“Watch me.” I drop onto one of the mats in the corner to stretch. Despite my bravado, there ain’t no way I’ll give Wyatt shit for sticking close to home. Not after Hope’s psycho ex nearly killed them both last month. If I had someone warm and willing, I wouldn’t be here either.
“How’s the shoulder?” A few feet away, Ryker groans as he lowers himself down and crosses one leg over the other to stretch his back.
Every inch of his exposed skin is covered in scars—except the left side of his face. The Taliban tortured him for fifteen months, leaving him in near constant pain, but he rarely lets it show. Not even when his spine lets loose with a series of pops that sound like they’re excruciating.
Grabbing my right arm with my left hand, I pull it gently across my chest. I’m about to tell him I’m fine when he narrows his multi-hued eyes at me. “Think twice before you answer.”
Damn Special Forces training. The man is a human lie detector. “Fair to middlin’. Only hurts first thing in the mornin’.”
He nods, apparently satisfied with my answer. “When do you see Doc Reynolds again?”
A spark of pain skates down my back, and I let my arm drop, flexing my fingers. “End of the week. I’m doin’ my PT every day. Give it a rest.”
A single brow arches, the other bisected by a thick scar. “You want to try that again?”
“Nope.” I switch to the other arm, turning my back on the big man to see Graham and Inara with their heads bent over their cell phones. Shit. I need a distraction. Or an intervention.
Ry lumbers to his feet. He’s close to seven feet tall and built like a tank. I have to crane my neck to look up at him. “You want to stay on this team, Raelynn, you’ll knock that chip off your shoulder before it crushes you.”
Dammit. I stare at his massive back as he strides over to the kitchen in the corner of the warehouse. Ryker gave me a chance when I was so mired in my grief, I didn’t know which way was up. I have to fix this.
By the time I finish stretching—and beating myself up over my attitude—Inara and Graham are facing off across the foosball table. Tank—clad only in a white towel—heads for the showers. And Ry’s on his phone. From the look on his face, he’s talking to his wife, Wren. She’s due in a month, and though he’s all business when we’re on mission, he’s been increasingly distracted during workouts.
Stop stalling and fix your damn mess.
“Good job today,” West calls from the lockers. “Don’t forget. Wednesday at six, we’re running simulations with the new drones.”
I jog over to him, clearing my throat as he pulls off his running shoes. “Got a minute?”
He snags the towel draped over the bench and nods. “Sure. Have a seat.”
That’s the last thing I want to do. But I don’t have much choice. “I need this gig.”
Surprise registers in his blue eyes for a single blink. “Money troubles? Ry can spot you—”
“I fucked up in Salt Lake City.”
His cool stare bores into me. I don’t look away, but the urge to squirm almost does me in.
“Wyatt was hell-bent on gettin’ to Hope. I was ready to follow him down into that basement, but one of the hostiles got the drop on me. It knocked me off my game, and before I got a handle on shit, I was starin’ up at the ceiling with a partially dislocated shoulder. It won’t happen again.”
You’re gonna talk yourself right into being shit-canned if you don’t shut your trap.
West arches his brows. “You done?”
“No,” I say, lowering my gaze to my clasped hands. “If you’re gonna fire me, get it over with before I sink ten grand into a new heater. My house is a goddamned money pit.”
With a heavy sigh, West shakes his head. “Raelynn, Hidden Agenda and Second Sight are a family. We don’t fire probies for a single mistake.”
“You’ve never fired anyone from what Graham says.” If I were smart, I’d shut up. But I ain’t built that way.
His hand moves to his side, and he chuckles. “He’s right. Though Ryker should have kicked Coop’s ass to the curb before my first mission. Maybe then I wouldn’t have ended up almost bleeding out in a veterinarian’s office in Bogota.”
“So, you’re not gonna bench me…?”
“Not unless you insist on keeping that stick firmly planted up your ass. Stop seeing the rest of us as…‘the rest of us’ and get it through your head that we’re a team. When Ryker wants to know how you’re doing, tell him. And for fuck’s sake, stop thinking you can handle everything on your own.”
I give him a quick nod and push to my feet. “I’ll try.”
