Page 34 of Warrior's Walk

I fuckinghatekaraoke.

I sufferthrough McCormick’s rendition of a Beach Boys' song, and every time he tries for that high note, my stomach threatens to regurgitate my burger. It’s fucking painful to listen to. My ears aren’t the only ones hurting. Most of the guys are sporting a grimace, except Stiles. He must be tone deaf because he’s tapping his foot and bopping his head. For all of his bickering with McCormick, they sure do seem like two peas in a pod. I can’t figure them out.

Brandt follows him with a song from theTop Gunsoundtrack. The Bitches groan collectively, and I can’t understand what they’ve got againstTop Gun, ’cause it’s a kick-ass movie, and the soundtrack is even better.

I glance at Riggs for what seems like the three hundred and ninety-seventh time, and he turns his head away quickly, which means he was watching me.Again. Every time I glance in his direction, I realize he’s been watching me. The idea should excite me, but instead, it feels like I’m sitting in the timeout chair, like I’ve done something wrong.

For the life of me, I can’t figure out what.

Brandi orders another margarita, chocolate this time, and I’ve got to put my foot down. “Slow down there, girl. You can’t be drinkin’ all that and drivin’ home.”

She giggles, and the sound grates my nerves. “I thought I’d come home with you.”

Like hell. “Well, you thought wrong,” I say point blank.

Mandy pats my shoulder discreetly, and I realize he’s been paying attention the whole time, watching my back. I should feel grateful, but I only feel defensive. Slightly bitter. It’s not his job to watch my back; it’s Brian’s, Warren’s, and Ormen’s. My crew. But none of them are here, and these guys are. I’ve got to let go of that bitterness and just be thankful someone’s watching it at all.

Brandi takes offense at the coldness of my words and pouts her pretty stained lips at me. “Girl, that ain’t gonna work on me. You can sit and hang with us, but I’m cuttin’ you off on the alcohol.”

She grabs her drink, blows me a kiss, and vacates her seat.

“Thank fuck,” Mandy mumbles. “Is that the kind of girl you attract? Desperate and greedy? Just give me a heads up, so I know next time we hang.”

Chuckling, I shake my head. “I usually have better luck than that. Must be gettin’ rusty.” His phone vibrates on the table and he checks the screen, his face stretching into a frown. “Who’s that?”

He shakes his head. “No one.” My snort says I don’t believe him. Mandy sighs. “A friend. I invited him to join us, but he says he can’t make it.”

“Maybe he hates karaoke as much as I do.”

He gives me a sardonic look. “He loves being the center of attention. Probably has a date or something.”

“Why wouldn’t he just say so?” Mandy shrugs, but I don’t believe him. “You like this guy?”

Honest to God, his cheeks pink. This big, scarred guy blushes.

“He’s…” Mandy lowers his head, and the hint of a smile teases his lips. “He’s like C-4; small and explosive. He’s got this pretty face, with blond hair, and the way he dresses…” he chuffs. “His clothes don’t make no sense, but he loves to show off his body. He pretends to be empty-headed, but he’s damn smart. And… he cares, you know? He doesn’t stare at my scars when he talks to me, he looks me in my eyes.”

Smirking, I shake my head. “Shit, you’ve got it bad. Did he friend-zone you?”

He finishes off his soda, slamming down his empty glass.

The truth dawns on me. “You’ve never tried to shoot your shot?” I ask incredulously. “Why the fuck not?”

His head snaps up, and the look in his eyes is as cold and hard as forged steel. “Look at me. Why would I saddle someone I like with this face?”

“Get the fuck outta here. Don’t give me that shit, Mandy. He obviously doesn’t mind. You just said he sees past them.”

“It’s easy for a friend to see past them, less so for someone who has to sleep with me.”

I scoff at his bullshit logic. “You’re fuckin’ bent.”

Mandy’s gaze lands on Riggs. “When you follow your own advice, you can give it to me.”

“Let’s drink. I know you said you don’t often, but tonight seems like a good exception.” Fuck my meds. I need a drink, bad, and so does Mandy.

He glances at his phone again before slipping it back into his pocket. “Yeah, it does sound like a good idea. First pitcher’s on me.”

Three pitchers and two rounds of whiskey shots later, Pharo offers to drive us home. That’s the big shouldered guy with the blond highlights in his dark hair. The guy with the golden eyesand the mysterious name. What’s even more mysterious is the fact that he deploys several times a month. He says he’s in the reserves, but that don’t make no sense to me.

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