"You need to stop punishing yourself for what happened." He grips my shoulder, and if it were anyone else, I’d shake it off. But because it’s Adam, I allow myself to slow down.
"You were not responsible for the deaths of those men."
I scoff. Typical of Adam to put out there what any of my other friends and family have hesitated to tell me in all the time I’ve been back. It’s why I love him and hate him.
"Fuck you, too, asshole."
"And I don’t care if you hate me for saying this, but it’s time you put what happened behind you and start living again."
"Have you put what happened behind you?"
He hesitates, then lowers his gaze.
"That’s what I thought."
"What happened there changed us. We’ll never go back to being the men we were before. The difference is, I’ve chosen not to let those bastards hold me back."
"And I have?"
He squeezes my shoulder. The answer is in his eyes. He releases his hold on me, only to grab the back of my neck. "I love you like a brother, man. It’s why I’m all up in your business, you realize that?"
"What-fucking-ever."
He chuckles. "It’s also why I see your other friends—the ones you’ve been avoiding all this time—jogging in our direction."
I groan. "I need to get out of here."
"Too late for that, man." He lowers his arm and steps back. "I’d wish you good luck, but since you’ve met the right woman, you don’t need it."
I frown. "You douchecanoe, what the fuck you talking about, you—"
He touches the tip of his index finger to his temple, then pivots and runs off.
I draw in a breath, then turn, only to be knocked on the side of my head. "The fuck!" I reel back, more from the surprise than the force of the hit, which was just a tap. I’ve been through worse in training sessions before I left for a mission.
Rick throws up his fists. "Wanna go a round, man? You haven’t eaten my dust in a long time."
Typical Rick, an ex-NHL player who served in the military with me, the man is one-hundred percent pure muscle. He’s also the only other man I know who can hold his own against me in a fight. I crack my neck, then take a step back, but Rick steps forward and into my space so his chest slams into mine. "You’re a fucking arsehole. A selfish, motherfucking, wanker of a douchecanoe who doesn’t care about anything but himself."
Next to him, Cade glowers at me. "You have time to go for a run, but you don’t think of reaching for the phone and calling us?"
"I’ve been busy." I hear the petulance in my voice and wince. Since when do I hide behind excuses? I’ve changed, but surely, not so much that I can’t accept my fault when I’m in the wrong.
"And you're right; I’m a shit human being."
"Not to mention a tosser and a knobhead."
I roll my shoulders. "What’s this, the attack of the barmy army?" I scoff.
"We’re here to make sure you turn up for the get together at Abby’s place," Cade growls.
I roll my shoulders, "The last thing I want is to put on a smile and pretend an enthusiasm I’m not feeling, and—" I snap my lips shut and glower back at Cade. "You know I won’t say no to Abby."
"I’m aware." He smirks.
"Doesn’t mean I’m doing this willingly."
"You can protest all you want, as long as you turn up tomorrow night."
I rub the back of my neck. "Abby could have asked me. I wouldn’t have said no to her."
"The woman is worried about you. She doesn’t like that you’re spending so much time by yourself." Cade frowns.
"I’ve been working. I go into the office. I run. I meet my buddy, Adam—" Both men glare at me, and I realize my mistake. "Not that I don’t want to meet you guys—"
"You don’t want to meet us," Rick snaps.
"Neither of you went through what I did. Neither of you will know how it feels to be a captive and live from beating to beating and be so hungry that you have no choice but to eat your own skin."
Both men look stricken. Then, Rick throws up his fist again. I see it coming and block it. "The fuck is wrong with you?" I pant.
"The fuck is wrong with you?" he roars.
A couple jogging past us look at us in alarm, then pick up speed. A baby begins to cry, and a mother running with her sports-pram shoots us a nasty look as she continues by. Great, now I’m scaring little children.
"You could have picked up the phone and replied to our phone calls. You could have texted and told us you were okay. Hell, you could have told us your new address. Not even Abby knew where you had moved. We had to use a private detective to track you down, you arsewipe, you—"
A loud barking interrupts him. There’s the sound of what seems to be hooves hitting the ground. Then, I hear panting and look around him to realize it’s not hooves, it’s paws. The paws of a massive Great Dane who’s broken away from the man running in his wake. A man who looks like a very harried, Declan.
"Guys, watch out! Tiny’s on a rampage," he yells.
The dog barks joyfully. Rick turns around, then steps aside in one smooth move, so when the big dog arcs his body and sails past him, he crashes into me.
Penny
"Oh, aren’t you a sweetie pie?" I throw my arms around the Great Dane who pranced into the apartment as soon as the elevator doors slid open. "Where did you come from, hmm?" The dog barks. At more than three feet tall at his shoulders, all he has to do is toss his head and he’s able to lick my face with a tongue as big as a dinner plate. It feels like someone dragged a soaking wet towel across my cheek. I burst out laughing, and the dog wags his tail harder. His entire body shakes with effort, and he pants loudly. I rub his neck. "You hungry, baby?”
I look past him to find a pissed-off Knight standing with his hands on his hips. His hair is standing up like he’s been running his fingers through the strands. He’s wearing a T-shirt that must have been white at some point, but is so threadbare, it molds to his ridiculously sculpted chest, showing off the dents between those delicious abs. He completes the ensemble with jogging shorts—that cling lovingly to his powerful thighs. Patches of sweat dampen his chest, and glisten at his temples. He looks virile and strong and like porn on two legs. Moisture bathes my pussy, the pulse between my legs speeds up. Gah, stop looking at him like you want to climb him. I nod toward the Great Dane. "Doesn’t he belong to Liam and Isla?”
He nods.
“So why is he with you?”
The muscles at his jaw tick. The skin stretches across his cheekbones. He looks like he’s about to snap my head off. Instead, he stalks past me and toward the kitchen, where he grabs a glass from one of the shelves and fills it with water from the tap. Then hesitates. He places his glass on the counter, bends and pulls out a serving bowl. He fills it with water, then walks over to the side of the kitchen and places it on the floor. He straightens and snaps his fingers. The dog woofs, then jumps up, licking my face for good measure, before he gambols off in the direction of the man. He reaches Knight, then parks himself on his haunches with a heavy sigh. He looks up at Knight, who glares back. The two engage in some kind of staring match, then Tiny whines.