by Joss Wood
“Oh, sit down, Hudson, you’re not going anywhere. And you don’t get to bail just because there’s a fire under you.” Flick told her, impatient.
“I don’t need to discuss this with you,” Reagan said through gritted teeth.
“Oh, pull that stick out of your ass and sit down.” Flick waved her back into the chair. “And you sure as hell need someone to talk to and we’re here, so plant your butt down and shut up.”
Reagan sat and sent Pippa a grumpy look. “I’m glad I’m moving in with you and not her.”
“Pip can be as tough as any of us,” Flick said. Flick tapped her finger on Reagan’s hand and waited until Reagan lifted her eye to her face. Reagan bit her lip, and the sympathy and warmth in Flick’s amazing eyes chased her annoyance away. “Reags, we’re not the enemy. In fact, we’d like to be your friend. Because, damn, girl, you might be a badass bodyguard but you definitely need a friend. Or ten.”
Reagan wished she could argue or disagree but, somewhere deep inside her, where truth resided, she knew that Flick was right. She’d been an Army brat and a small, gawky, shy girl with a scary father who bounced her from school to school. She hadn’t had a mother to guide her and her father hadn’t cared about his daughter’s social or emotional well-being. As a result, she didn’t know how to be a friend. Pip and Flick had been friends for all their lives. They knew the rules . . .
She’d never been told the rules. Where could she find the rules?
“So,” Pippa asked, deep brown eyes sympathetic, “what on earth made you say such a dumb thing to Axl?”
“I have no freaking idea.” Reagan rested her forehead on the table and gently knocked her skull against the wood.
“Yes, you do, so spill it,” Flick said, ruthless.
Flick wouldn’t allow her to get away with a pussy answer, Reagan realized. Dammit. She should never have agreed to coffee.
“I’ve wanted to be part of their rescue team since I heard about it,” Reagan admitted.
“Why?” Pippa demanded.
“Because they are an elite bunch and because they are so respected. If I made it on to the team, they’d have to respect me too. I’d belong.”
Reagan saw the puzzled look they exchanged. “Who is they?”
“Sawyer, Kai . . . Axl.”
Flick gripped her wrist and squeezed. “You think that they don’t respect you? Are you nuts? All we hear about is Reagan did this and Reagan did that, that you ran a sub-five-minute mile and that you flipped Sawyer in training. In their eyes you are like Supergirl and Spider-Woman all rolled into one.”
Reagan knew that they were being kind. “I know that they think I’m good but they don’t think that I am as good as them, as Mike, my brother. Or even Jack.”
Flick frowned. “How can you expect them to?”
She didn’t understand the question and just sent Flick a blank look. “Sorry?”
“You’re not as good as them, Reagan, how can you be?” Flick waved her cup in the air.
Okay, she really didn’t need to listen to this. Reagan stood up, took her cup to the sink, and rinsed it out before placing it in the dishwasher. This was why she never had friendships with civilians and especially civilian girls. They never understood.
“Let it go, Flick,” Pippa said. “It’s none of our business.”
Flick shook her head. “I think too many people have said that it’s not their business and that is exactly why Reagan here has a stupid take on the situation.” Flick leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, her smile challenging. “So, what are you going to do? Be a wuss and walk out or sit down and listen?”
Reagan narrowed her eyes, lifted her chin, and resumed her seat. She was nobody’s wuss. She’d let Flick get whatever it was off her chest and then she’d leave and not bother to return. There had to be other places to rent in this stupid town.
Reagan tapped the face of her oversized watch. “I need to get going, so can you make this quick?”
“Ooh, now she’s sounding snotty.” Flick grinned. “It’s okay, you’re allowed to.”
Reagan looked up at the ceiling in an effort to hold on to her slipping temper. Seriously, would Flick ever get to the freaking point?
Flick pushed her cup to the center of the table and placed her forearms on scarred wood, her expression a mixture of compassion and seriousness.
“Reagan, you can’t expect them to treat you the same for a few reasons. Feminism aside, you’re a woman—a small woman compared to them—and it’s in their genetic makeup to protect women, to protect anybody who they think is weaker than them, physically and mentally. That’s their job, their mindset.” Reagan started to protest but Flick cut her off. “Whether that’s right or wrong is another discussion, but the fact remains that they are protective. You are also Mike’s sister, and they feel—especially Axl as he was Mike’s closest friend—it’s their job to look after you. And you want to put yourself in a dangerous situation?”
“But I—”
Flick shook her head. “Not finished.” Flick traced a pattern on the table with her thumbnail.
“Kai isn’t the best communicator in the world but he’s shared some of what the four of them, Mike included, went through over the years. They shared BUD/S together and it was hell. They then went to war together and they had each other’s back, they knew how to work as a unit, they’d spent thousands of hours training for the work they did. They trusted each other because they trusted their training. That training, those war experiences allow them to trust each other when they are doing rescues.
“Now you come along, someone who has had a fraction of their training, none of their experiences in war, who has never, as far as I know, been in a really hot situation, demanding to be part of it? Expecting them to just trust you?” Flick took a deep breath and released her last arrow. “Don’t you think that’s a bit insulting?”
Reagan placed her hands together in a prayer position and banged the edges of her fingers against her lips, hoping that Pippa and Reagan wouldn’t see her trembling bottom lip. Oh God, oh God.
Oh shit.
“I’m not saying this to hurt you, Reagan . . .” Flick said, biting her bottom lip. “But they don’t want you hurt, but they also don’t want to risk getting hurt themselves.”
She’d never thought of it from their point of view, from Sawyer’s or Kai’s and especially not from Axl’s. She’d just wanted to show them that she was as good as Mike, that she was worthy to be a part of Caswallawn, worthy of their friendship, of being part of their inner circle.
Her need to belong hadn’t allowed her to see anything else. Pippa stood up, walked to the counter, and ripped a piece of paper from the roll of kitchen towel on the wall. She handed it to Reagan, who took the paper with a lifted eyebrow. “What’s this for?”
“In case you want to cry,” Pippa said, her voice sounding thick, and damn, were those tears in Pippa’s eyes?
“Thanks but I never cry.” She passed the wad of tissue back to Pippa. “But, obviously, you do.”
Pippa dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, all the time. At songs, at movies, at ad breaks. You’d better get used to it.”
Reagan frowned and tipped her head. “You still want me to move in?” Even after all this? What was that about?
Pippa’s hand drifted over her hair and came to rest on her shoulder. “The reason the mouth and I have been friends for so many years is because we don’t hold grudges, Reagan.”
“Or, if we do, we don’t hold them for long. We argue, we fight, we get pissed off, and it’s over,” Flick said. “Besides, this wasn’t even an argument.”
It wasn’t? Then why did she feel so battered? “It felt like it was.”
“Pffft. This was a little push-to-the-light talk. When Pippa throws a cup, then you know you’re really arguing.”
Reagan’s eyes widened furth
er. “You throw cups? How often?”
Pippa rolled her eyes at Flick, who was smiling broadly. “I don’t throw cups and I rarely fight. Flick’s the firecracker and, luckily for you, she’s now Kai’s problem. Hey, I never offered you a muffin.”
“I really can’t,” Reagan said, feeling wiped out. “I should go.”
Pippa gnawed her bottom lip. “But are you coming back?”
Reagan was about to refuse when a totally different phrase left her mouth. “Yeah, I’ll come back with my stuff. Not tonight, I’m on duty at the house, but tomorrow.”
Flick slapped her hands on the table and stood up. She cocked her head at Reagan. “I know that you don’t believe this right now, Reagan Hudson, but you and I? We’re going to be good friends.”
Reagan lifted her eyebrows and shook her head. “Yeah, you’re right, I don’t believe it.”
Flick just laughed. “Wait and see.” Flick walked over to the fridge and pulled out a couple of tickets from underneath a pile of papers and turned to Pippa. “Tally has been nagging me for an answer. Are we going to this concert or not?”
Pippa looked confused. “Remind me what it is again?”
“It’s some new country artist Tal wants to see but she doesn’t want to go alone. Kai is away that night—conveniently I’m sure—so I need company. You’re coming, Pips. I’ll get you a ticket for you too, Reagan.”
What? Why? Who? “Tally? Isn’t she Kai’s—what is she again?”
“How do you describe a kid who you keep an eye on? Ward? Pseudo sister?” Flick yawned, jumped up from the table, and took her cup to the sink. “I’ll get you a ticket, Reagan.”
“But, I—” Reagan said, but Flick ignored her and walked out of the room. Reagan threw up her hands and turned to Pippa. “What just happened?” she demanded.
Pippa laughed. “Welcome to life with Flick.”
“I need a drink,” Reagan muttered as she walked into the hallway on her way to the front door.
“You need to apologize to Axl,” Flick shouted from the top of the stairs.
“Bite me,” Reagan shouted back and smiled when Flick’s laughter drifted back toward her.
At the door Pippa impulsively kissed her cheeks and gave her a quick hug. Stepping back, she looked at Reagan, humor in her eyes. “Oh, yeah, I think Flick is right. We are going to be good friends.”
***
He had no choice but to test Reagan’s skills, to see if she was anywhere near being good enough to join his rescue team. Fuck. Axl swung his superbike into a parking spot close to Cas’s reception area and scowled at the low-hanging clouds. He’d lost the damn bet and he had no choice but to honor it. But damn, he would push Reagan to the limit, push her until she realized that the last thing she wanted to do was to join the team. Axl pulled his gloves off as he walked toward the entrance to the building. While he was at it he’d test Jack’s skills as well.
In for a penny and all that bullshit.
Why couldn’t Reagan let this go? Oh, he knew why she wanted to be part of their little band of not-so-merry warriors; it had to do with Mike, about wanting Mike to be proud of her, her father to acknowledge that she had worth. Reagan thought that the only way he’d do that was if she showed herself to be as good as Mike, in every way that counted. He knew that it didn’t matter what she did—she could receive the Purple Heart—her father would never give her the approval she needed from him.
To Micah she was a girl, generally useless, and hell, Mike had fulfilled all Micah’s daddy needs and, to boot, he’d died as a hero. Hudson Senior was a prick and a waste-of-space father.
Would he be any better? As a husband and a father? Probably not, Axl admitted as he walked into the reception area of Cas and shrugged off his coat. He’d had waste-of-space parents himself, but in his case, he was the parent and his parents were his delinquent offspring. Axl snapped out a quick greeting to the receptionist and walked through the Staff Only door and ran up the stairs to his office. He was not only responsible for his parents but he also kept an eye on his half brother and sisters. He sent them money, bailed them out of jail, paid off their debts, found them jobs that they only stayed in for a month or two.
They were millstones around his neck. He felt resentful and was so sick of the responsibility. Between them and Reagan pushing him about MKR, he was at his limit. No wonder he’d never had a proper, committed relationship. He didn’t have the mental capacity to take on another person’s troubles.
The attraction that he felt to Reagan, the attraction that had been building over the years, had to stop. Sure, she was sexy and he forgot his name when he kissed her, touched her, but he’d promised Mike to look after her, not screw her.
Axl scowled and banged through to the door to the small but private office he kept at Cas. Mike would not be happy to know that Reagan was auditioning for a place on his team. Axl tossed his coat onto the chair closest to the door and walked over to the window and stared down at the obstacle course below. His safety and the safety of the guys with him, Sawyer, Kai, was in his hands, and Reagan distracted him. What if he lost concentration and something happened to her or to one of his friends on a rescue because of her inexperience? He couldn’t live with himself.
“I’m sorry for gloating last night.”
Axl whirled around and stared at the doorway, wondering if she was actually standing there or just a vision in his head. Instead of black, she was wearing gray jeans tucked into black leather ankle boots that actually had a little heel and a soft green sweater that revealed her curves. Her blond, loose curls fell halfway down her back and she wore eyeliner, a little lipstick. She looked feminine and oh-so-fuckable.
“Why are you all gussied up?” he demanded. He internally winced at his harsh voice and mentally slapped himself when he saw hurt chase confusion across her face.
“I just came to say I was sorry. It was childish of me.” Reagan turned around to leave.
“Shit,” Axl muttered. He quickly walked out of the office and caught her in the passageway, stopping her flight with a hand on her shoulder. Reagan spun around and slapped the palm of her hand on his chest.
“You’re still pissed off with me and I don’t want to fight. I’ve already done that this morning, so I’m going to walk away and you need to let me,” Reagan told him, her expression remote.
“I love the way you think that I take orders from you,” Axl retorted. “My office, now.”
“No.”
Right, he wasn’t going to argue with her. Axl bent his knees, grabbed her waist, and tossed her over his right shoulder. Ignoring her screech of surprise, he tapped her butt. “If you think about playing dirty, Hudson, think again. I’m not in a good mood.”
To his surprise, Reagan didn’t fight him, and their return to his office was drama-free. Kicking the door shut with his foot, he stood inside the tiny space and left her on his shoulder, his hand still on her ass. God, if he put her down, he would back her up against the wall and kiss her senseless. He shouldn’t but he knew he would.
“Axl?”
“Mmm?”
“Do you want to put me down?”
“If I do, it’s not going to be pretty.”
“I’m sure I can cope,” Reagan said, her voice super dry.
Axl pulled her down, and instead of allowing her feet to hit the floor, he pulled her thighs apart and her legs immediately locked around his waist and her arms around his neck. Their eyes were level and he, as he knew he would, walked her to the wall and placed her back to it, his groin nestled in the V of her legs, his mouth an inch from hers.
“Shit, Reagan. Why can’t I resist you? This?” he muttered, hoping that she had an answer that would make sense.
“I want you too.” Reagan lifted her hand from his neck to hold the side of his face, her thumb drifting across his cheekbone and down to his bottom lip.
&nbs
p; “At night, I lie in bed and I think about you kissing me.” Reagan’s words danced across his face, her breath sweet as it hit his skin.
“I wish kissing you was all I thought about,” Axl muttered, lifting his hips so that his hard dick pushed into her mound. Reagan’s eyes glazed over and she sucked in a quick breath.
“I love your mouth. But I love it better when it’s on mine.” Reagan slipped the words into the little space that was between her mouth and his. His lips brushed over hers, once, twice, and, though he wanted to, he couldn’t stop the tide. Passion, hot, insistent, desperate, had him covering her mouth with his, his tongue sliding in to tangle with hers. He kept one hand under her butt to keep her from sliding down the wall but he molded the palm of his other hand to her breast, feeling her nipple pucker. The fact that she wanted him as much as he did her made him feel both weak and unbelievably strong at the same time. She was incredible, tough, sexy, so damn feminine.
Axl moved his hand from her breast to hold the side of her face, an echo of the way she held his. Pushing her head sideways, he changed the angle of their kiss, needing a deeper taste, trying to learn her secrets. Despite knowing her for nearly half of her life, she was still a mystery he had to solve.
Reagan pulled her mouth away and bent her neck sideways, inviting him to taste her neck, that sexy place beneath her ear. Her fragrance, light and citrusy, drifted up his nose and he inhaled her again, not able to get enough of her lemon-scented skin.
He wanted her with a ferocity that scared him. And he wasn’t a guy that scared easily.
That thought flipped a switch in his brain and he pulled his head back, looked down into her confused eyes, and sighed. What the hell was he going to do about this, her? And could he make this any more complicated if he tried? She was his employee, his friend, his best friend’s sister. She was not someone he should want to see naked, all the damned time.
Axl rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes.