Beyond the Breaking Point - Lori Sjoberg Page 0,105
a Hector and knife us in the back?” Even now, just saying Hector’s name out loud made Wade’s heart hurt. He still felt a lot of anger and a fair amount of guilt, and he had no clue how to explain Hector’s death to his ex-wife and children. For now, he was keeping it filed under I’ll-cross-that-bridge-when-I-get-to-it.
Austin’s shoulders fell on a heavy exhale. “No, I trust her. But I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to be on the team when we raid Aranza’s house. You care about her—I’m not faulting you for that. Quite the opposite; I’m happy for you. But that kind of connection would be a distraction that none of us can afford.”
His brother was right. With each passing day, Wade’s feelings for Hope grew stronger. She’d seeped into his blood, his heart. His soul. She was the first thought in his head every morning, and the last as he drifted to sleep. If she went on that raid, he’d be constantly worried about where she was and whether she was safe, and that inability to fully focus on the mission could get somebody killed. One way or another, he’d have to find a way to convince her to stand down.
The sound of the front door opening pulled him from his thoughts. As he turned his head toward the sound, Jackson and Navarre strode through the doorway. And when his brothers, Ryan and Nate, walked in behind them, Wade’s jaw almost hit the floor.
Jackson flashed a hundred-watt smile. “Look who we found wandering the streets.”
For a moment or two, Wade was too stunned to speak. He hadn’t expected to see more of his family until he returned to Orlando. “What the hell are you two doing here?”
“Gee, it’s nice to see you too.” Ryan wore tan slacks and a navy shirt that fit snug across his chest. Growing up, he’d gotten the nickname “Mini-Austin” because the two looked so much alike. And like Austin, he’d served in the Marine Corps and still had a habit of keeping his black hair trimmed high and tight.
Nate, on the other hand, with his cargo shorts and faded green tank top emblazoned with the Corona logo, looked more like a beach bum than a security expert, which was probably his intent. His hair was a few weeks past the time for a trim, and the ends curled at the nape of his neck. He closed the door behind him, a blue duffel bag in his hand. “You didn’t think we’d let you have all of the fun, did you?”
“Ty wanted to come as well,” Ryan added. “But somebody had to stay behind and hold down the fort with Larissa and Nina. It was close, but he lost the elimination round of Rock, Paper, Scissors.”
His brother’s cavalier attitude put Wade on edge. Shit like that got people killed. “This isn’t a game.”
“We know, dumbass.” All traces of humor left Ryan’s face, reminding Wade of the badass Marine he used to be. Then again, if you asked Ryan, he’d insist there was no such thing as a former Marine. Semper fi, and all that happy shit. “We came because we want to make sure you don’t come home in a box.”
Wade’s first instinct was to say he didn’t need their help, to insist they got on the first plane heading back to Orlando so they’d be miles away when the bullets started flying. But in reality, they needed all the help they could get, and for that he was grateful.
Swallowing back his stubbornness and pride, he gave a curt nod. “I suppose I should thank you for that.”
Nate’s eyes widened as he turned his gaze to Ryan. “Holy crap, did he just thank us?”
Ryan nodded. “I believe he did.”
A grin formed on Nate’s lean face as he dug into his back pocket for his phone. “I’ve got to mark this on my calendar. Do you think you could say that again so I can record it for posterity?”
Oh yeah, that’s right. He’d forgotten his brothers’ sole purpose in life was to bust his balls. “Fuck off.”
“Now there’s the Wade we know and tolerate.” Ryan snorted.
Wade gave them a one-fingered salute, which only made them laugh louder.
As the laughter died down, Nate looked to Austin and gave him a quick once-over. “Dude, what’s up with the beard? Your face looks like the floor of a Brazilian wax shop.”
The insult didn’t faze Austin, because brotherly insults were a grand tradition in the Flint