Page 40 of Flint

I like this. The more brothers in this, the better it’ll go in the long run. Burnout is what drove a lot of brothers out of the service. Well, that and the bullshit. There was a lot of that. But the military does one thing: train a man to be hard, cold, and kill if they’re picked for a certain career field. And most of the brothers were. Predatory animals recognize other predatory animals. We group together, either to kill the other or to join forces. To build a team that’s stronger than one alone, to hunt down the prey.

“Works for me,” Bulldog is quick to agree.

Law grins, and I do too. Bulldog is bouncing on the balls of his feet to see his woman, but he knows protocol and won’t get lost till he gets the all clear from the president. And I get the feeling the boss man is enjoying watching him sweat a little. Of course, I ain’t any better, but at least I’m hiding it well.

I think.

“What about you, Flint? Any issues on your part? Think you can get us all linked up on a few back channels or something?” Law asks.

Now it’s the VP’s turn to smirk. Fucking snitch. I wasn’t hiding what I was doing, but I wasn’t exactly advertising it. Only man who could have seen what I was doing with Gator was someone watching the feeds, which was Bulldog’s whole reason for being there. He was the team’s backup. He could call in favors across all avenues, but he was also close enough to be there in less than twelve hours if needed, while the others would have taken a good twenty-four.

The fact that he never said anything before has me mildly suspicious. I’d halfway hoped that he’d just thought I was doing what he asked me to do: fix her to fix us. But somewhere it changed along the way, and wires got crossed. It was no longer because of a job but a need to keep her safe. To have eyes on her, to know she was being taken care of. Gator looped me in, often. All about how a car kept circling her house, and how the plates connected back to the Devils Damned. Or how her boss ain’t all straight and narrow as he looks on paper. Yeah, I’ve been digging deeper, ever since I got satellite imagery of the night she fell off the cliff. Pulled in a favor with a guy I know who’s got property close enough that he keeps eyes on it. It’s not much, but it’s clear Jules was run off the road that night and left for dead.

“You tell me what you want, I’ll make it happen.” I ain’t admitting to shit, and my words seem only to make them both happier ’cause I don’t.

Law nods. “All right, you assholes, get out of here. I know you both got prettier people to see than my ugly mug.”

I start to make a remark, but why? I ain’t calling Kitten mine, but I do want to see her, and yeah, she’s mighty fine in comparison. I got to admit, I’m proud of myself for not running out of the place. Unlike Bulldog. Then again, he’s got his kid, his mama, and an old lady to get home to. Talking daily by phone and having them in your arms every night are two different things.

Of course, I don’t take my time leaving. I do walk, but I ignore every single brother who calls my name, and maybe push off a few vamps who get in my way. They seem to think that putting hands on me will make me stop and stay for a while. Been there, had that, repeatedly. Don’t want it. Not when I got something fresh, something I can’t stop thinking—borderline obsessing—about.

Only when I get on my bike do I take a second. Fucking missed this girl between my legs the last few weeks. She might not seem like much, but she’s mine. We’ve been through thick and thin. She relies on me to keep her fully stocked and ready, and in return, she gets me to where I need to be without fuss. She’s so good at it that we make almost record time to Julianne’s place. Gator’s 4x4 Ford ain’t out front, so I park across the street. I know they’ve been taking it everywhere, keeping her little Kia in the garage, and I don’t want to take the only parking spot she’s got. See, I got manners.

I sit on my girl and check in on the construction work emails. Been out of the loop for a bit. I might have some killer backfills that make sure the business doesn’t stop, but there’s nothing like knowing everything in your company. It gives you a full appreciation for each member on the job when you know what everyone is doing—and not doing.

Takes another fifteen minutes before the blue-and-white striped Ford comes swinging into the drive. I put my phone away, get off my bike, and lean against it. And wait. Never came home to someone before. Not that I’m coming home to her or whatever, but fuck, you get what I’m saying. Never had someone who I sought out after a deployment. Who I dreamed about, kept tabs on, and yet never spoke to while away. I don’t know what her thoughts are on things. If the kiss we shared is still at the forefront of her mind, as it is in mine. I’m in uncharted territory, and the ball’s in her court. Her reaction is the cue I’m going with. If she’s happy, then I am too. If she sees me and then turns away, well, that’s my sign to get on the bike, drive for seven hours, and then get drunk and fuck some random girl to get it out of my system.

I’m a guy, remember? I don’t get hurt feelings. Well, I never have in the past. I’m assuming it’ll be the same with her. Okay, I’m hoping it’s the same if I get the reaction that I’m kind of dreading, with her turning and walking away.

I don’t even hide my smile. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but she’s going a mile a minute, and I can see the look of agony on Gator’s face as he rounds the truck to meet her while she waits for him once she gets out before going toward the porch. He spots me first, knowing I was coming home today, but keeps his mouth shut like I told him to. He gives me a chin lift, and that has Kitten stopping mid-speech to look over.

I see the wheels turning and give a chin lift to them both. It’s small, but it’s about all I’m going to give her before she lets me in on how she wants to play this.

My heart almost stops at the smile that lights up her face as she realizes I’m not a mirage and then takes off running toward me at full speed. I stay where I am, because shit, I’ve never had a girl run at me like this before, and I want it so bad. Kind of going to let this sink in and enjoy it. Might not get another one of these.

Tires squealing pull me out of dreamland long enough to see the speeding sedan gunning for Jules. I react and rush toward her, pushing her down as Gator pulls her back by her shirt. The car fucking swerves, but Gator is already firing off shots, knocking out the back window before it turns a corner and is gone. Neither of us goes after it, knowing it’s pointless.

“You get the plates?” I yell as I check Jules over. It happened so quick. I saw the car and reacted, pouncing on her and not really caring how she fell, just that she was out of the way. Gator must have thought the same thing as he pulled her shirt back, and that added momentum to her fall, along with me tackling her.

“Yeah. She good?” he asks.

I don’t feel anything broken or blood, but I’m not completely sure. She can’t seem to stop smiling, and that’s a bit concerning. Maybe she hit her head or something. Why else would she not be freaking out about the second hit-and-run on her?

I touch the back of her head. Sure enough, she winces, and I pull my fingers back and see a bit of blood. “Fucking hell, Kitten. Call General. She might need stitches. Also get Domino, Jumper, and Bass over here. Police will have been called, and I want more friends than foes at our backs.”

“Already on it.”

I hear him talking on the phone as I look at her. Same as always—disheveled. “Dammit, Jules.”

“What can I say? I just can’t help but fall for you.”

“Cute.”

“I thought so, but then again, I wouldn’t have worn this outfit if I didn’t think it wasn’t. Was going for a certain look today, you know.”

I sit up and stand, holding my hand out for her and raising her up slowly, quick to wrap my arm around her when she tilts a bit. “Easy, Kitten. And what was it?”

“Oh, you know, whatever would get all the boys wanting to run me down for my number. But only a certain lucky one will get it.”

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