Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Priorities.” I turn to Trav. “When are we heading out?”
“Where’s Iris?” Trav asks.
“I’m here. I’m here.” Iris’s voice travels from down the hallway before he appears. There’s something different about him, though. He leans against the wall, his arms crossed, and he’s giving off a wicked grumpy vibe. Even when Iris is angry, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him show it. He’s the type of guy who smiles even when he shouldn’t.
“What’s wrong with you?” Harley asks, picking up the same thing I am.
“Nothin’. We doing this or what?”
“Let’s go.” Trav leads us all to his garage where two convertible off-road Jeeps await.
Harley squeezes in between Iris and me in the back of one, with Trav in the driver’s seat and Angel next to him, while the others get into the second car.
The unofficial path to the site where we get to play with the big toys is bumpy to say the least. It’s unpaved and rarely used, and it’s mostly through desert and rough terrain.
At one particular dip, Harley grips onto my thigh before quickly taking his hand back. “Sorry. Didn’t have anything to hold on to.”
Iris leans in beside him. “You can hold on to me anytime you want.”
And he’s back. “There’s the Iris we all kinda sort of love,” I say.
It’s a forty-minute slow drive out to the site, and every time Harley reaches for me, the urge to hold his hand is almost overpowering.
That wouldn’t scream to my boss I’m having inappropriate thoughts about my assignment. Not at all.
With Harley’s thigh brushing against mine and his hand gripping my leg, I suddenly wish I wasn’t wearing long pants.
I want to know what it would feel like to have his hand on my skin—
Abort thought process. Abort!
We pull to a stop, and Harley’s brow furrows. “Did we break down?”
I stand and jump out of the Jeep without opening the door. “Nope. We’re here.”
“But … how do you know?”
“Where we’re going is about five hundred feet that way.” I point.
Harley shivers as he gets out of the car. The sun is almost below the horizon now, and the switch from hot desert sun to cool desert night comes quickly.
“Did you bring a jacket?” I ask.
“I did. In my suitcase … back at the house.”
Reflexively, I shrug out of mine and put it around him.
“You don’t need to—”
“It’s my job,” I say.
“Can I point out how much of a contradiction this trip is?” Angel steps up beside us. Her long black hair sits in a braid over her shoulder, and she smiles her innocent smile which I know can turn lethal in a second. Her name ain’t Angel because she’s angelic. She got the nickname Angel of Death for a reason.
“Contradiction?” I ask.
“Yeah, you’re supposed to protect the pop star, yet you’ve brought him to where he might get blown up.”
I snort. “The job was too easy. Decided to up the ante so I can see some action.”
“Wait, what?” Harley looks worried.
“I’m joking. You’re not gonna blow up,” I say.
“Hopefully,” Angel adds.
Harley trains his wide eyes on me.
“She’s messing with you. This is safe. Well, as safe as you can get playing with C4.”
“Is C4 one of those explosives that’s, like, unpredictable and can explode if you, like, drop it and stuff?”
I bark out a laugh. “No. And you watch way too many movies. Are you actually worried about being blown up? What did you think the risks would be when I brought you out here?”
“No, I get that. I guess …” He looks down at his feet. “I didn’t really think about that part. I had an image in my head of pushing down this huge lever thing and something in the distance going boom.”
Fuck, he’s adorable.
Iris and I pull the chest of supplies from the back of the Jeep, and Domino and Scout do the same from theirs.
Harley sticks by my side for the walk, practically swimming in my jacket.
I try not to laugh at how many times the poor guy almost trips. “It’s surprising you’re not lighter on your feet.”
“Ignoring you,” he sings.
“Maybe bust out some of those old boy-band moves,” Iris says.
“Hate you both now,” Harley grumbles.
We get to the detonation site and drop our gear.
“Maybe leave the pop star here while we get it all set up?” Trav says.
I figured as much. “I’ll stay with him.”
Everyone else makes their way farther out to where the actual explosion will be.
I feel Harley step up next to me more than see him.
“If I haven’t said it yet, thank you for bringing me out here.”
“You’re welcome. You needed out of that house.”
Harley nods but doesn’t give me the satisfaction of saying I was right. “So, what’s everyone’s story?”
“Their story?”
“Army, Marines, Navy …”
I smile. “Most of us were army. Scout was a Marine, and Atlas was a SEAL.”