Alpha Prez and the First Lady's Secret Weapon by Kendall Grey

Author:Kendall Grey [Grey, Kendall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Howling Mad Press
Published: 2016-10-16T04:00:00+00:00

Ghost Town

Jake never intended to fall for his wife, yet here he was, breaking laws in a foreign country for her, with her, in her. He still didn’t trust Setta, but who cared about trust when you could have sex like that?

“So, you won’t tell me where you learned to fight,” he said as they sneaked down empty streets, mindful of possible ambush out in the open, “but be straight with me about the marriage. The Matchmakers That Be had to have taken into consideration what you were capable of. It’s no coincidence you know your way around a weapon.”

“My skills may have had something to do with the arrangement,” she conceded.

“How is it that I’m the president, yet I can’t let go of the suspicion there are other forces out there trying to control my every move?”

She paused. “Because there are.”

“Okay, enough with the bullshit. Who are you?”

“Setta Hammer. First Lady of the United States of America. Who are you?” she snarled.

“I think I just showed you who I am, baby. If there’s any question in your mind, I didn’t do a very good job of explaining.”

“No, your explanation was spot on,” she said. “But until you’re straight with me, I can’t be straight with you.”

He huffed. “Fine. Crooked, it is. As soon as we get somewhere safe, I need to make a call. That’ll help us figure out our next move. You are with the good guys, right? I’d hate to have to kill my brand new bride.”

“Yes, I’m one of the good guys. Can we trust each other on that front? We both have the United States’ best interests in mind. Let’s leave it at that.”

He had no reason to trust her, but his dick spoke more loudly than good sense, and right now, the blabbermouth wouldn’t stop singing Setta’s praises. She’s hot. She fucks good. She shoots bad guys like nobody’s business. When do we get to see her naked again?

“I am so turned on right now,” he said.

She blew him off with a laugh. “Let’s go, Horatio Hornyblower.”

He lowered a hand to the small of her back and guided her through streets to the dessert between the industrial side of Dubai into the forgotten lands. About two miles later, the ghost town loomed.

Under the glowing eye of moonlight, parts of the village looked like bleached bones of long-forgotten leviathans, while others seemed fresher with a twitch of life. The dilapidated side housed cube-like dwellings with stripped walls, shattered glass doors and windows, and chipped terra-cotta roof tiles. Even the trees looked malnourished. A couple of kids’ bikes, choking under a layer of dust, lay on the cinder-bricked ground. Broken satellite dishes cluttered yards, face down, ass up.

“Looks like the place,” Jake murmured.

Setta sprinted toward one of the buildings, gun in hand. Her head swiveled to and fro, scanning for other trespassers, no doubt. No lights beamed from any of the buildings.

Jake’s phone buzzed. Buddy texted: Just got some info you requested. Can you talk?

Jake ducked

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