Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Tank pulled Clover into a hug and his firm chest offered comfort, even if Tank himself was the source of Clover’s distress. “Don’t say that, it’s not true. It’s just that you are younger than us. It will take some time for you to learn certain things, and I don’t want you become a casualty while you’re at it.”
“I’ll be with you, won’t I? How can I learn anything if you don’t let me try? This isn’t the kind of life I want. I want to be a part of it all. Why can’t you understand that?” Clover asked and shoved at Tank’s chest again, rejecting the comforting touch. He wouldn’t let it blur his eyes.
The tower of muscle tensed, just like it did when Tank was about to strike, but Clover had no doubt his man would never hit him in a fight, no matter how rough training could get. “Fine. You need to be ready in fifteen.”
Clover stepped back and filled his lungs with a gasp. Despite his pleading, he hadn’t quite expected Tank to give in. “Thank you. I will. And you’ll see I’ll do just fine!”
Tank switched on the main lamp and kneeled above his weapon case. “We’ll see about that. Wear the kevlar vest,” he grumbled.
He rubbed the tears out of his eyes, unbearably frustrated. He’d wanted to have that melting feeling in his stomach when he’d heard Tank say ‘I love you’ for the first time. But bitterness overflowed in him and wouldn’t let him enjoy the moment. It couldn’t even be pure disappointment, like the hundred percent cocoa chocolate that tasted like chalk. No, it was the eight-five percent one, verging on pleasant while still leaving Clover dissatisfied.
But he walked to his luggage and dressed without a word, acutely aware of Tank lurking behind his back. He didn’t know how to feel or how long this foul mood would last, but at least he’d stood his ground about this. He loved Tank with all his heart, but if his man couldn’t see him as a partner when it mattered, their relationship would be shockingly uneven.
Tank stood in the door with his arms crossed on his chest, as if he made it his job to annoy Clover. “Tick-tock,” he said in a stern voice.
Just last night, Clover had fallen asleep with his cheek on that pillow of a pec, trusting that he and Tank had a mutual understanding. Now, he saw that his man considered him incompetent for anything other than cuddles.
“You should have woken me up on time if you’re in such hurry,” Clover said, intent not to give in to Tank’s pressure, but he was ready as soon as he closed his bag. He walked up to him, demanding passage without a word.
Tank stood in his way for a total of three seconds before finally letting him through. Clover did not say thanks and went straight downstairs, to the open front door where Boar stood with a large plate of sandwiches wrapped in cling film. It was only when Clover neared the car that he noticed Jolene in a fluffy robe and curlers in her hair.
Despite the early hour, she seemed as alert as ever. “I prepared some lunch for you boys. Have fun in Vegas. And make sure to go to the Pegasus Buffet. They serve crab on Fridays.”
Clover forced a smile. It wasn’t Jolene’s fault her grandson was being an asshole. “We will, thank you!”
Five minutes later, they were on the road. Clover had meant to ride in the rental car with Tank, but didn’t want to look at his face after what happened and made a point of taking the vacant passenger spot in Drake’s van. He kind of hoped music would relieve him from having to talk, but Drake switched off the radio as soon as a list of newest hits started. He hated the music popular this season.
Since he wasn’t in the mood for talking, Clover pretended he’d fallen asleep, but woke up to a hauntingly familiar neighborhood God-knows-how-much-later.
Single-story homes stretched as far as he could see, every single one with white walls and a light brown roof. The single anomaly from that rule was a house painted a rusty shade in its entirety, its well-maintained garden a splash of green in the beige scenery with the odd tree and palms sprouting beyond the flat landscape. He’d spent most of his life here, yet after a year in the lush greenery surrounding their home, the parched city made his throat dry.
Or maybe it was the AC working in overdrive.
He yawned and took in the sunny street. For a few precious seconds, he didn’t remember why he was here, but the kevlar under his top brought him back to reality in a snap.
“We’re here, huh?” he asked Drake, but it was more of a statement than question.