Page 32

Alex

I know a lot of weird-ass guys in the military, but I also know a lot of honorable ones.

This is why I don’t bat an eye when I open my front door for Thatcher Stone and see three minimally-dressed women standing in a neat row right behind him. Thatch is the one who went into contracting first and got me a job with the same company. He’s not much to look at, but he goes from zero to 100 in less than two seconds if shit hits the fan…or if Uno is involved.

“ RBF! ” He greets me with his quintessential crooked smile, holding a container with the one thing I’ve been waiting for.

It’s the first time I’ve heard that name— Resting Barrera Face —since flash frying myself, and it’s oddly comforting.

“Thatch,” I raise an arm as he comes in for a hug.

I haven’t seen him since the incident , unless you count video chatting from the hospital, but he looks the exact same with his usual shit-eating grin, buzzed head, and wire-rimmed glasses that look too elegant for his stocky frame. I’m just grateful he didn’t mind driving here from Pittsburgh.

“Who are your friends?”

I might trust him with my life, but I don’t have the same confidence in the two brunettes and one blonde, all dressed in spandex pants and tops with an assortment of straps and ties that shockingly keep their tits in check.

Thatch turns halfway around. “Kendra, Harper, and India,” he motions to each of them, “my partners—” he says with a glint in his eye, “personally and professionally.”

“You always did like to blur the lines between business and pleasure,” I mutter as I shut the door behind them. “Make yourself at home.”

Without a word, the three women follow close behind and based on their sharp, clean movements and how close they stay to him, I wonder if Thatch is building an army of his own…or a cult. Either would be equally plausible.

“Best thing I ever did,” Thatch nods. “Success is all about creativity. And in my case, all you need is decent lighting, some female counterparts that bring solutions to the table, and to know where to find the highest bidder.” Then he gives a half-shrug. “Or some dudes, if you’re into that kind of thing. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, ” he adds emphatically.

“Did it—” I do a double-take, and now the three women are sitting perfectly spaced next to each other on my sofa, hands folded in their laps and eyes on Thatch. Only then do I notice that they’re all wearing the same thin, black leather choker around their throats with a single silver charm hanging from them. I clear my throat, turning my attention back to Thatch. “Did it give you more time to acquire this?” I nod to the container cradled in the crook of his arm.

Aside from whatever situation Thatch is referring to, he’s also a semi-professional horticulturalist. And when I contacted him and told him what I needed to find, he was more than happy to hunt it down for me.

“You know,” he muses, “most people come to me asking how to grow weed or that trendy frond shit, but I knew you were different, Alex. You appreciate the finer things— the wild things. ”

He’s not wrong. I do like the wild things; the unassuming things that others gloss over, but when you look closer, you realize how gnarly and beautiful they are. Plus, I knew if I called Thatch, he’d really nerd out over this.

“But they’ll grow here, right?” I ask apprehensively.

“Hell yeah, man. If you take care of anything properly and give it what it needs, it’ll grow no matter what,” Thatch replies, casting a sideways glance at my sofa.

“But,” the blonde woman chimes in gently, “make sure you use some coarse sand or perlite in your soil. It’ll prevent root rot,” she grins with excitement, gazing lovingly at the container in Thatch’s arm.

Thatch casts me a coy smile. “Kendra and I are both members of the Capital City Garden Club.”

I arch my brow, admittedly impressed.

“So, where do I put them?” I ask, gazing around my apartment.

Kendra rises from the sofa and scurries around to the wall of windows, the click of her heels echoing through the room.

“Based on the direction of your windows, I noticed you get the most sunlight here. They need full sunlight whenever possible, but if you supplement with a grow light, they should be fine. Oh! ” she exclaims suddenly, whipping her long barrel curls over her shoulder, “And make sure you switch to a bigger container as they grow, so they don’t get root-bound.”

“Thanks,” I reply in a mild state of awe. “I’ll remember that.”

She gives a polite nod and returns to the sofa to take her seat next to the other two. When I turn back to Thatch, he’s beaming with pride. But after a few moments, he snaps out of his stupor and carries the container to the spot Kendra pointed out.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the cash I have for him. “Seriously, I appreciate you doing this for me and bringing it all the way here.”

Pittsburgh’s not far, but considering that Thatch took the time and effort to find the damn things and personally transport them here—alive—it’s kind of a big deal.

“Anything for you, RBF,” he grins. “I’m tempted to stick around just to see how this plays out.”

I didn’t tell him my entire plan, but clearly it was enough to pique his curiosity.

“Mm-hmm,” I say through hooded eyes. “I’ll cover for you when you’re hung over and I’ll drag your bloody ass across the desert, but you can blur your own lines and leave mine the hell alone.”

“Selfish prick,” he grins and then gives a sharp nod to the front door.

Kendra, Harper, and India all rise in unison and follow Thatch and me to the entryway.

“What is it you do again?” I squint at him. “I don’t think you said.”

“I didn’t,” Thatch winks, leading his pets out the door, “but if you want in, let me know. I’ll hook you up.”

●●●

An eerie sensation washes over me as soon as the combination of leather upholstery and night air hits my nostrils. I feel like I’m back in high school, except now I’m the only one sitting in this truck.

Aiden wanted to come with me tonight, but he’d stick out like a sore thumb and there’s not much room for error. I heard from Mason that Colson’s now in the lower 48, but not much more. Whatever’s going on with him, he needs to get his shit together because it’s becoming apparent that I need him here. He’s had enough time to wander the wilderness.

But I’m accustomed to waiting. At this point, it’s second only to breathing; waiting for hours, maybe days, for the inevitable burst of action. I can wait for Colson, just like I’ve been waiting in this truck for going on 90 minutes. Granted, it hasn’t been a bad view.

Every so often, Dallas walks out onto the patio and makes her rounds from table to table. I would be sitting at one of them, but I’m sure she’d recognize me now that I’m clean shaven. Instead, I watch from the shadows, partially covered in darkness by the brick wall behind me. Motionless, my eyes are the only thing that move as I track her across the concrete, taking in every inch of her body.

And that absolute dump truck of an ass…

No wonder she identifies with Lara Croft so much.

I glance down at my phone, the brightness turned down, and scroll through her social media. I recognize many of the names as the same friends she had in high school. Maybe she’s like me in that way; when she finds her people, she sticks with them.

Moving further down her page, I notice she shares a lot of streaming posts, especially from GhostW@ke, which is hilarious because I remember her saying how much she hated Call of Duty. Now, her page is peppered with a dude in a Ghost mask and COD streams amid her usual RPGs like Zero Reckoning and Dark Souls.

That’s cute, I laugh to myself, but he’ll be a distant memory soon enough. I hope she’s ready for me to blow her world wide open.

Like I said, I’ve never been a stalker. Except for her. But that’s only part of the reason I’m here tonight. Surveillance is a close cousin to stalking, but no one likes to admit it. I’m also good at that, too. And, fortunately, this time I can see exactly when the action is heading my way.

I tuck my phone back into my pocket and shift my gaze to the edge of the parking lot, where a guy and a girl linger for a moment before going their separate ways. I watched Bowen pull up to meet the girl out front before they went inside about an hour ago. Fortunately, they sat on the patio where I could keep an eye on them. But when Bowen actually spoke to Dallas, I about scrapped my plan right then and there. But I didn’t. At the very least, he needs to know his bullshit won't be tolerated.

As soon as he steps off the curb, my adrenaline starts pumping and my muscles twitch in anticipation. Zeroing in on my target, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve done something like this or how many times I’ve been in the middle of a fire fight; as soon as I saw his face here where it didn’t belong, a panic set in that I couldn’t quell. I could be facing death, feeling its breath on my face, and I still wouldn’t be as torqued up as I am by the idea that he’s this close to her.

There’s a click as he approaches the driver’s side door and the lock disengages. He throws open the door and ducks behind the wheel, shutting it behind him. Then he starts the engine, oblivious to my presence.

After all, why should a predator check his back seat? And that’s his second mistake. His first was daring to ever put eyes on Dallas Lutz.

Before Bowen can grab for the seatbelt, I hook him around the neck, jerking him back against the headrest. He starts to grab for the steering wheel, but my other arm comes around and slams into his throat, stopping my KA-BAR just before the blade hits his jugular.

“ Shhh… ” I hiss, tapping the razor edge against his Adam’s apple.

He stills, realizing that it’s all happened too fast and he’s better off not struggling for the moment.

“If you want the truck, you should’ve just taken it,” Bowen growls through clenched teeth.

He tries to look over his shoulder, but I snap it forward again. “I don’t want your truck,” I murmur through my balaclava. “I’ve got my eye on something else.”

Slowly, I twist his head so we’re both staring straight at the patio of the bar, where Dallas is standing on the other side of the wrought iron barrier with one of her coworkers.

“The last time you got this close to her I broke your fucking face. You need a reminder?”

It takes him a whole three seconds to put the pieces together.

“The bodyguard,” he sneers. “You got Col waiting in the back?”

“You don’t worry about where Col is. You worry about where I am. And if she so much as sees your face from across a parking lot, I’m opening you up.” I grab the top of his throat and jerk his head back with a snap. “And I’ll extend the courtesy to anyone else you sic on her, Bo. In fact, I’ll even make you a deal.”

“Fuck you,” he rasps through his constricted windpipe.

Slowly, I lower my knife and replace it on my belt, careful not to make any sudden movements. In an instant, I grab the front of Bowen’s shirt and jerk him to the side, swinging my other arm around to hoist the upper half of his body over the center console. As strong as he is, I’m stronger, and I’ve restrained far more people than he has. With his head hanging halfway into the back seat, I straddle the console, and by default, Bowen’s chest, rendering him immobile.

I reach back to retrieve my knife again. “You should be more careful who you mouth off to, Bo.”

He unleashes a torrent of grunts as he thrashes beneath me, but the close quarters guarantee that he remains stuck. It’s fortunate I’m not taller, or else this would’ve been a lot more complicated.

“You like games, Bo?” I ask, slipping the blade of my knife beneath his belt before giving it a jerk and slicing through the leather.

I tug open the front of his jeans and plunge my hand down his pants, grabbing his dick and jerking it out of with blatant disregard. I didn’t really plan on sitting on Bowen Garrison’s chest this evening with his dick in one hand and my knife in the other, but adapting’s always been a strength of mine.

“I like games,” I continue, ignoring his lack of response. “I know a really good one where I ask you a question and you tell me what I want to know, or I cut off your dick and feed it to a family of raccoons in that dumpster over there.”

“Fuck you!” he snarls from behind me as he tries in vain to gain the upper hand.

I let out an exasperated breath as I tense one hand and, with a flick of my wrist, slice a one-inch incision in the middle of his shaft. My knife’s sharp, and it’s about as deep as a paper cut, but it still makes Bowen scream in the most satisfying of ways.

“That was just for practice,” I glance around to make sure that no one’s walking by to hear all the racket he’s making.

“ What the fuck do you want? ” he bellows.

“Why are you here?” I deadpan as a thin ribbon of blood drips down his flesh and onto his jeans.

“On a date, you fucking moron.”

“Would that be an imaginary one with Dallas, or that other dumb-fuck girl who thinks you’re such a heartthrob?”

His silence earns him another slice beneath the first one.

As his blood seeps beneath my fingertips, I glance up to see Dallas illuminated by the string lights on the patio. So goddamn beautiful. My dick twitches at the juxtaposition of Bowen’s wails against the glow of her stunning complexion and it just makes me want to bleed him more.

He continues jerking around in agony, but I’m not through with him yet.

“Come on, Bo. Out with it. Why are you here?”

“Dallas asked me to come here,” he barks.

“Dallas asked you to come here,” I echo. “Now, why the fuck would she ask you to do that?” I ask more so out of morbid curiosity than anything.

“Ran into her a few weeks ago,” he replies through haggard breaths, “she said she worked here.”

“Mmm,” I hum, reaching for my phone. “That seems to happen a lot.”

Seconds later, I show him a video. He stares at the image of his twin sister, Hildy, wandering through the store while sipping some sugary coffee drink, utterly oblivious to being recorded.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say in the video after bumping into her.

“It’s OK,” Hildy replies with a hitch in her voice as soon as she sees me.

“You look familiar,” I say with feigned ignorance. “Did you go to school around here?”

She doesn’t know me from any other stranger, but the flirty change in her demeanor is unmistakable as she smiles more and inches slightly closer as she speaks.

“It’s very simple,” I say as he watches me offer to buy Hildy another coffee, and her immediately accept. “You stay away from my woman, and I won’t take one of yours as payment.”

“ Bullshit, ” he grunts through clenched teeth.

“You know as well as I do that there are a lot of people who’d like to get their hands on your sister. People with grudges… axes to grind .”

“Try it,” Bowen snarls. “You’ll be dead where you stand.”

“I’ve been sitting in your truck since you walked through those doors. You think I can’t get past Jay with his busted knee and broken heart?” I chuckle over my shoulder. “I’m sure I could make an even better deal with him , anyway . ”

A heavy silence lingers between us while he mulls it over.

“I should’ve put my knife in you and bled you out back then,” I continue. “So, the next time you decide to mess with things that aren’t yours, I’m taking the whole thing— and then some. ”

I nick the side of his bloody dick one more time, eliciting another guttural wail before I climb over Bowen’s twisted body and exit the vehicle.

“Stay,” I clip before slamming the door.

I snake through the sidewalks and alleyways for a good 10 minutes, making sure no one is following me before I arrive at one of the historic neighborhoods where my truck is nestled among the flower boxes and SUVs with private school decals splashed across their back windows.

As soon as I start my truck, I reel back and bring down my fist on top of the wheel, making it shudder. We fucked up. I fucked up. I asked Aiden to keep an eye on Dallas, but he can’t have eyes on her all the time. She’s not his responsibility, and it’s my fault Bowen was able to get this close to her— hanging out at her fucking job.

But after tonight, he never will again, because my mission is to find and root out every threat lurking in the shadows so I can dispatch them in any way I see fit. And I’m starting tonight by trawling Dallas’s entire electronic life to find anyone hiding in the ether. But first thing’s first.

I have other plans to attend to.

It feels like an eternity by the time I arrive home and stalk back up to my apartment. As though the universe heard my shouting and cursing all the way here, my phone vibrates with a text that the last of my packages have arrived and are secured down in the office. I’ll have them brought up immediately, because I won’t sleep tonight until I finish what I started before I even set foot back on US soil.

Less than 30 minutes later, I’m standing in the closet—sorry, boudoir —facing the tower of boxes that have accumulated over the last few days. I need to focus on the task at hand. Who knows, maybe this will calm me down.

I flip open my black metal knife and slam my fist down on the box, stabbing the blade through the cardboard. But as soon as I see the butterfly logo stamped in the corner of the box, I clench my jaw and jerk my arm back, slicing through the packing tape.

Or not.