Page 23 of The All-Inclusive

“But—”

“I’m going to shower and get dressed.” She glances at Jarhead, who still has his hand on her shoulder. “And I need a few moments to say goodbye to my guest.”

A sour slosh of rage fills my chest. I hate that he’s winning this round. He doesn’t look down at me to gloat, which feels like another big point in his favor. We might be roughly the same size, but Jarhead’s being a bigger man than I am.

“Logan,” she says, as her brown eyes swing to his face. “I appreciate your concern. I’ll speak privately with Trent, but we’ll do it downstairs at Halcyon Bistro. Mr. Holyfield is arranging for a table in a private room with guards standing by.”

So Jarhead is Logan. I figured as much, but knowing his name makes him human.

I hate that.

And I want to hatehim, but?—

“I want you happy and safe,” Logan says to my girl. “It’s your choice, and I respect women’s choices.” He pauses to fix me with a glare. “But I’m going on record as saying you deserve to be treated better than this.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks get a little bit pinker as the guardshaul me up to my feet. She watches three uniformed men start dragging me out through the door.

Logan starts to follow, probably planning to punch me once Sara’s not watching, but she catches his arm, drawing him back to the room.

“Wait,” she says softly. “I need to give back your shirt.”

“Keep it,” he says, bending to kiss her flushed cheek. “I’m hoping I’ll see you again.”

Nibbling her lip, she nods. “I’d like that.”

I should hate it. I should punch his goddamn lights out.

But all I can think as he storms out the door is how fucking perfect she looked coming all over his face.

CHAPTER 5

LOGAN

“Hold up,” I call to the guards. Glancing behind me, I make sure Sara’s already shut the door. “Let me talk to him a sec.”

The guards shift uneasily, looking at each other for direction. The one who’s in charge squares his shoulders. “We have instructions from Mr. Holyfield to have him delivered to the private dining room at Halcyon.”

“I’ll call Holyfield now.” We already spoke a few minutes ago, but this time I’ll do it without Sara listening. I know that’s a little bit douchey, but the dickhead in cuffs set the bar low.

My billionaire boss answers on the first ring. “Holyfield.”

“It’s Logan again.” The boss man and I have had several long chats about personal stuff. He trusts me as more than an employee. “The guy who burst in on the guest in room sixteen is an operator.” I should probably clarify I don’t mean telephone. “Spec Ops—a SEAL.”

“Yeah, I know,” Holyfield mutters. “Kinda wondered if Trent James might’ve gone off the deep end.”

Busting in on your girlfriend riding a stranger’s tongue might qualify. “I can confirm that, sir.”

“You’re worried he’s dangerous?”

“I’d like to assess that myself.” I glance at the dickhead—a fucking frogman—who’s glaring at me with a guard gripping each of his shoulders. “I’d like fifteen minutes alone with him in The Hole.”

The asshole’s eyes flicker, which was kinda my reason for saying that. A couple months back, Holyfield built us a luxury space for our support group of ex-military consorts. It needed a name, and a consort from Singapore’s Special Operations Force suggestedThe Pit. It was meant as an ironic hat tip to someplace he’d been as a prisoner, so we called itThe Holein honor of Holyfield.

Also because it’s hilarious to call any roomThe Holeat a sex resort. But Dickhead here doesn’t need to know that.

I want him a little bit scared.

But the guy doesn’t scare easily. He just gives me an unflinching stare as the boss man considers my request.

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