Page 14 of The Story of Danny Rose

I couldn’t be sure if he had been about to compare himself to the twins earlier when he’d started saying he was ten times more…whatever. Either way, that didn’t fly. River and Reese were a clean slate. They were new as fuck and had a long wayto go, but there was very little deprogramming involved. They’d been soldiers for about a minute.

Danny stewed silently in his anger, and at this rate, he’d have no cuticles left by morning.

Another PMC agency came to mind, and I really didn’t want to mention it. These agencies had their own areas of expertise, several of them including more military-like structure. Even when it came to traveling in squadrons and units.

I rubbed my forehead and inhaled deeply.

It would be a prick move to withhold information about his options.

Goddammit.

“If you insist on going private, I can probably pull some strings and get you an interview at another agency,” I admitted reluctantly. “They operate a bit differently. They send smaller units, usually teams of six, and…” I trailed off when Danny shook his head stubbornly.

He refused to make eye contact. “No. It’s gotta be you.”

That…was as confusing as it was ego-boosting. But as long as I didn’t act on any attraction, I didn’t see the harm in taking a pinch of pleasure from his wanting me to train him.

“Why?”

My question evidently sparked more anger.

He glared at me. “Because you made me listen, you stupid fuck. How is that unclear? You gotta know what impact you make on others.”

I raised my brows.

“You have a way about you—don’t fucking make me explain,” he added irritably. “It’s so typical. You finally get an instructor who’s more than a robot, and he turns out to be a closed-off dick who won’t even talk to you.”

Christ. Sweet, sweet Danny. The more defensive he got, the more he revealed about himself. He could lash out all he wanted;it just gave me a better read on him. He hated showing his vulnerability. Given his background of being abandoned, who could blame him?

Unfortunately for me, it pulled me closer. It made me protective.

“You really don’t show any-fucking-thing in your expression.” That infuriated him. “Can you stop doing your mind-reading shit? I know about you SAS people, you know.”

I smiled faintly. “I’m not reading anything you’re not letting me see. You’re an open book.”

“Fuck you.” He got off the couch, jaw set, rage barely contained, and I automatically reached over the armrest and grabbed his backpack. He was gonna storm off, and there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that I would let him bring his belongings. I’d never see him again.

He was hotheaded enough to make a permanent decision based on temporary emotions.

“What’re you doing?” he demanded.

“I’m keeping your backpack here while you get your tantrum out of your system.” I tossed the blanket farther up the couch and placed his backpack between my knees on the floor. “Go on, storm off. Curse me out and convince yourself this was a stupid idea. When you come back, I’ll change your mind.”

If looks could kill…

“Itwasa stupid idea,” he snapped. “I’ll get the money some other way. I won’t stand here and make a fool of myself so you can be all condescending and laugh at me. So fuck off, Payne. Gimme my backpack right now.”

He needed money? That was information I was interested in. The rest were just his projections. I wasn’t being anything toward him, except collected.

“Do you hear me laughing?” I rose from my seat and kept his backpack behind me. If he wanted it, he’d have to go throughme. “If you wanna make it as a PMC, you gotta stop filling the silence with unfounded guesses. I’m not condescending, I’m not laughing at you, I’m not rejecting you—I can train you, Danny. It wasn’t what I originally wanted for you, but that has very little to do with my own personal feelings. I’m only trying to look out for you.”

He continued to stare daggers at me, this time in silence. The boy was at war with himself, because he knew he was his own worst enemy. He knew he should cool down and listen to me. But that would require a level of trust and surrender. In order to lower his guard, he had to take that step and believe in me.

I took a step toward him, and he straightened automatically like the good soldier he was. At this point, the structure and order from the Army were second nature and undoubtedly a cushion of comfort to fall back on when he didn’t know what was going on.

He was so incredibly wounded, this boy.

“I will help you, Danny. But we gotta work on your insecurities?—”

---