The team lets out a collective sigh of relief.
“At least we’ll see the hit coming,” Odd says, rubbing his chest. “Because you’re making it sound like it’s inevitable that he’ll target the Wildlings.”
Everyone looks to Jake.
“I have no proof,” he says. “Just a really bad feeling.”
Honestly, that’s enough. But Jake continues.
“Whitaker’s always been three steps ahead. The IP leverage is pretty good…until Ryder and I break through his fucking security and destroy it.” He pulls up the newspaper article about Brantley’s death. How it was made to look like a suicide. “He no longer needs to threaten us directly. If I’m the kind of guy who would kill my own son, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to keeping my secret military force in line by going after their kids.”
Anders thumbs his knife. “Cool. Love that for us.”
Nobody laughs.
13
MAVERICK
It’s beentwo weeks since the incident at the fountain, and I haven’t seen or heard from Boone. It’s not like we had plans to chat or meet up or whatever, but he has my number.
You could text him too, Mav.
I could, it’s just…
For exactly three point seven seconds,Boone kissed me back. He did more than that. He gripped my waist, pulled me in tight against his body, and took over the kiss. Like he knew exactly what I wanted.
What he wanted.
There, in his clutch, I knew exactly how he would hold me if he were ever to make love to me. How anyone he’d been intimate with was really goddamn lucky.
Everything about it was magical…right up until he remembered that he is a man of principle, and I was far too wasted.
I should appreciate that he stopped when he did.
I mean, Idoappreciate it—and definitely would have felt weird about it the next morning if we had gone further. Hell, the only reason I wasn’t absolutely trashed the next morning wasbecause Maya made me take IV fluids before letting me go to sleep.
And yet…
Sigh.
My fantasies just got upgraded, yay, but having a taste of something is almost worse than not getting it at all.
Embarrassingly, I overnighted a pouch of some really high-quality pipe tobacco to myself. As soon as it arrived, I immediately stuck my face into the bag and inhaled. It’s not exactly what Boone was smoking, but it was close enough for me to jack off to.
Multiple times.
I also may or may not have created a small tobacco pillow to sniff while I go to sleep.
Anyway.
My super-normal and not-at-all-obsessivethoughts are interrupted by a buzz on my wrist. I check my phone and smile as I hit Accept.
“Ru, buddy! I haven’t talked to you since you won the Jury Prize! We have to celebrate!”
“Yes, let’s pop bubbles for my consolation prize,” he says in that dry, self-deprecating way of his.
“Oh, comeon. You got recognized by the people who actually know what they’re doing. You’re not some scrappy nobody. You’re a brilliant filmmaker, and Cannes said so. Out loud, with other people in the room.”
