changed. Mainly, I can’t think of anything past paying off the mountain of medical bills.
Harley shivers next to me. “Are you cold? Do you want your jacket back?”
“I’m fine.”
“We could share it.”
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “I’ve endured more than a little cold. We don’t need to … cuddle.”
“Badasses don’t cuddle other men?”
“I never said that.” I smile at him.
He just looks confused.
I wait for him to ask, to just say the words I’ve been waiting for since I began working for him, but he doesn’t. I’ve been wondering if Gideon has said anything to Harley about Mike Bravo and what we stand for, but I’ve gotten the impression that Harley thinks I’m straight.
Six figures appear on the darkening horizon, making their way back to us.
“Ready to blow shit up?” I ask.
“Oh, I am so ready.”
Trav approaches and makes sure we’ve all got our safety shit on before he hands Harley the detonator. Debris won’t come this far, and the explosion is only going to make a small divot in the ground, but safety first.
“Have fun.” Trav looks at Harley in that big soft way he has about him.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” Harley whispers and stares at the simple device like it’s the explosive.
“Stage fright?” I ask.
“No. This is so cool. Do I just press this?” His thumb hovers over the red button.
I gasp and pretend to try to take it from him. “No! That’s the self-destruct button.”
I thought he’d know I was joking.
“The … the what?” His voice squeaks.
Clearly not.
Everyone else laughs.
“Yes, it’s the red button,” I say.
He glares at me. “Just so you know, I’m imagining your head as I do this.” He hits the button.
The dry desert sand shoots up into the night sky with a cloud of smoke, sending a small wave of dust our way.
Harley’s lips twist. “Is that it?”
“Disappointed?”
“I was kind of expecting a giant mushroom cloud and fire and—”
“He is the most adorablest thing ever,” Angel says.
Harley, either not sensing she’s being condescending or he’s ignoring it, smiles at her. “Thanks. I try.” He hands me the detonator. “Was still fun. Cheaper than therapy.”
“More expensive, actually,” Trav says. “C4 is expensive as fuck.”
“Oh. Right. Well, it’s cheaper for me, then.”
“Worth it?” I ask.
“Worth it. Now what?”
“Now, we go again. And then again. Our objective is to get as little an explosion as we can.”
Harley doesn’t seem to understand. “That one was just for me?”
“Yup,” Trav says. “You can thank Brix for me allowing it. Let’s clean this shit up and go again.”
While they go back out into the field, Harley looks at me with an expression I can’t decipher.
“It’s actually not too late if you wanted to head back to LA. Up to you,” I say, trying to get him to stop staring at me like I did some monumental thing. All I did was ask my boss for a favor.
He shakes his head. “Let’s stay. Maybe the desert will give me inspiration.”
Chapter Eleven
Harley
Inspiration? This whole group could inspire me to write songs. However, those lyrics will mainly consist of waxing poetic about sculpted bodies and godlike physiques. Don’t think that’ll go down well with the label.
With each explosion that goes off, the more bored I get. Today has been fun, and something I’d never normally get the chance to do, which I’m grateful for, but it’s all very regimented and safe, which almost takes the thrill out of it.
Of course, with high expectations comes small reward. I pictured Brix’s burly teammates all dirty, and maybe shirtless, as they come running away from a bomb that’s about to explode, which would all happen in slow motion through my eyes. Yeah, it doesn’t happen that way.
It’s much less exciting to wait for everyone to cover their faces with a bandana so we don’t inhale half the desert into our lungs before they make things blow up.
They are a great group of people, though. Angel’s a little feisty, but I like her. The other guys all range in attitude from Iris to Brix. Either smiley and goofy or serious and stoic.
Although, I think Brix has proved he isn’t all seriousness. His small jokes, his warm smiles. I know there’s someone softer on the inside.
And after we make our way back to the house for beer and poker, another side of Brix comes out I haven’t really seen yet.
He’s more relaxed.
He sits with his arm draped over my chair next to him while he sips from a longneck bottle.