Page 32 of Rogue Mission

“Ryker.” He twists in the seat to shake my hand. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Didn’t expect you to have a morbid sense of humor.”

The whole time this is going on, there are waves of heat coming off Justice. Ryker’s going to be burned to ash if Justice glares at him any harder.

Whew. He’s intense.

When Beast signals and turns off the road into a small stand-alone business, Justice sits forward. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting you some donuts. You love donuts. And burritos. And, come to think of it, about any kind of food there is. Something’s got to help with this damned mood you’re in. I’m hoping sugar will do it because you’re scaring your girl.”

Justice’s head whips toward me.

“Am I?” he rasps.

“We’re all just worried about you,” I say low enough for only him to hear.

“Boss,” Ryker says sharply, breaking the moment. “Incoming trouble on our six.”

THIRTEEN

Sun glints off the windshield, blocking the view of the interior of the car following us. The sun would have to be at that exact angle, the one that totally obscures the driver.

Beast wheels into the parking lot, angling so we can escape if the situation dictates. Always ready.

When the car dips and shudders to a stop, idling behind us, the three of us bolt from the SUV with our expressions locked in go-mode.

They want to bring the fight to our door? Well, come on.

Ryker’s the first to reach the driver’s window, his long strides carrying him like a predatory animal as he pulls his weapon from the holster under his arm.

But a beat later, his posture relaxes.

“Clear,” he calls to the rest of us as soon as he gets a solid visual on the driver. “No weapon in sight, low risk.”

I give him a look.Are you kidding me?

He mouths a silent reply over the hood, she’s ninety years old.

Oh.Oh, well, then.

Beast is already walking back toward the truck; Ryker’s having a conversation with the woman now. And I’m too jittery to get back in the car.

Fuck.

I’m a maniac around Rosalie.

How do the guys handle it?

Wait, that’s right—they don’t. Every one of them has become over-possessive animals.

Now I can’t give them shit about any of it.

“You okay there, Captain High Alert?”

It’s Ryker, and he smacks me on the back.

“Not really,” I half-groan.

He chuckles and shakes his head, his green eyes glinting in the light. “All I gotta say is, that is not happening to me. Even if I ever find a missus that will put up with me, I’m fully in charge of my emotional responses.”