Page 66 of Wrecked

“If you stab me, I’m going to be pissed,” Rip growled behind the mask.

But his voice was enough to stop Boston in his tracks. The boy stilled beneath his bigger body, chest heaving.

Rip tore off his own mask and then Boston’s and glared down into dark chocolate-colored eyes.

When the boy slowly smiled, Rip felt the impact like a punch to the gut.

Nope. Not happening.

A seventeen-year-old assassin was fucking off limits.

He’ll be eighteen in a few months.

Rip crushed that voice and rolled to his feet, yanking Boston upright.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

“The same as you. Trying to find Rebel,” Boston spat, shoving him hard.

Rip stepped a few feet away, glad for the separation.

“You’re not trained.”

“The fuck I’m not!” Boston scowled and marched up, getting in his face. “I have more real-life training in one hand than you have in your whole fucking body.”

The mention of the abuse Boston had suffered made Rip feel sick.

“Go back to Dave’s right the fuck now,” Rip said flatly.

“You’re not my boss,” Boston bit back.

“What’s going on…oh,” Azrael said, returning, but stopped in the doorway.

“What’s going on is you two are going home,” Rip said, glaring at Boston first and then the other.

“Sure thing,” Azrael said and jerked his head to Boston.

“What?” Boston hissed.

“Rebel’s not here anyway.”

Boston looked at Azrael for another minute and then before Rip’s eyes, Boston changed.

The teenager went from argumentative to compliant.

And Rip didn’t fucking trust that at all.

He was left gritting his teeth and clenching his fists when the pair dipped over the balcony and disappeared.

And all he wanted at that very moment was to follow Boston and make sure the boy got home safely.

But he had a job to do.

He didn’t have the time to babysit.

Making his way back to his post, he found Rogue.

“Where’d you go?” Rogue asked.

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