“Glad you’re not being overly dramatic about all this.”
“I didn’t mention shit about her being DEA, did I?” Patch grinned. “I thought for sure she was a spook, too.”
“The knife, right?”
Patch nudged him. “You might want to invest in more Kevlar if you still think you’ve got a chance. Which you do, in case you didn’t pick up on all the sexual tension once she’d admitted she was your secret crush.”
“It was just adrenaline from avoiding a dozensicarios.”
“It was pheromones. Mostly yours, but…” Patch dodged McGuire’s slap. “Look at it this way, you might just get that chance to pay her back.”
“Not sure we could ever do that.” McGuire stared at his hands. “All the gunfire and explosions. Her ragged breathing as she’d tried finding cover after killing the feed…” He sighed. “When the line cut off, I thought…”
He’d thought she’d been killed. Or worse.
Patch nodded, a heavy silence stretching between them. “Dane would have loved her.”
McGuire snorted. “He sure as hell wouldn’t have spent five months working up the courage just to ask her out.”
“She still would have said no. Trust me, when you’re in the room, everyone else disappears.”
“Even if that’s true, he would have spent that time listing all the reasons he was a better choice.” McGuire tapped Patch’s thigh. “No one gets to her unless we’re dead.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, brother. Go. I’ll take first watch — wake you in a couple hours.”
McGuire stood, clapped Patch on the shoulder, then headed for his room. After lingering a bit too long in front of Riven’s door, he closed his. The bed creaked as he sank onto the edge, ribs still stabbing pain into his chest. He closed his eyes, fell back on the mattress, the ceiling fan shaking overhead as it squeaked through every rotation. He watched it turn, thoughts spinning along with the blades until the endless voices in his head grated on his last nerve.
He grabbed a quick shower, changed into some clean clothes, then took his turn on watch. The early morning Louisiana air seemed oddly drier, only a few fingers of fog wove through the lush ferns. Mosquitos gathered in the dusky dawn, small clusters of black amidst the failing gray.
He rounded the perimeter, then trotted up the stairs, avoiding the right side that creaked with any sort of pressure. A dim light brightened the kitchen, Riven’s silhouette outlined in front of the counter.
He eased the door closed, careful not to let it slam, then crossed the floor — leaned against the wall as she hovered beside the coffee maker, hair damp, a fresh spring scent drifting on the air. She wore his t-shirt and sweats, the cuffs rolled up a few times at her ankles. The clothes were baggy and long, and his chest fluttered weirdly at the sight of her wearing them. As if his heart wasn’t quite sure whether to speed up or simply stop.
Humming softly to herself, she turned, then jumped, nearly tossing the coffee mug at his head when she noticed him. She closed her eyes and hissed out a breath through clenched teeth. “Jesus, McGuire, make a damn sound when you enter a room.”
He shrugged, admiring the slashes of red on her cheeks. “Old habits.”
“Well, develop a new one before I toss a damn knife your way.”
“I didn’t realize the DEA had incorporated that into their training program at Quantico.”
She smiled, set his fucking heart on fire, as she leaned against the counter. “Sailor, I learned that growing up on the streets.”
He grinned, praying it didn’t look more like a snarl as he nodded toward the coffee pot. “You make enough for everyone?”
“Sharing’s never been my strong suit, but in your case…”
She grabbed a mug, poured him a cup, held it out. He accepted, lingering a bit too long with his hand over hers, untilPatch cleared his throat behind him. McGuire caught the mug before it dropped, an adorable curse sounding beneath her next breath.
Patch seemed oblivious to the death glare she flashed him as he waved for a cup. “Morning sunshine. Everyone playing nice in the sandbox?”
Riven handed him some coffee. “Scare me like that, again, and the mug’s coming for your head.”
“Someone’s grouchy before they’ve had their caffeine fix.”
They all took a seat, another awkward silence filling the space between them.
McGuire placed his elbows on the table, snagged her gaze. “Riven…”
