Mastered By The Mavericks(61)

Rebel let that fun little idea roll around in his head for a  second-before pounding the steering wheel and letting his own  profanities fly. In the filthiest French he could remember.

The Prince Charming wannabe and the hopeless man-slut. Yeah, that was an idyllic vision.

No wonder Rhett glowered through the windshield and only saw a rock and a hard place outside the car.

No wonder Reb looked the same direction … and saw the same thing.

He gripped the steering wheel as hard as he could … wishing the thing was  his own neck. Why the hell not? His throat was so dry and tight, he  truly should've gone for it.

"Lange?" He didn't look away from the parking lot.

"Yeah?" Rhett didn't, either.

"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.