Brass Monkey: A James Acton Thriller Book #2 Read Online Free PDF

determined to be the first to see her. He closed his eyes and pictured her auburn hair draped across her naked shoulders, her head tossed back, her eyes squeezed shut as they had made love in the hot tub at the Grand Hyatt in New York City three years ago when he had hatched the final phase of the plan—the retrieval of the arming codes for the missile they had retrieved over twenty years before.
    A soft knock on the door snapped him from his reverie. Could it be? The knock was far too soft for his gruff sergeant. He walked to the door and peered through the keyhole, and smiled. He opened the door and she said nothing, showing no emotion, as she walked in. He closed and latched the door behind her and turned to face her. She threw her purse and jacket on a nearby chair then spun around, revealing a smile as breathtaking as the day he had first seen her. She stepped toward him and slipped her arms around his waist, tilting her head back and closing her eyes.
    “Oh, Dorogaya, how I’ve missed you,” she whispered.
    He leaned down and kissed her soft, full lips, gently at first, then with a growing intensity, as a lust from three years of separation took over. He knew there was no love there, but there was something. An animal intensity of desire neither wanted to resist. Her finger nails scratched at his shirt, then she reached in front and feverishly unbuttoned it. That was his cue to return the favor, unbuttoning her blouse, then shrugging off his shirt as she let hers fall to the floor. She kicked off her red high heel shoes, unzipped the tight miniskirt and wiggled it to the floor as he reached for his belt buckle.
    “Nuh ah,” she said, wagging her finger. She dropped to her knees, and seized his belt, tugging him toward her. She reached up and loosened the fly, then, with her teeth, opened it the rest of the way. “I see you still don’t wear underwear.”
    He smiled down at her. “Not when I know I’m seeing you.”
    A rap at the door made them both jump.
    “Go away!” yelled Trubitsin.
    “But, boss, it’s me!”
    The voice of his sergeant was unmistakable.
    “Go away!” yelled Trubitsin again.
    “But, boss, I’ve got nowhere to go!”
    Anya laughed and fell back on her haunches, staring up at Trubitsin. She slapped his pride and stood. “Put that thing away and let him in, there’s plenty of time for that later.”
    Trubitsin stood there for a moment, debating what to do. Yakovski’s pounding on the door made up his mind. “Alright, stop making so much noise, you’ll wake everybody!” he yelled. He stuffed his waning member back in his pants, zipped up his fly and opened the door as Anya buttoned her blouse nonchalantly in front of the mirror.
    Yakovski barged in. “Hey, what’s the idea?” Then he stopped as he took in the scene before him. “Oh…” He trailed off then smiled at Trubitsin. “Good thing I took my time, eh, boss?”
    “Uh huh.”
    “So, Anya, how long have you been here?”
    “Five minutes.”
    Yakovski gulped. “Oh.” He looked at Trubitsin and whispered, “Sorry, boss.”
    Trubitsin shook his head, the sexual frustration still in control.
    “Down to business, darling?” asked Anya, dragging him reluctantly back to reality.
    Trubitsin nodded as he retrieved his shirt from the floor. “Da. You have it?”
    Her Cheshire cat grin left no doubt. “Oh yes, my darling, I have it.”
    “And how did you get it?”
    “Oh, I don’t know if you want to know that.”
    “I do!” chimed in his sergeant as he sat in one of the chairs and poured himself a glass of vodka, then holding the bottle up, asked Anya with his eyebrows if she wanted some. She nodded.
    “Very well,” she said as she took the glass he poured her. “All you really need to know is he was a charming, shy boy, who worked in the Pentagon archives, who had a penchant for gambling, and the ladies. The rest was easy.”
    “You mean you were easy,” grumbled Trubitsin.
    “Are we jealous, darling?” Anya