Chapter One: Furied – Heather Slade

CODE NAME: FURY

A whirlwind romance turns into a dangerous game of secrets and lies.
Two hearts unite against a powerful family’s machinations.
Love conquers all in a world of wealth, power, and betrayal

TRES
I never expected to fall in love while hiding from my family by working as a bouncer in Texas, but Ellison Storm swept into my life like a powerful tempest. Our whirlwind romance led to a hasty marriage, but before I could reveal my true identity as the heir to a billion-dollar empire, I was kidnapped. Now, reunited with my fierce and loyal wife, we must confront the dark secrets of my family’s past and forge our own path forward. Can our love withstand the storm of lies, betrayal, and loss that threatens to tear us apart?

FURY
As a former CIA agent turned attorney, I thought I’d seen it all. Then I met Tres, the man who would become my husband in a matter of days. When he vanished without a trace, I was thrust into a world of wealth and power I never knew existed. Determined to find him, I uncovered a web of family secrets and betrayals that left me questioning everything. Now that we’re reunited, we must fight to protect our love and decide what kind of future we want to build together. Can we overcome the differences in our backgrounds and his family’s push to keep us apart?

CHAPTER ONE

There was nothing like the burn of a neat shot of bourbon as the smooth liquid slid down my throat. I considered it a reminder of how pleasure could follow pain. As the warmth settled in my tummy then coursed through my veins, I looked over at the man who’d been my friend with benefits as he danced with the new woman in his life.

In all the years I’d known him, Rip never once looked at me the way he looked at Pearl. It hurt, but it was my pride that was wounded, not my heart. I’d known all along, in the same way he did, that we weren’t “the one” for each other.

Rip had found his “it” girl, and I was happy for him in the same way he’d be happy for me if I ever found the man I was meant to spend my life with.

Now, though, sitting at the bar and wishing I was dancing like they were, sucked. Big time. Sure, there were a few men here tonight I could ask to two-step me around the crowded dance floor, and I’d certainly never been accused of being shy, but my heart wasn’t in it.

Instead, I signaled Rebel, the bartender closest to me, for another shot.

“How ya doin’ tonight, Fury?” she asked as she filled my empty glass with two fingers of the smoky dark-amber liquor I’d grown to love.

“You want the truth or a line?”

She smiled. “Always the truth, my friend.”

“I’m feeling a like the odd man out, as they say.”

“I get that, this bein’ a private party and all. No strangers here tonight; just the same ol’, same ol’. Not that I care.” Rebel was happily married to a man I’d run a mission or two with back when I was a CIA operative. I’d left that life, though, to pursue another form of the law as an attorney.

Edge and Rebel, like Rip and Pearl, were meant to be. Soul mates. Their suns rose and set for each other.

I downed the shot and was about to call it a night when I remembered I got here on my own and was in no shape to drive myself the thirty miles back to my house in the city. Getting a car service here in the hills outside Austin, Texas, would be impossible on any given night, but more so on a Sunday.

“Fuck,” I muttered to myself since Rebel had walked away.

“Would you like to dance?” I heard a sultry Spanish-accented voice say from my right at the same time I felt a body brush up against mine. I slowly turned my head to see if the man looked as good as he sounded and was pleasantly surprised to discover he exceeded my hopes.

“Who are you?” I asked, surprised that there was anyone here tonight I didn’t know, given, as Rebel had said, it was a private party.

“My friends call me Tres.”

I looked down the length of him. Good Lord, the man was hotter than a ghost pepper. “How’d you sneak an invite to this shindig, Tres?”

“I’m actually working. I’m head bouncer here at the Long Branch.”

“Yeah? Your bosses won’t mind if you abandon your duties?”

“They encourage it. Maeve will tell you if you don’t dance at least once a night, especially when you’re working, you don’t belong here.”

Maeve, the wife of the attorney whose firm I joined a few months ago, was on the floor, dancing with her husband, Hammer. They’d purchased the bar around the same time the previous owner—Bobby MacIver—retired from “the scene,” as he’d told everyone.

I knew the real reason, though; Bobby had stage-four cancer and didn’t want to spend every night working the kind of hours a place like this required. Maeve and Hammer had been smart to hire a crew capable of running the Branch for them if they needed or wanted time away from it.

A chill coursed through me when Tres trailed his finger from my wrist up to my elbow, and I met his gaze.

“Dance with me, niña hermosa.”

Between his accent and his classically handsome looks, how could I say no?

When I woke the next morning, my mouth felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton balls. My head throbbed, and I was bare-ass naked—not the way I usually slept. And I wasn’t alone. Tres-the-bouncer was in my bed, head propped on his bent arm, staring at me.

Rather than speak, he leaned forward and swirled my nipple with the tip of his tongue. While I didn’t remember much of last night, memories of the pleasure his mouth brought me awakened my every nerve ending.

While I’d normally kick a guy out of my bed long before sunrise, last night I’d let Tres stay. Maybe it was the promise of more of the best sex I’d had in my life that kept me from giving him the boot. Or, maybe I’d been too drunk to care and simply passed out. Not something I was proud of.

Tres kept up his assault on my breasts, alternating between nipples until my body began to writhe. Then, he spread my legs and cupped my pussy.

“Already so wet for me,” he murmured. “I think you like my hands and mouth on your body.”

“Shh,” I moaned more than said. I didn’t want to talk or even to listen. I wanted every part of my brain to be able to focus on how what he was doing to me felt.

“I thought you liked the dirty talk,” he murmured. “You did last night.”

He wasn’t wrong. I remembered now how each orgasm he wrung from me was enhanced by the way he described in great detail how my body made his feel and what he wanted to do to me next.

I shuddered when Tres pushed the bedclothes out of his way and settled himself between my legs. I peeked down to make sure he was wearing a condom, but closed my eyes again as soon as I saw he was.

“I want you to watch. Watch as my rabo slides into your chirri, mi tormenta.”

The one and only language I spoke was English. However, I didn’t need to know a word of Spanish to understand what he wanted me to see.

I cried out when he thrust his massive penis deep inside me. The heat of what I knew would be multiple orgasms spread throughout my body.

Before the last of the shudders of pleasures left me depleted, Tres rolled so I was on top. He grasped both of my breasts and squeezed my nipples through two fingers. The orgasm I thought had ended, kept rolling through me. I arched my back when he put his hands on my waist, holding me in place as he jackhammered into me until I screamed out in mind-blowing ecstasy.

“God, you’re good at that,” I murmured as I rolled off of him and onto my back. Chill bumps spread over my skin when he scattered kisses down my side.

“We are not finished, maravillosa.”

“Yeah, we are.” I half laughed given I didn’t have enough energy for a full chuckle, nor did I have enough to ask him what the term of endearment meant.

“I will make you rage again and again, mi tormenta.”

He’d called me that last night and when I asked why, he said, “In my country, it is what we call a powerful storm.”

Storm was my last name. I’d say it was how I’d gotten my code name—Fury—back when I was still with the CIA, but it wasn’t. I’d earned the somewhat disparaging moniker after losing my head in a fit of raging anger. I’d blame it on my youth, however, even though I’d learned to temper my tantrums—in part due to a really good therapist—they still raged beneath the surface when provoked.

My dad was the same way. Except, he had my mom to talk him off the ledge when he was about to let his anger rage. I’d never had anyone in my life who did that for me. Mainly because I never let any get close enough to know my struggle with anger management.

When Tres stroked my cheek with his fingertip, I met his gaze. “So lost in thought. What about, I wonder?”

I turned my face away rather than into his touch. “As much as I’d like to lie here in bed with you all day, I have too much to do.” I glanced at the clock on the nightstand behind him. “It’s already way past the time I should’ve left the house.” Not that the time mattered. In fact, once he was gone, I’d probably go back to sleep.

Tres grabbed both my wrists and held them over my head with one hand and kissed me. “Last night you insisted you had nothing to do today or even for the rest of the week.”

“Must’ve been drunk. In fact, I think we both know was I more than inebriated.”

Tres expression changed. “Don’t disparage yourself or us by blaming it on anything other than our bodies being in total sync with one another.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well some of us have real jobs that require us to be out of bed before noon every day. So while I may have said something different in the ‘heat of the moment,’ now I really do have to get to work.”

The look on his face was one of amusement. Maybe with a bit of condescension mixed in. As if being a bouncer was far-superior to being an attorney. “If your intention was to insult me, you did not.”

I laughed. This time heartily, but not sharing the same amusement he appeared to be feeling. “Frankly, I don’t care if I insulted you or not.” I wrenched my hands from his grasp, got out of bed, and padded over to the bathroom. “It’s been fun, Tres. I’m sure you can find your way out.” I closed and locked the door behind me.

Maybe it was stupid to leave the guy free to roam around my apartment, however, I knew where he worked and while our jobs were vastly different, we did share the same boss.

I took my time in the shower, wincing at the places my body hurt after so many months of “inactivity.” Until Tres, Rip had been the last man I’d had sex with and it had literally been too long ago for me to remember exactly when that was.

Tres was right about me not anything to do today or even all week. I didn’t have any cases on the docket or clients to meet with since in my new role as attorney of record for the Invincible Intelligence and Security Group, they were my only client. However, I did have things I wanted to do.

Maybe I’d get my nails done. Or go by the market. Perhaps get some new clothes. I could wash my car too since it was covered in dust from being out at the Long Branch—fuck. My car was at the Long Branch. Dammit. Why hadn’t I remembered while Tres was still here and could give me lift to pick it up? It wasn’t like I had any real friends I could ask. I supposed Hammer was a friend, but he was a little tied up with his wife. Rip too. Not that Pearl was his wife yet, but I doubted he’d appreciate an interruption from me, his former lover, asking for a ride to my car since I was too drunk to drive it home last night.

I shrugged a shoulder, knowing I’d be forced to hire a car service who would charge me an astronomical amount of money to drive me out to the boonies. I’d hate spending so much money—since I was ridiculously tight-fisted—but I certainly could afford it. Having grown up poor, I vowed never to be again. I saved half of everything I earned and I was making more money now than I ever imagined possible.

When I came out of the bedroom, an aroma that was distinctly coffee overwhelmed my senses. Bless that man if he’d made a pot before he left.

Rather than get dressed before checking, I strolled toward the kitchen in nothing but a towel, shrieking when I bumped into Tres and the cup of coffee he was carrying in the direction of my bedroom ended up crashing to the floor, spraying both of our nearly naked bodies with hot, steamy liquid.

“¡Dios mío!” he shouted, racing back toward the kitchen presumably to grab paper towels.

I couldn’t wait that long. I dropped my bath towel and used it to wipe away the scalding coffee that landed mainly on my legs and feet.

Instead of paper towels, Tres came back with what appeared to be every dish towel I owned.

“Stand on this before you cut your feet,” he said, dropping two to the floor. He took the others and as I held the bath towel in front of me, proceeded to wipe off both my feet, my ankles, and my legs.

“Um, Tres, I got it all,” I said once he reached my knees.

“I need to be sure.” He pulled the towel from my hands, tossed it behind him, then used his hands and mouth to check my skin for anymore splatters.

“None landed there,” I moaned when he reached the apex of my thighs and spread my legs. I weaved my fingers in his hair, steadying myself as he licked through my folds. “Tres, God,” I moaned again when he used to fingers to spread me open more and sucked on my clit.

I leaned against the wall as another powerful orgasm left me almost unable to stand. When Tres swept me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom, I didn’t bother protesting, mainly because I didn’t want to.

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