They walked the next few blocks in silence. It was unfortunate he’d left his earbuds in the hotel room. He could’ve had music to accompany him on this evening stroll. Since he’d thought they were going to get their drink on, he’d left them.
He wondered if Brantley would’ve brought them anyway. Tucked them into one of the many pockets on his cargo pants. The thought made him smile.
He didn’t know why, but he was having a lot of those WWBD moments. What would Brantley do when… Ever since he met the guy, he’d been fascinated. Not in a romantic way, although it was amusing to tease Reese by flirting with his man. He meant no harm, and he always watched for signs of when he was about to cross the line. He wouldn’t do that. Not to either of them. But he did find it amusing to get a rise out of Reese and he was pretty sure Brantley enjoyed the fact that his soon-to-be husband was jealous.
It was all in fun, of course, but no, Atticus wasn’t interested in either of them. Not like that.
No, his fascination was with the man himself—a real-life Navy SEAL who likely had more stories from his experiences than the entire task force combined.
He figured it partially stemmed from having wanted to join the military himself. Atticus had attempted to sign up when he turned eighteen, only to be rejected when they learned he’d spent a year in a mental facility when he was fifteen. He’d been in the foster system, and evidently, acting out at school to a certain degree was grounds for hospitalization. Atticus had sucked it up, but shortly after they released him, he ran away from the foster home he’d been placed in. He’d lived on the streets for a year before he turned eighteen.
Because of his troubled youth, Uncle Sam hadn’t been interested in taking him. He’d been wandering since then, but now … he didn’t want to get too excited, but he was starting to think he might’ve finally found a soft place to land.
***
“Thanks, JJ. Let me know if youdofind somethin’.”
As Brantley ended the call with JJ—the second in the past hour—Reese could feel Brantley’s tension rising. And it was steadily increasing with every passing minute. While Reese continued to review what little information Z had sent him on Decker and the bits and pieces JJ was unearthing, Brantley had started pacing.
“Goddammit,” Brantley growled, throwing his phone on the bed.
Reese closed his laptop and stood. “I think you need a distraction.”
“No, what I fucking need is to find Decker. This is bullshit. It’s—”
Reese cut him off by shoving him onto the bed.
Brantley’s eyes were saucer-wide as he stared back at him.
No, Reese didn’t make a habit of manhandling Brantley, but he knew, in this instance, it was necessary. Brantley was getting himself worked up enough that a migraine was inevitable.
“Relax,” Reese told him. “Lie back and relax.”
“I don’t—”
Reese covered Brantley’s mouth with his hand and pushed him down so he was lying on the bed. Reese straddled his hips, staring down at him.
“I’ll remove my hand, but I want you to be quiet. Understood?”
Brantley’s blue-gray eyes glittered with a promise of retribution, but he finally nodded.
“Good.”
Removing his hand, Reese inched backward and got off the bed.
“Take off your shirt, then turn over.”
Brantley’s eyes narrowed, and his lips parted.
“Quiet,” Reese repeated.
While Brantley removed his shirt—dramatically jerking and tossing—and flopped over onto his stomach, Reese removed both of their shoes. He went to his bag and retrieved the bottle of lubricant.
“I’m not in the mood,” Brantley grumbled, glaring at him as Reese approached.
Reese barked a laugh. “Is that the biggest lie you’ve ever told?”
Brantley grunted.
