“Hey,” Blaze warned, his deep voice more of a growl than usual.
I let go of Layna and caught his stare, fighting the urge to look away. His eyes were so clear he looked inhuman. They’d always freaked me the fuck out. Then I’d seen him on the battlefield and inhuman didn’t begin to cover it. Cold, calculating, emotionless, his detachment had scared the shit out of me until he’d put himself between me and a bunch of insurgents. I’d needed to piece together two wounded enough for transport but I’d been taking too much fire to do shit except cover them with my body.
Blaze had sprinted fifteen meters through open fire, positioned himself in front of us, took my M16 and started firing both our weapons while I’d worked. That was the first time he’d saved my life. I respected the fuck out of him for it. Then I’d nicknamed him Deer Hunter. “Nothin’ doin’, Deer Hunter, just glad she’s okay.”
He used his most lethal arsenal and stared at me a moment longer. Then he nodded and cut to the chase. “We need to clean house.”
Translation, he was beyond fucking pissed at what I’d done. I didn’t care. He could go fuck himself. Layna was alive and Maldonado wasn’t. Cleaning house was pointless now. “Maldonado’s dead.”
Blaze’s eyes flared with anger but he didn’t say shit.
Layna tucked herself back under Blaze’s arm. “André told us about Nicole. How long have you known her?” Her brown eyes studied me like she could see right through me.
“I don’t.” I grabbed the bottle of tequila and three shot glasses.
Blaze amped up his glare. “The Lone Coasters aren’t going to let this go.”
I poured out three shots. Shoving one across the counter to André, I pushed the other toward Layna. I knew I was only pissing Blaze off further but I didn’t care. I was itching for a fight and Blaze was fucking hard with the desire to pound my face in. I threw the shot back, refilled my glass, drank another then gave Blaze his glare right back. “Not your fuckin’ problem. Take your bride home,” I taunted.
“I can’t,” he growled.
“Whatsa matter? Too much time downrange, you forget your way to your woman’s house? Need me to show you? ’Cause I remember exactly how to get there.”
Blaze moved, fast and sure like I knew he would. My back slammed into the wall and his arm crushed against my throat.
“I can still breathe, Marine. You turnin’ into a pussy?” Every word made him increase his pressure but it did nothing to the fucking vise grip on my heart.
“Talon,” Layna reprimanded.
André threw his shot back. “Do you two want to kill each other or figure this shit out?”
Nostrils flaring, Blaze looked like he preferred the first option.
So I grinned.
I could have ducked. I could have turned my head. I could have thrown him before his fist connected with my face. Despite him being faster than me and having forty more pounds of muscle, I still could’ve taken Blaze because I knew his weaknesses. I made it my business to know them. But I did none of those things. I let him hit me.
My head snapped back and pain exploded in my jaw. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth and my tongue automatically felt my teeth to see if they were still attached. “That’s all you got?” He’d held back.
Blaze fisted a handful of my T-shirt.
“Stop!” Layna cried.
Blaze ignored her. “You put my wife in danger again, you’re dead.” He shoved me hard and let go.
“You two done?” André casually dropped his shot glass in the sink.
Layna scrambled around behind me, grabbing a dish cloth and reaching in the freezer. “Here.” She thrust a makeshift ice pack at me.
I held it to my face without taking my eyes off Blaze. “Thanks, Sugar.”
“Look.” Layna glanced between us. “Maybe we should wait and talk about this in the morning.”
“They already know we’re here,” Blaze said, disgusted. “Black pickup parked twenty meters south on the opposite side of the street.”
“Shit.” André pulled out his cell. “I didn’t see anyone.”
“You weren’t looking hard enough. They’re pulled halfway into the mangroves.”
Neil came up the stairs and strode into my kitchen like it was his. “There’s a black truck, east side of A1A.”
“We know,” André gritted out.
“Then why is it still there?” Neil’s deep accented voice was low and quiet but it still echoed around my kitchen. Six foot six, Danish ex-Special Forces, he was built like a fucking Viking and fought like a goddamn warrior.