Page 1 of Raine Out (Grand Slam 2)

Raine

“Did you get one or two beds in our room?” Butch says as he walks across the patio, stuffing the last of a cheeseburger into his mouth.

“We have separate rooms.” I cross my arms firmly over my chest. “You already know that.”

“Are you going to give me a key to your room? Or do I have to breach the door?”

Hawk wanders over from where he’s manning the barbecue grill. “Butch, depending on the hotel, I think you can probably bust it with a battering ram. I don’t think you’ll need to bring explosives.”

As of today, Butch and Hawk are officially former Navy SEALs. We’re at their retirement party. But even in civilian life, I have no doubt they’ll use their skills—including kicking in any door that’s inconveniencing them.

“Stop it!” I say, reaching up to shove them in their chests. “He’s only coming with me as cover—so my friends won’t try to set me up.”

I’m barely five foot, four. These guys tower over me, but I learned quickly when I started working with them that they respond much faster to physical feedback.

Hawk looks down at me and shakes his head. “Shoving isn’t effective, Raine. I’ve told you before to go for the balls if you want to immobilize a man—”

“No! Don’t say a word.” I point at Butch as he swallows his comeback—his face almost bursting as he tries to control his grin.

I’ve worked with these guys for almost five years as the CIA liaison to the SEAL teams in Virginia Beach. They’re like big brothers to me. They’re no more interested in dating me than I am in dating them. When I asked Butch to be my plus-one to a friend’s wedding, I knew I’d have to endure hours of teasing, but I had no idea it would be this relentless.

“You know,” Butch says, pulling a piece of food out of his beard, “you told me you were a lesbian the first day I met you. Maybe tell your friends that.”

“I told you that because you very inappropriately asked me to get a drink with you ten seconds after we met.” I slap his hand as he puts the leftover crumb of food in his mouth. “Gross. Don’t eat food out of your beard. And telling my friends I’m a lesbian won’t stop them. They’ll just try to set me up with a woman.”

“God, I’d be so in favor of that,” he says, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath.

I shove him again. “Stop thinking about me with a woman.”

“Never. And so we’re clear, I asked you to get a drink because you were so quiet. I was trying to help you fit into the team—not trying to sleep with you.”

“Are you sure you weren’t trying to do both?” I say, crossing my arms over my chest again.

“I guess we’ll find out on St. John.” He grabs my arm as I try to backhand him and curls up my hand. “Slapping doesn’t work as a self-defense move. Ball up that fist to get the most impact. Ask Millie. She knows.”

He nods to something over my shoulder. I turn around to see Millie—my best friend since our agency training days—standing a foot away from us. I grab her arm and pull her over. “Will you please tell him to stop torturing me? You’re the only one he listens to—”

“Since when does Butch listen to me?” Millie tries to pinch his cheek. He spins her around and puts her in a fake chokehold. This is the way SEALs play. We’re used to it.

“Hey! Easy,” Millie’s husband, Mason, swoops in and pulls her away from Butch. He wraps her protectively in his arms. “She just had a baby.”

“You can’t tell me what to do. I don’t work for you anymore,” Butch says, laughing.

Mason was the leader of the SEAL team until he retired about a year ago to be with Millie and their new baby.

“No,” Millie says, raising her eyebrows, “now you work for me. I’m going to be a much tougher boss than Mason ever was.”

Millie resigned from the CIA, but the director convinced her to run a special projects division out of San Diego—where she and Mason live. I’m on a month’s hiatus as I transfer out there to be her agency handler.

“Will you tell me how you’re going to discipline me, Mills?” Butch rubs his hands together. “Be as specific as you can. The good stuff’s in the details.”

Mason whacks Butch on the side of the head and looks at me. “Are you sure you want to take this Neanderthal with you to your friend’s wedding?”

“I don’t want to take him at all, but the rest of the team are active—except Hawk—and he wouldn’t be any better,” I whine. “Mills, will you please let Mason have a hall pass for the weekend? I’d much rather take him.”

“Why do you have to take anyone?” Millie says as Mason pulls her tighter against him and kisses the top of her head. They’re the sweetest couple I’ve ever known. When I’m around them, I can’t help thinking I’m never going to find anything close to what they have.

“You know how my childhood friends are. They’re different than us,” I say, sighing. “I don’t want to spend the entire weekend answering questions about my dating status and/or my sexual orientation. I shouldn’t even go. I’m canceling.”

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