Free Retribution by Lea Griffith Page A

to do the same to Surrey.
    It just keeps getting better and better. “Let’s move out. We’ve got a ways to go before we can request helicopter transpo. We need to get on it. Con, when is that charge gonna—”
    A loud blast followed by a huge rumbling of earth interrupted Dray’s question.
    “Shit, Con, was that the whole fucking mountain?” Dray should have known if Con did it, it was getting done all the way. “Let’s get out of here.”
    The ride was rough, and there was no time to consider what the situation they’d just left behind was all about. They’d sort it out once they got to safety. For now, Dray held in his arms the woman he’d dreamed about for over a year. He’d keep her safe, right here against his body.
    He sighed, the sound taken by the wind rushing into the Jeep. His head fell against the back of the seat. Here they were. Back in the hell where they’d met. He glanced down as her head lolled on his shoulder.
    Surrey had wrapped her head in gauze and cleaned her face up. She had a large bruise forming over her left eye where she’d been hit with the butt of a rifle. He hoped the son of a bitch who hit her was wallowing in hell right now. Hoped he was grateful for the quick death because Dray wouldn’t have been as nice as that RPG blast. He let his gaze wander over her. She was so still, her face lax as they jostled and bounced along the rocky terrain in the Jeep.
    Dray held her close as if she were preciously fine china that would break at any second, and then he leaned down and breathed her in as he’d done so long ago. He’d never forgotten her smell and taste in the long months since he’d been close to her. He licked his lips and remembered.
    Her long, ebony lashes rested against her pale cheeks, and her honey-colored brows arched slightly above her closed eyes. Her hair had grown since he’d last seen her and now reached her shoulders.
    Whose hair grew that fast? It was in a choppy cut that accentuated and framed her facial structure. Her slightly upturned nose was red from the cold of the drawing night air, and her lips were slightly parted. He drew her closer and tucked her face between his chest and neck. Sasha hit him like a body blow every time. He breathed in deeply and cursed when it was infused with her scent.
    Dray wished they were alone. He’d take her lips under his and lave the seam with his tongue until she parted them to allow him entrance. He wanted this woman like hell on fire, and his body hardened under the sudden rush of arousal. He’d probably combust if they ever got around to actually sharing a kiss. He breathed out roughly as the phantom taste filled his mouth. The lemon drops he carried paled in comparison to Sasha’s flavor.
    They hit a nasty bump in the almost non-existent road, and it jarred her awake. Her eyes flew open and slowly focused on him. Their gazes locked, and Dray was pulled into her. Fire flashed in the depths of her whiskey eyes, purple and bright, there and gone. She was so in trouble when they got out of this. As if she’d read his thoughts, her eyes widened and she licked her lips.
    His muscles locked down. Fuck me. You shouldn’t have done that, baby.
    He lowered his mouth and damn if she didn’t meet him halfway. Her eyes stayed open as their mouths met, and sensation radiated up his spine, short-circuited his brain. The brief contact was measured with her sigh, and he licked along the inside of her bottom lip.
    She was so divinely sweet. Nothing tasted like Sasha. Where he got the strength from he didn’t know, but he lifted his lips from hers, and she closed her eyes. He raised his face, and she moved back into him, tucking her face near his collarbone. Triple damn.
    He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed his actions and met Surrey’s intent gaze. His friend arched a brow as if to say “You need to get a room,” and then his mouth twitched and he resumed looking out the Jeep’s window, anywhere but at the woman he