Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
I’ve never known how to sit still, and I wasn’t allowed to overexert myself until I knew what my body could handle, so I put all my energy into teaching myself how to cook. A lot of burned food got thrown out, but now I can whip up a batch of waffles and bacon without breaking a sweat.
When the smell wakes most of the others, they all begin trickling in faster than I can dish everything out.
Atlas comes behind the counter to help, and I’m quickly learning that if anyone’s in trouble or needs a hand, he’s the first to volunteer. He’s the complete opposite to most of the SEALs I’ve ever dealt with. To be a SEAL, you need to go through one of the military’s toughest training programs, so a lot of them are like … well, me. Or, how I used to be. Atlas is self-assured and confident, but he’s missing that cockiness we’re all known for. He’s humble.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
“No problem. The faster it’s all done, the sooner everyone can eat.”
Then the door to outside opens and Iris steps through. I almost drop a plate.
Great start to pretending nothing happened last night.
I avoid looking at him as he makes his way over to the dining table and pours himself a cup of coffee from the pot I made when I first got in here. I may be refusing eye contact, but my body is drawn to his like a beacon. I’m aware of his every move.
“What’s all this?” he asks. “Saint finding a way to suck up to us all?”
Of course all my ears hear is suck up, and now I’m dangerously close to needing to hide behind this counter until my dick calms down.
“Yours are made with cyanide if you want to come get them,” I say.
“You two bicker like my parents,” Zeus says.
“Your parents threaten to poison each other?” I ask. “Should we be worried?”
“They mean it with love.”
“Yes. Death threats. How romantic,” I say.
“What’s love without the risk of death?” Iris asks. “It can’t be any other way.”
Trav’s the last one to drag himself to breakfast, but it doesn’t look like he’s been sleeping. It actually looks like he’s been awake most of the night. Still, even with the bags under his eyes, he somehow doesn’t look tired. He’s put together, shirt flawlessly tucked into his tactical pants and combat boots laced perfectly neat. Honestly, it’s hard not to salute him, but one thing I’ve noticed since being here is that Trav is the boss, but he’s also just one of the guys. Everyone respects him, and no one is uncomfortable around him.
He comes and gets a plate, smiling at me as he loads it with more waffles and bacon than anyone else. “Careful, Saint. We could get used to this.”
“At least then I’ll be too valuable to the team, right?”
He shoves a waffle in his mouth. “But then you run the risk of being benched from missions because I’ll want you to stay back and cook for me.”
Guilt over last night rears its ugly head.
Then Iris and I lock eyes across the room, and the conflict starts all over again. Because what we did was amazing. Wrong but amazing.
“Everyone eat up,” Trav says. “We have to get back to LA.”
Iris’s face lights up. “We got a job?”
“Yep.” Then Trav eyes me. “You think you’re ready?”
I get the impression this is another test. I could fake it and say yes, but I don’t think that’s what either of us wants me to say. “It depends on the job.”
“Basic recon.”
“I could do that in my sleep. I’m one hundred percent ready for that.”
“Good. Iris, you can help Saint with this one.”
Of course.
When we pull up to the sixth block of apartments for the day, the need to apologize again falls from my mouth.
“I really am sorry. I didn’t know this was going to be the assignment. I could’ve done it on my own.”
Iris grits his teeth. “What? This is my I’m having fun face.”
“Liar.” Things have been weird with us all day, only made weirder that our “recon job” is finding a permanent place for me to live. I’m currently in one of Trav’s safe houses, where he’s put me up while I’ve been recovering, but I guess I’ve worn out my welcome.
“Why would I be mad at driving you all over LA County trying to find you a place to live when I could be with the others on an actual mission where I get to use guns. Or knives. I’d even settle for a hand grenade.”
“After this place, we can go to the park across the street and I’ll let you play with knives, how about that? I’ll even give you a running target.”
Iris scoffs. “Hey, Trav, uh yeah, so our mission … I accidentally on purpose hit Saint with one of my knives.”