Wanted

by Palmer, Dee

  “Sparrow what now?” Pink barks out a throaty laugh.

  “Fart—at sparrow fart. It means really early. ” She giggles lightly at the confused look on all our faces. It must be a British thing.

  “How are her fitness levels?” Charge asks, sipping his espresso.

  “Pretty crappy,” Tug answers, and Finn twists round and slaps his stomach in indignation.

  “Hey! I kept up,” She argues, causing Tug to lift his hands up in surrender at her irked tone. “It’s abnormal the speed and distance you run,” she protests.

  “You kept up, sugar, because we slowed down, and you nearly needed an iron lung after the first stretch.” Tug smiles indulgently, and I arch a warning brow over her head, because I can feel her hackles rise. He hangs a heavy arm over her shoulder, pulling her into an affectionate hug. “I’m teasing, honey. You did good.”

  “First stretch?” she queries, her irritation seeming to evaporate with his praise.

  “Yeah, sugar. We do that run several times but since we carried you back, we didn’t think you would be that happy to wait on us. Beside you said something about coffee.” Tug kisses her hair, and she snickers, pulling upright and away from his embrace.

  “Oh, God, yes! Coffee and food,” she groans, looking enviously at the two empty cups on the table.

  “How are my favorite boys?” Marilyn appears, swilling a jug of the steamy, black liquid, which makes Finn perk up.

  “We’re good, thanks, Marilyn. How’s Rodney?” Marilyn and Rodney own this small diner we’ve used for almost ten years—ever since we enlisted. It’s a great pit stop for breakfast most days when we train at the beach and the occasional evening meal when Charge doesn’t want to cook. It’s nothing fancy, but feels like a second home, and Marilyn thinks of us like the sons she never had.

  “Oh, you know, same ol’ same ol’. Hello, there, sweetheart.” Marilyn smiles directly at Finn, who is quick to offer her hand, but before she can introduce herself, the shit hits the fan. “So you’re the latest dream girl? Well, give it to my boys to pick the pretty ones, that’s for sure.” Finn retrieves her hand and visibly shrinks a few inches in size. We all outwardly flinch, and Charge and Pink fire the stink eye at both Tug and me. Fuck. “The usual for you boys, and how about you, sweetheart?” There’s an awkward silence, and Marilyn’s eyes flit between four grown men holding their breath and panicking. “Oh, darling, I didn’t mean anything by that. I gotta learn to keep my mouth shut.” Marilyn tries to brush off what she said; nevertheless, the damage is done.

  “It’s fine.” Finn waves her hands like it’s no big deal, but her body is rigid next to mine. “I’ll have some pancakes please, and coffee—lots of coffee.” She lets out a stilted laugh, which does nothing to ease the tension.

  “Sure thing, darling.” Marilyn scurries off hastily, leaving the scene of her verbal crime.

  “Finn—” Charge tries to speak, but she’s quick with her interruption.

  “Would you excuse me? I need to use the ladies’ room.” She nudges Tug, who jumps up like her fingertips are firing high-voltage electricity.

  “Finn?” Charge repeats, and she pauses to turn and face us with a forced, bright smile that’s like a kick in the nuts.

  “I’m fine, Charge. I just need to pee.” She again tries to smile, but she gives up and hurries away.

  “Dumbass! Why the fuck did you bring her here?” Pink fires across the table, his narrowed eyes nothing compared to Charge’s dark scowl.

  “Fucking idiots.” His voice is barely above a whisper, and I know that’s when he’s at his most furious.

  “Hey, calm the fuck down.” I use my hands, waving, downing the rising animosity. “We brought her here because she wanted coffee, and we always come here. It’s nothing special, Charge.” I try to justify our error. It wasn’t a strategic fuck-up; at worst, we just didn’t think.

  “No, but she is, and now she probably feels like another notch in four fucking bedposts!” he growls, and I take the hit—we both do.

  “Shit, I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t thinking, Charge.” Tug rubs his hand across the back of his neck, his shoulders bunching near his ears, and we all feel the same.

  “This won’t fuck it up, trust me,” I state, my stern tone a reflection of my own frustration, but I genuinely think this is a minor hiccup compared to what could potentially end this deal.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?” Charge rises at my provocation, but I know lashing out is his first line of defense.

  “We don’t have the secrets or the hang-ups, Charge. I don’t mean anything by it, you know that, man, but it’s the truth.” He stiffens at my statement and nods, acknowledging the truth of what I said.

  “I told her about my folks.” Charge’s fingers grip his cup, oozing tension from every pore.

  “You did?” Pink exclaims, his tone as surprised as the expression on all our faces. Charge is as closed off as they come, with good reason, so this is unprecedented.

  “Yeah. Didn’t think twice either. It felt right, so cut me some fucking slack. I have no intention of fucking this up any more than you all do.” He glares at each of us.

  “And the other stuff?” I push, instantly kicking myself for doing so, feeling the wash of shame that I should level any accusation at this man, my brother, and the man who saved my life.

  “It’s the second fucking week, Toxic, give me time,” he snaps.

  “I’m sorry, man, I was out of line.” I’m quick to set things straight, but Charge still gives me a death glare. It’s not like him to hold a grudge, so I can’t help thinking this conversation troubles him more than he’s letting on.

  “All right, guys. Just calm the fuck down. We have all the fucking time in the world, because none of us want this to end. So how about we stop pointing fingers, and make sure Finn makes the right choice,” Pink jokes, trying to kill the tension.

  “Which is?” I ask with a curious quirk of my lips.

  “Me, of course.” Pink sits back, puffing his chest like an ass.

  “You gave her poison oak,” Tug points out flatly.

  “And you brought her here,” Pink retorts

  “And I’ll explain. I will sort this, okay?” My voice is level and certain as I attempt to soothe the undercurrent of rage that’s flying at me from all corners.

  “Explain what?” Finn comes back, and, surprisingly, she does look brighter, the edge of sadness gone, and that killer smile is back to full-strength, giving the brightness of the California sun a run for its money.

  “That he’s a dumbass.” Pink offers me up, and I kick him under the table, not hard so he doesn’t move, but hard enough.

  “Finn, we’re sorry. We didn’t know Marilyn would say something like that. This is our normal hangout and it didn’t occur to me not to bring you here.”

  “I’m glad you did. I don’t want you hiding me away, and I need to not be quite so sensitive. It’s not like I’m the first girl you’ve tried out.” She shrugs lightly, and I can see in her eyes this little bit of trouble has already passed.

  “But you’re the last.” Charge took the words right out of my mouth. A splash of pink colors her cheeks as she takes her seat beside me.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls,” she retorts.

  Quick to disabuse her of this thought, we all say, “No,” at the same time.

  “Oh!” She chews on her cheek but can’t hide the smile from splitting her face.

  After breakfast, which we managed to finish without further incident, we head off to the harbor, agreeing to meet the others at the bar after dinner. A friend of Pink’s is the lead guitar in a local band, and it’s their final night of a small tour. We thought Finn would enjoy a night out and a chance to meet some of our other friends. This last week has been great, but as much as we’d like to keep her all to ourselves, we know we should mingle more—No. Actually, after this morning’s debacle with Marilyn, keeping her locked away is exactly what I’d like to do.
We walk down the pontoons, with some of the most impressive sailing boats in the world moored on either side. The musical chime of the rigging running against the myriad of masts gets my heart thumping. I love the sea, and a strong wind is like mainlining crack for a sailor. I hope Finn feels the same.

  We arrive at The Four, our very own lady of the sea, a Jeanneau 58 that has just the right amount of luxury. She is a serious sailboat, and the absolute best place to be on a clear and windy day. Jumping over the gap between the pontoon and the boat, I hold my hand out for Finn to follow. She kicks off her shoes the second she hits the deck.

  “This is yours?” Her eyes wide with wonder, she takes in the splendor of the blond teak flooring and gleaming stainless-steel fittings. The seating area in front of the steering console is covered with protective plastic, but still makes the boat look pristine.

  “Ours,” I correct with a proud grin. “There’s a shower below in the master cabin, if you want to freshen up.” I point to the center of the deck where an arched doorway leads down some steps to the interior of the vessel.

  “It’s amazing! I’m not being funny, but how on earth do four Navy guys afford something like this? You’re not actually drug smugglers, are you?” she laughs nervously.

  “No, sugar. That’s sort of frowned upon in our line of work. Charge has this fuck-off trust fund. He didn’t touch it for years. He hates the idea of money making him different from the rest of us. It doesn’t; we don’t give a shit, but he felt it did, so he just ignores it. He made us all trustees a few years back. Not that we’d spend any of his money, but he felt better that we could if we needed to, like if we were real brothers.” I shrug off the only explanation I have.

  “That’s very generous.” She exhales slowly, eyes still taking in every detail.

  “That’s Charge. Anyway, we all love the ocean. This wasn’t a tough sell.” I wink and start to unhook all the protective covers. Tug has loosened the spring lines and pulled in the fenders before he lands back on the pontoon to make one last sweep to make sure everything is good to go.

  “It’s really big.” Her tone is filled with awe, and I bloody love that. The Four is impressive, and she flies like shit off a shovel in the right conditions.

  “That’s what she said.” Tug jumps from the dock and lands heavily behind Finn.

  “I meant the boat,” she snickers.

  “You really didn’t though, did you?” He wraps his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning her in his arms until she’s perched on his hips. His mouth crashes into hers, for a fast and furious kiss, before he drops her slightly shell-shocked, tiny frame back on the deck.

  “Um…wow.” She exhales loudly, a huge grin illuminating her face. “Not kidding though, how can just two people sail this?”

  “First, it’s not people. We’re two skilled sailors. Second, it’s not just two of us, but three.” I wiggle my brow playfully and laugh when her own brows shoot up in horror.

  “I can’t!” she gasps, placing her hand over her heart. “I’ve never so much as sat on a pedalo!” she squeaks, and I bark out a deep laugh at her sudden panic.

  “Relax, sugar. Every day’s a schoolday.” I wink, but she doesn’t look remotely convinced. Sighing I try to comfort her with further explanation.

  “It’s rigged so it can be sailed by one of us, sugar. Trust us. We have precious cargo right here.” I step up to her and stroke her long, blonde hair that’s whipping in the breeze, trying to tame it by pushing it behind her ears. “We just want to show you our other passion.” I hold her gaze and watch her throat as she swallows. Sweet.

  “SHE’S IN THE SHOWER,” I call out to Toxic as he starts to maneuver The Four out of her mooring.

  “And?” His face twists with confusion.

  “And my balls ache so much I want to join her.” I grab my package to try and ease the dull pain, though I know it will be a brief respite.

  “You said you wanted to double up. That was your idea, remember?” he retorts with a wry smile.

  “I know,” I groan.

  “Well, The Four won’t sail herself, so you’ll just have to stow it until later.”

  “Tonight?” I can’t hide the slight panic from my tone.

  “I was thinking when we get to the cove, we could take a little dip and eat some lunch, then…” His suggestion hangs in the air between us.

  “Sounds fucking perfect. You really think she’s up for it? For us both, I mean?” I look nervously over my shoulder, because she has a habit of walking in at just the wrong time, and the last thing I want her to stumble in on is this conversation. “She seemed keen on the beach, but this isn’t some fantasy. This is high-definition reality.” I grab my cock not for effect, but because it’s straining painfully against my zipper and aching like a motherfucker.

  “We won’t push it, Tug. This is up to her and we’ll follow her lead, okay?” Toxic says.

  “Cool. Man, I hope she wants to.” I can’t fight the devilish grin that splits my face in two.

  “Wants to what? I keep coming in on the tail end of you guys discussing me, and it’s driving me nuts.” I blow out a puff of air in relief. Perfect timing, Finn.

  “Hope you want to have a go at steering.” Toxic steps to the side but keeps his hand on the wheel. Walking over cautiously, her eyes narrow and flit suspiciously between us both.

  “That’s not what you were talking about.” Her astute observation makes me think this is a conversation we should have with her. I look at Toxic and see from his expression he’s drawn the same conclusion.

  “It wasn’t, but since there’s no escape now, we didn’t want to freak you out,” I finish off, winching out the jib and walking over to the right of the steering console where Toxic is showing her how to hold the wheel.

  “Oh, now I’m intrigued.” She grips the curve of the wheel exactly where Toxic’s hands were and her forearm flexes with the tension. She flashes an excited smile up at Toxic, who is hovering at her back.

  “This is a double date, yeah?” I press on.

  “Yeah?” She draws out the word like it’s also a question.

  “We were hoping you were—” I hesitate, and she interrupts.

  “A little late in the day for shyness and euphemisms now, Tug. Come on, spit it out,” she giggles.

  “And, sugar, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Toxic grins, and Finn laughs loudly, though her cheeks couldn’t be any redder if they were on fire.

  “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not nervous, because I am. I’ve never done anything like this before. I think this situation is pretty unique. Honestly, there can’t be many others who have.” She flinches as she says the words, and I hate that I know why. I couldn’t have predicted Marilyn would say what she did; still, I curse myself for taking her to the diner unprepared. That shadow of doubt wouldn’t be there, if we had at least warned her. She shakes her head, clearly trying to push the image out of her head. Good. “I trust you all, and I wouldn’t have agreed if I wasn’t at the very least curious enough to try.” She bites her lip, and although her reticence is there, it’s hidden under her adorable modesty and hooded, sparkling eyes.

  “I don’t know what else is flashing through your head, sugar, but being with you is not to be compared with anything we’ve done before—ever,” I state as a matter-of-fact.

  “Light years apart, baby,” Toxic confirms my sentiment. “And if you change your mind, whatever you want to do is fine with us. Honestly, Finn, if we can’t make you want us both, then we don’t deserve the pleasure.”

  I get a kick from the shiver going through her, which has nothing to do with the wind chill picking up. Her tongue peeps out to wet her dry lips, and her sweet tits rise ten to the dozen with her increased panting breaths. Oh, yeah, we’ll make her want us both.

  “You got the helm, sugar, so Toxic can grab a shower?” I ask, watching any residual color drain from her face.

  “What? No!” she gasps, and her hands fly from th
e wheel. Toxic grabs them and puts them firmly back in place, before stepping away and quickly disappearing below deck.

  “Relax, sugar. I’m here, and you’re going in a straight line. It will be calm until we reach past the harbor wall, and I’ll take it from there, if he’s not back.” She nods tentatively, and this half grimace freezes on her beautiful face. She’s changed into some tiny, denim, cut-off shorts and a loose, wife-beater shirt with cut out sides and scoops low at the back. The top barely covers her black, string bikini that’s tied around her neck with some beads. Her light-blonde hair looks almost white, reflecting the bright sun, absorbing the shine and magnifying it tenfold. She has it pulled up high in a twist, with wispy tendrils whipping around her face as the wind picks up.

  Toxic returns, and I grab the shower next.

  I’m back in time to help let the mainsail out, kick back and let this baby fly. Toxic has his hand either side of Finn on the wheel and steers us hard into the wind. The boat heels, and the angle is perfect, but it makes Finn scream and grip with white-knuckled terror to the wheel.

  I’m winching the sails and making sure we can maintain this speed, or more, but keep casting a glance back at Finn. Her color may have drained again at the first tilt of the boat, but her grin is so fucking wide, I know she’s enjoying the thrill. The spray from the waves we plow through drenches her and every squeal of delight and shocked cry makes my cock twitch and blood fire. I can’t wait to be the one pushing her to make those sounds.

  She relaxes after a while, enough to release her death grip on the wheel, and come and help me with tacking.

  By lunchtime she looks like a natural, dipping under the boom and moving confidently from the bow to the stern, howling with laughter every time she gets drenched by a wave. After an hour or so, we lower the mainsail and drift into a secluded cove just north of La Jolla Cove. There are no other boats anchored in the bay surrounded by high sandstone cliffs. The place is peaceful and, above all, private.