Page 10 of Skull

Breakneck frowned. “Her travel authorization came straight from the top in JSOC, all the way from Washington, DC. Apparently, she was in DC to talk to the DEA about the fentanyl problem we’re all facing, and she’s coming back to our base in Bogotá to continue her work. Word is that the Alzate Cartel isn’t as dismantled as we thought.”

“Is that all?” Kodiak scoffed. “You suck at intel, B.”

“I didn’t say that was all,” Breakneck murmured. “Bad news, I’m afraid.”

“What’s that?” someone asked.

“Boomer may be right,” Breakneck sighed. “She has a boyfriend.”

Boomer’s hope deflated like a balloon pricked by a pin. Of course she had a boyfriend. What was he thinking?

“So what?” a voice piped up. “I’ve got lime and a shovel. We can take care of that very easily,” Iceman said in his deadpan tone. “If she isn’t engaged, she’s open season in my eyes.”

Preacher chuckled. “She’s not a twelve-point buck, Ice.”

Iceman shrugged.

“Who is this boyfriend, anyway?” Kodiak asked, clearly skeptical.

“An underwear model named Gunther Bauer,” Breakneck replied after fiddling with his phone and passing it around.

GQ wouldn’t take the phone, and it was passed to Skull. He looked at the photo and said, “So what? He’s good-looking and fit, but he looks young, rich, and entitled. Probably immature too.” Boomer’s shoulders tightened as he realized that his own feelings were clashing with the image of Gunther. What was this kick-ass babe doing with a guy like that? Anger bubbled up inside him, mostly at himself for even thinking about her in anything other than realistic terms.

“Yeah, I’m not sure Boomer’s cotton boxers match up to his tight briefs,” Preacher said. The banter continued, and Boomer played along with a smile that did little to hide his deep regret.

“It’s not the boxers that matter,” Breakneck said, his tone thoughtful. “It’s what’s inside them.”

Skull shoved him off the bench seat as GQ exploded in frustration. “What the fuck are we talking about!” GQ yelled, his hands clenched, and his face twisted in anger. “Underwear models and Boomer’s damn love life and Skull’s for that matter! Who gives a rat’s ass?” He took a hard breath and continued in short, curt sentences. “Hazard and Leigh are out there in deep trouble. How can we even think about anything but them? All this fucking fluff makes me sick.”

Iceman rose and placed a hand on GQ’s shoulder. “Whoa, take it easy, Remmy. We’re all hurting here. The world doesn’t stop turning, and our lives carry on. We know what’s at stake. It eats at us that we might not be doing enough. Anna is devastated and hiding it well. I’m gutted, too—I should have caught this, but I didn’t.”

Preacher tried to add, “Ice—” but Iceman cut him off.

“No, I should have,” he said quietly. “Intel takes time, and tracking them is like finding a needle in a haystack. We have the best people on this, and we won’t let them down.”

GQ still seethed as every face around him betrayed a mix of remorse, guilt, fear, and helpless anger. Boomer noticed that Taylor was watching him intently from just a few feet away. It was clear she had heard their conversation. With that realization burning in his chest, he rose and made his way to her.

“Ma’am,” he started softly.

“Taylor,” she said with a warm smile as she set her hand on his shoulder. It was clear she was not offended by their chatter—even if it had involved her. Her face softened as she spoke. “I’m so sorry about your people in danger. I hope they are recovered soon.” Boomer nodded, swallowing down the mix of guilt and worry. Before he could speak, she continued. “I wanted to thank you for being such a gentleman and helping me change. I didn’t miss how you shielded me from all those stares. That was veryrespektvoll—very respectful.”

He felt a warmth spread through him. “I know. I speak German,” he murmured.

“You do?” Her gaze went over his face. She looked beautiful, and he wanted to touch her, caress her soft warm cheek with the back of his knuckles and pull those knots out of her hair to feel the silky strands against his fingers. That bit of tenderness weaving through his system startled him, and he dismissed the thoughts filtering through his mind before he followed through on them and made an even bigger fool of himself. “You have very strong and pleasant features, Boomer. Very much a handsome man.”

He felt like a stupid little schoolgirl at her compliment. It went straight to his head…ah both of them.

“You’re welcome, ma—ah—Taylor.”

He turned to walk away, but she tightened her grip on his shoulder. “Gunther isn’t my boyfriend anymore. Hewasrich, entitled, and immature.” A small smile and a soft blush played across her face as she lowered her gaze. He didn’t know what to make of that. He was just a simple Southern boy, he thought. He had hoped for something to ignite between them, but her next words cut that possibility off. “But I’m not looking for?—”

“I get it,” he said softly. “Message received.” He tried to sound gruff, as if that would shield him from the hurt. He backed away from her, and Anna snagged her again. With dismay on her face, she let it go, turning toward her friend.

He wanted to let it go, but he couldn’t shake the need for passion, connection, warmth, touch, and comfort. Meanwhile, the dire situation with Hazard and Leigh pressed on him relentlessly. He didn’t know where to put all these emotions, and he knew that drowning them in a drink would only be a temporary fix. He had lost his chance at happiness with Lila, and there were no second chances for him now—especially not with a vibrant, dynamic, intriguing woman like Taylor.

Some rare souls could hold their arms wide open and embrace the mystery of love and the joy of being loved. He wasn’t sure if he was rare enough or if his arms could span that wide.

4

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