Its lights shut off, and it moved in closer to the shore, its wake frothing out as it decelerated. It looked like it was headed for the small pier that jutted off the Dartmoor property.
~*~
In between sips of beer, Carter was hit by the realization that he’d never actually socialized with any of the three prospects at the table with him. He only ever spent downtime with Aidan, Tango, and Mercy, and to be honest, that was only because they dragged him along with them, one of Mercy’s great arms heavy as a ceiling joist across his shoulders, towing him inexorably into whatever mischief those three had on the books for the day (usually, it was just Aidan getting into mischief while Tango shook his head and Mercy waded in to save his dumbass brother-in-law). If asked, he would have said that he didn’t like these three, though he didn’t have a reason not to. He’d jumped to conclusions, and he always hated when people did that about him.
“No, fuck it, I don’t care,” Evan said, shaking his head and sliding chips into the pot. He was smoking menthols, rapidly and twitchily, and the whole table was suffused with their particular minty stink. He took a drag and then stabbed the end of his cig in the air, driving home his point. “I won’t work with them anymore, I don’t care what Fox, or Ghost, or anybody says. I’ll scrub floors and run gopher errands all day, but I’m not letting those assholes beat me up for fun anymore.”
“No offense,” Carter said, “but why were you training with those two in the first place?”
“I dunno! I just got lumped in. Which, hello, I’m human, and not a Karate Kid robot, so your guess is good as mine.”
“It’s ‘cause you said you’re a ‘sniper.’” Deacon lifted both hands, cards held haphazardly in one, to make air quotes. “Fox musta thought you had those sweet, sweet special agent skills.”
Boomer laughed.
“Okay, first off,” Evan huffed. “I am a sniper.”
Boomer and Deacon both laughed this time; Carter felt a chuckle building in his throat.
“I am!” Evam insisted. “You’ve never seen me shoot. You wouldn’t be laughing if you’d seen me shoot.” It was hard to imagine the lanky, floppy-haired kid laid out elegantly on a rooftop, cool and deadly behind the scope of a rifle. “But I’mjusta sniper. I get working on hand-to-hand and stuff, but making anyone spar with those two is cruel and unusual punishment, dude.”
Boomer’s laughter died away, and he nodded. “I hear you. I’ve got at least fifty pounds on Reese, and I know he could wipe the floor with me.”
“Do they even have to do chores and stuff?” Deacon asked. “I ain’t ever seen one of those bastards holding a broom or pouring a beer.”
Evan made a face around his next drag. “No. They’respecial.”
It was easy to see why prospects would be angry and jealous about two of their own kind slacking off on the grunt work. But. “I honestly can’t imagine either of them mopping the floor, can you?”
He got three glum head-shakes. Deacon’s was grim. “They’re hogging all the girls, too.”
“I didn’t even know Reese knew what girls were,” Boomer said, frowning.
A flicker of motion at the mouth of the hallway drew Carter’s attention, and a darted glance proved it was Tenny lingering in the well of shadow there, high cheekbones and blue eyes visible above a fitted white t-shirt. His gaze, as glittering and indecipherable as ever, was fixed on Boomer – who hadn’t noticed him yet, silent as he moved.
Carter nudged Boomer’s boot under the table with his own.
Boomer pressed on, oblivious. “And, like, not to be that guy, but who would wanna hook up with Reese? He barely even talks. He’s like a fucking statue.”
“Maybe he’s like a statue where it counts most,” Evan suggested, to Deacon’s sniggering.
But Boomer was speaking in earnest, warming to the topic. “No, really. He’s a freak – and I don’t mean the good kinda freak, shut up, Deacon. Like, are you honestly gonna tell me he’s a good lay? That he knows how to make a girl feel good? He probably doesn’t even know where to put it in.”
Tenny’s crisp voice rang out from the shadows. “Perhaps someone was so helpful as to show him where to put it in.”
All the blood drained from Boomer’s face. His eyes popped comically wide, and he sucked in an audible breath.
Carter sighed – and braced himself. He’d only ever had a handful of interactions with Tenny, and while he knew Reese was dangerous, and well-trained, and expert, it was Tenny who was most likely to knife one of his club brothers over some small slight.
Carter remembered, vividly, the conversation they’d had a few weeks before.If anyone ever touches my property, I’ll rip him apart piece by piece, and stop his heart last of all. Tenny and Reese might be on the outs at the moment, for whatever reason, their personal drama awkward and obvious in the way they were never in the same room at the same time anymore, but hearing someone else insult Reese was going to be a triggering offense, Carter knew.
He whispered, “Don’t make it worse,” as Tenny pushed off the wall and strolled languidly into the room.
Boomer trembled, faintly.
Watching Tenny close the distance, unhurried, but alive with elegant tension, was like watching a leopard pad through the tall grass toward an antelope too scared, or too stubborn to run.
In Boomer’s case, a little bit of both, with a pinch of stupid thrown in.
