“What did you do to her? Probably said something stupid.” Rodeo got in Jake’s face in the garage, near the front entrance of the compound. Jake had finished his morning patrol and was starting on his next assignment per the roster. The more activities filling his schedule, the better.
Before he checked equipment, though, Jake was about thisclose to remodeling that guy’s head. Then he’d work on Gonzo, who had joined in on the pile-on.
“It’s no one’s business,” he gritted out. Damn, he could feel the viral monster lapping up the heightened emotions and urging Jake to swing fists. He’d never ridden the line between sanity and complete loss of self-control for so long before. Jake could go supernova in two seconds flat. A shot of antidote would help some of his problems today, but not all of them.
The antidote didn’t fix stupid, unfortunately.
“Ok, princesa, then why did Kiera look all red-eyed and unhappy this morning when I came in from my shift? Like someone gave her the worst news of her life. Why did Stumpy say you were a jerk?” Gonzo’s dark eyebrows rose as he hovered inches from Jake’s nose. His teammate’s hard chin provided a tempting target.
“Again, not your business,” he muttered, trying to walk by the men.
Rodeo extended a dark, muscled arm across his buddy’s chest. “I’ve got this one, Gonzo. Watch me work.” Mr. Male Model grabbed the front of Jake’s shirt and shoved him into the metal wall.
Dumb move.
The virus flared. Hungry. Ready. It flooded Jake’s arms and torso with power. Muscles pushed against fabric. A brick-hard fist rose, ready to fly. Red tinged his vision.
No. Jake could not attack his friends. He had to control the virus. Clamping his hand at his side, he suppressed the overriding desire to remove Rodeo’s teeth. At the rate he was throwing emotional chum into the waters for the virus’s feeding frenzy, he’d need another antidote shot soon.
Rodeo thumbed the brim of his hat. “Not our business? Look, shit-for-brains. First of all, Kiera is a nice person who tried to avenge Brady. Brady was our brother-in-arms, therefore Kiera is our sister. Second, stress is bad for the baby. Which is yours, by the way, you dumb fuck. Finally, if you hurt that sweet woman, I will open up the biggest can of whoop ass on you and will not stop until you cease breathing. Got it?” He glanced at Gonzo. “Good?”
“Oh, yeah, couldn’t have said it better myself. Very descriptive, yet still based in fact.”
That smug cowboy bastard preened. “Why, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Gonzo smirked.
“Guys!” Jake interrupted their mutual fawning. “Get your hands off me. I have work to do.” And wounds to lick.
Rodeo leaned into him. “You have work to do? You haven’t helped us in well over a year and now you want to pitch in? I call bullshit. This is a test of your character to see if you still fit on our team. Try again. Start by explaining how you fucked up a good thing. And don’t tell me it’s not what happened. Failure is written all over your ugly face.”
Jake sagged under his teammate’s crushing arm, his body limp as a noodle. “I screwed up with Kiera. Again. Worse than when we dated ten years ago. Worse than last summer. This morning, I said things I shouldn’t have.” A prickle of irritation made him stand up straighter. “But in my defense, she said mean things to me.” He glared at them. “Don’t you two have work to do?”
“We’re union, fucker. This is our coffee break,” Rodeo growled.
“My turn.” After a tacit handoff, Gonzo crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “Let me get this straight. This woman escaped being murdered recently—twice. She attempted to avenge Brady—something we could not do. In trying to avenge him, she put her life in danger. She has taken a huge personal risk to deliver information to us.”
Shit.
Gonzo sucked in another lungful of air. “And, oh, by the way, the company she might take down has its hooks deep in the U.S. government and Mother Russia, and wouldn’t everyone like to keep her quiet—permanently? Despite all of it, she’s still helping us. That about cover it?”
Jake glared at him. A lead weight settled in his gut.
“Oh, wait there’s more.” His teammate glared right back and pointed a finger. “Also, because you were a numb nut and didn’t man up with the Snip-snip For Safety program, now she’s carrying your child which may or may not be okay when it makes its entry into the cold, cruel world. A world which, by the way, wants to take her child and run goddamned tests on it. The one and only thing certain about her future is that it’s scary as fuck.” He poked Jake in the ribs. “But you? You’re a superhuman powerhouse. Nothing can hurt you. Yet you have the balls to stand here and whine that she said ‘mean things’ to you?”
Jake’s lungs deflated in a massive whoosh. His teammates were right about everything. If he could melt into the ground, he’d do it, but Rodeo’s death grip on the front of Jake’s shirt kept him firmly propped up in the line of fire.
Oh, shit. Gonzo wasn’t done. “Because a stressed-out pregnant lady said ‘mean things’ to you, you ruined the one single thing in your miserable existence that is good and pure? You’re el pinche idiota.”
Rodeo let go of the shirt and flashed a tight, unhappy smile. “You are the stupidest fuck I’ve ever seen, bro.”
“Dude, that’s what I said.” Gonzo tilted his head.
Rodeo scrunched up his face and studied the metal ceiling as he pulled out his yo-yo from a pocket. A few thoughtful trips up and down the string later, he said, “I like how you said it better, George. It’s a really good insult. I’ll have to jot that one down.”
“Okay, but you have to give me credit.”
“Guys.” Jake slid down the garage wall until he knelt on the ground. He put his head in his hands, thoughts swarming like angry bees. “Oh, shit.” The virus remained silent. Unhelpful fucker. “What do I do now?” What had he done? He wanted to throw up or beg for forgiveness. Chances of her ever speaking to him again, to say nothing of forgiving him … the probability was less than zero.
His inability to address his own hang-ups and work through his past had destroyed his relationship with the sweetest woman he’d ever known. He had done this to her. To them. To any future he might have had. Jake: destroyer of entire lives.
Rodeo nudged him with the silver tip of his cowboy boot, like Jake was a pile of manure. “You want that crow cooked medium-well or rare?”
“You can still fix this, man,” Gonzo said. “I know it.”
“Yeah.” Jake staggered to his feet. Maybe there was a tiny chance. He’d beg if necessary. “I have to go talk with her. Apologize.” Explain how he felt and what she meant to him. Truly meant. He needed to own up to his baggage. Promise to work through his shit. Counseling. Homework. Penance. Anything it took.
Gonzo sniffed. “It would work better if you had flowers and a box of chocolate.”
“Dude.” He spread his arms out to encompass the drab garage and entire compound. “Seriously?”
“It’s a suggestion,” his teammate said. “You need all the help you can get. As a matter of fact, I’m going to say a few Ave Marias for you.”
“That means ‘Hail Marys,’” Rodeo added.
Gonzo whipped around. “I know.”
He thumbed his hat with a sniff. “I’m clarifying for dumbass here.”
“Guys!” Jake faced down two sets of raised eyebrows.
“What are you waiting for? A permission slip?” Rodeo said. “Get out of here, shit-for-brains. Go fix your mistake.”