Grissom (In the Company of Snipers #26)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Six days later

Man, he was tired. Home again, safe and sound, and feeling like a TEAM operator once more. Grissom dropped his gear inside his front entry and keyed in the new code to activate his security system, a string of numbers so long Luke wouldn’t be able to remember them. The little guy was smart, but he’d learned his lesson. Poor Luke was skittish now. He jumped now whenever the doorbell rang.

This mission had been an easy, quick in-and-out to spirit thirty-plus Afghan HVTs out of their now-Taliban-controlled country. Among them Arzad’s granddaughter Najela, her husband, and children. Arzad, a longtime friend of Alex, was already in America, having escaped Afghanistan months earlier. The others were Afghan friendlies who’d risked their lives helping American soldiers in the war against the Taliban. Tonight, they were safe and on their way to becoming American citizens.

God bless Alex. He never had any trouble telling the cancel culture media where to shove their toxic political agenda. With President Adams’ knowledge, he’d already funded several clandestine forays into Afghanistan, in the name of humanity, never politics. The press had a field day when they discovered that a private defense contractor, the same man who’d recently been tagged to become the country’s next Vice President, achieved what the US military failed to do. People were all that mattered. Not politicians. Alex still served America, not himself. Grissom wished more Americans were like him.

Locking his gear with its firearms, ammo, and assorted weaponry in the reinforced entryway closet, Grissom’s nostrils flared. His stomach growled. What is that delicious aroma?

He came to a full stop in the middle of his family room, overcome by how different his house felt. How good. How sweet. There was no tension in the air. No underlying current of fear or drama. No little boys’ stilted silence, either. The most amazing sound drifted down from the loft. Grissom had never heard it before. He cocked his head to be sure he wasn’t dreaming.

Tanner’s giggling? The rumble of a sloppy raspberry being blown into some little guy’s neck or tummy joined that breathtaking giggle. Tuesday had to be the maestro behind that heart-stirring music. Because that was what his boys were making—the most beautiful music a father could hope to hear.

“Do it again!” Luke chortled so hard, he coughed and choked a little, but then said in a hoarse voice, “You’re making me laugh, Too-Day! I wub it!”

‘I wub it, too,’ Grissom thought, standing there frozen, like an idiot.

He looked to the loft, speechless. He hadn’t showered while he’d been gone. There hadn’t been enough time, but he was damned tempted to run upstairs and hug everyone before he hit the head. His boys would be happy to see him, and of course he’d brought a few trinkets for them. Not from Afghanistan, there were no souvenirs there worth dragging home. But from the first 7-11 store he came across on his drive home from Joint Base Andrews, where the Air Force C-130 that brought everyone home landed.

Common sense prevailed. There was no way he would crash this party until he’d washed the grit and stink of Afghanistan off his skin and out of his hair. He needed a trim and a shave. Toothpaste and mouthwash would feel damned good. Clean, fresh-smelling clothes wouldn’t hurt. He headed for his room, kicked out of his work boots, peeled his t-shirt over his head, and dropped everything outside the bathroom door, in a smelly pile he might have to burn later.

His homecoming took an unexpected turn when he closed the bathroom door and was treated to the lacy red bra dangling off the hook behind the door. His cock twitched with delight. Well, well, well. Looked like Tuesday had moved in. The army of delicate bottles, a pink crystal atomizer, a hairbrush, and cans of mousse and hairspray decorating the vanity made his smile wider and his cock harder. The pink, poofy bath sponge hanging by a ribbon from the shower faucet broke the house. Hot damn. He’d never experienced this simple act of feminine sharing before. Made him feel like he was already married—again. To the right woman.

Lifting his face to the ceiling, he whispered to The Man Upstairs, “I owe You one.”

Once in the shower, he cranked the tap to extra hot and commenced lathering. His beard was itchy and too long to be comfortable. It needed to be trimmed and washed down the drain. He had his face in the shower spray when a puff of cool air hit his backside. Just when he thought life couldn’t get any better, Tuesday stepped into the spray with him and closed the frosted glass panel behind her beautiful bare ass.

“Welcome home,” his very naked woman whispered, pressing her luscious body into his open arms and trailing her fingers over his chest.

With his blood on fire, Grissom cupped her full breasts and buried his face between them. “I’ve missed you,” he muttered, kissing and nipping those succulent tips, kneading them into rigid peaks before he sucked them into his mouth.

“I can see that,” she groaned, arching back, effectively shoving her tits down his greedy throat. “And them? Did you miss them, too?”

“If you mean these perky girls” —he gave each nipple a full-mouthed bite— “hell, yes, I missed all of you. Are the boys occupied for a minute or two?” Or more.

“I told them I was checking on dinner, but they know you’re coming home today.”

“I can do quick. Can you?”

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Honey, I can do anything you want or need me to do.”

Grissom reacted instantly. There was a frantic, hedonistic rush of slippery fingers and hands sliding over bare skin, followed by a frantic clashing of greedy lips, tongues, and teeth that nearly drowned out the noise of the shower.

His eager hands mapped the salacious curve of her breasts, her narrow waist, and finally, her lush hips. Digging his slippery fingers into the smooth plush cheeks of her ass, he backed Tuesday into the corner under the spray. She was wet, hot, and ready. He was charged to the max and hard as granite. There was no stopping. No reason to.

Surging forward, Grissom breached her core in one slick, sure thrust. As before, Tuesday’s body crashed against him. Her eager mouth inhaled his soul, and her luscious body swallowed his cock, to the hilt.

He gasped at the fierce suction of her most intimate muscles on his manhood. The rush!

She was soft and warm and so damned willing. Like him, she was every bit a warrior. Digging her nails into his ass. Thrusting forward, slamming against him nearly as forcefully as he was powering into her.

The viciously sweet agony of pleasure raced up his spine. Too soon. Too fast. He needed to slow things down. He hadn’t intended to rut like a damned bull the minute he got home. Not with her still healing. But— “Sweet Jesus!” he hissed, then followed that with a hearty, “Fuck! I’m… I’m…”

“Then come,” Tuesday ordered, as if a dominatrix truly was hidden in that sleek, sexy body. Clutching him with muscles that felt like ten demanding little fingers. Stroking him. Urging him to the finish line. He was nearly there. Taking that Leap of Faith again, with seconds to spare when—

Her pelvic muscles contracted, squeezing him so tight that Grissom shot every last one of his lost dreams into the slick heavenly body in his hands. Deeper. Farther. Until he had no idea where his body ended and hers began. They came in a single throbbing heartbeat. One divine creature. Endowed with the power to create life. Blessed with enough grace and love between them to parent a child. To bring that child up with tenderness and devotion.

Her legs and belly quivered with tiny aftershocks, as he emptied himself, remembering too late they hadn’t used protection. Certainly not restraint. But knowing he’d fucked up—in the very best way—made Grissom smile. The mere thought that her flat belly could soon be round with his baby, instigated his horny ass to thrust forward again and again. To go deeper. To nail her harder, in case he missed his target the first time around.

“I love you, woman,” he growled at the angel staring at him with hazy emerald eyes and the cutest loopy smile on her strawberry lips. Her legs were still spread wide and her plump ass was wet and warm in his very capable hands. She was now held up entirely by just the press of his body and his cock. This sweet thing kept surprising him with her strength.

Like the sultry siren Tuesday had no idea she was, she ran her long, elegant fingers over his head, raking his dripping wet hair out of his eyes. Grissom looked down at the delightfully plump breasts flattened against his pecs. Men were such beasts of burden, built out of muscle, bone, and one-track brains. They were built for endurance and war.

But women were so much better, full of tears and love, the purest nurturers in the world when they were made right. While men conquered nations and built enormous machines that crossed oceans, canyons, air, and space, only women, like the sexy lady hugged up against him now, could save frightened children and breathe life back into war-damaged men. Even now, sodden tangles of long brown wet hair drizzled between them, delineating her curves, accentuating her lavish pillowy breasts, and hardening her nipples into diamond points of perfection.

“The boys won’t stay upstairs much longer,” she whispered, gently scrubbing both hands over his head.

Grissom blinked the water out of his eyes, so damned in love that it hurt. “I… I finally have everything,” he murmured, his heart close to breaking at the miracle this woman had wrought in his life. Sure, he’d had a handle on providing for his sons before he’d met Tuesday. But the one thing he’d never been able to give Tanner and Luke was the beautiful emerald heart shining down on him from the corner of his shower.

Relaxing his grip on her ass, he slid Tuesday down his undeserving, rugged male body, to her feet. “I don’t know how I’ve survived without you, love. We should’ve talked about birth control a long time ago, but I’m not sorry we didn’t. I’d be one happy son of a bitch if I just got you pregnant.”

“If we just got me pregnant,” she corrected him, wiggling her tiny tummy against his much wider belly. “I’m pretty sure it takes two to make a baby. You want to start using birth control?”

“Hell no. Look down, woman. What do you see?”

She took a half step back and dropped her eyes. “I see us. Joined in love and play. I see a man who’s ready to play.”

“So you’re okay if we get pregnant?”

Tuesday looped her arms around his neck. “Play later,” she said with a sly shrug. “If we don’t hurry and get dressed, the boys will come knocking, and then you’ll have some explaining to do.”

With one last long loving look at the woman who’d changed his life, Grissom stepped out of the shower and grabbed the nearest towel. “I’m just a man,” he teased, pinching her nipple before he whipped the towel over her head, wrapped it around her, and pulled her in for another kiss. “Here, I’ll help you dry—”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she shrieked, darting out of his reach. “Get dressed,” she ordered, winding that towel into a whip and sending it straight back at him.

He turned to dodge the impact, but— SNAP! Damned if she wasn’t as good a shot with that towel as he’d heard she was with a pistol. She’d made sharp, stinging contact. On his ass!

“You hit me, woman,” Grissom growled, as threatening as he could while grinning.

“Then hurry!” she teased, winding that damned towel into another whip, ready to smack his ass again. “ Our boys are dying to see you. If you hurry, we can surprise them before they get curious and come knocking.”

“You think you’re getting off that easy? I don’t think so.” Grissom easily overpowered Tuesday. Tossing the towel over his shoulder, Grissom hoisted her still naked butt up off the floor and mashed her against his chest. “You got a lucky shot, but that’s all it was, luck.”

“Wanna bet?” Her bright emerald eyes so damned gorgeous.

This woman was Venus come to life in his arms. He’d no more than stopped speaking when she nailed him with a slick, wet kiss of forgetfulness. Fuck, she tasted good. It took a full moment before Grissom had his senses back enough to ask, “What’s cooking? I mean, besides us.”

“Enchilada casserole. Tanner made a green salad to go with it, and Luke honey-buttered the scones. You hungry or something?” she teased.

He’d never seen the sassy side of Miss Tuesday Smart before, but he was loving it. She was a brat, an adorable, sexy brat who wasn’t afraid to be the happy, contented woman in all of her just fucked glory. Delectably, sinfully sweet. A naughty brat maybe, but his brat.

“I’m always hungry for you,” he growled, his body hardening to make love with this woman again. But she was right. His sons needed him, and he needed to get his hands on them. So, while Tuesday dried her tantalizing body, then twisted her wet hair into a ponytail, he trimmed his beard, brushed his teeth, and watched her in the steamy mirror the entire time.

The teasing way she smiled back at him was to die for. She knew he was watching, and the mischievous emerald glints in her eyes dared him to engage. In what, he had no idea… until she wiggled her ass into her panties and jeans. The woman was one helluva Playboy Bunny, standing there half-naked. As seductive as a stripper, she nestled her girls into her bra cups, then lifted a white shirt off the doorknob and—

“Hold up. New duds?” Not like he’d seen much of her wardrobe before, but the shirt hanging off her fingertips did not say New York City. “Where’d you get that?”

“What? This old thing?”

“Doesn’t look old to me. In fact…” He purposefully brushed the backs of his fingers over those brimming satin cups to the shiny brass snaps running from the crisply ironed collar of said shirt, over the white, embossed yoke, and down to the tails. “This is pure western. You’ve been horseback riding? Without me?” With Maverik? I’ll kill him.

She hung her arms around his neck like a lasso, mashing his hands between their bodies. Which served his purpose. Grissom squeezed the full cups of her bra, enhancing her already dynamite cleavage. If they kept this up, they were never leaving the bathroom.

“The boys and I went riding every day you were gone. Maverick set me up with a dappled gray mare, and, oh, yeah, I found a counselor, too. Ms. Ashlee Peyton. She actually called me, looking for you and your boys, wondering why you missed your appointment.”

“Damn. I forgot.”

“No matter. I took the boys in to chat with her after she called. Tanner and Luke jabbered like two little magpies. I think that surprised Ashlee. But I didn’t go in with them for their session. I figured they’d talk more openly without me, so I stayed in the waiting room.”

“They don’t usually say much.”

Tuesday nodded. “That’s what Ashlee said. I talked with her afterward, just to let her know you’d be back for your next session.”

“Come with us?”

“I was hoping you’d ask. I’d love to, as long as it’s okay with the boys.”

“They’ll love having you there. You’re family. Get used to it.”

They dressed, then hurried to the back stairs, where Grissom took the steps two at a time. He couldn’t wait to get his boys in his arms again. But he stalled at the top step. Stunned. Speechless. Tears in his eyes. Tuesday had done it again. She’d told him she’d take his family’s portrait, but this—

She’d turned his plain, unadorned loft into a photographic essay of love. Portraits. Dozens of portraits. Still shots of him with his boys. Close-ups that had him wiping his eyes. Silhouettes taken against the family room’s high front windows. Intimate shots of him and his boys when he hadn’t known she’d been working. The resident photographer, Miss Tuesday Smart, had performed a miracle Christmas morning. She’d blessed this empty old house with spirit. The McCoy spirit.

Several of Tanner’s drawings were professionally framed and positioned in their own separate gallery, complete with display lights mounted above them. The silver metal frames matched the jets he loved. She’d included the F-35 and F-16 pilots’ autographed, glossy eight-by-elevens. Luke had his own separate gallery of the crayon drawings he’d drawn Christmas day. How could Grissom ever thank Tuesday for capturing these memories? For making Tanner and Luke feel important?

Luke noticed him standing there shell-shocked and silent. “Daddy!” he squealed, beating feet straight into Grissom’s arms. He knelt to catch his baby boy as Luke collided with him. “We been busy! I missed you!” he shrilled, peppering Grissom’s face with sloppy kisses, his arms tight around Grissom’s neck and squeezing tighter.

“I see that,” Grissom breathed, so damned emotional he could cry. Could, nothing. He was.

“What’s a matter, Dad?” Tanner asked, his voice tight with worry.

Grissom held out an arm for his anxious oldest son to join him and Luke. “I’m just happy,” he managed to choke. I’m so damned happy.

Tuesday’s fingers were light but firm on his shoulders. She was the glue he hadn’t realized his family needed. She’d made them a family. Her family. All he’d done was buy a house, but she was the one who’d filled it with love and made it home.

Happy was such a small word.