it had
to be under these circumstances. Right now she would have been happy
if he would rip off the robe she wore and do things to her. Maybe
later, if they both survived what was coming up. And then Monique
drifted off into the land of nod.

“I think it’s
safe to get up and go out,” she heard a voice say into her ear
hours later. It was Rick. The nightmare was real. She was in bed with
an American agent in the middle of St. Petersburg who had just set
off a bomb in a nearby building. A man the police knew about and who
was suspect in the bombing. With her, an ordinary English teacher at
a respectful school. Could things get much worse?

She looked up to see
his tight, bare ass slide into a set of boxer shorts as he put his
clothes back on. It wasn’t the worse thing to wake up to,
Monique had to admit. The worse time was years ago while in college
where she had come to in the middle of a frat house naked with three
unclothed frat boys, two white and one black, piled on top of her.
That had been some party; she’d spent years trying to forget it
and what she’d done with those men the night before.

“We need to get
moving,” Rick said to her, “if both of us are going to
get back to the USA. Grab your money, passport and anything you can
carry in a purse. There is a good chance we might not be coming back
here.”

Monique moved out of
bed and put her clothes on. She chose a suit she could wear for
several days if she had to. The money and passport was still in her
closet and she stuffed them all down her purse. She couldn’t
think what to carry on short notice, so she grabbed a photo album of
her students. She stuffed some extra underwear down her purse and put
on a coat. Rick was already standing by the door in his coat and
gloves. She had no idea what he had in mind, but she would have to
trust him.