Okay. Fuck him. Hands balled into fists, Grant started forward. Chase mirrored the move. Yeah, this shit was coming to blows, or…
Nothing.
Motherfucking, black-eyed, no-good dickwad passed him by without so much as an angry glare in Grant’s freshly shaved direction. Another of Madelyn’s random requests, because she thought the goatee made him look like a terrorist.
“Asshole,” Grant muttered, hating the way his insides twisted at the cold rejection.
The two of them had an unspoken bond. One Chase had forged through their love for the same woman. So why the hell he?—
A muffled thud sounded, and caught by the neck of his shirt, Grant found himself being manhandled like a ragdoll as Chase spun him around and backed him into the wall with impressive speed.
He expected his head to hit with a brain-busting thump, but when the world stopped spinning, he realized a large palm cradling the back of his skull had cushioned the blow.
“What did you call me?”
“You heard me, asshole.” Grant used his forearm to give Chase’s chest a shove. He might as well have tried to move a concrete wall for all the space he gained. “What’s your problem anyway?”
“You.” He dropped his hand to land a double-fisted grip on Grant’s T-shirt and leaned in until their faces were inches apart. “You’re my problem, motherfucker. You almost died. You have any idea what that would do to Gray? She loves you, and she won’t survive losing you—which means—I won’t survive losing you. So if you’re that desperate to leave us, then by all means, take off, just find another fucking way.”
“Leave you?” Grant made another attempt to shove Chase off, but muscles still in a state of protest at being thrown from a helicopter, there was very little strength behind the effort. “What the fuck are you talking about? I wasn’t trying to leave anyone. I was doing my job.”
“Your job?” His big body vibrating with his anger, Chase’s eyes flashed black fire. “Is that what we are to you? A job? Jesus Christ, you’re a thick-headed asshole, so let me put this in terms you’ll understand. Gray is the fucking job. You’re here for her. Your job is to protect her.”
“No.” His heart pounding for reasons he understood far too well but had ignored for far too long, Grant sucked in a harsh breath. “Protecting her is your job. She loves you. She’s married to you.”
“So what? She loves you too.”
“Yeah, like a fucking brother.”
“Does it matter? The two of you love each other. You’re family. That means you’re here for her. Not just to guard her body, but to protect her heart, and if you think bleeding for her every chance you get earns you some fucked up brownie points in the process, let me be the one to dissuade you of the notion.”
Chase shoved Grant away in disgust, and if he hadn’t already been using the wall for emotional and physical support, he would have slid to the floor in a heap of unsupportive muscles and hurt feelings.
“She needs you breathing, dickhead. And I’ll be damned if I lose her to a bottle of Grey Goose because of your recklessness. So do us both a favor and stop acting like a martyr every time you get an opportunity. You’re no good to anybody if you’re dead.”
“Are you shitting me right now? Nobody’s playing the martyr here. I did what I had to because rescuing Rebecca and keeping Jay alive was the mission. Did I sacrifice myself for Gray? Fuck, yeah. But I did it for you too. And Adam and Eve. And Jamie and Summer. And Davis and Halia. And the rest of the team. Nobody survives what’s coming without Jay, and I’ll be damned before I let any of you suffer while there’s still something I can do about it.”
“You almost died,” Chase snapped. “And you put me in a position of having to choose between you and Jay. You think I wanted that? You think it’s easy to decide who lives and who dies?”
“Jesus Christ! You’re not listening,” Grant shot back. “There was no choice. You did what you had to. There wasn’t any time for handholding, group hugs, or touchy-feely on the spot check-ins. Saving Jay was the right call, so whatever guilt you’re feeling on my behalf is a waste of energy. And don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t have taken the same decision if you’d been in my position, the only difference between us? I’m trained in cold water rescue, and you’re not.”
“You almost died,” Chase repeated, the fury burning in his gaze morphing into something else. Something raw and unspoken.
“So what?” Grant huffed. “Step out the front door, and we’re all taking the same risks. Live or die, it’s the people we’re leaving behind who matter.”
“Live being the operative word here, dickhead.” Chase poked him in the shoulder with enough force to stop a Tyrannosaurus Rex dead in its tracks. “You ever pull a God damn stunt like that again, I’ll end you myself. Got it?”
Back to square one, Grant rolled his eyes. “Mission first, Rambo.”
“Wrong.” Chase clapped his hand on Grant’s shoulder and pulled him in for a rough hug. “Don’t you ever put me in a position of having to choose between you and the mission again, because I’m not fucking strong enough to make the right call. I’ve already lost one best friend. I refuse to lose another. You hear me?”
Oh, shit…
Caught up in his own head, Grant hadn’t considered what seeing Tak in the flesh had been like for Chase. What being so close to his lifelong friend, and yet so damn far, might have done to his psyche.
Had he given up on him? Lost hope altogether?
“We’ll get him back,” he said, thumping Chase on the shoulder and refusing to believe any other scenario.
