Ronan’s a pretty cool guy, as far as I can tell. It’ll be interesting with the whole Thane dynamic if DB offers him a position on the team.
Omar comes out several minutes later carrying a bag with the electronics he found and another bag with trash from the cleanup. I grab another garbage bag from the trunk and pop it open, careful to gather everything without letting any contaminating factors touch the outside of the bag. Omar takes off his bloodied shirt, tossing it into the bag.
I believe I’ve already explained my opinions on his level of bare-chested hotness.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he says, shouldering past me as he puts the trash in the trunk.
“Like what?” I say, hip-checking him as I pull my jacket on.
He maintains eye contact as he flips off his comms, then leans in, his nose brushing against my ear like a flint to a match. His accent is somehow stronger and grumblier. “Like you want to eat me. We have to get this guy taken care of.”
I inhale sharply, excruciatingly aware of his nearness. “Apologies. Will try to keep my fuck-me eyes to myself.”
He looks through the back window to check in on our charge, then leans in, snaking his arm around my waist until his hand lands on my opposite hip. “Have you ever been successful at that?”
I gulp and pray to the god of limp dicks that my cock doesn’t embarrass me. “I’ve, uh, never actually tried it before.”
Landing a kiss on my shoulder, he uses the hand on my hip to pull us together. “That’s what I thought.”
I keep my face forward and take a few breaths. “Kinda sending me mixed signals here, hoss.”
“Maybe that’s because I haven’t decided if I need to kick your ass or fuck you raw for that stunt you pulled in there.”
I raise my hand like a kid in class. “If you’re taking suggestions, I definitely have a preference.”
He crowds up behind me, pressing my hips into the side of his car. “I know your preferences, and I’d be happy to indulge them if you didn’t insist on nearly killing yourself with every op. God knows who keeps you in one piece in Wimberley.”
I pout and arch into his grip. “I do medical only for them. None of the fun stuff.”
He bites the soft join of my neck and shoulder. “Alhamdulillah.” Thank God.
16
Omar
We pull up to the Bash family property, and in the daylight, it’s a beautiful mix of pine trees, marsh, and fields.
Anders directs me to drive past the main house to a gate on the marsh-side fencing, where his parents are waiting for us. We pull up, and Anders and I get out of the car to greet them. I have no idea of Mrs. Bash’s age, but she is a stunning woman with long blonde-and-silver hair lit by the sun and Anders’ bright blue eyes. She’s wearing a stylish pair of cuffed jeans and a gorgeous, flowing top set off with a ton of turquoise and silver. She practically beams when she spies us, and it hurts as much as it feels wonderful.
Mr. Bash is maybe an inch shorter than his son, but the rugged-Viking good looks are definitely genetic. His white-and-silver hair is in a sharp pompadour, and he’s wearing modern glasses while sporting overalls. As a couple, they’re probably the most adorable people I’ve ever seen.
“Where’s the young man, Tex?”
That fires off a memory about something Anders once said about his nickname during an op. As I’m trying to remember the details, Samuel gets out of the vehicle and Mrs. Bash gasps, saying something in Norwegian.
Anders responds, “It’s okay, Mama. He encountered some really nasty men, but they won’t be bothering him anymore. He’s got the one bad laceration on his face, but otherwise I think it’s not as bad as it looks.”
Real talk: it looks bad. Aside from the gash on his cheek, Samuel’s face is mostly purple, and one of his eyes is swollen shut.
“Did you bring food for Dave and Millie?” his mom asks, pulling on a black rubber apron and thick black rubber gloves. His father follows suit.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s in the back.”
I scoot a little closer to Anders and whisper out the side of my mouth, “Why are you having them go in the back of the car? The bodies…”
Anders looks at me, puzzled…but not. “You mean I haven’t told you yet?”
“Told me what?”
