Page 84 of The Wounded Warrior

“Oh God, yes. I have the Internet and a sleep disorder. IBing.” Rory chuckled, the sound evil, merry. “I just keep thinking about the sweat factor. It’s not so bad during, but what about when everything cools off? Isn’t there an odor issue?”

Obviously, Rory had never been bivouacked with a bunch of sailors.

“There’s always an odor in the military, babe. Now, picture a two-hundred-pound Marine who wants to be a raccoon.”

“A-Whoa.Whoa. That’s…juicy.”

“You got no idea.” Thankfully, neither did Luke, really, though there were a couple of pics on Dane’s phone that had burned his eyes. “I tell you, for someone who never got to do the sex thing, I got to hear about it. A lot.”

“That seems incredibly unfair. Someone needs to take up the slack. I seem to totally be the man for the job.”

“I think you’re the only one qualified.” And then some. Rory made him stupid.

“I’m sure there are others interested, but I don’t care.” Rory peered at him over the stall wall. “I’ve been hired.”

“You have. On a permanent basis.” He felt brave saying it, and it made his heart beat fast.

“All right then. I love the benefits.”

“Do you?” Luke finished up with Jasmine. “I think they’re stellar.” He wheeled out. “Now the kicker.”

“Be careful with you.” Rory watched him stretch and make his back pop. “Your momma still want to do the lunch thing? I’m taking a personal day Friday.”

“Oh she does. She’s been poking me, but with your truck and the poisoned beer and all, I’ve just been giving you breathing time.” Luke grabbed a towel from a stack at the end of the aisle, which would help pad him if Pickle decided to go apeshit.

“Well, see if Friday works for her and we’ll doarepas.”

“I’ll call her this evening.” It was real decent of Rory to think of his momma. “You hear back from Jake yet?”

“Antifreeze. Not your standard bar fare.”

“How did he think he was gonna slide that past you?”

Rory snorted. “Jake tells me it’s only been standard to bitterize it here for about a year.”

“Well, shit. Thank God the asshole didn’t have some in his garage.”

“What I want to know is why he had it in a bar. At a Mexican place. Not a lot of call for it.”

“No. No, the only thing I can think is that it was in his car and he improvised for the boss.”

Rory nodded, the hat brim bobbing in the shadows. “I didn’t know the kid from Job, so it had to be.”

That thought was the scariest part of it all. Who knew how many frickin’ people Doug Harris had on the payroll who were gunning for Rory now.

Of course, Rory seemed to have taken the whole LeBlanc Family motto of ‘no running’ to heart. The man was out there, living his life. Hell, all the land in the county that was free to buy had been bought.

He had no idea what other business interests Doug Harris had that Rory might be fucking with, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

His not-so-private prayer was that Rory could let it go, could just breathe and work on fewer avenging-angel-type deals. Or that Doug Harris would do something to get his ass arrested. Then Rory would have what he wanted.

Luke wanted his man to be able to be really happy, and bitterness would eat a man up inside.

God knew he knew that. Christ.

He’d learned all bitterness could teach him.

Now he was working on sheer joy. “Hey, when we finish up here you want to go over to the RockingW and hear me wax poetic about my plans? I need to take a load of boards over and you can drive.”

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