Page 17

Three days later…

H ero worship.

That was all that had been.

And he had to fucking remember that.

Real ducked when his opponent threw a punch.

The trainee bounced on the mat and threw a double punch with a high kick. Sounds of others sparring filled the area.

A massive air conditioner kicked on, sending a blast of cold air through the Genesis training facility.

The Nightfall Drifters Ranch was located in Smith, Nevada, and even though it was January, the air inside the massive building was still needed.

Right now, Real enjoyed the cold air blowing on his heated skin.

The feel of Azrael’s lips on his was something he couldn’t shake. The feeling of the younger man’s legs wrapped around his body a visual that just wouldn’t go the fuck away.

Their night in bed was forever lodged into his core.

Real dodged a swing from the trainee and lightly stepped away.

He had searched for Azrael after his date with Winter, but the young assassin had disappeared like vapor. He had combed through the Hyatt House, but there was no sign.

Real had returned to the hospital, but Azrael was gone.

So what if Azrael had left without saying goodbye?

And why the fuck did that matter?

Real suddenly felt caught up in an anger and the no-win situation he found himself in.

His anger grew.

When the trainee swung again, Real delivered an upper cut beneath his chin and sent the guy flying. The younger man crashed down onto the mat with a groan.

Shit .

He should have pulled that punch.

Only he hadn’t, because he was too distracted by thoughts of Azrael.

The trainee rolled up to his ass, but stayed sitting on the mat. The man cupped his jaw and stared at him with wide, hurt-filled eyes.

“What the hell?” Crow growled, stalking over to reach down and help the trainee to his feet. “It’s training, Real.”

Crow expected Real to snarl back, but he didn’t.

Instead, Real shook his head, much like a bull would have, and gave a low sound in his throat before stalking from the sparring area.

Crow watched his boss and friend leave and turned back to the trainee.

‘You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. He might have cracked my jaw,” the guy mumbled.

“Go have the doc take a look and next time duck, okay?” Crow said and headed after Real.

When Crow stepped outside, he found Real at the water trough, It had been put in place for the employees of Genesis. It resembled a smaller version of a trough for animals.

Real’s head was under the water spigot, letting it pour over his hair and down his back.

“I know that someone who was looking for you shot Apollo, but we’re working on finding out who that is,” Crow said when he got close enough.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“I know you’re not one for sharing, but that trainee didn’t deserve that,” Crow said.

Real let go of the latch that shut off the spray of water and stood upright to shake his wet hair. Releasing an irritated sounding sigh, Real scowled, but stayed quiet. The man didn’t share much at all. Real was stoic, but a true-blue hero if ever there was one.

Crow gave up, he really didn’t expect Real to answer him.

Real rubbed a hand down his wet face and fingers through his hair. The crunch of boots on the gravel reached him and he spotted Viper and Rip heading their way. Dust kicked up as they crossed the paddock.

“I just had a trainee call for Doc. What’s going on?” Viper asked with a scowl when he reached them. The active unit leader had irritation written all over his face.

Viper was the head of the active military side of Genesis. So, it wasn’t like Viper had a say in things on this side of the fence.

The trainee Real had knocked on his ass was Genesis former military. And that was Real’s realm.

He ran this part of Genesis.

Of course, Viper reported to the current Secretary of Defense, so that put Real at a disadvantage.

That right there and his actions of cold cocking an unsuspecting trainee had him making a quick decision before Viper could make the phone call that could potentially bench him.

“I’m going to take a few days off,” he told Viper. “You good with that?”

Viper frowned, but nodded. “Do what you need to do.”

“Where are you headed?” Rip asked, dropping into step beside Real as he walked toward the barracks.

“Back to California.”

“I’m coming with.”

“You serious?” Real scowled at Rip, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Rip was tenacious like that.

“Yup,” Rip said.

As Real walked across the ranch, he couldn’t help but admire the view.

It really was a beautiful place, with its grassy paddocks and tall, sturdy trees.

Right now, even at the end of January when the trees were bare and the grass was yellow, the place had an old world feel about it.

The sprawling buildings and main house built of dark wood only added to the vintage look.

Back in the day, the place had been a dude ranch before the SecDef decided to turn it into a training facility for active and former military assassins.

“Hey, guys,” Quick Jameson said, coming out of the bunk house.

“Hey, Quick, where are you headed?” Rip asked, walking up the short steps.

“Phoenix has an international job, I’m going to help out,” Quick said, hefting a go-bag over one shoulder. “You want to come?”

“Can’t, we’re heading to California.” Rip shook his head.

“What for?” Quick asked Real.

“I’m taking some time off,” Real told Quick.

Quick Jameson formerly worked for Phoenix doing covert ops that reported to the former SecDef. Quick now lived at the ranch to help train Genesis assassins.

“Tell Apollo to get well soon,” Quick said and left them.

Real entered the barracks and approached his bunk to start packing a go-bag.

“What’s got you so bent?” Rip asked after Quick walked away.

Rip walked further down the aisle and did the same at his own bunk.

When Real didn’t answer, Rip figured it was something to do with what had happened to Apollo.

He also overheard Crow talking to Stone via video call. Something about an incident with the guards treating Azrael like dirt at Dave’s place.

Rip could understand why Real had lost his shit with the guards. Azrael was a drop-dead gorgeous young man, and Real was deadly possessive of him.

“You pissed that Azrael is going out with Winter?”

Real squeezed the shirt in his fists.

“No.”

“Then…it must be something else? I heard Apollo is out of danger now,” Rip said.

“Yeah,” Real said gruffly and shoved the shirt into the bag.

“I also heard you took out the trash in Cali,” Rip said, folding his black work clothes.

Real frowned at him for a moment, and then the man’s brow cleared before a deadly look filled his eyes.

“They were messing with one of our own.”

Rip smirked. The idea that Real thought he was only guarding one of their own was laughable. Real had it so bad for Azrael that if anyone looked at the young assassin sideways or too long, they risked death.

He wondered how Real would deal with Winter when they next met. As it was, Winter had stayed in California to investigate the attack on Apollo and Cash.

Although on the mend, Apollo was still recovering in the hospital.

And Rip knew that once Apollo did leave, the boy would be safely encased at Dave’s place.

The former SecDef had hired even more guards for the hospital and the estate.

Of course, these guards had come from reputable sources like Phoenix, Pegasus, and Infinity.

Dave never allowed anyone to work for him without references.

“You don’t look at him like he’s just one of our own.” Rip felt the need to point that out after a moment.

Real shot him a dark scowl. “You don’t look at Boston like he’s an assassin.”

Fuck . Rip glared at the shirt in his hand. “Two very different things. Boston is sixteen, and Azrael is nineteen.”

“Seventeen,” Real said.

“What?” Rip frowned.

“Boston is seventeen.”

“And a kid,” Rip snapped, tossing the shirt in on top of his other clothes. He yanked his toiletries off the small shelf over his bed, keeping his mind off the curly dark-haired boy.

“Azrael was seventeen when I met him on the streets of San Bernardino.”

“Yeah, Echo told me about how he rescued Azrael and Apollo along with Cash from Solomon’s warehouse. And of how you arrived to get them safely off the streets,” Rip said, zipping up his bag.

Real remembered that day clearly because it was the first time he’d put his hands on Azrael.

Granted, it had been done with impatience to get them all into his vehicle, but that had been the beginning of it all.

The beginning of Azrael’s hero worship .

“It’s just…gratitude,” he said gruffly and zipped his own bag before checking the clip on his weapon and stuffing extra clips into the side pockets of his bag.

Rip snorted, drawing his gaze.

“Call it what you want, but it doesn’t look like gratitude from here.”

What the hell was this? The men of Genesis were worse than old biddies sitting around gossiping as if they didn’t have enough shit to do.

Real reached for his patience before he answered.

“That’s all it is.”

“So…then anyone can tap that?” Rip asked sarcastically.

Real felt his body go still.

“Watch your mouth.” Real stared at Rip across the distance and saw the man’s face change.

“Sorry,” Rip said, not sounding sorry at all. “I’ll just say one last thing and then we’ll drop it.”

Real shrugged, lifted his bag, and stalked toward the door.

“Don’t leave it too long with Azrael, he’s a real catch. Someone, like Winter for instance, is going to come along and snatch him up, and you’ll regret it.”

Real smacked the door open with the palm of his hand, sending it cracking loudly against the barracks’ outer wall.

He stepped outside into the bright sunshine and took a deep breath of fresh air.

Rip had a big fucking mouth and needed to shut the hell up.