Page 56 of Oblivion

Tate looked over Dante’s shoulder and smiled. “Hey.”

“Hi,” I said softly.

He looked friendly enough; the kind hazel eyes and a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks gave him an angelic appearance. And after experiencing Dante’s Army friends, I assumed I could also trust this one.

Tate glanced behind him. “Ah,fuck,here we go. Jackson, Makka, and Lars have just pulled in.”

Dante cursed under his breath. “Let me handle this. It was my call to go in early.” Calm filtered through his expression as he touched my forearm. “Hang tight with Tate for a moment.”

I gave a small nod, and as soon as Dante left, Tate filled the open space. He casually leaned against the Hummer door and looked me over.

“So, Vegas, huh?”

My chin tucked back in awhat the fuckreaction. “Excuse me?”

A shit-eating grin wove over the large, ginger-haired guy’s face. “My boy Bateman here was raving about a dirty weekend away he had a few months back.”

I gulped and focused on the marks on my wrists instead of the heat rising on my cheeks.

Tate clicked his tongue. “I highly recommend it. Expensive, though, depending on where you go and what you do.”

“I’ll take your word for it. You went with Dante?” I asked, trying to cover my ass despite my face screamingliar.

“No, no. Me and my SEAL buddies went a few years back, before I started working at Cole Security. One helluva farewell that was. Ever been?”

“Can’t say I have.”

Tate breathed out a surprised sounding, “Huh,” and raised one eyebrow. “That’s n—”

“Yo, Tater,” someone called, mercifully cutting short whatever he was about to say.

The jovial lilt to Tate’s voice vanished and gave way to a commanding tone. “I’m going to shut the door while I have a quick chat with the team. Hands and legs in, Penny.”

I complied and sat back against the leather upholstery with a heavy sigh. The doorthunkedclosed and the locks engaged, sealing me within silence after the chaos.

I shook my head at the cliché coincidence of running into Dante again… literally.

He’d been there when I was running on the wind, trying to erase the memories of my shitty birthday, and the way he’d fucked me was like he was trying to escape his own demons…

I shivered at the memory.

The Dante in Vegas seemed far more careless and wild than the man who’d gathered me in his arms and held me while I cried.

When I peeked out the Hummer window, I couldn’t stop my heart from tripping over his magnetism. He stood with his feet hip-width apart and hands on hips, and my eyes roved across his broad back and down to his tapered waist. The man was a goddamn sculpture. Dark jeans were made for an ass like that, and I mashed my lips together while shamelessly looking him up and down from behind the tinted glass.

As if sensing me watching, Dante glanced in my direction, then spoke a final few words to the men around him. He gave a quick nod, then strode toward me with long strides that made the jeans flex and strain around his muscular thighs.

Shit.

I willed my pulse to calm and took a deep breath just before the driver’s door swung open. Dante climbed behind the wheel and twisted to look at me sitting pretty in the rear seat opposite.

“The boys are going to do another sweep. I’mma take you home to your mom and dad’s place.”

“I can go to mine.”

“No can do, Lemon Drop. Your father made it clear that you were to be dropped there.”

He gunned the engine and engaged his seatbelt. Wide shoulders and biceps worked beneath his shirt as he turned the steering wheel and eased the Hummer out of the park.

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