Mastered By The Mavericks (41 page)

“For what it’s worth,”—and he knew, coming from him and his alley cat dick, it wasn’t
much—“I’ve never felt this way before. About a woman
or
a man.”

Rhett didn’t speak through a moment of burlap-thick silence. Another. Finally, he
clared his throat. Shifted in his seat like a linebacker being stuffed into a bumper
car. “Yeah, well…stop it.”

Rebel didn’t respond. Weren’t a lot of options, since he pretty much deserved it.
He’d demanded that Rhett pull up the rug and expose the dirt, and received exactly
that. But he’d brought the wrong clean-up crew. The filth wasn’t what he’d expected.
Rhett had freely clasped hands with him, totally unafraid of openly acknowledging
their connection. He had no more issues about being publically affectionate than Rebel
did.

So the man’s steel box…didn’t exist.

The filth…was him. His casual sex. His disposable submissives. His “Rebel’s Roadhouse”
of an apartment—he had no idea what the word
home
even meant, much less how to create one—complete with a spare bedroom so his partners
could “enjoy their space” after he was done with them. More accurately, so
he
could enjoy the space…

He saw the whole truth with glaring clarity now. And let his head plummet back to
the steering wheel from the disgusting sludge of it. He was dragged lower by an albatross
so heavy, a dozen bricks must be attached it. Bricks wrapped in more of that sludge.

Shame he’d never be able to escape or change.

So this was what they meant, when they talked about the weight of loneliness.

A breath pushed out of him. Another. He lost himself to their cadence, so consumed
that he gained air off the seat when something suddenly pounded the window next to
him.

Not something.

Someone.

A beaming brown-eyed girl, still clad only in her Braneff Brothers T-shirt and those
cute short-shorts, bouncing on her toes and beaming like a kid at a carnival.

Brynn giggled, obviously realizing she’d pulled off the impossible and startled him,
while her lingerie-less breasts bobbed to distraction beneath the tee. Reb didn’t
even try to avoid the view, and the reflection off the window showed him Rhett had
hopped that bandwagon, too.

“Hey.” She yanked open the door and moved into the little crevice she’d just formed.
“Are you two out here slacking?”

If she meant learning that that there really wouldn’t ever be a chance for him with
Rhett, then yes, he’d absolutely been slacking. He didn’t bother masking his
bah, humbug
scowl because of it, either. Yeah yeah, so it was the middle of May.
Bah fucking humbug
.

Though the next moment, fate really set out to test him on that one—to the power of
four.

Brynna hopped up and down a little more, only now with a hand gesturing forward, over
the hood of the SUV. “Look what I found!” she exclaimed. “Hot damn. Can I shop, or
what?”

“Hot Damn” wouldn’t have been Reb’s first expression when lifting his sights to the
five familiar figures standing shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the car, each dressed
in camo BDUs and carrying a sizable mission go-bag. Looked like El had been a busy
little bird since their radio conversation—and earned herself a night of thank-you
beers from Rhett and him in the doing. He’d never been happier to lay eyes on Garrett,
Zeke, and Kellan again—the latter now accompanied by the man who was the usual surgical
attachment to his side. Tait Bommer, clearly having finished his top-secret training,
now stood between Kell and his little brother.

Thank fuck
someone
had stepped up for the duty.

Even clothed in head-to-toe black, Shay Bommer was an intimidating sight—especially
with his face set in a glower that matched his fatigues. His older brother’s arrival
hadn’t soothed the raging giant at all. Shay’s eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks skeletal,
his dark gold beard unshaven. A couple of passersby eyed him as if wondering what
crazy lunatic the military boys were being so kind to. Little did they know that before
anyone blinked, Shay could overturn their cars with a few flips then take out all
three of the mall’s security guards.

The guy’s arrival dumped a thousand fire ants into Reb’s bloodstream. Once they actually
found Zoe, Shay was going to be either their greatest asset or their hugest liability—especially
if Adler knew his prize stallion was even in the same state. But no way in hell was
Rebel going to order the man off the op. A week ago, he might’ve attempted it. Today,
he looked at the agony in Shay’s eyes, and realized he’d appear close to the same
way if Adler had Brynna locked up somewhere.

A look he might be trying on for real, if they didn’t take care of their girl every
way they possibly could.

While he dealt with that not-so-entertaining thought, Rhett let down the passenger
side window with an efficient
snock
. “So where’d you find these bozos in the store, peach? The dollar bin or the platform
heels section?”

Kellan’s brows instantly jumped. “
Peach
?”

The observance went unnoticed, thanks to Zeke puffing out his Dark Knight chest—while
brandishing a new pair of five-inch heels covered in blood red rhinestones. “The heels
aisle can be a fun place, man. Rayna’s going to thank me prettily when I strap them
on her—right before tying her down to our new spanking bench.”

Not shockingly, a dark growl tore out of Shay. “Can we move the
fuck
on with all this?”

Rebel swung outward then up with a foot on the SUV’s running board. Spread his arms
along the car’s roof to ensure everybody stayed where they were. “I sympathize with
where you’re coming from, I-Man.”
More than you know, brother.
“But as you all have likely been informed, this op almost hit the skids once today.
Let’s square everyone to the same plan before we throw down with these jackholes and
their underlings.”

“Agreed.” Zeke stowed the shoes, snapping back to mission mode.

Garrett copied the move. “You guys have a place we can drill through a pow-wow?”

Rhett nodded then asked, “Did you guys bring wheels?”

“Wheels?” Garrett snorted, throwing back an expression he usually saved for his book
snob moments. “Well, gerd dang, Mr. Cartwright, we didn’t know you wanted
wheels
. Our mules are hitched up around the corner, though…”

Rhett rolled his eyes. “Ass munch.”

Shay’s jaw locked. His gaze kaboomed like twin grenades hitting at once. Again, Rebel
sympathized—more than he wanted to admit. While pre-mission banter was necessary to
ensure everyone’s nerves, it did nothing for the guy on the team with the most at
stake. As the one usually climbing into the blast suit, Rebel knew exactly how it
felt to be dealing with a gut razed by nervous fire.

“We’re burning daylight.” He punctuated the growl by jerking his chin at Garrett.
As the young dad in the bunch, Hawkins was now the most alert driver on the team.
“Follow us east. We have a motel room. Brynna can change into her…battle gear,”—fuck,
how he hated saying it let alone imagining it—“while we discuss staging points and
possible exfil.”

Everyone bolted their head into the game now. As they all began moving out, Rebel
hopped down to open the back seat door for Brynna. He’d just buckled her in and closed
the door when Shay skirted the SUV’s hood and caught his arm.

The fires in Bommer’s stare had settled to restless embers. His growl resonated with
the same barely-banked violence. “Stafford. I haven’t said it yet…but thank you.”

Reb ticked up one side of his mouth. “Not necessary, man.”

Shay swung a look toward the back seat of the SUV, his face conveying how valuable
the cargo there had come to be for Reb. “
Very
necessary,” he murmured. Then just before he turned away to join the others, “Kiss
her goodbye like it’s the last time, man. You never know when it will be.”

*     *     *

A little over
an hour later, Reb reflected once more on Bommer’s advice—and didn’t change his response
to it by a single syllable.

“Well, fuck.”

It had been close to torture, tasting her so deeply that he sprung a boner worthy
of the Longhorn State itself. Then inhaling her with all the force in his lungs, knowing
all he’d breathe in for hours would be her wildflower scent. And then,
oh fuck,
watching her tuck a hand down her cleavage until he had to glance away for a long
second.

Hell. Did she have to linger about it, too?

Well, yeah…since she was doing it to secure the delicate necklace he and Rhett had
just given her, with its three golden charms dangling off the chain: a ballet shoe
bracketed by two daggers. The gift shop next to the motel had nothing else representing
Vikings and pirates, so the daggers had to do. Before tucking the jewelry in, she
kissed the charms with tears shimmering on her own lashes—a moment that gutted even
Rhett. He’d closed the door to the sporty rental coupe they’d gotten her exclusively
for the op, just in case Adler had learned the plates for the two SUV rentals already,
and ripped his stinging glare at Rhett, one adamant message searing out.
Don’t you dare start, too
.

Now, there was no time to even think about slinging razzes at each other. Everything
his life had been—the missions, the team, the “roadhouse”, and even stupid shit like
bills and needing to get new tires for his truck—was all banished behind what his
life was now: the demand of being in this moment. The necessity of focusing thoroughly
on the video being fed through the palm-sized monitor in Rhett’s hands, as well as
the tinny audio filling his right ear. Both were made possible by a camera El had
rigged into a broach and scarf for Brynn’s outfit, designed to be worn so the broach
hit just the right spot in her gorgeous cleavage. The placement ensured that they
received clear feeds—and Adler’s unbridled attention. Sure as hell had been the case
when Rhett installed the device on her—and Reb had found several convenient ways to
“help out.”

By the time they’d finished, there’d been more than enough one-liners from every soldier
in the motel room to confirm one truth: Shay hadn’t kept close to the vest with his
observation about the new energy between the three of them. So much the better, as
far as Reb was concerned. Now every fucker in the group would be even more on their
game about getting Zoe
and
Brynna out of that building alive.

Nothing was more important than that.

Nothing.

Rebel’s throat tightened—again—from his devotion to the vow. It was the only thing
keeping his breath steady and his body utterly still as he and Rhett waited in the
shadows and tall grass beneath a huge oak tree, located about fifty yards from the
fence he’d hurdled four nights ago. About the same distance to the left, he knew Garrett
and Zeke had belly-crawled their way behind a small storage shed. To the right, somewhere
behind a large copse of kidneywood and esperanza, was Kell, possibly saddled with
the hardest task of them all: keeping Shay sane—and contained—until Brynna worked
her guile on Homer Adler.

The very reason
he
was hating the whole “sane and contained” thing right now.

The red ants in his blood turned to cockroaches of disgust, burrowing deeper every
time that vermin dropped his beady eyes to Brynn’s breasts. That meant the little
fuckers were mighty busy—like right now, as Adler added a greasy smirk to his gawk.

“So,” he drawled, “Miss Diamond…where, exactly, did you say you were from?”

“Please.” Brynn’s sultry voice didn’t do anything to calm the roaches. “Call me Valentina.”
Nor did her insistence on using a porn star name, telling them it would only entice
Adler more. She’d been glaringly right, damn it. Men really were pigs. “And I’m originally
from Iowa, sir. Just a little farm out in the middle of nowhere, where the corn’s
as high as an elephant’s eye.”

“And they grow gorgeous goddesses as well as they grow those fine crops.”

Brynna’s giggle tinkled through Reb’s earpiece. The flirty sound was as fake as the
double eyelashes she’d plastered on back at the motel. So far, her act seemed to be
working. Thank fuck.

But if it slipped, he was ready.

Put together right, the contents of the pack at his side were enough to blow up the
whole east side of Austin.

“Oh, Mr. Adler. You have
such
a golden tongue.”

On the little monitor, Adler scooted out from behind a broad desk. “You have no idea
how golden, baby.”

“Good girl.” Rhett muttered it into his comm link as the image rushed by, indicating
she’d scooted free from the man’s advance. She was patched into him and everyone else
on the team through a tiny audio bud adhered to the inside of her ear. “You’re doing
good, sweetheart. Keep reeling and releasing. That’s it.”

“Mmmm.” Her tone was laced with double meaning: the concurrence with Rhett and her
flirtation with Adler. “Naughty,” she went on, answered by a tight scowl from the
scientist. “You know the rule, Mr. Adler. Business before pleasure.” A jerk of the
image—she’d tugged her blouse back into place—before she dipped her tone back into
seductive territory. “And you did promise me a tour. I’m not going to let you forget
that. I’ll be the talk of the office at Peach Pharmaceuticals. A grand tour of Homer
Adler’s prestigious labs.”