“So they’re after both of you, then,” I say, acknowledging that Rafi gave Omar half of Asadi’s holdings.
“No. If they knew Rafi was living with me, they would have sent more men.”
I turn that over in my head and decide to take him at his word.
Odd interrupts us to let us know the transport is nearly here, and I lower the tailgate, wondering what we’ve gotten into. The guy with paper towels shoved in his mouth has the temerity to look disgusted by me, and to be honest, that cheers me up a bit.
Now we’ve got them settled, Omar turns to me, shifting the focus to Rafi. “So. Are you going to make a move?”
I shrug, not sure what to say. I decide on the truth. “I think you might be right. I can’t stay away from him.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to. I know my brother-in-law, and I trust his strength. He wants you, so I’ll support it.”
I stand there, in the alley behind my shop, more or less speechless. Anders, who’s never been able to keep a thought in his head his whole damn life, knocks his shoulder into Omar’s.
“Damn, Omar. I think you broke Everett.”
Omar curls his lip, looking down at their connection, and I’m actually a little concerned he’s going to pop the guy in the mouth. Not that I’d blame him. Anders finally buys a hint and sheepishly pulls back. Pretty sure he’s low-key crushed on Omar since they first met, and all he’s done is irritate the fuck out of the man.
Taking a deep breath, Omar refocuses on me and continues. “My brother’s last words to me were, ‘Find your own happiness and help Rafi find love again.’ I think he has.”
I’m still lost in thought when a big, white double cab dually truck pulls into the narrow alley. The team DB called in from Wimberley.
We’re met by a brawny dude about my height with red hair shot through with silver and a shorter, hella curvy woman with freckled light brown skin and wavy hair halfway down her back.
“You must be Everett,” she says, her gorgeous green eyes sparkling. “Anders has told me so much about you. I hear you do good work for DB and his team.”
I return the smile. “Glad to hear my reputation precedes me. Who are you?”
She extends her hand to shake mine. “I’m Hedy.”
That name sounds vaguely…oh.
Anders once told me about a sexy, curvy chick who was adventurous in the sack. I shoot him a look, and he pops his eyebrows. He bites his lower lip before walking up to Hedy to give her a hug.
“Yep, this istheDr. Hedy Villarreal. Criminal psychologist and kick-ass recruiter.”
She hips him in the thigh and smacks his shoulder. “You only say that because I recruited you and Odd.”
Anders pops his eyebrows again. “Yeah, you did.”
At this point, the guy with the red hair shoots Anders a look that probably shaves a few years off his life. Anders holds up his hands in surrender—something I’ve never seen on the man—and mutters, “Sorry, Cap.”
I turn the to the disgruntled man and offer him my hand. He takes it easily enough and gives me a firm shake with confident eye contact. “Edison Fitzwallace. Leader of this impudent crew.”
Hedy snorts. “Hah. You wish you were the boss of me.”
I look between the two of them, then side-eye Anders. Yeah, I remember now. Anders had gotten drunk one poker night and said the cute freckled one was on a break from her boyfriend—I’m assuming the redhead from his protective stance—when she went to Florida, recruited the twins, and then rode one Anders Bash until he was drained of fluids and barely able to walk.
The Bash Brothers, like the rest of the team, are on the not-straight spectrum, so when Anders says it was the best sex he’s ever had, that means it was probably pretty amazing. I remember Odd mentioning he was in the next room and had to resort to earplugs.
Hedy seems to be catching all of the nonverbal conversation and chuckles to herself.
By this time, the Bash Brothers have gotten the dead one under another layer of tarp in the back and the living assholes in the back of the double cab. They hop in on either side while freckles and the redhead jump up front.
I’ve known for a while Anders and Odd spend most of their time out in Wimberley. That’s all DB will ever say—they’re coming in from Wimberley, or they’re stuck out in Wimberley and can’t help us. Last time I visited the place, Wimberley was a cozy artist town tucked in the Texas Hill Country along the Blanco River, catnip for every gay couple in the tri-county area.
Clearly, their version of Wimberley is very, very different.
