“Fuck off, I bathe regularly.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Warrant said.
“You need an IV?” I asked.
“No, I’m fine.”
I looked up at him and arched a brow. “You’re probably dehydrated after that mission. You sure you’re good?”
“Good or not, I don’t want you fucking stabbing me anymore,” Cynic said. “I’m grateful, but I’m fucking done, Pyre.”
I shrugged. “Fine. Keep an eye on it. If it looks infected, well fuck right off.”
Cynic froze as he was putting his pants back on, looking up at me. “Infected?”
“Well you’re about to put those dirty ass pants back on over it,” I told him with a flat, unimpressed stare. “I’m assuming you’re going to do other stupid shit and it’s going to get infected. That’s why it’s your problem.”
Cynic let the pants fall to the floor. They were the same cut and material of fatigues all military members wore, but plain black instead of camo. “Well shit. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“That was him saying something, dumbass,” Warrant replied with a shake of his head.
“You want me fucking riding home in my boxers?”
“Don’t you keep any clothes up in your room?” Warrant asked him.
The clubhouse had apartments up on the second floor. Each of us had one assigned as ours. None of us really ever used them unless we were too fucking drunk to drive home. Or we had back to back missions and needed a quick nap in between.
“Shit, that’s right. Forgot all about that,” he muttered. “Thanks.” He bent and grabbed his pants, limping out the door.
Going over to the sink, I tossed my gloves into the trash can, then washed off my hands. I sighed when Warrant stuck around. “What?”
“What happened?”
I looked over my shoulder and found my brother grinning at me. That wasn’t unusual for him. Wasn’t odd that he was causing trouble either. He just didn’t fuck with me very often. I wasn’t sure why I’d caught his interest now. “Don’t you have better things to do?”
“Not really. Ainsley’s at lunch. Demo’s busy helping Cypher with something-”
I turned around, drying my hands. “Anything that’s going to get them blown up?”
“Probably.”
I made a mental note to restock my supplies from the armory. Sure, we kept the weapons in there, but it was where we kept everything else, too. And if Demo was fucking around with explosives, someone was getting hurt. I’d rather have everything I needed within arm’s reach.
“All kidding aside, Pyre,” Warrant said, “what are your plans?”
Shaking my head, I scowled at him. “None of your fucking business. Did I bother you when you were chasing the sheriff?”
“No,” he replied, “but that’s because I was already chasing her. I distinctly remember a betting pool, though.”
“I didn’t start that,” I told him. “You have an issue with that, you need to talk to Demo.”
“I knew that fucker was the one who started that bet,” he muttered.
There was not one ounce of regret in me for ratting Demo out. Now Warrant would spend the next couple of days annoying the shit out of him instead of me. I watched him walk out of my exam room, still muttering to himself as he thought of the best way to get back at our brother.
As pissed as I was at Warrant for butting in where he wasn’t wanted, he wasn’t wrong. I needed to figure out what to do about Rae. I’d damn near kissed her upstairs in the middle of the fucking clubhouse. It hadn’t even been the plan. I was going to just stand there and talk to her for a few minutes until Ainsley came out to get her.
Instead, I’d found myself drawn to her in a way I couldn’t resist. She’d looked so…open and inviting. Fuck. I was screwed. My attraction to her certainly hadn’t dulled over the years. If anything, it was stronger. And now with Warrant, and possibly the others, interfering, he was going to find a way to bring her around as often as he could. Just to mess with me. To force me to make a choice.
