Dutch Read online

  Dutch

  Heather Slade

  K19 Security Solutions Book Five

  Copyright © 2019 by Heather Slade

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN 10: 1-942200-55-2

  ISBN 13: 978-1-942200-55-0

  Also by Heather Slade

  K19 SECURITY SOLUTIONS

  Book One: Razor

  Book Two: Gunner

  Book Three: Mistletoe

  Book Four: Mantis

  Coming Soon!

  Book Six: Striker

  * * *

  MILITARY INTELLIGENCE SECTION 6

  Book One: Shiver

  Coming Soon!

  Book Two: Wilder

  * * *

  BUTLER RANCH

  Available Now!

  Book One: Brodie

  Book Two: Maddox

  Book Three: Naughton

  Book Four: Mercer

  Book Five: Kade

  * * *

  COWBOYS OF CRESTED BUTTE

  Available Now!

  Book One: Fall for Me

  Book Two: Dance with Me

  Book Three: Kiss Me Cowboy

  Book Four: Stay with Me

  Book Five: Win Me Over

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Want more?

  Striker

  About the Author

  Also by Heather Slade

  Prologue

  Her skin was tan from the sun, and her lips were ruby red. Her shoulder-length inky black hair was the same color as the thin silk camisole she wore to stave off the heat. When its spaghetti strap slid off her shoulder, Dutch couldn’t help but wind it around his finger and pull it just a little lower, causing her to try to shrug away and shoot him a look of confusion.

  Up until five o’clock today, he wouldn’t have laid a hand on her. Now, all bets were off. He was no longer Special Agent Malin “Starling” Kilbourne’s boss. In fact, he no longer worked for the CIA at all, which meant he intended to start fulfilling every fantasy he’d had about the woman who made his blood run hot.

  Malin covered his hand with hers. “What are you doing?”

  Dutch smiled. “Peeking.”

  He watched as she looked past him, searching the crowded outdoor patio for the rest of the team that had gone out to celebrate both the end of a mission and Dutch’s leaving the agency. When her gaze settled on him and she moved her hand away, Dutch took the opportunity to walk her backwards a few short steps until she rested against the cool stone wall of the building.

  Her look challenged more than questioned, and when he leaned in to run his tongue over her shoulder, sweet Miss Malin gasped and closed her eyes.

  Was she surprised? Had she not seen this coming? Hadn’t she felt how the air around them crackled when he got within a foot of her?

  Dutch was done denying himself the knowledge of how her naked body would feel under his. He pulled the camisole a little lower until he could see the tip of her dusty-rose nipple.

  —:—

  It wasn’t just the heat and humidity of the summer night that made it hard for her to breathe; Thomas “Dutch” Miller, her former boss as of a few short hours ago and star of every fantasy she’d had as a woman, had his hands on her. Not just his hands, his lips and tongue too.

  She was used to seeing him in the dark suits he wore to work every day along with a crisp, white button-down shirt and a conservative tie. Tonight, he wore a faded blue t-shirt that was the perfect size to show off the muscles she knew he worked hard to maintain and a pair of khaki cargo shorts. His blond hair was cropped close, but she’d heard him say he intended to grow it long now that he was retiring—at least from working directly for the agency. She’d heard that he planned to join a private firm owned by several former agency operatives.

  As much as she wanted to watch as he bent his head and laved the nipple he’d just exposed, her eyes drifted closed. With one hand, she clutched his arm, not to stop him, but in an attempt to hang on for dear life as the man set her already overheated body on fire.

  She was disappointed when he drew the strap of her camisole back up to her shoulder, but groaned with equal intensity when he pulled her arm away from her body and studied the tattoo on the soft skin covering her tricep. He leaned forward again and ran the hard tip of his tongue over the right arrow, the one with the shaft piercing a diamond. That one symbolized invincibility. He moved to the left, tracing the feathered arrow that represented liberty, triumph, and independence.

  “I like these,” he murmured, raising his head so his lips were close enough to hers to touch. “I like them on your skin.”

  If Malin could speak, she wouldn’t know what to say. The man had equally intimidated and excited her since the day the CIA’s human resource officer led her into his office.

  “You’re mine now, Kilbourne,” Dutch had said that day, but not meaning it in the way she’d wanted him to even after a few minutes in his presence.

  Part of her had considered asking for a different assignment, but she didn’t. Doing so would’ve been more of a career-killer than lusting after her first boss.

  Malin put both hands under his shirt and rested her palms just above the waist of his shorts. His skin was hot to the touch while hers alternated between scorching and covered in chill bumps depending on where he ran his tongue.

  “You’re mine now, Malin,” he murmured, his words fulfilling the first fantasy she’d had of what it would be like to be seduced by him. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He took her hand and led her out the back gate of the bar’s patio and to his car. He pushed her up against the passenger door and rested his rock-hard body flush with hers.

  “Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he said, his eyes boring into hers.

  “I do,” she breathed right before he took her mouth with his in a kiss that was more incendiary than the hottest flame. She knew it would burn; she only hoped she could withstand the pain he’d inevitably cause her.

  Everyone knew Dutch Miller was already in love, and it wasn’t with her.

  1

  Dutch studied the woman sitting on the other side of the private plane that would take them from Bagram Airfield back to the States. She’d changed so much since the first day he met her. She was harder, as though someone had rubbed at her skin until it turned into the thick layer she’d need to protect herself both from the bad guys of the world and from men like himself.

  She’d said little since he’d raced in, grabbed her after shooting the man who’d had a gun to her head, and carried her to the waiting transport vehicle.

  At first he thought she was in shock, but the only symptoms she exhibited were anxiety and restlessness. She didn’t appear either cool and clammy, or to be breathing abnormally. There was no sign of confusion, just out-and-out anger.

  “Malin, it’s time for us to—”

  “Go to hell, Dutch,” she spat, refusing to turn her head.

  “You could be a little more appreciative, given I saved your ass. You know Orlov was going to kill you.”

  She folded her arms and looked out the plane’s window so he could only see the back of her head.

  “You understand that, right? Your options were to leave your body here on earth while your soul climbed the stairway to heaven, or be here with me. I’d say you went with the better of the two.”

  “I didn’t make the decision, Dutch. You made it for me.”

  “When would dying be a better option, sweetheart?”

  He saw her flinch.

  “You can’t hate me that much.”

  Malin shook her head and turned to look at him. “I was in the middle of a mission. One that I’ve been working for months.” Her eyes bored into his. “You blew it up.”

  “Either way, the mission would’ve ended. The only two possible outcomes after that were you dead or alive.”

  “Orlov wouldn’t have killed me,” she said, turning away from him again.

  “How can you be so certain? Word we got from the agency was that your in was to act as a trainer for the Islamic State’s female recruits. Tell me, Starling, how did Orlov figure into that?”

  “Don’t call me Starling, and I just know he wouldn’t have killed me,” she responded, side-stepping everything else he’d said.

  Dutch knew she’d detested the code name since it was given to her by someone above Dutch’s head at the CIA. He had never been told who it was.

  “All I’m saying is it doesn’t add up.”

  She didn’t act like she was listening, so he got up, walked over, and sat in the seat next to her.

  “I’m sorry about your op, but I’m not sorry you’re safe.” He leaned close enough that their arms touched.

  She didn’t pull away, and ther
e was plenty of room that she could have.

  “Malin, baby, look at me.”

  She shook her head again. “I can’t do this again, Dutch. Even if you have no respect for me as an agent, please muster up enough for me as a woman to leave me the hell alone.”

  There was no reason for him to ask what she meant by respecting her as a woman. He’d done exactly the opposite when he walked away from her all those months ago. More than just walking away—he’d chosen another woman over her.

  That same woman would soon be married to his best friend, and there were no two people who belonged together more than they did.

  —:—

  Why did he have to sit next to her? Didn’t he remember how her body responded to him? How could he have possibly forgotten?

  They didn’t even need to touch. If Dutch merely looked at her, she’d melt into a pool of whomever the man wanted her to be in that moment—agent, friend, lover—whatever he wanted, whatever he needed, whomever he needed, Malin was powerless to do anything but give it to him.

  How many times had she replayed the events of the night she’d let him go when he needed someone other than her? Hundreds.

  As she sat in his kitchen, wearing nothing but a button-down, white dress shirt like the ones he used to wear to work and a pair of pink panties, she watched as he studied his phone when it rang. He didn’t look up at her before he answered the call. Even without being able to overhear the woman speaking on the other end, Malin would’ve known whom it was.

  As they both listened, Dutch scrubbed his face and told the woman he’d “be right there.”

  “She’s drunk,” he said. “At the very least, I have to get her home.”

  “Go,” she told him. “She needs you.”

  When she came out of the bedroom a few minutes later, he was already gone.

  Months went by before she saw Dutch again, and then he’d had amnesia and had no idea who she was. She had been working the same op then that he’d blown to bits a few short hours ago.

  Malin had almost blown it up herself that night when the man who stood between her and the organization she had been assigned to infiltrate, demanded she hand Dutch over to the al-Qaeda bastards that were responsible for beating him nearly to death before she found him wandering the streets of a small town in Germany.

  In that moment, she’d asked herself what Dutch would do. Without having to think about it, she knew he would’ve done anything to keep the op going. And then, he would’ve turned around and gotten her rescued, just like she had for him.

  * * *

  “Tell me about the mission,” she heard him murmur.

  “My mission was to infiltrate the Islamic State by acting as a trainer for their female recruits.”

  He smirked and leaned closer. “You can tell me the truth, baby. I have the necessary security clearance.”

  Was this how he meant it to go? Would Dutch try to seduce her into divulging the true nature of her mission? Malin would’ve laughed out loud if it wouldn’t have let him know how close he was to the right track.

  Instead, she kept the wall she’d built around her heart firmly in place, determined she’d never let him penetrate it again, no matter how much he still made her girly bits do a happy dance.

  —:—

  Dutch stood and walked to the front of the plane to use the bathroom when Malin dozed off. Between whatever her real dealings were with the Islamic State, not to mention United Russia by way of Sergei Orlov, the woman probably hadn’t gotten much rest in the last several weeks.

  “Got a minute?” Onyx asked from the cockpit.

  “If we’re headed home, I’ve got a few hours.”

  Onyx nodded at the co-pilot, a man Dutch didn’t recognize, and stood, motioning toward the galley. He walked out and closed the cockpit door behind him.

  “Who is that guy?” Dutch asked.

  “Contractor. Listen, I got word from Doc.”

  “And?”

  “What do you think about Indian Springs Island?”

  Dutch scrubbed his face with his hand and shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I want somewhere more remote.”

  “It belongs to Gunner. You won’t find anywhere more secure.”

  He knew Onyx was right. Gunner Godet, one of four senior partners at K19 Security Solutions where Dutch was a junior partner, would make sure his island was secured tighter than the CIA headquarters.

  “Gunner’s got some experience with United Russia,” Onyx added.

  “We don’t know she was after United Russia.”

  “Why was Orlov there if the beautiful Miss Malin wasn’t after them?”

  Inexplicably irritated with Onyx for calling Malin beautiful, Dutch changed the subject. “Brief me on how this will go after we land.”

  “The plan was to chopper out of Reagan.”

  “Roger that,” said Dutch, distracted when he thought he heard Malin groan.

  “Sleeping Beauty must be coming to. I gotta get back to flying the plane.”

  First beautiful, now Sleeping Beauty; Onyx’s words didn’t sit right with Dutch, not that he could say why, other than his feelings toward her were proprietary.

  He’d saved her life. Wasn’t there some legend or voodoo thing that said he was supposed to protect her forever now?

  He returned to sit next to her, reclined his seat, and pulled her close enough that her head rested on his chest. She was so damn exhausted, she didn’t wake up.

  “Sweet girl,” he murmured, running his fingers through her hair.

  As he rested his head against hers, he wondered again what in the hell he’d been thinking the night when Alegria called and he ran straight to her. Malin deserved so much more, then and now.

  Before she fell asleep, Malin asked him to respect her as a woman and leave her alone. He did respect her—as a woman, a CIA agent, and as one of the finest human beings he’d ever known. Why did he need to leave her alone to prove that to her?

  He was kidding himself if he thought groveling would make her accept his apologies and give him another chance, but if she’d let him hold her, even if only while she slept, he’d take it. Having her in his arms again felt so damn good.

  First, though, it was up to him to find out what the mission really was that took her to Pakistan, by way of Germany, along with how Sergei Orlov had been involved.

  In the meantime, his every instinct was screaming at him to protect her from the same government agency on whose behalf she undertook the mission, to begin with.

  Malin, still soundly asleep, shifted her body and put her arm around his waist. He’d forgotten how easily their bodies molded together, even though he hadn’t appreciated it at the time. Then, he’d believed a different woman would fit him better than anyone else. As it turned out, they hadn’t fit at all.

  Dutch closed his eyes. Part of him wished he could turn back time and undo what he’d done that night. Another part of him knew that if things hadn’t gone the way they had, he might have spent the rest of his life pining for a woman who turned out to be all wrong for him.

  —:—

  Hovering in the zone between awake and asleep, Malin struggled the way she always did. Should she keep her eyes closed, hoping the dream she was having about Dutch would continue, or should she wake all the way up, hoping that the pain of it only being a dream wouldn’t linger too long?

  She ran her hand over his chest that felt all too real, and opened her eyes.

  “Hi,” he murmured when she looked up at him.

  She tried to move away, but he held her close.