“Why?”
“Why what?”
Suspicion crept into his voice. “Why did McCoy go after Brendan?”
“He’s just being a good friend.” She quickly changed the subject before he could grill her further. “I talked to Holly, by the way.”
Carson’s shoulders stiffened. “When?”
“Sunday, after we left Mom and Dad’s house. She told me you two aren’t connecting.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Jenny.” Visible discomfort creased her brother’s features.
“Tough shit, because you’re going to.”
She took a breath. How on earth did she even start? Hey, big brother, are you cheating on your wife? The direct approach probably would be best, but a part of her didn’t want to ask the question for fear of what his answer would be.
Exhaling, she slid her knees down and placed her palms on her thighs. “Look, I need to ask you something. I know it’s none of my business, but I—”
A cell phone rang.
She suppressed a groan as Carson held up his hand and said, “I gotta get this.” He fished his phone out of his pocket. “Hey, Beck, what’s doing?”
Jen’s heart dropped. Beck. Thomas Becker, Carson’s CO.
Carson listened for a few seconds, a frown marring his mouth. The frown deepened the longer Becker talked, and then Carson said, “Fucking hell!” and shot to his feet. “Yeah, I’ll meet you there.”
She stood up too, fighting a tremor of panic. “What’s wrong? Are you going overseas?”
“No,” he said in a clipped tone.
“Then what’s going on?”
“What’s going on? McCoy and his band of idiots got arrested, that’s what’s going on.”
“What?”
Carson was already marching to the door. “I’ve gotta go. Someone needs to bail their sorry asses out of jail.”
“Wait, I’m coming with you!”
He glanced over his shoulder and shot her a firm look. “Out of the question. You’re staying here and locking the door behind me. I’ll call you when I know more.” And then he strode out the door, slamming it loudly behind him.
“Great job, McCoy. Great fucking job.”
Cash scowled at Seth from across the holding cell. “Nobody asked you to join in and defend my honor.”
“They would’ve hauled me in either way. Texas and Wade didn’t take a swing and they’re still in jail.”
Seth was sprawled on one of the long metal benches, his cloudy gray eyes fixed on a cracked piece of plaster on the ceiling. On the other side of the cell, Cash and Jackson sat side by side, their heads resting against the cement block wall, legs stretched out. Dylan had been pacing the concrete floor in front of the iron bars for the past hour.
The four of them were the holding cell’s sole occupants. Ironic, how the asshole who’d thrown the first punch was conspicuously absent, but when the cops showed up at the alley, Brendan had sprinted toward the cavalry and proceeded to spin a sordid tail in which he, the poor victim, had been jumped by four goons who’d broken his nose. The two uniformed officers took one look at the four SEALs and the cuffs had come out.
The last thing Cash heard before being carted toward the squad car was Brendan’s announcement that he was pressing charges against his assailants. Lying asshole.
Across the cell, Dylan finally quit pacing and turned to face the group, his broad shoulders slumped. “Shit, we’re totally gonna do hard time for this.”
Cash rolled his eyes. “We won’t do hard time. It was just a brawl.”
“Didn’t you ever see Con Air? Nicolas Cage ends up in prison for a brawl. Know why? Because his body is considered a lethal weapon thanks to his military training.”
“But didn’t he kill a bunch of dudes?” Jackson pointed out. “And then there was that scene where Harrison Ford is all Get off my plane. Best movie line ever.”
“That’s Air Force One, dumbass,” Seth said with a grin. “But yeah, I think Nic Cage accidentally killed someone. See, Wade, we’re fine. Nobody got accidentally murdered tonight.”
Dylan didn’t seem to be listening. Scraping a hand through his blond hair, he glared at Cash and said, “I can’t go to prison. It’ll break my mother’s heart. And you know I’ll be fighting off would-be rapists left and right.”
Seth snorted. “You already like it up the ass, so what’s the problem?”
“Ha ha. I’m dying of laughter here.” Dylan looked frazzled. “Fuck, those inmates will be all over me. I’m too good-looking to resist.”
Everyone snickered.
“Conceited much?” Jackson drawled.
Dylan stared down the Texan. “You saying I’m not good-looking enough to attract a bunch of lonely, horny prisoners?”
“No, just saying if we’re basing it on looks, I think I’d be the one holding the rapists at bay,” Jackson replied. “The ladies never stop raving about my face. And my fine ass.”
“My ass doesn’t get any complaints,” Dylan shot back. He narrowed his eyes, then glanced at Cash. “Who do you think? Me or Texas?”
Cash shook his head in bewilderment. “How the hell do I know?”
“I’m sure you’d both be equally violated,” Seth said helpfully.
“Ahem.”
All four swiveled their heads toward the bars to find Lieutenant Commander Thomas Becker standing there.
For the first time all evening, Cash experienced a flicker of anxiety. Shit. The arresting officers had called their CO?
And the CO’s XO, he realized with growing dismay as Carson appeared next to Becker.
“Hey, Commander,” Dylan said with a sheepish look.
“You our ride home?” Seth piped up.
Becker sliced a hand through the air. “Not one word from any of you.”
A uniformed officer approached the cell with a heavy key ring. The keys jingled in the silent space as the officer unlocked the door. “You’re free to go,” he said in a monotone voice.
Trudging out of the cell, Cash felt like a kid about to get grounded for sneaking out of the house. They strode down the fluorescent-lit hallway of the police station toward the processing area. Their keys, wallets and other belongings were returned to them, and as they signed some paperwork, Becker stood there with his arms crossed, a vein throbbing in his forehead.
They’d been ordered to stay silent, but Seth, being Seth, couldn’t help himself. “Is the pansy pressing charges?”
Becker glared murder at him. The vein throbbed harder and faster.
But Carson answered. “No. There’s a witness on the record saying that Psycho McGee threw the first punch. No assault charges will be brought against you.”
Witness? Cash glanced at Jackson, who’d been their lookout, but he just shrugged.
“Waiter at the Chinese restaurant came out to have a smoke just as the action went down,” Carson explained.
They left the station and still Becker didn’t say a word. From the daggers in those brown eyes, the CO was clearly on the verge of exploding. Cash had two inches and about twenty pounds on the commander, but he felt five feet tall in the man’s presence. Beck was a man of few words, but when he spoke, you paid attention, and with those waves of intensity rolling off him, he could scare the shit out of you with one look.
They stood on the front steps, nobody making a move. Becker kept staring at them as if he wanted to kill them, and even though he’d expected it, Cash was still startled when the explosion came.
“What the hell is that matter with you?” Becker roared. “A bar fight? Really?”
“Well, it was more like an alley fight,” Seth said.
Becker ignored him. “Here I am, enjoying a lovely evening with my wife and daughter, and then the phone rings, and who’s on the other end of the line? The police. Telling me four of my men decided to rough up some businessman in frickin’ public. Were you idiots born stupid or is this something you’ve worked on your whole life? Brawling in public! Jesus fucking
Christ!”
Cash’s jaw went slack. He’d never seen Becker so pissed off, or heard him utter so many words at one time.
“This is the last time I bail you out, understand?” Becker barked.
“Technically, you didn’t bail us out,” Seth murmured. “No charges were pressed.”
Becker yet again ignored the resident smartass. “If you ever pull another stunt like this, I’m filing a disciplinary report. No brawling, hear me? I don’t give a shit if you were provoked—you find yourself in this position again, you walk away. Understood?”
“Understood,” they answered in unison.
Becker crossed his arms over that massive chest and glared at them, one at a time. “And to solve your who-gets-raped puzzle? Based on looks alone—Pretty Boy over here.” He jammed a finger in Dylan’s direction. “Based on personality?” He signaled to Jackson “Texas, because he’s too damn nice. Based on attitude? This guy,” pointing at Seth, “because he’d probably piss off an inmate named Bubba with his smart mouth and Bubba’ll have to punish him.” Beck cocked his head at Cash. “And McCoy would quietly serve his time and probably avoid any ass shenanigans.”
A silence fell.
“Well,” Dylan spoke up. “Thanks for settling that, Commander.”
Becker’s brown eyes flashed. “Now, Carson and I will drive you dumbasses back to your cars, and I’m going home to read a bedtime story to my daughter and pretend this bullshit never happened. Pretty Boy, Smartass, you ride with me.”
He marched off without waiting to see if Dylan and Seth were following. Which they were. Running after him, more like it.
Cash let out a relieved breath that he didn’t have to sit in the same car as Becker, then glanced at Carson, who’d stayed silent during Becker’s entire tirade. “You don’t have anything to add?”
“Nope.” Carson’s blue eyes twinkled as he gestured toward the Range Rover parked at the curb. “Come on, dumbasses, let’s get your car. Texas, you’re riding in the back.”
They headed to the SUV, Jackson sliding into the backseat as ordered. Cash reached for the passenger door handle, but Carson came up beside him before he could open the door.
“Did the creep get the message?” Carson asked, steel in his eyes.
He nodded. “I think he did, LT.”
“Good.” The other man’s lips twitched. “Don’t think I’m condoning brawling in public, but I appreciate what you did, McCoy. Looking out for my sister like that.”
“We’ve become friends,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t like it when people harass my friends.”
Carson slanted his head, suspicion entering his expression. “Friends,” he echoed.
“Yup.” Cash was tempted to avert his gaze, but he knew that would only raise a red flag. So he met the lieutenant’s gaze head on, daring him to challenge that.
Hell, he kind of wished Carson would. Cash didn’t like lying to the guy, especially now that his feelings for Jen were…changing. This didn’t feel like a fling anymore, not by a long shot.
But Carson didn’t push the subject. Instead, he changed it, studying Cash’s face. “Bastard got you good, huh?”
He brought a hand to his mouth and touched the swollen bump, and when he scrubbed a hand over it, he felt the dried blood caked there. “Yeah, but I got him better.”
Carson grinned. “Good. But if you tell Becker I said that, I’ll deny it. My official stance on what you did tonight is the same as Becker’s—foolish as hell.”
“And your unofficial stance?”
“My unofficial stance is…hoo-yah.”
Jen was climbing the walls by the time Cash walked through the door. She was at his side in two seconds flat, gasping when she noticed the red bump at the corner of his mouth. And was that blood on his lip?
“Are you okay?” she demanded, her hand flying up to his face.
He winced as her fingertips skimmed his mouth. “I’m fine.” His fingers circled her wrist and he slowly moved her hand away. “Just a little bruise.”
She studied him, trying to decide if he was downplaying his injury in an attempt to act macho, but the lack of pain and discomfort in his eyes told her he was telling the truth. Still, she couldn’t help but sharply sweep her gaze over him to make sure he hadn’t been hurt anywhere else. He seemed fine, though. Pretty damn fine, in fact. His black T-shirt hugged every delicious muscle of his chest, the camo pants and scuffed-up shitkickers added to his tough-guy look, and the swelling at the side of his mouth lent him a dangerous vibe.
He was so sexy her mouth went dry, and he must have sensed where her thoughts had drifted because he cocked an eyebrow and grinned.
“You finished ogling me, Ms. Pervy Eyes?”
She laughed. “You complaining?”
“Nope. I love having your eyes on me. Especially when I’m naked.”
“You look really good naked,” she conceded.
Cash promptly reached for the hem of his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you what you want.”
She intercepted his hand before he could remove his shirt. “Hold your horses. If you get naked now, I’ll totally lose my train of thought.”
“I’m that distracting, huh?”
“You know you are. Now come sit down and tell me what happened. How on earth did you wind up in jail?”
They settled on the couch, where Cash released a breath. “The boys and I went to the bar. We politely asked Brendan to come outside and I told him in no uncertain terms to leave you alone. He didn’t like that. He threw a punch. Things escalated from there.”
She had to laugh at his matter-of-fact recitation. “That’s it? He punched you, you punched back?”
“Yep.” Cash eyed her warily. “You’re not going to lecture me about violence and not solving problems with your fists, are you?”
She mulled that over. “No.” A grin sprang to her lips. “Honestly, the thought of you kicking his ass is hot as hell.”
Cash took that as his cue to reach for his shirt again.
This time, Jen didn’t stop him, and sure enough, when he exposed his chest, his six-pack distracted her for several long seconds. Snapping herself out of it, she placed her hand in the center of his chest and said, “Wait. There’s something I wanted to say to you.”
“It’s about earlier, isn’t it? In all the chaos, I forgot about that.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry I was so insensitive. I told you, I don’t know the first thing about talking to women—”
“Don’t apologize. I’m not mad at you, Cash.”
Surprise registered on his face. “You’re not?”
“No. I spent the whole day thinking about what you said, and I realized you’re right.” A twinge of embarrassment colored her cheeks. “I could have been submitting my work to magazines and newspapers years ago, but something always stopped me. The truth is, I’m scared. I’m scared people won’t like my pictures, scared they’ll tell me not to quit my day job, scared my parents will say I told you so.”
Cash stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “It’s okay to be scared.”
“Maybe. But it’s not okay to not try.” She shook her head. “I’ll never know if I’m any good unless I put myself out there.”
“Is that what you’re planning on doing?”
She nodded. “I made a list of publications I think I’d be a good fit for, but most of them require a portfolio, so I need to put one together.” Excitement trickled through her. “And then I’ll start submitting and lining up interviews. I want to try to make my hobby into a career. I have to try.”
His answering smile warmed her heart. Despite everything he’d said earlier, for some reason she’d expected him to say it was a bad idea or give her that patronizing stare her parents had perfected. But he didn’t. All she saw in his eyes was encouragement, and before she could stop herself, she launched herself at him and pressed her lips to his.
She kissed him with fervor, cupping his stubble-covered
jaw with her hands. Cash groaned and parted his lips, but it wasn’t until she tasted copper on her tongue that she remembered he’d been hurt.
She drew back and gently touched the bump. “Sorry, I forgot.”
“I already told you, it doesn’t hurt.”
She gazed into his blue eyes, experiencing another rush of amazement. “I can’t believe you beat up Brendan for me.”
“Does that turn you on, the thought of me defending your honor?”
“Mmm-hmmm.” Jen pressed her face to his neck and kissed him, then tasted him with her tongue, enjoying the masculine, salty flavor of his skin. “You taste good.”
“I taste like saltwater,” he corrected. “I swam two miles earlier and haven’t showered yet.” He made a move to get up. “I should probably do that.”
“Later. I’m trying to properly thank you for what you did with Brendan.”
She gave him a little push so that he lay on his back, then dipped her head and kissed the hollow of his throat. When she felt his pulse hammering beneath her lips, she smiled. God, it was so liberating knowing she affected him as much as he affected her, that her kisses excited him, made his heart race. As excitement quickened her own pulse, she roamed the spectacular expanse of Cash’s chest with her hands, tracing each hard ridge, gliding over every inch of smooth, tanned skin.
When she circled his nipple with her tongue, a husky sound escaped his lips. “That feels good,” he mumbled.
“Yeah?” Intrigued, she kissed her way to his other nipple and flicked her tongue over the flat brown disk. It stiffened, and Cash moaned again.
She hid a smile, enjoying having him at her mercy. Loving the way his chest muscles rippled beneath her touch. She kissed a path down to his abs, then rubbed her cheek over that tight six-pack like a contented cat. The man was all muscle, all raw power and masculinity. She skimmed her fingertips over those delicious abdominal muscles before dipping down to the waistband of his cargo pants.
Unzipping him, she eased the pants down his long, muscular legs. He wasn’t wearing any boxers, and his erection sprang up to greet her, long and thick, a glistening drop pooling at the tip.