Spiked Lemonade: A Bad Boy Sailor and a Good Girl Romantic Comedy Standalone (26 page)

I leave the bathroom and find Cali and Jags still fighting over something. Who knows what it is now, but they stop when I come back over. “All set?” Cali asks me.

“Yup.”

I follow the two of them outside and up to the car waiting for us with headlights on. Jags opens the back door and Cali slides in first, then I get in.

The car is small, and the outside of my very bare thigh is rubbing up against Jags’s torn jeans that I’ve been admiring all night. There’s something about a man with torn jeans. It’s kind of sexy.
I said sexy, pff.

I try to get comfortable, considering this dress is riding up my butt, and the last thing I want is for any part of my butt cheeks to touch this dirty seat. As I’m fidgeting around, though, my foot accidentally kicks Jags’s boot, forcing me to look down to where I kicked him, even though I don’t think I did much damage. Holy moly, his feet look like they’re twice the size of mine and wow, those are some big feet. “You okay?” he asks, placing his hand down over my knee. The touch of his fingertips against my skin makes my thighs clench together. Every time he touches me it’s like I haven’t been touched by anyone before. It’s igniting and exciting, and he has more effect over my body than anything I’ve ever experienced before.

“Yeah,” I say breathlessly.

“You have big feet,” I tell him, pulling my feet in the other direction.

“Well, I don’t need to tell you what they say about a man with big feet because you already know the truth there,” he emphasizes every one of his words as if I need to listen carefully and pick up the not so subtle hints he’s offering.

“Yeah, Jags, it means you have a real big fucking mouth,” Cali says. “Can we make it home without you bringing up your dick size every three seconds? It would really help me keep my alcohol where it should be. Burning a hole in my stomach.”

“Sure, Cali. I won’t talk about the size and girth of my very incredibly well-endowed, oversized really, cock.”

“Can we just stop cocking for a few minutes? Maybe then you two would stop arguing for a while.”

“Did you just say cocking?” Cali asks me.

“No? I said talking.”

“No, you said cocking,” Jags argues through a mumble.

“This, you two agree on?” I fight back.

“You said cock,” Cali says, laughing. She’s laughing. I don’t remember the last time Cali laughed.

JAGS

GOOD GUYS FINISH
last. Or not at all. Sasha is passed out in the Zuber car, sooo this is awesome. At least I know she’s not passed out on some random guy’s cock right now.

Cali stumbles out of the car and waves me off. “You take care of Miss Piggy tonight,” she slurs out.
Miss Piggy?
I’ll have to inquire about that in the morning.

I scoop my arms under Sasha’s body and pull her out of the car. “Thanks, man,” I tell the driver.

“Good to know where y’all are living now,” he says.

What?

I know I’ve had a few, but he definitely just said that.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask the dude while sticking my head in through the open passenger side window.

It’s pitch black out here, and the headlights aren’t doing much for me to see inside. The only light illuminating this guy’s face is the glow from the green radio buttons. “When she wakes up, tell her I hope she’s doing well.” The voice alarms me, and while the conversation I’ve had with him in the past lasted less than thirty seconds, his voice isn’t one I’d easily forget.

“I have no problem finishing you off the next time you come near Sasha or any of the other people living in this house. You got me?” I seethe through gritted teeth.

The jackass laughs at me as if what I just said was funny. It’s not funny. I’m more serious than a heart attack. “Right, well, I only told you to send her my best.” This is what I don’t like about Zuber. It all appears to be nice and safe, and yet I’ve kind of wondered if the drivers know who they’re picking up, considering all reservations come in via mobile phone. He probably saw some part of Cali’s information, and this scumbag already knows way more than what’s good for him.

“So let me tell you something, Lando, see that house over there?”

“Yeah, I ain’t blind, dude. And it’s Landon. I know it’s hard to pronounce.”

“Nah, you don’t deserve the respect of the ’n’ in your name. Anyway, so we’ve got one Marine, a chick who has probably killed one too many people, and me. I don’t need to tell you about me—you can use your imagination. Anyway, if you’re thinking it’s a good idea to even knock on that door, you should reconsider it.”

“There’s only one problem with your scare tactic, man,” he says, taking a few pausing breaths. “Your Marine bud is in the hospital with a very broken leg from a very unfortunate scaffolding accident. I wonder what caused that scaffolding to just collapse like that. Your friend needs to be more careful.” Mother-fucking bastard. He did this.

“You’re done,” I tell him. “Don’t blink; don’t even sneeze. Watch your back, bro. This is about to get ugly.” The threats pouring from my mouth aren’t something I’ve had to say to someone since dealing with a shitbag overseas who was threatening to blow up our convoy. Nothing ended well for that dude.

“Yeah, you and what army?” Landon argues.

“Dude, we’ve got the Marines and the Navy. What kind of question is that?” I laugh at him.

Sasha is starting to feel like dead weight in my arms, and this conversation needs to end. Then I need to figure out how to kill this guy in his sleep tonight. “I’ll let you take my girl inside so you can have your way with her unconscious body.” I know he’s doing his best to get under my skin, and it’s fucking working.

“Get out of here,” I grunt.

“That’s my girl, man. Don’t you forget that,” Landon says.

I stick my head back into his window, holding Sasha away from me. “I won’t forget that when she’s screaming out my name later. I doubt you were ever able to do that with your pencil dick.” I give him a wink, unsure if he can see it or not but I did it more for me than him, because yeah, I’m going to win this one.

He revs the engine of his Prius and tries to scare me by threatening to take off while I’m this close to the car. By the time he can get the car in drive, I’m on the curb, blowing him a big fat kiss. “See ya later, fucker.” I toss Sasha over my shoulder and make a point of holding her there with my hand on her ass. She wouldn’t mind if she were awake, she made that clear a few hours ago.

Landon flies off, going as fast as his little car can take him. Fucker.

Passing the sitter on the way up the driveway, she gives me an eyeballing curious look but doesn’t say anything else. She likes me. She wants me. I get that a lot from old ladies. I’m that damn good.

I get Sasha inside, deadbolt the door, and set the alarm. Once I get her into her bedroom and settle her into bed, still very much passed out, I grab my phone and dial up Tango. I know it’s almost one in the morning, but I can’t not tell him what’s going on right now.

The phone rings less than one time. That man sleeps with one eye open no matter what the occasion. Knowing him, he’s probably avoiding taking the painkillers so he can stay on his toes.

“What’s up, man, everything okay?” Tango says, doing a damn good job of hiding the fact that he was most likely asleep.

“The girls are fine, but I just had a run-in with Lando, the one-ball-sack nut-job.”

“Fuck,” Tango says. There’s a lot of rustling against the phone, and I’m guessing he’s probably got his good leg out of the bed already.

“Cali called a Zuber car for us at the bar. I had a couple, and the two ladies were ah—yeah,” I explain.

“I know how my wife drinks but I’m a little surprised Sasha followed,” he says. He must be getting dressed or something. I can hardly understand what he’s saying.

“Anyway, Lando was the Zuber driver. Not sure how that all worked out, but clearly this bastard has connections. He knows where you live, man. It probably would have been in his best interest to keep that information to himself, but apparently, his ego is bigger than his brain.”

“Fuck,” Tango says again, followed by more rustling.

“It gets worse,” I tell him.

“What?” he says, clearer than anything else he’s said.

“I think he tampered with the scaffold you fell from.” There’s silence on the phone, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he hung up on me and made it halfway down the hospital hallway on one foot. “I’d come get you but I don’t think I should leave the girls.”

“Don’t leave,” he finally says. “I’m getting a Zuber car home and let’s just hope Landon is the one who comes to pick me up.”

Jesus. This isn’t going to end well.

“I can take care of them tonight, man. We can get you in the morning.”

“No, I’m on my way home. Just put the alarm on and stay in the hall outside of their rooms. Can you check on Tyler for me?” I’m sure Cali did already, but she was pretty cocked too.

“Sure,” I tell him. I’m already in the hall so I poke my head into Tyler’s room, seeing a pile of blankets but not little pigtails. Nervous, I take the few steps over to her bed and pull the comforter down a bit, finding her snoring under the mess of sheets. I tuck her back in and quietly step back out into the hall. “She’s good, snoring like her pops.”

“Yeah, that’s my kid,” Tango laughs a little.

“You sure you want to do this?” I ask him.

“I’m outside in a fucking hospital gown, sitting on a bench waiting for the car to get here.”

“Wait, are you wearing shorts under your gown?” I ask.

“Nah, still can’t figure out how to get anything up my leg.”

“So your hairy ass is hanging out for the world to see? And you’re going to put that thing on a nasty Zuber car seat?”

“My girls are in danger, so I don’t care who sees my ass, and for your information, my ass is nice, and it’s not hairy at all. Is your ass hairy? That’s nasty.”

“No, my ass isn’t hairy,” I argue. “My ass is big, but it’s nice too.”

“How drunk is my wife? Like, is she too drunk to kill me when I hobble through the door?”

I open Cali’s bedroom door and look in, finding her fully clothed and passed out sideways on their bed.

“I think you’re good. She’s out cold.”

“Thanks for taking such good care of them,” Tango says, laughing.

“Hey, I showed up when they were both half in the bag,” I defend myself.

“Yeah, because you told Sasha to go get herself laid.”

“Yeah…”

“I’ll say it again. You’re a moron. If I could slap your head right now, I would.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I think my ride is here. What kind of car was that shithead driving?”

“A Prius,” I tell him.

“Eh, I don’t think this is him then. Damn.”

“Dude, how would you even kill someone with one leg?”

“I still have two arms and two hands,” Tango argues.

“Right.”

“I’ll be home in twenty.”

I’ve been sitting at the front window for the last ten minutes waiting for the headlights. I don’t know how he’s hobbling around but the dude has plates and screws coming out of his leg. When I see him pulling up, I jog outside to the bottom of the driveway where I see Tango struggling to get out of the car. Oh shit! If this wasn’t such a serious situation, I’d love to capture this on video right now. My man is seriously in a hospital gown, and I’m not sure I want to know how he managed to get out of the hospital without someone attempting to stop him. There’s security and crap there. I’m not one to put much past Tango, though. If he’s on a mission, don’t get in his way.

I grab his arm and lift it over my shoulders. “It’s like old times,” I tell him. “Remember that day your leg got hit with that piece of shrap? I had to drag your ass out of the middle of a hot zone.”

“Yeah, man, I remember. Except you were dragging me by the back of my vest. And I was still fighting the enemy.”

“Yeah, you and your little sidearm did more damage in those thirty-seconds than what we saw that whole day.”

“Pretty fucking sweet, huh?”

“Yeah, sweet,” I tell him. I don’t know how Tango still talks about those days like they were exciting and something worth remembering. I do my best to forget about every second I spent overseas. I know Tango feels like he was gypped of his time over there but I don’t think he realizes how lucky he was to leave when he did. Things got so fucking bloody over there after he was sent home with his lung issues. I was taking dead bodies in daily and saw shit they won’t even show people in the goriest horror movies. It’s been years and I still can’t clear my mind of some of those images. Then coming home and having the whole incident with the supermarket explosion and Bambi was a total setback, of course.