Wicked Choice

by Sawyer Bennett

  "So," Benji drawls in a lowered voice after he steps in closer to me. "Is it true? Hart's pregnant? We've asked Cage, but he's playing all stupid."

  I can't help but bristle against his nosiness, even though I know the record needs to be set straight. I'm sure Rachel's little meltdown and admission in the locker room that's she's pregnant has made all the rounds, and every single person in this house knows about it.

  But that's Rachel's story to tell how she sees fit. I've only told Cage--and I let Rachel know I did--and that's the way I'm keeping it.

  Before I can even brush Benji off, Locke elbows him in the ribs and nods at something behind me. "Ask her yourself."

  I turn around to see Rachel talking to Hannah, clutching a bottle of water in her hands. She's got her hair pulled back in that short ponytail, which is nothing but about two inches of hair hanging out the end. Locks have fallen loose and frame her pretty face, making her look young and fresh. She's wearing a pair of frayed denim shorts, a loose tank top, and flat sandals. She's dressed the part for a late spring cookout.

  As if she can sense my stare, she turns slightly away from Hannah and locks her eyes with mine. Even though we've spent every night together since that amazing one at The Wicked Horse almost a week ago, I can't really say we're dating. Otherwise, we would have come to the cookout together.

  Instead, I woke up in my bed this morning with her mouth on my cock. The woman loves to suck my dick, and I love her doing it. I let her this time, barely controlling myself from pouncing and fucking her. She swallowed me down when I came and then gave me a hard kiss before she rolled out of bed. I had thought briefly about asking her if she wanted to ride together today, but I hadn't.

  I knew the answer would be "no".

  Rachel has set the boundaries. We can stay the night at each other's house or we can fuck in The Wicked Horse. We haven't been back to the club since the night I staked my claim on her while Kynan watched me fuck her. That was awesome in and of itself, and I'm sure we'll go back. It's just that each night this week, she's shown up at my house a little after dinner and I gladly let her in.

  Rachel turns and says something else to Hannah, but then she's heading my way. Her eyes flit from me to Cage to Locke to Benji, then back to me again by the time she reaches us.

  "What's up?" she asks, the same casual question Locke asked me when I walked up.

  No one says a word. Benji and Locke just stare at her, hoping perhaps she'll blurt out the details of what's going on with her. Cage sips his beer, watching with amusement.

  I save the awkwardness by saying, "I just got here. Haven't even seen Kynan yet."

  "He's probably out manning the grill," she surmises as she takes a sip of her bottled water. Benji and Locke watch her intently, as if the fact she's drinking water confirms she's knocked up.

  Finally, Benji gets up the nerve to ask, "Want a beer, Hart? I'll go get you one."

  "No thanks," she says with a pleasant smile, but I can tell by the tone in her voice she knows damn well why the question was asked.

  "Wine?" Locke asks, adding, "There's red and white."

  Rachel rolls her eyes. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

  She turns her attention to me. "Is it going to be like this all day?"

  "Probably," I say with a sympathetic wince. Cage snickers.

  Rachel shoves her water bottle at me, and I almost bobble my beer making a grab for it. She puts a hand to my shoulder and uses me for leverage to climb on a chair I'm standing next to. Putting her fingers in her mouth, she lets fly a piercing shriek of a whistle, which cuts through all the chatter.

  Total silence and all eyes are on Rachel.

  "Thank you for your attention," she calls to the people standing around Kynan's living room, which spills into the kitchen. A few people come wandering in from the patio to check out what's going on. "As I'm sure you all have heard the gossip by now, I wanted to confirm that I am indeed pregnant. Eight weeks today as a matter of fact. So, you can all stop whispering about it and prodding me with sly questions that aren't all that sly. Is that clear?"

  No one says a word.

  "Good. A few other things you need to know. I have the doctor's clearance to continue to work for now. If any of you have an issue with me being pregnant, come talk to me privately. More importantly, because I know this is also being gossiped about... the baby is Bodie's. It was not planned, but we're dealing with it the best we can. Now, if no one has any questions, I'm fucking starved. Eating for two and all that. I'll be out near the grill getting a hamburger or four."

  A smatter of laughs can be heard, but I'm just staring at Rachel in utter disbelief. I mean... good for her for taking the bull by the horns, but I wasn't expecting it.

  Even more surprising is that her hands come to my shoulders before she steps off the chair. She looks me dead in the eye and asks, "Was that okay? I probably should have discussed that with you first."

  "It was fine," I manage to say.

  "Good," she says with a satisfied smile, and then I nearly fall over when she presses her mouth to mine. When she pulls back, she jumps off the chair and says, "I'm going to get something to eat. Want me to bring you something?"

  I thrust my beer at Cage, who takes it without comment. Sweeping my hand toward the patio door, I tell her, "I'll come with you."

  I mean... after that little public display of affection while everyone watched, why would I want to hang out with these dudes? I'd rather be by Rachel's side any day.

  When we step out onto the patio, I immediately see Kynan manning the grill. He's got on a ridiculous apron that says, "May I Suggest the Sausage?" and has a hand with the finger pointed down toward his dick.

  We walk that way. While I'm not touching Rachel in any way, many are looking at us speculatively. The people out here on the patio hadn't heard her big announcement, although I'm sure the news will make its way around quickly. Those who are looking now are the ones who saw me hugging her after she had her meltdown, and they are all wondering what the fuck is going on between us.

  "I got burgers, brats, and hot dogs," Kynan says when we reach him. He waggles his eyebrows and points at his apron. "But the sausage is to die for."

  Rachel rolls her eyes, and I'm pleased his childish reference to his dick doesn't bother me, knowing that said dick has touched Rachel. She said it was in the past. Several years in the past as a matter of fact.

  Besides, she let me fuck her at the club right in front of Kynan, and I'm smart enough to know that was her way of proving to me that she was only into me.

  Rachel turns to the long table set up beside the grill that has plates and toppings for the burgers, along with bowls of chips and various salads. She fixes herself a hamburger bun with globs of mustard. She then reaches into the bowl of potato chips and grabs a handful, crunching them down on top of the mustard-covered bun.

  "That's interesting," I tease.

  "Don't even start on me," she mutters as she picks up the plate and holds it out toward Kynan to put a burger on. "It's a craving thing apparently."

  "Apparently," I say with a chuckle.

  Kynan's eyes are shining with laughter, but I'm sure he likes his sausage where it is, so he silently scoops a burger off the grill with his spatula and slides it sizzling onto the pile of chips resting on the bun.

  She licks her lower lip in anticipation, but as soon as she reaches to put the top of the bun on, she goes dead still. Her face pales, and she inhales sharply through her nose, which crinkles in distaste as soon as she does it. She shoves the plate so hard back at Kynan that it tips over and the mustard-soaked bun, burger, and chips splat against his chest.

  "What the fuck?" Kynan growls as he looks down at his torso, but Rachel is slapping her hand over her mouth and reeling away. She stumbles several feet toward the edge of the patio, bends over with her arms crossing her stomach, and vomits into his landscaping right on top of a prickly cactus.

  Without thought, I rush to Rachel's side and lay my hand on her
lower back. She gags and retches for a few moments before she finally straightens up, rubbing at the side of her mouth with the heel of her hand.

  "Okay, that was unexpected," she pants slightly, sucking in some fresh air.

  "Has that happened before?" I ask, slightly worried.

  She shakes her head and takes the bottle of water I'd been holding for her from my hand. After she takes a tentative sip, she looks at me. "First time, but I've been wondering if it would hit me. Doc said it can start at around six weeks."

  "I'm sorry," I tell her almost helplessly and with a huge bolt of guilt that she has to go through this. "That just sucks."

  "It's fine," she says with a brave smile. She reaches into her front pocket and pulls out her car keys. "But I think I'm going to run out to my car and get some gum. I wouldn't want to be talking to anyone with vomit breath today."

  "Are you sure you don't want me to take you home?" I offer.

  Her smile stays in place, but her eyes flash with warning. Her words are slow and deliberate. "I'm fine, Bodie. It's just some minor morning sickness. I feel better already."

  I stare at her dubiously. Her face is tinged green, I think.

  Not sure.

  "Well, let me run out to your car for you," I say as I extend my hand for her keys. "I'll get your gum."

  Rachel doesn't hand me her keys. Instead, she steps closer to me. Her voice is low, so no one can hear. "Bodie... I'm fine. I'm also perfectly able to walk to my car and back. Don't treat me like I'm fragile."

  And then I understand.

  Rachel is a tough cookie, for sure. I get that part. But more importantly, we are standing in front of all her coworkers, some of whom she'll be on a mission with next week. She can't show any weakness at all, in any form.

  Giving her an understanding nod, I step back from her. I sweep my hand toward the patio door. "Go get your gum."

  She smiles at me gratefully and moves past me. My hand flies out and slaps her on the ass and not gently, either. She yelps and tucks her butt under, shuffling quickly away from me. Looking over her shoulder, she levels a heated glare my way.

  I just grin in return. "Not going to treat you fragilely, and don't bother looking at me like that. I happen to know you like having your ass slapped."

  And Jesus... fucking adorable.

  Pink stains Rachel's cheeks.

  She spins away and trots through the door, and I know my laugh follows her all the way.

  CHAPTER 12

  Rachel

  Hard copies of schematics of the diesel tanker are spread across the huge conference room table. There's a projected image on the screen that is suspended mechanically from the ceiling. It's got several pictures of men--all headshots--laid out in rows. It's the main crew of the tanker. Kynan stands at the screen going over their bios, arms crossed as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. He's in his element, having effortlessly stepped to the helm of The Jameson Group after its founder, Jerico Jameson, retired to run The Wicked Horse full time.

  Doesn't mean that Jerico is fully out of the game, though. He's sitting at the other end of the conference table, scribbling notes on a legal pad while Kynan talks. Jerico will often come into our intel and planning sessions as a consultant. He doesn't get paid to throw in his expertise and advice, but does so only because he still loves this company even if he's not running it anymore.

  We leave in two days to escort the tanker through the Strait of Malacca, an incredibly important trade route between China and India. A quarter of the world's seaborne oil travels through the strait and thus makes it a very tempting target for pirates. There will be almost twenty-four hours of commercial travel to Singapore, four days on the tanker where we'll work in three-to-four men, twelve-hour shifts patrolling and guarding the ship with fifty-caliber mounted machine guns. All in all, we should be back to the States within a week if all goes well.

  Which it should.

  Not all merchants are willing to pay the hefty price for private security, but those who do make sure it's well known they are protected. I fully expect our ship will be left alone, but that's no guarantee.

  I'm satisfied with our team and I've been on ops with all of them before at one time or another except for our newest member, Merrit Gables. He's only been with Jameson for two months, coming to us straight out of a Navy SEALs enlistment.

  Cage, Sal, and Benji will be on the mission, and the last member of our team is Kara Hathaway. She's a ball-busting blonde who saw a lot of combat action in the Army as a member of a cultural support team. Her main purpose was to question Afghan women, but her job was every bit as dangerous as the special forces she attached with. She went on all raids with them and has some of the most harrowing war stories I've ever heard. She also has four black belts in different martial arts and I think she's personally hoping the tanker gets boarded so she can beat the shit out of some pirates.

  "Benji will lead Team One. Bodie, Kara, and Merrit will be under him," Kynan says as he uncrosses his arms and leans over to place his palms on the table. He looks around the group and continues, "Team Two will be led by Rachel. Sal and Cage... you're with her. Team One will cover night shifts since that's the most likely time for an attack. Two has the day shift."

  There's a faint rustling around the table as we know the meeting is wrapping up. Beside me, Sal raises his hand slightly to get Kynan's attention.

  Kynan looks his way. "What's up?"

  "I'm sure I'll be an ass for asking this," he says carefully, "but I would like some assurances that Hart is up to the task of this mission."

  A flash of heat boils me from the inside out, and my head snaps to the right to glare at Sal. His eyes are pinned on Kynan, though.

  "She's up to the task," I hear from across the table, and I slowly turn to look at Bodie. He has cold, hard eyes locked onto Sal, daring him to argue.

  Sal looks across to Bodie and his voice is neutral, refusing to engage in a fight. "With all due respect, Wright, I'd like something more than your word since you're involved with her."

  I flush even hotter that my personal sex life is now out on the table as a concern for this mission.

  "Rachel has medical clearance," Kynan says in a tone that causes all heads to swivel his way. "She's got two doctors who have verified she's fine to go on any missions for the first trimester."

  "Again," Sal says with determination to make his voice heard. "I'm sure she's healthy and fit, but what if something were to happen to her out on the tanker? I don't want to be a downer, but we need to consider that as a possibility. There's not going to be adequate medical care, and then we're down a team member."

  To my surprise, Jerico stands up from the end of the table. He slides his hands casually into the pockets of his dress pants. "It's why we're sending a team of seven rather than six. If something happens to Rachel, Bodie moves to her team. Sal... you'd take over as leader. Rachel knows the risks and accepts them."

  At this point, my emotions are all over the place. I'm pissed Sal would question my abilities, even if there's something deep inside of me that admits he's right to have the concern. I'm healthy, strong, and capable as anyone at this table. But it doesn't mean I'd stay that way.

  I'm also conflicted about Bodie defending me. There's a part of me that thinks it's sweet, because he knows how important this job is to me. But there's a part that hates him doing so, too, because really... he's not a credible source given his involvement with me.

  "Fair enough," Sal says, and then his voice drops two octaves. "One last thing... I'd like to respectfully disagree with the choice of Hart to lead the team. I think I'm better qualified and well... not prone to emotions."

  My head snaps back his way. There's no denying Sal is the shit and could do as good a job running the team as me, but now he's questioning my true abilities despite my pregnancy.

  "I can assure you that I'm able to do this job without any issues," I snarl. I don't look at Bodie across from me, but I can see out of the corner of
my eye when he straightens in his chair.

  Sal's not deterred by the sensitive nature of our discussion, nor how it borders on sexism and misogyny. "Hart... in the last week, I've seen you have an emotional breakdown at the gym and toss your cookies from the smell of a hamburger. I've got the right to ask these questions."

  Fuck... I know he does. I know it and I hate it, and I don't know how to deal with it. Maybe I should bow out and just let him lead the team.

  Maybe I should just stay behind and let someone else take my team.

  "You two should battle it out," Jerico says nonchalantly. All heads swing his way.

  He looks right at me. "Hart... he's got legit concerns."

  I nod reluctantly.

  Jerico looks to Sal. "I think she's capable but if you want her to prove it, battle it out."

  "What do you suggest?" Sal asks with his jaw locked.

  Jerico gives a casual shrug as if he has no formalized plan, but I can see that he does. "Three events. You each pick one, I'll pick the third. Best two out of three wins the honors of leading Team Two."

  "Knives," Sal says quickly, leveling me with a satisfied smirk. Asshole picked that because he saw how badly I did and the resulting meltdown I had.

  "Shooting," I say, taking great satisfaction in watching him swallow hard. Sal is a good shot. One of the best at Jameson. I'm a million times better, though.

  "And the third event?" I ask Jerico as I turn to look back up at him.

  He shoots a look at Kynan, who gives a shrug. Jerico taps his chin as if deep in thought, but then he finally announces with a big grin. "A hot-dog eating contest."

  "A what?" I ask in bewilderment.

  Sal gives a low, dark laugh that is totally gleeful in an evil way. I'm sure he's banking on me hurling my guts up from the smell.

  Yeah, well fuck you, Sal. There's no way in hell I'm losing this competition.