Midnight Kiss (Men of Midnight #7) - Lisa Marie Rice Page 0,56
chest and thrust forward hard.
It hurt, just a little. She wriggled, trying to accommodate him.
“Sorry,” he gasped.
His face was against her neck and she could feel the puff of air as he spoke. He dropped kisses against her jawline, up the side of her face, back down. His mouth settled over hers and he gave her sweet little first-prom date kisses. Such a contrast from his penis inside her, like two entirely different men were making love to her.
He wasn’t moving. She was wet now and wanted him to move. Now.
Hope shifted her head and bit him on the jaw.
“Luke. Rangers lead the way.”
“Oh yeah.” He kissed her deeply then and moved.
Lorne Resnick pulled into what once had been a driveway, though now it was barely visible through the weeds. He drove under a big faded sign, HAPPY TRAILS TRAILER PARK, onto a rutted path and killed the engine when the path basically dried up.
So, this is where Court Redfield had sent him. He scouted the terrain before opening the door. He was good with situational awareness. He was good with all of it, though the Army hadn’t appreciated his gifts at all. He waited for that little spurt of bile, for the sudden flush of anger, but it only lasted a second. Because, lucky him. Since the military had treated him like shit he’d ended up in a covert position in the CIA’s secret army, when special activities at the CIA was being run by Court Redfield. Court took them private, outside the power structure of the government. A tight little unit answerable to no one except Redfield himself. Almost ten times the pay and the only rule was get the job done.
Resnick was good at getting the job done once you untied his hands.
So he became the general of Court Redfield’s own private army and then damned if Redfield didn’t declare his candidacy for the Big One. He’d win, too. Redfield knew a lot of secrets and he didn’t play nice. Resnick was going to be the right-hand man of the goddamned President of the United States.
Maybe even his surrogate son, since Redfield’s own son seemed to be a fuckhead who didn’t want anything to do with his old man.
Resnick understood that, down to the bone, only his old man had been nothing like Court Redfield. His old man had been a nasty drunk who couldn’t hold down a job and made the people around him pay for his failings. Why Bard Redfield hated his father so much was a mystery, but it did create a sort of a job opening.
Resnick was exactly the kind of guy a father would be proud of. At least a father who wasn’t like his own asshole father.
Resnick was going to do Redfield’s bidding and make himself indispensable and move up in the world. Right up to the right-hand side of the most powerful man in the world.
He sat for a moment in the California sunshine, hands dangling over the steering wheel, and let the images run through his head. Money and power, his for the asking. Women too. Women followed money and power like pigs to the trough. They were programmed for it. Resnick was on a trajectory that led right to the top.
Since he’d joined Redfield’s private army his domestic bank account had swelled, but it was a shadow of what he had stashed abroad. He owned his own condo in DC but he also owned a working ranch in Argentina, a beachfront property in Aruba and a hotel in Tirana. All in the name of a holding company no one could trace back to him. Redfield himself had showed him how.
There was more, much more, ahead of him. He just had to not fuck up. He’d fucked up — once! — in the military and had barely avoided a court martial but it had been the best thing to happen to him. Court Redfield had recognized talent and had scooped him up.
And Court Redfield would soon be the most powerful man in the world, so that worked out just fine.
Resnick shook himself. He was here for a purpose, not to daydream about marvelous futures. Though it was hard not to, hard not to look around this hardscrabble trailer park and reflect on how far he’d come. Because this was exactly the kind of place he’d come from. Where dreams had been ground into the dust so long ago they were barely memories.