Spread Your Wings: Men in Blue, Book 4

by Jayne Rylon

  Mrs. Wilkenson had lived on the ground floor since this complex had been new and spotless, in an up-and-coming neighborhood instead of one on the cusp of revitalization. Jambrea shook her head, trying to clear the daze Clint had inspired. She pledged she wouldn’t end up that way. She’d do what it took to make these guys live up to the potential she felt every time she found herself between them.

  Oh God, it had been heaven between them.

  “Sorry.” Clint stepped away from her, looking as dazzled as she felt. He adjusted the crotch of his jeans as subtly as possible, then tried to barge past Matt, out of the tiny bathroom. Not possible when his partner easily blocked the entire doorway.

  “I don’t blame you.” The massive man smiled at his partner, then clapped him on the shoulder, taking away the guilt in his furrowed brows. “We’re going to have to figure out the rules of this thing soon, though, so we quit trampling each other when we don’t mean to. Let’s find someplace quiet first, huh?”

  Clint didn’t answer, but he held his fist out and Matt bumped it.

  Jambrea imagined them doing a lot more than that. What if Matt had kissed Clint like the other man had just done to her? She moaned, then clapped her hand over her still tingling lips.

  “I’m hoping we hear a lot more of that later.” Matt grinned at her. The expression had become increasingly rare lately. To see his bright white smile again filled her with optimism. Together, they could figure this out.

  Couldn’t they?

  “Come on.” Clint snagged her toiletry bag and held his hand out to her. “The sooner we get on the road, the sooner we can work on that.”

  Matt strode to the few remaining boxes. She couldn’t believe he’d cleared out the majority of her apartment so quickly. Her head spun as she inventoried the blank, dusty shelves that had held her military memorabilia, a few pictures of her family and awards from the hospital. Only generic kitchen stuff and her threadbare furniture would stay behind.

  “Parker…”

  “I took him out to the truck already.” Matt smiled. “I think he remembers me. He hopped right into the net thingy and splashed me like he was saying hello. I even took his castle so he has somewhere to sleep.”

  Jambrea couldn’t help herself. She crossed the tiny living room in two big steps then reached onto her tiptoes to lay a smacking kiss on his cheek. She couldn’t believe how tiny he made her feel. And how loved.

  What other man would humor her pet fish? Especially when Parker clearly was annoyed by being uprooted. He never slapped his tail at people he liked. Matt didn’t need to know that though.

  “Okay, kids.” Clint cleared his throat this time. “We’re ready?”

  Jambrea looked around, knowing this place would never truly be home again. Part of her had checked out from this life. Permanently. She ringed her wrist, pressing on the no regrets part of her tattoo. Then she nodded.

  Matt heaved her remaining boxes into his arms then looked to Clint. “Get the door, would you?”

  His partner complied and held it while Matt passed through. Matt clomped down half a flight of stairs before Jambi and Clint made it to the landing outside the door. While Clint fiddled with the lock, a blaring noise had Jambrea nearly jumping.

  Lucas.

  He honked the car horn again. And a third time.

  Still, it wasn’t enough warning. The metal beneath them groaned. This time she realized the creak she’d heard a second ago had been caused by more than Matt’s hulking form traipsing down the wrought iron.

  Matt looked over his shoulder at them even as the staircase began to separate from the building. “Run!”

  He screamed at them, but nothing would have allowed them to sprint the entire length before it gave way. Farther down, he made it most of the way before the metal buckled.

  “Jump!” Lucas’s bellow reached them clearly from his spot in the parking lot.

  Clint grabbed her hand. He peered over the railing then back to her as they lurched downward about three feet then held temporarily. The last remaining bolts wouldn’t dangle them in mid-air for long.

  A horrible crash sounded as the lower sections collapsed, dumping Matt and her belongings to the pavement. Oh shit, would he be okay?

  She didn’t have time to check because next thing she knew, Clint tugged her roughly. He set her on top of the railing then shoved.

  Jambrea only realized what he intended at the last second. She pushed off the deteriorating structure and cannonballed into the dumpster below, thankful pickup day wasn’t until tomorrow. Brimming with trash, the receptacle met her halfway to the parking lot. She only fell about eight feet before rotten vegetables and maybe even some bubble wrap halted her tumble.

  A split second later, Clint crashed beside her with an oomph quickly followed by a hissed, “Ew.”

  Sparks flew in the air beside them when the rest of the stairway hit the blacktop. Clint covered her from any debris raining into their safe, stinky haven. Something bounced off his shoulder yet he didn’t even flinch. The instant the barrage stopped, he launched himself for the edge and hauled himself up with impressive upper body strength.

  “Matt!”

  No answer came to the frantic shout.

  “Matt! Are you okay?”

  This time a groan echoed in the stillness. Then a curse or twenty.

  “I think that’s a good sign, right?” Jambrea swam toward the edge of the refuse bin.

  “Yeah, I’m all right. Had the wind knocked out of me. Everything seems to be moving mostly the way it’s supposed to, though,” Matt confirmed.

  Clint turned to her with a relieved smile. He plucked a noodle from her hair then vaulted to straddle the lip of their landing site.

  “What is it with you, me and dumpsters?” She cringed as something squished beneath her sneakers.

  “I don’t know, but let’s not make it a habit, okay?” Clint fished her from the garbage. With the aid of his hand, locked around her wrist, she scampered up and over the side. He lowered her to the ground as gently as he could manage.

  It had taken him a few seconds, but Lucas reached them in time to assess the structural wreckage. “Too fucking late. I didn’t see it until you all were on there. Fuck. There was a cut straight through the center post. That piece of shit was rickety to start with, but…someone sliced that beam.”

  “Why didn’t they want me to leave?” Jambrea wondered out loud.

  “I have no goddamn idea,” Matt snarled. “But we’re not waiting around to find out.”

  He tried to haul her toward the truck as she peeked at the wreckage of her possessions. All the sentimental things had been in that last box. Unable to let go, she trotted back and plucked her family pictures from the debris of her shattered glass nursing awards. Estranged or not, she couldn’t bear to lose the last link to them.

  Lucas tried to help. He couldn’t kneel beside her quick enough.

  Clint finished the job while Matt hauled out his gun and covered them.

  “Wait, I think you missed one. There.” Lucas pointed to something shiny, which caught the first rays of sunlight to crest the top of the building.

  Jambrea gasped. She lunged for the Silver Star but couldn’t quite reach. Especially not with her limited range of motion in her now-pounding arm.

  Lucas helped. He plucked the Medal of Honor from the wreckage and stared at it.

  “This isn’t the time for fucking show-and-tell.” Matt snatched the velvet-lined case and jammed it into a box.

  “You were military, Jambi?” Lucas studied her. A newfound respect colored his tone.

  “Yeah, Air Force. A medic. I needed scholarships for school.” She didn’t glance up as she used her good arm to shove her spilled property into the cardboard crates.

  “They don’t give those to any old G.I. Joe.” The injured man looked to Matt and Clint. “You should ask her about that. I bet it’s a hell of a story.”

  Honestly, she wished they wouldn’t. But they seemed to take Lucas’s a
dvice to heart and tossed her a few questioning glances before corralling her toward their waiting truck.

  Matt tossed the not-so-pristine boxes into the back, then did practically the same to her while helping her into the cab.

  Without instruction, Lucas nodded. “I’ll go tell the guys. We’ll bring someone over to study the scene and see what we can dig up. Get out of here. Take her somewhere safe.”

  “What if she’s better off without us?” Clint asked quietly. “We’re the ones dragging her into this mess, aren’t we?”

  “I’d say it’s too late.” Lucas’s mouth was set in a grim line. “They were here. They set the trap. They know they can get to you through her or why else would they have pulled this stunt? Not to mention trying to turn her into Swiss cheese last night.”

  “Right.” Matt swiped a trickle of blood from his cheek with the sleeve of his T-shirt. “We’re in it together. The three of us.”

  Somehow that declaration made all the difference in the world to Jambrea. No matter what shit hit the fan, they’d handle it as one unit.

  She was okay with that.

  “Stay safe.” Lucas waved them off as he made his way, slowly, to his car. They waited for him to get situated before peeling out, on their way to someplace better.

  Chapter Eight

  Instead of a rundown roadside motel, like she expected, the glamorous Crystal Suites left Jambrea speechless. She’d driven past the gorgeous high-rise many times, but never dared to consider staying there. Matt and Clint had scored a room using some secret handshake or, more likely, the flash of their badges. Gleaming marble floors were only outdone by an enormous chandelier that dangled over the fountains that graced the lobby like Parker’s wet-dream villa.

  Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the local celebrity who’d hosted the reality dancing show Izzy and Razor had won two seasons ago. Though she wanted to gawk, she kept her stare cast downward and her face averted.

  “Shouldn’t we be keeping a low profile?” Jambrea whispered to Matt, as if the polished wood paneling of the elevator they stepped into would amplify the sound of her voice.

  “Security is way better in an upscale place. They’ll protect our privacy and won’t be swayed by petty bribes. They’re used to serving guests discreetly, even when odd requests are made.” He shrugged. “Plus, their bellman will help us lug all your stuff upstairs.”

  She swatted his ass, though it probably stung her palm more than his buns of steel. “I told you we didn’t have to bring everything.”

  Clint laughed hard enough to slosh a few droplets of water from Parker’s bowl. He looked so adorable carrying her pet through the elegant surroundings, it made her stomach do cartwheels.

  “Wild thing, it’s not like you have some ungodly number of shoes or a ridiculous collection of cocktail dresses. Have you ever seen what Lacey packs to go on an overnighter? You travel light, even when we’re talking about most of the contents of your apartment.” Matt tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You know I’m teasing, right?”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks flushed. “Sure.”

  “We really need to get better at this, don’t we?” Clint looked to them both. “Saying what we mean and hearing what goes unsaid.”

  “I guess.” Jambrea mostly wanted to ignore it all, curl up in a corner somewhere and hibernate until the world made sense again.

  “I think I’m starting to figure out that look.” A smile tipped up the corners of Matt’s mouth. “That tone too. It means you don’t feel like arguing, not that you agree.”

  “True.” She nodded.

  “Well, we don’t want to fight either, Jambi.” Clint propped Parker’s bowl on one lean hip so he could use his index finger to lift her chin and force her to meet his gaze. “That’s not at all what I have in mind right now.”

  “The woman got shot because of us then was nearly turned into a shish kabob on that deathtrap staircase. We all reek of trash and now we have to hide out together in a hotel room for who knows how long—” Matt seemed like he was going to ramble for a while.

  “You forgot the part about screwing me while hiding your identities.” Jambrea couldn’t believe they’d think any of the rest mattered as much as that. All of it together, months of missed connections, didn’t hurt as badly as their deception. Because even though she’d dwelled on it for hours, she couldn’t come up with a reason they’d go to such extremes other than tossing her a pity fuck they never intended to repeat.

  So what was with the mixed signals? And Clint’s kiss?

  “—I hardly doubt the last day has turned her on. Hurt her, for sure. Scared her, maybe. Made her horny, doubtful.” Matt glared at his partner, continuing his rant as they filed out of the car into a lush hallway. Jewel-toned runners led the way toward the room marked on the parchment envelope containing the electronic key Matt clutched. “So keep that gun in its holster until we can hash things out.”

  Jambrea couldn’t help it. She stole a peek at Clint’s crotch. Holy crap. Matt wasn’t joking. Though the fact that he’d noticed his partner’s erection spoke volumes to her.

  “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll risk Gigantor over there kicking my ass for what happens next.” Clint’s pupils dilated as he registered her appreciative glance.

  “You’re fast, but there’s probably not much room to run in here.” Matt inserted the key and waited for the indicator to flash green before confirming his theory.

  Richly appointed, the space had a seating area complete with a sectional couch that faced a fancy flat-screen TV, which hung on the wall surrounded with an ornate picture frame. The furnishings were all composed of graceful lines and tasteful fabrics. Nothing gaudy. The elegant simplicity spoke of high-end luxury. On a raised dais at the far end of the long, though not-so-wide, room sat an enormous canopied bed.

  “I claim that sucker. Jambi and I will be super comfortable in it.” Matt stretched. “I’m too damn big to be cramped on the couch.”

  “You may be wide, but I’m taller.” Clint waved his hands in front of his chest. “I’m definitely getting the bed with wild thing. Don’t worry, the sectional looks pretty decent.”

  “How about the two of you share the bed and leave me the hell out of it.” Jambrea propped her arms on her hips and spread her feet apart, standing strong. “I’ve had about enough of you two making decisions for me. Especially about who I do or don’t sleep with.”

  Clint sputtered, whether at the thought of doubling up with his partner or at her ire, she wasn’t sure. Either suited her just fine. Before he could regain his balance, or the upper hand, she moved on.

  “Look, I’m starving. I need to eat to take another dose of antibiotics, which I don’t want to miss since we went dumpster diving. Could we order room service, maybe? Then I’d love to get clean.” She couldn’t handle feeling raw all the time. A warm meal and a steamier bath would go a long way to soothing her ragged nerves.

  “Shit. Sorry, Jambi.” Matt encroached on her personal space. So she held out her arm, elbow locked, palm perpendicular to the floor in the universal signal for stop. For once, he obeyed.

  A quick flip through the menu and she had her order ready. Everything looked delicious, but she settled on a basic egg-white omelet and some orange juice. As she relayed the choice to Matt, who took down her request as well as Clint’s, a knock echoed throughout the room.

  She flinched. It hadn’t quite set in yet that someone had tried to hurt them. No…kill them. Twice. More than herself, she worried about the guys and whatever wackadoodle they’d seriously pissed off. If something happened to them…

  Clint stepped between her and the door, his gun drawn but held flush at his thigh, invisible to anyone in the entrance to the room. Matt took in the stance and nodded. The way they worked seamlessly together on the force had her squirming. If only they could capitalize on that groove in their personal lives, they’d be set.

  It would be just like last night.

  Except better, becau
se she’d know who it was rocking her world.

  Matt pressed his face to the door, using the peephole before permitting the bellman to wheel her belongings into the center of the room. In less than ten seconds they’d unloaded the cart, encouraging the man to be on his way with what looked like a big tip. “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure, sir.” He dipped his hat toward the open menu on the desk. “Would you like me to take an order to the kitchen for you? I can fast track it if you like. The best cook downstairs, Greta, is my wife.”

  “That’d be great. But, seriously, call me Matt.” He probably didn’t mean to rattle the guy’s bones when he clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Yes, sir. Matt.” The bellman nodded. “I’ll be back with your food as soon as possible.”

  “Thank you.” Jambrea added, her stomach growling loud enough to make the guys chuckle.

  As soon as the door shut, she rummaged through a box. The arm of a worn, comfy T-shirt hung out of it. She’d gotten the thing as a souvenir when she’d run—somewhat slower than her old boot camp pace—in a charity race for wounded veterans last summer. After retrieving the soft cotton and a pair of yoga pants, she spun on her heel, heading for the open door that could only lead to the bathroom.

  She hadn’t made it more than two steps into the sanctuary before she gasped at the overwhelming beauty and serenity surrounding her.

  Clint and Matt piled in behind her, guns again held at the ready.

  “What is it?” Matt swept from side to side while Clint covered him.

  “Sorry, no national emergency. It’s…beautiful, that’s all.” She sniffled and blinked back tears. How could things be so messed up and yet so terrific in her life all at once?

  It ticked her off that she couldn’t savor the moment, or her company.

  “Wow.” Once the guys determined no threat had followed them into their haven, Clint took a better look at the amenities. An enormous shower with a clear glass front and tinted glass looking out onto the city took up one wall. It had rainfall showerheads on each side and a bevy of chrome sprayers dotting the entire surface. “Looks like you could have one hell of a party in there. I think I’ll try it out.”