A WILDer Kind Of Love

by Angel Payne

  Ding, ding, ding. Two seconds later, Melody Bommer appeared, as elegant as Ghid was rough in a figure-flattering dress that matched Zoe’s blue boots. Behind her was Zoe’s sister, Ava, who’d gotten hitched last New Year’s to one of the finest SFG operators Dan knew, Ethan Archer. Too bad Archer wasn’t hanging with her now. Though the man’s temper took longer to flare than most of the guys Shay hung with, he’d also be the kind not to fling fault for running a basic off-the-books revenge fantasy, given the means and the money for it. Dan needed such an advocate about now.

  Instead, Ava’s companion was one of Zoe’s best friends, El Browning, who’d switched out her long red hair for a blonde, wedding-appropriate updo. The look was really good for her, but that didn’t stop Dan’s gut from twisting at her arrival.

  Where El went, Brynn usually followed.

  Brynn. Who’d been there through so much of the last eleven months. Who’d tolerated his bitterness and anger and impatience. Who’d snuck him fast food in the hospital, sat with him through countless old war movies, and even taken him on his first trip in public after the scars had healed—as much as they would. And yes, she’d even been there when he needed to relieve his tension…in other ways.

  Who deserved so much more than he’d given her in return—but had staunchly refused to acknowledge that fact.

  Until now.

  As the woman walked up behind her two friends, looking gorgeous as a princess in the cobalt satin fitted perfectly to her lithe figure, one distinct message was written across her face.

  She’d finally seen the light.

  Had realized just how fucked up he really was.

  Ohhh, yeah. Her glare told him everything. Disbelief, disappointment, and hurt raced across her lips and tightened the corners of her eyes. Tension clamped her bare shoulders and made its way down to both clenched fists.

  “Hey there, gorgeous.” It was his regular greeting. When he coupled it with what he could muster of a smile, the woman usually dissolved like butter in a sauce pan.

  Not tonight.

  “You’re here.”

  Her tone conveyed what the words didn’t. You’re here—but were supposed to be four hours ago. You’re here—dressed in field mission gear that’s splattered with blood instead of the tuxedo I bought for you on my dancer’s salary. You’re here—after letting all my calls and texts go unanswered for two days.

  “I am.” Lame. Ass. But what the hell else made sense?

  “Why?” Once more, tone that implied meaning. Why did you even bother?

  “My question exactly.” As Zoe stomped her foot, all the asymmetrical angles of her foofy skirts swayed, hiding the slight baby bump beneath. “Dan the Man claims there’s a present involved but Tait the wuss says I’m too delicate to see it.”

  Tait jutted his chin away from the phone. “The wuss who’s now your brother-in-law—which means you’re as delicate as I say, dammit.”

  “Is that so?” Her dark blue nails stood out against the cream lace as she cocked both hands to hips. “News flash, cabrón. You’re not in the islands anymore. And I’m not—”

  “Zoe,” Shay warned.

  “Don’t you ‘Zoe’ me. We stood in front of that minister and agreed we wouldn’t hold any secrets from each other. That we would share everything. You need a refresher course on the definition of sharing now, Mr. Bommer? Because it sure as hell does not incl—”

  “Holy fuck.” Shay’s utterance sliced her short. He peered again inside the Escalade then lurched back, a guy who’d just seen a ghost. And a zombie, too. “What the hell? How the hell?” He hammered a frown at Tait then Dan. “This had to be off-books. And not cheap.”

  Everyone’s gaze reflected the same curiosity—except for Tait’s. He scowled, seeming to anticipate what Dan was about to say.

  “Colton Steel’s been doing well this year.” Dan smirked and crossed his ankles. “And let’s just say this was a hell of a lot more fun than buying another Lambo.”

  Shay shook his head. “I don’t know whether to shoot you or kiss you, spook man.”

  Tait grimaced. “There’s a visual I never needed.”

  “You never needed?” Dan rejoined.

  The guy-bonding respite was enjoyed for two more seconds. His gut was shoved back into the meat grinder as Brynn stepped around, approaching him with tight lips and folded arms. Her raspy whisper was just as much a spleen-twister. “Where have you been, Dan?”

  He met her gaze directly. It wasn’t easy, knowing exactly what she was forced to take in as he did—but at this point, he at least owed her his honesty. “In a lot of places I couldn’t answer the phone. A lot of places you probably shouldn’t know about, sweetheart.”

  Her forehead furrowed. Her eyes went dark. “You don’t say.”

  The gut grinder cranked higher. Who knew it had a mince setting?

  Dammit.

  It had never been his intention to hurt her like this—especially not to drag her this far into his darkness. When they’d first met all those months ago in Zoe’s living room, the attraction had been sizzling and instant—but they’d also been living in a bubble. They’d thought they could go after the bad guys and emerge unscathed. They’d thought they were super heroes in plain clothes, invincible and unstoppable, Superman and Wonder Woman. And after the fire, Brynn had just kept thinking the same thing. She agreed to ignore his monster face…if he ignored the dark preferences of his sexuality.

  Like the messed-up shit he was, he’d agreed. Had even accepted the distortion of his face as karmic payback for the dark desires of his mind and body, indulged over the years in select BDSM dungeons, and now maybe the universe was realigned in that regard, too. Maybe now he wouldn’t crave the high of taking a woman to the edge of her limits, physically and psychologically. Maybe now he’d look like a monster but have the sexual needs of a normal man. And maybe, one day far away, he’d be able to settle down with a normal woman, just like Brynn. Maybe she’d be that woman.

  But that had been an illusion, too. His sorry dick still wanted what it did, and Brynn had made it clear she wasn’t wired that way.

  So maybe he was just a depraved fuck who deserved what fate had dished out.

  Yeah, even the woman who edged away from him, shaking her head slowly, gorgeous features twisting harder. “You don’t say,” Brynn repeated, as if hoping to gain strength from it. That in itself was wrong. So wrong. He should be her strength. That so wasn’t happening, either. And likely never would.

  He was still a messed-up shit. Only now, without any bubble.

  Shay, still gaping in shock, was distracted long enough for Zoe to race forward. Tait’s protesting bellow, as well as her husband’s attempt to hold her back, were too late. The little brunette jerked open the Escalade’s door.

  “Caramba!” she shrieked.

  “Holy crap!” El seconded.

  Brynn joined her friends but didn’t say a word. She stared, still tucked in against herself, as Stock let out a loud grunt. From his position at the front of the car, Dan couldn’t tell if the guy was terrified, pissed, or both. Not that it mattered. Not that the shreds of his gut would magically heal, even if he strutted back there and really finished flaying the asshole—a craving he fought harder with every passing minute.

  A reward for the self-control came in one of the oddest forms he could imagine.

  Again before anyone could hold her back, Zoe stomped forward. Grabbed the frame of the car door opening in order to balance herself—as she rammed the heel of one cobalt cowboy boot into the bridge of Stock’s nose.

  “Woooo!” El pumped a fist into the air. “Oh my God, Zo. Awesome! I heard his bones crunch and everything!”

  “Shit,” Tait muttered.

  “Fuck.” Shay pinched his nose.

  “Damn.” Dan snickered. Not even a censuring glare from Brynn quelled him. Why fight for a sinking ship? Tait was right; the woman was one of the best things that had come along in his life—but maybe he simply wasn’t meant to ha
ve nice things. It was a damn idiot’s game to continue thinking otherwise.

  “Oops.” Zoe swung a wide, innocent gaze at her husband. “Look, papi. The desgraciado fell down, right on his face. What a shame.”

  Melody actually high-fived her for that—on her way to the opening. “I’m next.”

  “No, you’re not.” Ghid roped a burly arm around her waist and dragged her at least six feet backward.

  “Goddammit!” She beat at his meaty chest. “Don’t you dare deprive me of this, Ghid. That monster has to pay for the evil he dragged into my life. Into yours.” She drove a glare at Shay and Tait. “And yours!”

  “And we’ve all overcome it.” Ghid braced her shoulders, making the order beneath his words clear. “Become better for it, even with all our battle wounds.” Logical progression after that was a traded stare with Shay. Nobody in the small throng needed interpretation. They all knew about the heinous “experiments” Ghid and Shay had endured at the hands of Stock’s business partner, Homer Adler—and the incision scars that riddled both their bodies because of them. “Today isn’t a day for killing—”

  “Killing?” Zoe’s head jerked up. She whipped her gaze, now sapphire bright, back to her husband. “Could we get away with that? Seriously? If we were quick about it—”

  “No!” Shay shouted it along with Tait, Ghid, Rhett, and Rebel. Dan was the only abstention.

  “Are you crazy?” The concurring growl came from Brynn, who whirled from Dan to advance on her friend. “Zo, would you listen to yourself?”

  “She’s sorta right, honey,” El said. “It is your wedding day.”

  “And you have a fucking condition.” Tait stabbed a finger in the direction of Zoe’s belly.

  “Ay. All right, all right!” As Zoe barked it, sirens wailed across the valley. Red and white lights careened off of a pair of emergency vehicles, closing in on the ranch at a NASCAR pace.

  “Thank fuck for small miracles.” Rebel muttered it while hiking up his shirtsleeves, exposing his exotically tattooed forearms. He stepped over, roping Shay under one arm and Zoe under the other. “All right, you two, a few hundred people are over there because of you. Go forth and be charming. Rhett and I have this covered.” He nodded toward Tait. “That goes for you too, T-Bomb. Stop moping. That’s Colton’s job now.”

  Tait clawed a hand through his hair. “I need a fucking beer. And a dance with my woman.”

  “Just a dance?” Shay waggled his brows at his brother but reached for Zoe.

  “Easy, papi.” Zoe giggled, though the sound was still strained. “It’s not time for the honeymoon yet.”

  “It is when you get all feisty and want to kill people.”

  His stab at make-love-not-war was lost on his bride, who gazed longingly at the car once more. “It’s a hell of a lot more than ‘want’.”

  “Zoe.” He coupled the warning with a jerk at the small of her back. “Let it go, tiny dancer. Please.”

  “Because you have?”

  He huffed. “Do we have to do this right—”

  “Because you don’t still wake up in sweats from the nightmares of what that higueputa did to you? Because I’ll never forget walking into that room in Adler’s lab and seeing him standing next to the bed they’d strapped you to, locking you down like the breeding stud they’d reduced you to? Because it tore my soul apart to see you drugged, cut up, and—”

  Shay cupped her face in both hands. “It’s behind us now, baby girl. Don’t sacrifice our joy on the altar of hating him.”

  “Great minds.” Tait jerked a thumb toward Dan. “Same logic I tried on the spook earlier.”

  Shay snorted. “I see how well that went.”

  “Stock’s intestines aren’t decorating the back seat, are they?”

  Shay’s brows jumped. “Point taken.”

  Dan’s gaze was snagged by the approving slant of Zoe’s lips. “You simply pulled the wrong member of the wedding party away, Colton. I would’ve gladly helped you turn that cabrón’s guts into vulture food.”

  “Enough.”

  Shay snarled it before smacking Zoe’s backside with so much force, there was no doubt about his intent. Obi-Wan; the Dom is strong in this one. Dan had known that much about Shay for a while, though it was clear Tait hadn’t. The guy gawked at his brother with new awareness. Shay flared a glare in return before pivoting back to his bride, who’d turned the texture of putty. They all watched as Zoe stood on tiptoe to whisper something in Shay’s ear. He nodded and murmured, “Of course you may. But make it fast.”

  Dan leaned against the car again, grinning. Whatever Shay had just given Zoe permission for, it ought to be a good show. He hoped it involved something like freeing more little swimmers from Stock’s balls, or finishing the nose job she’d started.

  But the little dancer didn’t go near the car. She skipped over to him. Before he could recover from the switch-up, Zoe threw her arms around his neck—and landed a solid kiss on his cheek.

  He froze.

  Rhett and Rebel whooped. El joined them. Everyone else clapped. Even Brynn, who still looked like his cojones on a platter would suit her just fine.

  “You were right, spook man,” Zoe drawled. “That was a kick-ass wedding gift.” She kissed his other cheek, using it as an excuse to murmur into his ear, “But next time, we’ll just kill the chindago, okay?”

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  “She actually said that?”

  Tess Lesange laughed her way through the question. Number one, the reaction made sense. Number two, it beat having to hide how badly she wanted to jump the bones—and anything else—of the man who dwarfed the little table they shared for a last-minute lunch at Mundo.

  Though they’d agreed to meet only an hour ago, Dan had arrived early enough to snag the table’s location, in a corner deep enough to cloak the right side of his face from the room. As usual, he’d dressed like every other “power government” guy in the place—a concerted effort on his part to blend as much as possible—though she didn’t have the heart to tell him that would never be possible. The man would command the space around him even if he’d arrived in a gunny sack. But take that natural aura of power, leadership, and animal-attraction sensuality, then slide it all into a charcoal suit, pinstriped shirt, trendy tie, and polished Ferragamos…

  No damn way was this man going to “just blend” in any room.

  Or make her yearn any less to help him dirty it all up.

  She forced herself not to fixate on the poetry of his long fingers, swirling their way around the rim of his beer mug. It was another effort altogether to ignore the glances he got from women at other tables, openly betraying how they’d let their bodies trade place with that mug in an instant.

  Like she was any better than them.

  Not by a single damn iota.

  Friend zone, Tess. You’re solidly there and you’ll never be anyplace else. Get it through your thick, over-styled head. The man likes little, cute, curvy show dancers, not tall, gawky, a-little-too-weird intel analysts.

  Though she sure couldn’t tell that right now.

  Damn. The man had a gift, a potent one, for making a girl feel like the object of his sole attention, despite the lunch hour chaos in one of downtown’s hottest restaurants. She might be the one with the office nickname of “the laser,” but she’d never felt like the entire world just went away unless she was with Dan. Though she’d never been in the field a day in her life, she imagined his intense focus was his hugest strength during the life-and-death ops he often regaled her with.

  Never could she have guessed that his friend’s wedding would be added to that list.

  “Yeah.” Dan smirked fully enough to tug at his scar tissue. “Word for word. That’s really what she said.”

  She scooped a chip into the bowl of guacamole between them. “I think I like this Zoe person.” Took a bite out of the bright green smoodge of heaven, barely controlling her eyes from rolling back in her head. Holy hell, this plac
e made bueno guac.

  Dan chuckled. “She’s a scrappy one, all right.”

  “You tell her that to her face?”

  “You think I’m that dumb? She wanted to put a bullet in Stock’s brain worse than me. ‘Scrappy’ wouldn’t be jamming a bee under her bonnet. It’d stir the whole hive.”

  She flashed a bigger smile. “You were both right not to kill him. He’s under max security watch now. As soon as his—errr—injury heals, he’ll be processed then prosecuted with anything we can throw at him. Cameron Stock and his empty nut sack will never see the sky free of barbed wire again.”

  Dan returned the grin. “It’ll be good news to tell her after the honeymoon. She and Ironman are honeymooning on Kauai, so he can spend a little time with T-Bomb during the trip.”

  Tess pretended to be picky about her next chip, disguising her nervousness about the question she couldn’t evade any longer. “Brynn was there too, right?”

  It was impossible not to notice how his fingers whitened against his mug.

  “Yeah. She was.”

  “So what was her take on things? Did you let her know what you were up to in advance?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah. Damn.” He glanced up, almost bashful about it, giving her a glimpse of his piercing blue eyes. Gut flip number ten thousand—for today alone. Those twin blues could sear her like the purest heart of a flame, meaning her system didn’t know whether to shiver or overheat. Screw it. She went for both.

  “Oh, dear,” she muttered. Liar. Thank God for the chips. Something for the hands to do besides betray the schism of excitement that coursed through her. “Trouble in paradise?”

  She could only hope.

  No. No, she couldn’t.

  Therese Odette Lesange, you are going to hell. In handcuffs. And flip-flops. Ugly ones, like the kind they sell at the hotel pools. The disgrace of plastic flowers and cheap rhinestones shall follow you throughout eternity.