Wanna Play (Ghost Unit, Book Three) Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Wanna Play

  ISBN 9781419911705

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Wanna Play Copyright© 2007 Gail Faulkner

  Edited by Mary Moran.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Electronic book Publication: July 2007

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Content Advisory:

  S – ENSUOUS

  E – ROTIC

  X – TREME

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic.

  S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. E-rated titles might contain material that some readers find objectionable—in other words, almost anything goes, sexually. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry in terms of both sexual language and descriptiveness in these works of literature.

  X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Stories designated with the letter X tend to contain difficult or controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  Wanna Play

  Gail Faulkner

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Blackwater: Blackwater USA

  Cadillac: General Motors Corporation

  Cinderella: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  Ford: Ford Motor Company

  Formica: The Diller Corporation

  Gatorade: Stokely-Van Camp, Inc.

  Golden Globes: Hollywood Foreign Press Association Corporation

  Harley: Harley-Davidson Motor Company

  Heckler & Koch: Heckler&Koch GmbH Corporation

  Hilton: Hilton Hospitality, Inc.

  Hummer: General Motors Corporation

  James Bond: Danjaq S.A. Corporation

  Lamaze: Lamaze International, Inc.

  Mississippi State University: Mississippi State University Corporation

  Oscars: Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences Corporation

  Sheena, Queen of the Jungle: Galaxy Publishing, Inc.

  Snow White: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  Super Man: DC Comics

  U-Haul: U-Haul International, Inc.

  Washington Post: WP Company LLC

  Chapter One

  The huge bike between her knees roared as Jas shifted to make the turn, screaming down to somewhere around fifty, she threw it into the curve. She was low and leaning with the turn when she saw the mess on the road, there was no time. Oil was everywhere. If the heavy bike went down on her leg, the best she could hope for was mangled. It’d more likely be ripped off.

  Survival reflexes kicked in and both feet were on the seat under her as she balanced for a split second before pushing off into the jump just as the tires slid out from under the bike. Using the push to ensure the direction the bike would go, she’d propelled herself in the other, tucking into a roll for landing.

  By the time she quit rolling, people were rushing to the scene. Jas lay on the ground unmoving, trying to decide if she’d lived. She must have since every inch of her hurt so damn much.

  Wincing, she gingerly sat up and looked for the bike. It was lodged in a tree trunk on the opposite side of the asphalt. Just past the huge pool of oil on the road. NIGGER was scrawled in white spray paint across both lanes.

  Apparently she’d managed to clear the road entirely and landed on the shoulder, rolling into the heavy grass and dirt. The relatively “soft” landing that included rocks, small trees and assorted underbrush, along with her knowledge of how to fall seemed to have saved her from being the mess someone wished she was.

  Barry skidded to his knees in front of her, his face contorted in fear. “Jas?” His breathless question hung in the air as his hands reached for her but stopped just short of touching.

  Wearily, Jas unsnapped the helmet and pulled it off her head. “Still here, Bare.”

  “Don’t move! You could be injured!” he commanded harshly.

  She’d been saved a multitude of scrapes and lacerations due to the tight leather that encased her body. If she’d not been wearing the helmet, she’d be dead, no question.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t and I am. Nothing’s broken.” Jas sank down and stared at the early morning sunlight winking through forest canopy. Throbbing aches across her body were nothing compared to the “mad” building in her gut.

  “How could this happen?” Jas wanted to know in deceptively mild tones.

  “The spray paint is still tacky. They were just here,” Barry explained absently as he watched her face. “That’s it. I’m getting serious help. We can’t afford these things. Damn it, woman, they meant to kill you this time.”

  Jas closed her eyes. “I don’t feel like dying right now.”

  Barry snorted. “I didn’t notice them asking.”

  A ghost of a smile fluttered across her face. “Someone’s definitely asking to play. Time to accept the offer.”

  Barry kept waiting for an outburst of emotion. People who’d just faced death usually couldn’t avoid it. Jas seemed calm and even cold. Shit! Suddenly he got the emotion building in her. It wasn’t fear, shock or any other reaction people normally responded with. It was anger.

  “No! Jas, don’t you dare think about handling this yourself. We really can’t afford that! I’m getting someone to take care of it. Don’t move,” Barry barked as she lifted her head. “Let the doctor look at you before you move.”

  * * * * *

  Eight a.m. Next Day

  She was magnificent! Blaster remained concealed in the shadows, his gaze locked on the scene playing out across the clearing. Watching her work through her attackers, he felt her energy zip down his own body, triggering a base male response he had to control.

  She was symmetry and grace. She cut through the fight like nothing he’d ever seen. Her body whirled and twisted in a mind-numbing display of an incredibly limber female form. Avoiding one of the hits, she dropped in a split that he hardly had time to register as she rolled out of it and up with a man’s foot in her hands. She twisted his ankle as she moved, driving her attacker into what appeared to be an agonizing flip.

  Damn! He wanted her. Blaster smiled, mostly, baring his teeth as sexual hunger sizzled through him. Totally visual in origin and shallow as a frat boy at a keg party, he enjoyed the shameless pleasure that watching her fight gave him. It enveloped his body, pooling between his legs in throbbing approval.

  Elusive and deadly, the fight unfolded. She appeared to be dancing with demons but perhaps it was the other way around. Her dark form was menace in Venus’ body. The demon dancing was her. Four men scrambled to get a hold on her but she was always gone just as hard fingers glazed glowing skin. Her stunning long body bowed and twisted as she delivered brutal hits while evading the thugs circling her. Energy crackled around the woman as if the absence of fear created a fierce goddess of spee
d and grace.

  Twisting as one leg went high in a vicious kick while her torso swooped low, sending counter weight through her elbow to a thigh behind her, she took out two burly men. She was already facing the next charging fellow as the fourth came at her from the side with a knife. A quick step toward the screaming charger changed everyone’s trajectory just enough for her to go low and flip the charger into the knife guy. Blaster sucked in a breath and winced as he watched the two the men slam into each other.

  Intensity churned the early morning mist as it swirled over rocky terrain. Those two men went down and foaming vapor nearly obscured their moaning figures. She swung around in a ready stance but none of the men on the ground moved. Standing a moment, chest heaving, her body glowing with the power flowing through it, she appeared mystical.

  “Cut!” echoed across the mountain meadow.

  Blaster stood stock-still as her body relaxed. He found his mouth was gaping open and snapped it shut. She reached a hand down and yanked one of the men up to his feet. The guy let out a yelp and then scowled at her as he ambled off rubbing his shoulder. The other three men managed to get up on their own, also scowling and rubbing various body parts.

  She had to be six feet tall. Her long, incredible body was clothed in a supple leather vest that laced down the front, displaying an amazing cleavage with no break. The top ended just below her breasts and there wasn’t another scrap of clothing obscuring her muscled torso until the low leather pants riding her hips. Those also laced up and were just barely decent. Soft leather hugged her thighs and disappeared into knee-length leather boots. The flat-heeled boots laced tightly around her calves but obviously didn’t restrict her movements.

  Soft buckskin clothing was almost the same warm coffee shade as her skin. Creamy browns complemented so flawlessly that he couldn’t help thinking she’d be difficult to see moving in shadowed forest conditions. It was a perfect costume for a barbarian huntress part, except it was ridiculous. She wasn’t playing a barbarian huntress. Wonderfully ridiculous, Blaster mused as he watched her leisurely walk to the guy who’d shouted “cut”.

  Even her walk made him swallow hard. She moved in a smooth, loose-limbed stroll. The simple activity caused muscles on her torso to flex and ripple in a fascinating display of a female body about as fit as it could get without being pumped. Her arms glided at her sides in relaxed readiness that spoke of weapons, though none were visible. It was the walk of a huntress. A little arrogant, a lot dangerous.

  Blaster felt lightheaded as he watched her move. Lack of blood to the brain did that to a guy. It’d never happened to him before, but he’d heard of it.

  He was remarkably sorry when she stopped in front of the director’s chair to engage in discussion. Her face still wasn’t clear at this distance but considering her profession, he was confident it’d match the rest of her. Mercy!

  He felt the need to wait a few seconds before leaving the tree line. Swallowing again, Blaster concentrated on slowing his breathing, allowing the calm of his surroundings to seep into his body. He actually glanced down to make sure steam wasn’t billowing from his crotch before he ambled out to move in her general direction. Time to regain center and at least pretend he wasn’t ruled by the idiot head.

  He’d met women who were dangerously beautiful, women who were beautiful when they were dangerous, but never one who was both. His weakness for that edge in sexual partners had left him seriously disappointed most of the time. It was actually difficult to drag his eyes away from her. Wanting her was that little bit forbidden, totally perilous and entirely pagan. What he wanted to do, over and over again, could possibly get his ass kicked into next week if she ever read his mind.

  Blaster forced his gaze to take in the entire set. It wasn’t a happy set. Everyone was tense, speaking in low, sharp tones and continually glancing around at the woods. His sudden appearance had been noted by each of them and he’d seen fear on several faces when he broke the tree line. At least they were alert to their environment, he approved silently.

  He made sure his approach was casual so the crew could get a good look at him. Blaster smiled in anticipation. The conversation at the director’s chair became clearer as he neared.

  “No, damn it. That sucked! They didn’t attack me! There was no heart in it,” she insisted around a long drink of bottled water. Blaster noted she used the tilt of her head to check the site perimeter while appearing engrossed in her discussion. Interesting.

  “They’re supposed to be afraid of you. It was fine. We’ve only got the right light for another hour. Let it go.” The director was barely paying attention to her as he also managed placement of equipment for the next scene.

  Unused adrenaline still beat through her veins as Jas surreptitiously watched the beast of a man trying to look harmless as he strolled up to the set. He was a shitty actor. He couldn’t look harmless if he had bluebirds twittering around his head and Snow White on his arm.

  Where had that silly visual come from? Possibly the blue of his eyes reminded her of those irritatingly cheerful birds. Even as a child, Jas had thought Snow White an idiot and the birds annoying. If that silly chick really were on this man’s arm, she’d have a whole new look. Recently ravaged.

  His disturbing air of watchfulness and the testosterone-enhanced confidence rolling off him spoke of a dark and deadly animal. He was muscle and guile though his face was that of a naughty angel. Outwardly he embodied everything blond, blue-eyed and charming. However he wasn’t quite able to hide the wicked intentions dripping off his attempt at a casual smile. That smile wasn’t reaching his eyes.

  His jeans hugged nicely muscled legs and had a lovely faded look that only came from actual years of wear. The boots below frayed hems were worn at the heel and genuinely scruffy. His nondescript denim shirt had seen better days.

  Everything about him felt powerfully real and a little bit rough under the layer of casual charm he thought he was projecting. He was more in a way that ran a shiver up her spine.

  This man was the sort who’d be gone in the morning, but there’d be a smile on the woman’s face when she realized she was too sore to get out of bed yet. Personally, Jas appreciated that quality in a partner but it was damn difficult to find.

  Blaster was about ten yards away from the director’s chair when a shot pierced the morning. Battle sight accompanied the sound for him and he clearly saw her do a half spin going low, retrieve a handgun from her high boot and return fire at the exact spot where the shot came from. They were already gone and Blaster’s own weapon was trained twenty feet up the mountain when he squeezed off two rounds. Dimly he realized she’d started to move before he had. She was possibly a quicker draw.

  Around the set, everyone dropped and then there was scrambling and screaming. The only people standing were Blaster and the statuesque actress, both with weapons trained on likely retreat paths for the shooters. She took off at a run toward the shooter’s location and Blaster had to follow the “Amazon woman”, yelling at Barry, the director, as he passed him. “Call the cops!”

  “You’re fucking late!” Barry shouted at Blaster’s retreating back.

  Blaster didn’t bother answering as the woman had about reached the far tree line. Luckily, the beautiful fool slowed just inside the shadows. She was moving low and fast but he could catch her at this game. Coming up behind her, he had no doubt she knew he was there. The training she displayed was good but he still wanted to spank her round ass for putting herself in danger by chasing the threat in the woods.

  “They’re long gone. What do you think you’re doing?” Blaster demanded in tightly suppressed anger. She kept moving toward the site where the shooters had been.

  “Shut up or go back,” she hissed at him as if she had a right to.

  “You get back to the set and wait for the cops. Who do you think you are? Sheena, Queen of the Jungle? This is a job for professionals.”

  “I’m using the small words, so focus. I said shut up or get out, stupi
d.”

  She slid through the undergrowth without bending a leaf and if his eyes weren’t trained on her, he might have lost her. She was obviously a professional on some levels Blaster was becoming uncomfortable with.

  “They’re gone. I creased one twenty yards up the mountain as they were moving over the ridge.” Blaster came up beside her as she surveyed the spot where the two men had been standing.

  Hands on hips, Jas studied the ground as the blond gorilla steamed beside her. His accent made him a native son of the South but his training said he’d left home long ago. “You’re a bit of a Huck Finn, aren’t you? What brings you to our little reenactment of the Civil War?”

  He was standing too close. She could feel the heat of his gaze sizzle down the bare skin of her back. His maleness was too damn invasive at the moment and she didn’t want its distraction.