She straightens up, tilting her head to the side as she considers the question. “You’re all amazing. Every one of you is a catch. But I hadn’t really thought about why you’re all still single, no. But… now that you’ve pointed it out, it seems a bit unusual, statistically, at least.”
“You remember when you asked why I’m not married with seven kids?”
Emma nods. “Yes.”
“I told you it’s because I’ve never slowed down enough to have that. And I told you a little bit ago that I’ve never found anyone I wanted something more serious with, until you.”
She smiles, that gorgeous warmth in her eyes again, and I’m tempted to pull her back into the tub, but I push on. “But that’s not the whole story. It isn’t just that I tend to go through life a million miles an hour. And it isn’t that I’ve never wanted something more before.”
“Oh?” Emma raises a curious eyebrow.
“The thing is, I’ve never met a woman who can handle my relationship with these guys. You’re worried about us being jealous, but the reality is, none of us has ever been able to find a woman who isn’t jealous of what we have. But you fit us, Emma. I’ve been looking for you for a long time. We all have.”
14
Emma
It’s going for the gutter.
Callie leans her entire torso to the right, attempting to magically influence the bowling ball to do the same as it rolls down the lane. But she had a nasty hook on this one. And yet… she might just hit a pin.
I stand, willing the ball to travel just a few more feet before it drops into the gutter. It clips the outermost pin before falling. The pin totters then falls into the one next to it, taking it down as well.
“That’s two.” Callie spins to face us, two fingers lifted in the air in triumph.
“That brings you up to—” Cora waits for the digital scoreboard to update “—twenty-five. You’re on a roll, babe.”
I’ve never seen a woman so happy to suck so badly. “I’m getting better. I almost broke thirty this game!”
“I can’t believe you’ve never bowled before.” I select my neon purple fourteen-pounder from the ball return.
Cora snorts and gives her sister a smirk. “Callie spent the first twenty-plus years of her life pretending there is no such thing as sports.”
“Except for Tony Rasner,” Callie says with a wink. “He was impossible to ignore.”
“Who is that?” Zoey asks.
Callie shakes her head with a dreamy look on her face. “A guy I dated in high school. He was on the football team, wasn’t he?”
“Futbol, you mean.” Cora says. “He was on the soccer team, babe.”
I turn away from my friends, leaving Cora explaining the difference between football and futbol to Zoey and Callie — or, actually, from the sound of it, Callie is getting in a very detailed description of Tony Rasner — and line up for my approach.
The guys insisted on getting us out of the apartment — and I’m glad they did. We were all starting to get cabin fever.
Zoey’s been recovering from the ordeal as well as anyone could, but she’s still been pretty quiet in the apartment with us, lost in her thoughts most of the time. Hell, I haven’t been much better. Tonight, though, we’re both smiling and laughing. The sisters’ unfettered energy and enthusiasm is a fresh breath of air after the sleepless nights and tension in the apartment.
I lift the ball up into my line of vision, aiming at the second arrow to the right of center. I know Trigg and Jude are watching from their post over by the bar, and it has me taking more care with my form than usual. I approach with sure steps, swing carefully, and focus on not twisting my wrist as I release. The ball zooms toward the pins and cracks into them left of center.
“You got five!” Callie is impressed every time anyone hits more than one.
“I keep twisting my wrist.” It was three years ago that some guy making strike after strike in the lane next to me critiqued my swing, pointing out my poor form with unsolicited disdain, and I’ve been self-conscious of it ever since. Not that I’ve worked too hard on correcting it — I bowl maybe twice a year.
I head back to the ball return to wait for my purple ball. I make eye contact with Zoey, and she offers me the smile I’m looking for. It’s been a great distraction for her, having something to focus on other than every odd sound coming from the street.
My ball rolls out of the return, and I line up for my second attempt. This night has been a good distraction for me as well. All day, every time I close my eyes, I can see the swirling ink sketched over Jax’s hard muscles, and I can hear the cries and moans he tore from me. And feel Daniel’s tender kisses on my lips. And Gunner’s hands and mouth on me when I finally stripped off my robe. And… on and on. I feel like a cat in heat these days, and being with the guys 24-7 in such a small space is making it hard to concentrate on anything else.
I shake my head lightly and try to refocus on the lane in front of me. I aim even further to the right this time, hoping for a dead center hit. Instead, the ball actually goes rather straight and teeters on the edge of the gutter before it clips one pin and hits the backing. My shoulders slump. I’m never going to be good at this game. Ever.
Cora rises for her turn, and I take her seat next to Zoey, who has a far-away look. I give her a poke. “Hey, you. Thinking of cabana boys?”
She blinks and comes back to me. “Something like that. The Pegasus Fleet.”
I lift my eyebrows. She’d brought it up here and there over the past couple years, but the reality of her actually doing it has always been just as far off as that look in her eyes a moment ago. “What brought that to mind?”
“I found out they just opened a new training center over at Central. I wouldn’t have to travel out of state to get qualified.”
I tilt my head. There’s no whimsy in her voice this time. She’s serious. “Are you really considering it?”
She presses her lips together for a minute then nods. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Wow,” I say. I’d miss Zoey so much, but it would also make me so happy to see her take life by the horns and go after her dreams. “You know, it’d get you far away from this mess, that’s for sure. Where are they recruiting for?”
“The openings are mostly in the Caribbean this season. But I’m not sure if I’d be able to test out on all the qualifications I’d need in time. Maybe by the next season.”
“It sounds like it’d be a hell of an adventure.”
It was three years ago that I’d first shared the article from one of my tech magazines with Zoey. I thought it would strike her fancy because of the work the Pegasus Fleet specializes in — medical outreach in rural, isolated areas using emerging technologies. She’s been a bit of a fangirl ever since.
I grab her hands in mine. “Hey, can I come visit you on my yacht — the one so big it’ll blot out Jackass’s sun?”
“Sure,” she nods. “And we can sunbathe on the deck with a bunch of hot studs on the next boat over.”
“Why do they need to be on the next boat over?” I pout.
Zoey laughs and gives me a little shove, putting me in mind of how the guys show affection to one another. “Woman, you are on fire these days.” Her eyes flick over to Trigg and Jude. “Although, I can’t blame you, not if I had five men like that ready to please me every night.”
“It’s not every night.”
She gives me a deadpan look. “Was that… a complaint?”
“Okay, yeah, I’ll shut up now.” I reach for my soda and take a long sip. “So, if you went this season, you’d be taking care of hunky divers when they get cut on a coral reef?”
Zoey rolls her eyes. “Yeah, because that’s the only medical need in the impoverished communities down there. There’s just rows and rows — entire stacks of them piling up on the beach, really — handsome men needing me to apply antiseptic and band-aids. It’s an epidemic.”
I play with the straw in my drink. “Hey, it could happen
. But seriously, I think it sounds fantastic. You’ve been talking about it forever — you should do it, for real.”
“Maybe,” she says. “I mean, I have always wanted to travel and do something with my nursing degree out in the field.”
“But that’s field...’ I say, “as in land. This would be in the middle of the ocean. I mean, you know… sharks.”
“Ha!” Zoey snorts. “Still probably less than you’re dealing with.”
Damn, that was a good one. “Buuurn,” I say, offering her a fist bump.
She touches her fist to mine as she chuckles at her own joke but says, “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s such shit. I wish you could take the job now and get out of here. I’d miss you something fierce, but you don’t need all this mayhem.”
She gives me a gentle push. “I couldn’t leave you while all this is going on.”
Before I can reply, she stands, giving Cora a high five as she approaches the table. I want to argue the point — encourage her to go, but my roommate is already over by the ball return. She’d be a great candidate for shoving off into the middle of the Caribbean with nothing but a duffle bag of supplies.
“Hey, they better have cell reception out there,” I shout at her.
Zoey looks over her shoulder and makes a cringe face. “Uh… depending on the island, it can be pretty hit or miss. And only sat phone during the days we’d be out to sea.”
The thought of Zoey being out of communications range makes my stomach sink. I’ve only had one very short moment of not knowing if my best friend was okay, and I hated every second. I glance around at Trigg and Jude. They’re trying not to be too obvious about watching us, but I feel hella safer knowing they are. I’m not sure if my nerves can handle not knowing Zoey’s status on a regular basis, but that’s my issue to deal with privately. She should go — not just to get away from the situation with BHC, but it’s because it’s where she belongs — not stuck working the same old shifts at the hospital day in and day out. I see it in her eyes, that excitement. It would be good for her.
The rattle and clack of pins sound down the lane, and I look up in time to see several of them go tumbling. Zoey spins around, walking back toward me as she heads to the ball return.
“Hey, lady. I’m not done talking to you about this. You should go. Seriously. I’ll do whatever I can to help you get your certifications in time,” I offer. “Get the hell out of here while you can.”
“Sorry,” she says. “You’re stuck with me for now.” She seizes her fluorescent pink bowling ball and heads back to the lane for her last turn, conversation over.
Zoey lines up, takes aim, and lets it fly. The ball hits the remaining pins dead center, and all of the pins go scattering into the backdrop.
Callie is loud in her praise. “A spare! Woohooo! You just kicked our asses.”
Zoey spins toward the ball return, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you all are sucking just to make me feel better.”
“Hey, I don’t have to try, I’m naturally good at sucking,” Callie admits.
“I’ll be sure to let Don know that,” her sister quips, and she gets smacked on the arm for it.
Zoey points directly at me. “But I know you can usually get more than sixty points. So, what’s this nonsense?” she asks, pointing at the scoreboard.
I stand up and shrug innocently. “Guess I’m just having an off night. I would never do such an underhanded thing as throwing a game. I’m offended at the suggestion.”
“Yeah, right,” Zoey says dryly. “Stand back everyone, Emma’s nose is about to get ten feet long.”
“Hey, before that happens, we should probably turn our shoes in. I think those ladies over there are going to come at us with pitchforks if we take any longer.”
We all glance over discreetly at the group of six silver-haired women who have come equipped with bags for both their bowling balls and crochet yarn. Our girl’s night out is apparently standing in the way of their girl’s night out.
I shouldn’t say we’re all being discreet. Callie waves at them with a big smile. “We’ll be right out of your way, ladies. Just let us clean up the space for you real quick.”
The obvious matriarch of the group offers Callie a warm nod and beckons her over to their cluster. Seriously, that woman could melt the North Pole with her social charm. Her boyfriend, Don, must be pretty great — or unfathomably lucky — to have turned her head.
While Zoey and Cora clear off the table, I retrieve my ball from the return then turn my attention to the bar, signaling to Trigg and Jude that we’re ready to go. The guys were right. I needed a night out with the girls — and so did Zoey.
I look back to my friends, feeling very blessed. I love how animated Callie is as she talks to a group of seventy-year-old women. And how Cora brings my roommate in for a hug. And how Zoey closes her eyes and leans into it, the sweetest expression on both their faces.
Callie’s high, clear voice rings out as she rejoins us. “So, which is it going to be? I vote for The Born Avenger.”
It takes me just a moment to catch-up to what Callie is talking about — our next activity of the evening.
“The action movie?” Zoey asks. “Ugh… the commercial looked like it was just a string of car chases and explosions.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely a testosterone fest,” Cora agrees. “But Callie and I had a meeting at the theater over on Beckham about catering their employee appreciation dinner. I stuck my head in the theater just to get a glimpse, and oh my—” she fans herself dramatically “—I got an eyeful of some steamy scenes in between the explosions. Let’s just say Ryan Rellino takes off more than just his shirt.”
“Sold.” Zoey lifts both her bowling shoes and ball into the air, leading the procession back to the racks.
15
Trigg
Emma and Zoey’s moods are riding high as we make our way back to their apartment.
Callie and Cora had parted ways with us after the movies, and the remaining four of us had walked across the street to a little café for dessert. Emma had spent most of the time making wisecracks between bites of her chocolate cake — Jude had made himself a target by griping about all the romance in what was supposed to be an action flick, and Emma couldn’t resist giving him shit.
Personally, I didn’t mind the love story part. The hero defeats the bad guys and gets the girl? Hell, yeah, I’ll take that. Gunner would have liked it even better, since both the lead characters got naked — a lot — and it wasn’t just the explosions that were bigger than life. Even Zoey had joined in with the ribbing, talking about the guy’s ass in vivid detail just to give Jude hell over his comments.
I turn onto their street and slow down, looking for a parking space within reasonable walking distance, which is insanely hard to find. Up ahead, a car’s brake lights flicker on as it starts up, parked just a hundred yards down the street from the ladies’ apartment. It’s the best spot I can hope for, so I come to a slow halt and flick on my turn signal, waiting for the car to pull away from the curb.
Jude’s been following behind us in his truck, but he got caught at a red light a few blocks back. A ding sounds on my phone, and I check the screen. It’s a single word, but it says it all.
Bastard.
He’s still sore that the girls opted to ride with me instead of with him. The man has a shiny Land Rover sitting in the garage back at our penthouses, but he insists on driving that old beater farm truck of his, complete with grease-stained seats and a tattered headliner. Meanwhile, I’m driving my Audi R8 GT. Jude had a snowball’s chance in hell of the ladies picking his ride over mine.
I chuckle to myself and type a quick message to him as I wait for the car up ahead to move.
I’ll get the girls inside. Enjoy the rest of your solo drive.
Once the spot is free, I parallel park with ease, fitting us into the snug space with just enough room to spare. Emma and Zoey are out of the car and wa
iting a few yards ahead of me by the time I have the car locked up and made sure my concealed weapon is indeed completely concealed before I join them on the sidewalk. I don’t usually carry it around this much, but after what BHC pulled with Zoey, I wish I was wearing a second holster, one at the ready for each hand.
I walk behind them, letting the two friends chatter away. They both need it. It’s been a bit claustrophobic inside of that little apartment. But, it’s just me keeping an eye on things right now, so I watch them closely. Jude’s truck hasn’t come into sight yet and the rest of the guys are spread out across the city tonight.
Gunner and Daniel are checking on things at our penthouses, including Mabel, who has fattened up and turned into the sweetest dog on earth. Even though Jude hired expert pet sitters — third year students from the Veterinary college — to give her plenty of attention and take her on long walks, he’s insisted on checking on her personally every day. He’s been slipping away from Zoey and Emma’s apartment for an hour in the evenings, except tonight.
Jax is running company errands — gathering paperwork from our offices, picking up the mail, and doing a drive-by of the different properties we own around the city. We don’t trust BHC not to set fire to one of the buildings just out of spite, so we’ve been taking turns each night, making rounds. I check my watch. He should be headed back this way soon.
This whole thing has kicked the instincts of military training back into high gear. As I follow the girls, I’m very aware of the added bulge and slight weight of the holster at the small of my back. I’m also noticing the man walking in the opposite direction pause in his stride to give the girls a double-take, and the car turning the corner a little too slowly for my liking. All well within normal, I know, but I’m on high alert.
Zoey unlocks the front door to the townhouse apartment building and ushers us inside. We take the steps to their second-floor apartment and move to the door marked 2B. Zoey inserts another key and gives the handle a twist. But a second after pushing the door open, she freezes.
Broken Process Page 10
