this size.
“Does it involve a felony?” Jack asks.
“Stealing ah a horse isn’t a felony—”
“It actually is in North Carolina,” Jack says.
“—if you’re only borrowing it,” Luca continues. “I was never going to keep the horse, so it would have only been a misdemeanor. No big deal.”
“I still don’t understand why you took the fucking horse.” He shoots me a look, and I correct myself with a sigh. “I mean, why you borrowed the horse.”
The only time we’d left base at Camp Lejeune for a night out had involved said borrowed horse, a police chase, and some serious sweet talking. Thankfully, the officer had a soft spot for Italians, and Luca had flirted our way out of trouble before it got back to any of our commanding officers. Jack and I hadn’t agreed to a night out since.
“Hey, where are you heading?” A deep voice calls when we reach the lobby. We pause to find the last member of our usual group standing with a few ranking officers. Noah Porter tips his head toward the men he’s talking to before making his way to us.
“I’m taking them out for the night. Want to come?”
“Is that a good idea?” Noah asks, but his question isn’t directed at Luca but at us.
I grimace, not sure how to answer. Noah is the exception to our inner circle. To be honest, I’m not quite clear on how or why he wants to hang out with us. Because Noah is everything we aren’t. If the Midwest had an official mascot, it would be Noah Porter. The corn-fed, farm boy came from a family with six kids, all of which have joined the military in some fashion or another. But Noah, he’s the shining star. The Marine. Soon-to-be special operative. The town probably throws a parade every time he comes home. We should hate him. I should hate him.
The trouble is that he is one of the nicest human beings on the planet. Sometimes it’s hard to see how the gentle giant wound up here, learning how to track, spy, and kill. But I’ve seen him in training exercises. He’s ride or die, and he means it. I can’t help but worry that he’s going to be the first one of us to spend Christmas as a folded flag on his family’s fireplace mantle.
I think this is why Luca enjoys baiting him so much. Whereas Jack and I genuinely like Noah, Luca’s affection is as hot and cold as a broken faucet. I think he sees him more as a toy to play with than a living, breathing friend.
“Look, if you want to sit around and drink tea and fawn over photos of the royal baby, be my guest,” Luca drawls, “but I want a decent meal before we spend the next few weeks picking sand out of our dinner.”
“”That’s not a bad idea,” Noah says. No doubt he expected something a little more exotic. Honestly, we all did.
“And then we’re getting tattoos and getting laid,” Luca adds.
That sounds more like what I expect of him.
“You’re just going to go out and sleep with some random woman?” Noah says in disbelief.
“It’s cute how shocking you find that,” Luca says. “But yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I haven’t fucked anyone since officer—”
“Maybe you should sit this one out,” Jack cuts in gently.
“Nah.” Noah shakes his head. “I’m not going to stop you guys from having fun. I’d rather not hang out here all night, but I’m not getting a tattoo.”
“About that,” I begin.
“Everyone’s getting a tattoo,” Luca orders, leaving no room for argument.
Noah opens his mouth to protest, but I shake my head. There’s no point debating it. We stand a better chance if we get him drunk enough to forget about it.
“Where to first?” I ask.
“Well, there’s this little restaurant in Notting Hill that makes real meatballs.”
Noah nods his head. Large portions of meat seems to be the one real connection the two have made.
“And a tattoo parlor just down the street,” Luca adds, flashing a wicked grin.
It’s going to be one hell of a night.
“I’m not inking the word hell on my arm.” Noah and Luca have been having the same argument for the last hour. It had continued over dinner, and no pressure Luca exerted could sway him.
Luca had spent the entire night performing persuasive gymnastics, with Olympic-level focus, while a never ending stream of food arrived at our table courtesy of the house. I guess they knew they had a DeAngelo