What You See (Sons of the Survivalist #3) - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,56

ruffled his fur.

Frankie had to suppress her own whine. Because she knew all too well that Bull had awesome, gentle, strong hands, so very skilled at touching.

“We had our own personal instructor when growing up. The sarge—our adopted father—started us on morning PT the day after we arrived in Alaska.” Bull huffed a laugh. “I was nine and thought I was in great shape. After Mako got through with us, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk again.”

“Morning PT?” Frankie frowned. “You were just children.”

“He was career military and spent years as a drill sergeant.” Bull grinned. “Honestly, even the SEAL’s BUD/s course wasn’t all that bad after the sarge. Once he had us in shape, he taught us to fight.”

A jay landed in a nearby tree, obviously hoping for picnickers. When no food appeared, it scolded them and flew away.

“You didn’t compete in tournaments or anything?” Frankie asked, smiling when Gryff set his paw on Bull’s leg. More petting, less talking.

“No, we rarely went into town. But with four of us, we had our own type of tournaments—also known as brawling.”

Good memories, Bull thought as he petted Gryff’s silky fur. The four of them had been hardened by rough foster care homes, by trying to survive in the worst sections of LA, by attending schools with inadequate supervision. They’d all been damaged in different ways.

“Caz could barely speak English and would pull a knife at the drop of a hat.” Actually, he’d still perforate anyone who pissed him off enough. “Gabe had a smart mouth and bossed us around, which we mostly liked, since he’s a natural leader, but…not always.”

“And when you didn’t like it, you’d fight?” Frankie was staring at him with wide eyes.

“Oh yeah. Then there was Hawk who had a low tolerance for anyone infringing on his space.” That hadn’t changed either. “Being young assholes, we’d push just to set him off.”

Frankie rolled her eyes. “Of course you would.”

Badgering Hawk to get a reaction had ended with Hawk losing it and battering the shit out of Caz. Two days later, Mako’s friend Zachary Grayson came to visit for a while. The doc took them on long hikes—especially Hawk. Did chores with them—especially Hawk. Hawk would sneak out of the loft to watch the fire late at night, and Grayson occasionally joined him.

Being snoopy brats, Bull, Gabe, and Caz eavesdropped—and learned why a casual touch or too much proximity bothered Hawk so much. Fuck, some parents didn’t deserve anything other than the deepest of hells. Jesus, they’d felt so fucking guilty.

After that, they’d done their damnedest to make him part of the team—whether he wanted to be or not. Hawk had learned what it was like to have someone on his side against all comers.

Now there wasn’t anyone Bull trusted more to guard his back.

“How did Mako come to have the four of you? He…uh…doesn’t sound like a typical adoptive father.”

“As it happens, he rescued us from an abusive foster care home in California and brought us to Alaska. Not exactly legally.”

The way her eyes widened was adorable.

“It took a while, but we turned into a team, then into a family.” Bull sighed. “It was about a year and a half ago when we lost the sarge. That was…”

There were no words.

Frankie’s expression turned soft. Rising onto her knees, she kissed him gently.

Her sympathy drew away the rough edges of his sorrow. He was left with a gentle sense of loss and gratitude he’d had the rugged old survivalist in his life for so long.

Bull wrapped his arms around Frankie’s waist and pulled her closer. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

When she started to draw back, he smiled slightly. Mako always said a warrior should take advantage of ground and position and weakness. Maybe he hadn’t meant the lessons to apply to sex, but…

Bull smiled, thinking of his little niece, who insisted Frankie was “into him” and he should make some moves.

Let’s see if Regan is right.

Cradling Frankie’s head with his palm, Bull fell sideways, rolling to put her beneath him, and kissed her again. Soft lips, soft body.

Soft heart.

Yeah, she appealed to him on all levels. He brushed his mouth against hers and nibbled down her cheek to her neck. All woman, with the taste of salt. “Mmm.”

“Crazy man.” Her voice had gone husky, even as she pushed at his shoulders. “We’re in a park.”

“Woman, you picked this site because it’s private.” If Regan hadn’t told him she worked out in the park, if he hadn’t been watching