by Marie James
“A couple guys from school were thinking of heading to Tijuana over spring break.”
“I don’t think that’s a great idea.” Dad is looking at Mom when I peer over at him.
“Care to explain?”
We go to Tijuana all the damn time. It’s like an hour from campus, and you don’t have to be twenty-one to drink in Mexico.
“It’s not a good time to leave the country,” Dad answers.
“That’s all I’m going to get?” I look from one parent to the other, but neither of them seems too eager to tell me what’s going on.
“I’m a grown man, you know. My childhood isn’t going to be ruined by knowing the truth.” Neither speak up. “Seriously?”
Dad sighs, but it’s in resignation rather than irritation. “There’s some trouble brewing across the border. Mostly in Mexicali, but it’s not unheard of for things to spread like wildfire down there.”
“See?” I stand from my chair and grin. “That wasn’t so bad was it?”
He doesn’t return my smile, and my steps falter before I can get very far away from the table.
“It’s worse than a little bit of trouble, isn’t it?”
“Four people from your school went missing around Christmas.”
I nod, remembering hearing about that and thinking they just took off and decided college wasn’t for them.
“They found their burned-out car early yesterday morning.”
“And the people?”
Dad swallows, his back straightening, and he hasn’t even opened his mouth to tell me the full truth and already I regret demanding it. It’s one reason I turn him down each time he offers to let me intern with Cerberus. They face some pretty bad stuff, and I don’t have room for all that bad crap in my life. I want to be carefree and happy, not haunted by the things I’ve seen. It’s why I didn’t join the service like my dad and brother.
“They’re waiting on dental records, but all signs point to them being in the car.”
“Well, shit,” I grumble and sit back down at the table.
Dad nods, not bothering to chastise me for the foul language in front of my mother.
“Mexico isn’t a good idea right now.”
“Yeah, I’ll umm… make different plans.”
“Fundraiser in the park,” Mom says with a little less joy than she had a few minutes ago.
“Yeah, I’ll consider it.”
We chat for a few more minutes, small talk that I’m certain my parents force me to sit through in order to gauge where my head is at with the news. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to picture what those people went through.
I shake my head as I climb the stairs to my room, suddenly feeling the urge to reach out to everyone I know just to make sure that they’re okay. Now I know what Mom and Dad feel when they text daily and urge me to communicate with them every day.
I shoot off several text messages while sitting on the foot of my bed, a bid to waste time to keep me from doing what I really need to do.
I still need to head back over to the clubhouse and get my apology out of the way, but I’m dreading that. I have to catch Rivet in one of the common areas. Knocking on her bedroom door wouldn’t be appropriate, especially not after the way I acted last night, so it may take a while. She could be gone or decided to sleep in late, but I know my Dad’s disappointment will only triple if I leave New Mexico without making things right with her.
Fuck, I should’ve kept my thoughts to myself last night. I shouldn’t have approached her thinking the same tired-ass lines would work, even though I’d been saving those particular lines for forever on the off chance of running into a hot chick in BDUs. I would’ve probably had better luck with an Army girl, but no I had to test my luck with a badass Marine.
I have no clue why I’m making a bigger deal out of this whole situation. I put my fingers on her arm. I shouldn’t have, and now I need to apologize, but dread fills my stomach at the thought of walking up to her and saying as much. Maybe I’m worried she’s going to ignore me again. I’m not too afraid that she’s going to put me on my ass again because I’m not really one to make the same mistake twice, but I probably deserve to be tossed around a little more.
And now my dick is getting hard.
Jesus, what is it about that woman that allows her to seep inside my damn head?
Yeah, she’s hot, but I’m around hot chicks every damn day. It was one of the selling points of going to college in California. I couldn’t say no to tiny shorts and bikini tops. Hello, Mission Beach Boardwalk.
I shouldn’t be thinking about bikini tops because I’d bet money that woman has a six-pack, and I’m not talking about a couple of contours and a little definition. I bet she could give my brother a run for his money in the abs department. I’m pretty cut, but Griffin’s stomach is insane.
I push a deep, slow breath from my lungs and shake out my hands. I need to go apologize, and then I can pretend nothing ever happened. Next time I come visit; it’ll be like we’ve never seen each other. If she’s around, I can work my way through small talk like I do with some of the guys, but other than that she’ll be off my radar.
I shower and dress, taking my sweet time and putting off the inevitable. My flight doesn’t leave until late this evening, but I have no desire to check in with old friends around town. That leaves my task in the clubhouse and hanging out with my folks until Dad drives me to the airport.
My text to Griffin goes unanswered the entire time I’m in the shower. Samson texts back asking if I apologized yet. Lawson isn’t interested in chatting because apparently, they have “honeymoon Sunday” every week—whatever in the hell that means. I’m sure it’s sex, but he didn’t respond when I asked for clarification.
Time ticks down, but in reality, less than an hour has passed since I came upstairs.
“Crap,” I mutter as I shove my feet into my sneakers. “Now or never.”
Dad is still at the kitchen table when I pass through to head to the clubhouse, and all he does is give me a quick nod when I pass. The disappointment from earlier is no longer on his face, and at least that’s something.
Laughter hits me in the chest when I enter the clubhouse through the back, and when I hear her voice in the kitchen, I wrap my head around the knowledge that I’m fixing to have to make this apology in public. Seems fitting seeing as everyone was watching when I disrespected her last night.
Chapter 7
Rivet
Summer
“You seem cranky.” Jinx stands off to the side while I make a cup of coffee.
Cranky doesn’t even begin to describe my mood, but at least he’s keeping enough of a distance that I can’t easily reach out and throat punch him.
“Not in the mood for your shit this morning,” I mumble, adding a little sugar to my black coffee.
“Hmm. I figured you’d be in a better mood. Are you not using that gift we got you?”
I huff a humorless laugh. I haven’t thought about that dildo or the gigantic bottle of lube they left wrapped so horribly on my bed since I opened it. I shoved it in the closet the first day I arrived almost five months ago and didn’t give it a second glance. Plastic toys have never been able to satisfy me.
I shrug as I turn around to look at him and bring my coffee close to my mouth.
“I’m used to bigger.” His perfect teeth flash when he grins. I don’t think there’s a cock on the earth bigger than the one they got me. It was meant as a joke, too large for practical use. “I mean, I did spend a lot of time on Navy bases.”
His smile falters when I wink at him. He’s a smart guy. He knows it was a jab at him or any other Marine who may be listening.
“I’ll have you know—”
I no longer hear his voice because Cannon walks into the kitchen. I haven’t seen him since the morning after I arrived. He apologized to me in front of all the other guys, which made me respect him a miniscule amount, but he immediately returned to college after and I haven
’t seen him since.
That same silly smirk from the first night is on his handsome face, and the fact that he hasn’t shaved, leaving scruff speckled on his strong jaw makes him appear older by a few years. He nods at me before walking toward the coffee pot, and I find that I’m both relieved he isn’t giving me shit in front of the guys and also bereft that he doesn’t pull some stupid pickup line.
I’ve gotten closer to the guys over the last couple of months, and they have given me the lowdown on everyone at the clubhouse, including the children of the original members. Shadow has two sons. Griffin served in the Corps and is serious to a fault, and Cannon is the wild child who doesn’t have a care in the world. He attends SDSU, but they didn’t go so far as to tell me what he’s studying at college—probably girls and how to perfect his beer pong skills if I had to guess.
“That’s probably a bad idea,” Grinch says when I grab the seat next to him at the kitchen table.
“Huh?” I’m not even focused on him, but when I look over at my teammate, I realize that’s exactly the problem.
“Getting horizontal with that boy will only breed trouble.” His eyebrow raises, causing my cheeks to heat with embarrassment.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I hiss, trying to deflect his assumption, but it’s clear he isn’t buying it.
I didn’t mean to stare at the boy, but I’m only human. His t-shirt is hugging every muscle on his chest, and the sight of his back moving, torso twisting, when he pulls a coffee cup from the cabinet would make any red-blooded woman stop and watch.
“I was reading his shirt.”
“Yeah, okay.” Grinch isn’t convinced, and why should he be?
The man hears and sees everything, which normally wouldn’t be a problem. It’s a great skill to have in our line of work, but the fact he caught me watching Cannon spells trouble. Grinch may know every single thing going on, but he’s also the club gossip. He isn’t selective in who he tells things to. I guarantee the other guys will be razzing me about watching Shadow’s son by the end of the day. My hackles rise at the prospect.
“Rivet?”
“What?” I turn to look at him, once again annoyed that my gaze was across the room hyper-focused on the way Cannon’s jeans hugs his thick thighs and shapely ass.
“I asked what his t-shirt said.”
I turn my head, forcing my eyes away from Cannon and look at Grinch, glaring at him in warning. Fuck, being in this group will make your head spin. When we’re working, everything is serious and even smiles are few and far between, but in the clubhouse it’s like living with a bunch of pre-teen adolescents who want to gossip and share secrets like we’re at summer camp or a sleepover.
I dart my eyes across the room, but Cannon is turned so I can’t see the front of his shirt. For all I know it’s just plain navy blue with nothing on the front. If so, wouldn’t that prove Grinch’s point?
“Like I said,” he takes another sip of his coffee, but I don’t miss the upward tilt of his lips before his cup meets his mouth, “nothing but trouble.”
Scowling, I refuse to look at Grinch. I refuse to turn away from Cannon, hoping that staring at him will only make his appeal dwindle away.
He was a complete idiot the night we met, and he was serious the next day when he apologized, genuine in his discomfort for acting the way he did. It took a lot of balls to walk up to me after I put him flat on his back, but to his credit, he didn’t seem irritated that I bested him, nor did he make excuses about having too much to drink. He didn’t even blame his friends even though I got the impression watching them that night that they teased him into action.
My lip twitches when Cannon finally turns around and I see that his shirt says STRANGERS HAVE THE BEST CANDY. He grins when he finds me looking at him, but I meet his challenge by not looking away. In my eyes, I hope he can read that I’m expecting him to act the same way that he did that first night, but he gives me a slight nod before continuing his conversation with Jinx who’s known to stay close to the pot of coffee until the thing is drained. Cannon’s mouth doesn’t twist into a salacious grin. He doesn’t grab his junk and wink. He doesn’t halt his conversation and amble over to me with filthy words and suggestive taunts.
He just stands there, only glancing at me long enough to acknowledge me in the room before turning back to Jinx.
I don’t know how I feel about it. I shouldn’t care that his focus is elsewhere. I should be grateful that he isn’t acting like an idiot or embarrassing me in front of my teammates, but I find my cheeks heating with being ignored. I don’t want the man to do those things, yet I also feel deprived of his attention for some reason.
“I’m losing my fucking mind.”
“What’s that?”
I snap my head toward Grinch, cringing when I realize I’ve said the words out loud. Cannon has gotten me flustered, and all he did was walk in the damn room.
“I got shit to do,” I snap, standing from the table.
I’ll forgo breakfast to peel myself from this situation. I contemplate leaving my half-full cup of coffee on the table to keep from having to get closer to him, but I’m not a slob. That, and the sign hanging on the wall that reads YOUR MOTHER DOESN’T LIVE HERE; CLEAN UP AFTER YOURSELF is a clear enough warning.
With my head held high, chin jutting forward, I walk across the room to the sink, putting me within arm’s length of the guy who has somehow made my brain scatter.
“Rivet,” Cannon says as I rinse my cup before opening the dishwasher.
Is his voice always that husky? Does he always sound like he’s got gravel in his throat? I don’t recall him sounding that way the first time we met or when he found me the following morning.
The gruff sound of my name on his lips does things I won’t even address right now.
“Cannon.” I nod at him, close the dishwasher, and haul ass out of the kitchen. Grinch’s low chuckle follows me out the door.
Gigi, one of Kincaid’s daughters, is pacing the hall with an irritated baby in her arms. Amelia, the cutest baby I’ve ever seen and my teammate Hound’s daughter, is gnawing on her fist with streams of tears rolling down her chubby, flushed cheeks. I don’t know a damn thing about babies, but it’s apparent that this little one is unhappy, showing no signs of settling anytime soon.
Since I don’t have a motherly bone in my body and wouldn’t have a clue how to help a child in distress, I nod at Gigi, who looks like she’s been up all night, and walk past. She coos to the baby, softly comforting her. Gigi is young, most would say too young to even be a mother, but she seems to be doing a good job.
Once in the safety of my room, I press my back to the door. If Cannon is here now that only means that college is out for the summer, and he’s going to be around more often. I can’t be caught watching him again. Grinch didn’t let it slide this time, and there’s no telling what kind of gossip will spread if I’m caught again.
I’ve been on numerous missions with these guys already, having just gotten back from three weeks in Central America a couple of days ago, and although I’ve slowly won their respect, I know I’ll lose it in the blink of an eye if I start anything with the guy I wanted to choke out the first time we met.
Even though my options are limited around here, I refuse to even contemplate what a night with him would be like. I refuse to think about the power his thighs would wield as he drives insi—
Nope. Not going to think about it at all.
The guys have parties. They had one last night and the night before in fact. Every time we return from the field, they turn the music up loud and the drinks start flowing. Women from town seem to know when to appear, or the guys send up some sort of beacon inviting them to the clubhouse. Women… not men. There are never any guys in the clubhouse other than team members and the original Cerberus guys. Unless I want to get a little freaky with some of the female townies—to each their own, but it’s not my thing—my options aren’t only limited, they’re non-existent around here.
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Jinx would be down for a little romp, and I’ve caught Rocker staring at me with impure thoughts in his eyes, but that would bring as much drama as hooking up with Cannon, and I’m not looking to compromise my place in Cerberus just for an orgasm or two. Even though several of the guys are clearly down to fuck, I refuse to shit where I eat.
Groaning in frustration, I head to the shower. Maybe a nice, long ride on my bike will be enough to clear my head, that and keeping my distance from the smiling fool who ignored me this morning.
Why does getting exactly what I wanted in the first place bother me so damn much?
Chapter 8
Cannon
“And all I’m asking for is a little information,” I mutter to my brother who’s more interested in the stupid game he’s playing on his phone than helping me out.
“I’ve been in Rhode Island since the beginning of January. How would I know?” he grumbles, apparently losing the game, but he doesn’t make eye contact with me when he finally sets the stupid thing on the kitchen table. “Did you even apologize to her? If you did, maybe you can ask her these damn things yourself.”
Griffin, Ivy, Lawson, and Delilah opted to stay back east over spring break, and since they weren’t coming home, I didn’t either. Ian Hale didn’t call about another spring break internship, and I didn’t bother to call him either. I’m actually relieved I got some time to myself, but it was difficult not grabbing a red-eye flight back to New Mexico that week. I wanted to see Rivet, and that was enough to keep me away. I spent the week hanging out with friends that didn’t go home either, drinking and having a good time, but my thoughts were never far from the clubhouse the entire time.
I didn’t bring up the topic last week when I was in Rhode Island for their graduation because there were more important things to focus on like helping them and Lawson and Delilah pack their apartments and load the U-Hauls, but they’re back now, and I need answers.
“I did apologize, and for your information, I was completely sincere. I know I acted like an idiot that night.”