Unleashing the Storm by Sydney Croft Page B

wouldn’t know what hit him tonight when she walked into the bar. She
wondered how long it would take him to recognize her, especially if she used an
accent, one complementing any of the twelve languages in which she was fluent.
Brown contacts would disguise her blue eyes.
    She
just hoped Creed’s stupid tagalong ghost wouldn’t interfere again. That bitch
had ruined more than one night with him, and Annika was seriously tempted to
shock the earthbound spirit, as he called her, right out of the
earthbound world permanently. Even when they did manage to get in a good fuck
without Kate’s interference, Annika had a feeling Creed paid for it later,
though he never talked about it.
    Then
again, they didn’t talk much at all. Creed tried, like she needed some sort of
mushy emotional connection or something, but no way. She wasn’t some insecure
twit who thought a man completed her. Gag.
    A
tingle of electricity skittered over her skin, reminding her to hurry up and
get dressed and quit thinking about pillow talk and creepy, overprotective
ghosts. Tonight she was getting laid, ghost or no.
     
    CREED
SAT ON A WORN STOOL at the bar, two women on one side who’d been trying to gain
his attention all night without success and a biker on the other.
    He’d
just downed his second shot of Jägermeister and was motioning to the bartender
to pour him a third, when his skin began to grow sensitive to a sudden change
in air pressure around him.
    He
shifted so he could see the front door better and tried not to get his hopes
up.
    ACRO
was starting to kick into high gear this time of year—it had been a long winter
in Upstate New York and spring fever was taking over fast.
    For
operatives not out of the country, it had been a long, cold season. But Creed
had finally found the warmth he’d been wanting for years last September at
Dev’s family mansion.
    Even
now, just thinking about that experience, an unpleasant shiver shot straight
through his spine that had nothing at all to do with the memories of making
love to Annika in that house. He shifted in his seat, knew that if she were
here she wouldn’t be able to hide the look of concern in her eyes at his sudden
reaction.
    They’d
discussed it the last time they’d been together, when Annika mentioned she was
worried about Dev. That something was bothering their boss.
    Even
though it chapped Creed’s ass to play second fiddle in Annika’s life, he’d
never let Dev down. Dev had known him his entire life, and Creed had far too
much respect for the man to let anything happen to him.
    His
skin tightened again, the line between pleasure and pain narrowing, and he
forced himself to turn away from the door. But when he caught sight of it
opening, he couldn’t look away, and his entire body sighed in relief as the
woman with the long, dark hair sauntered directly up to him, her short leather
skirt showing off the greatest pair of legs he’d ever seen.
    It
took everything he had not to grab and kiss her. Instead, he leaned back on his
stool and just watched her.
    “Hey,
baby,” she said, her voice low and seductive. “Love your tats.”
    She’d
put a hand out to trace the intricate pattern covering the right side of his
face and neck, and he would’ve gladly stripped right there in the middle of the
bar to let her continue her trail of touch down the entire right side of his
body.
    “Yours
aren’t bad either,” he said.
    “I
have more,” she said, bared a shoulder provocatively, until the guy sitting to
his right—a member of the Hell’s Angels—began to enjoy the show a little too
much.
    Annika
always liked it when Creed played along as long as possible. It made her feel
like she actually had a shot at fooling him. But he wasn’t about to let a man
whose nickname was “Meat” come anywhere close to the woman he loved.
    Not
that he’d mentioned the love thing to Annika, because she’d freak.
    “She’s
with me,” he said to Meat, who reluctantly turned back to his