“I’m okay,” I assure him quickly.
Damn it, my gun is under me. Why the hell did I sling it?
He squeezes my arm, then releases me to peer around the trunk. “Firing from seven and ten. Semi-auto. You good to split?”
Assaults through heavy thickets are tough. Being surprised by a firefight even tougher. We’ll have to be quick and use the terrain for camouflage to regain an edge. Misdirect if possible. My heartrate kicks up, and I nod. All thoughts of Heather, Eden, and our fucked-up issues vanish.
This is where we shine.
“Good. Move out.” He pulls back behind the trunk with a curse as more bullets fly our way. “And be careful—don’t want you going Swiss on me.”
I breathe a laugh as I nod, adrenaline purring through my veins. “No new holes today. Promise.”
Dom grins back, color high in his dark cheeks. I push off the tree and brace myself for an ugly fight.
DOM DUMPS another body on the pile, then rubs his jaw. There’s a nasty bruise blooming where one of them clocked him, and he’s salty they got one in. Still, he came out better than I did. I caught a knife across my chest and left arm. Nothing too serious, but it stings like a pissed-off jellyfish.
We’re back in the clearing where we took out Eden’s hunters two days ago, discarding the remains of the assholes who fired on us. Five more hunters had been lurking in the woods around the area, and it took us hours of cat and mouse before we got them all.
And the five of them must have been hard at work for the last two days because there’s now a deep pit in the clearing, and it’s filled to the brim with more than half of the old bug-ridden bodies. Just one big rancid puppy pile.
We’ve been tossing today’s fresh ones over the top, but this time, as the last body thumps over the others, it groans.
Dom frowns. He crouches and grabs the corpse’s hair as its eyes crack open.
“You’re meant to stay dead, you know,” Dom scolds mildly.
I set my rifle across my shoulders and rest my head back against it. “Must have been a sloppy shot.”
Without looking up, Dom flips me off.
Blood bubbles from the dead man’s lips. “H . . . help.”
Poor lamb.
“Hmm. Seems like you’re in dire need of medical assistance,” Dom muses, a hard glint in his eyes. But this breathing carcass is part of the group who chased Eden—the same coiled serpent brands his hand. Whether he likes her or not, Dom has no patience for predators. “What do you think, Beau? You know anyone who might be able to help with that?”
I cluck in disappointment. “It’s the darndest thing—in all this commotion, my training has just flown right out of my brain.”
“That is a shame.”
“A damned shame,” I agree.
Turns out, I don’t have all that much patience with predators either.
The man’s gaze falls to the side, and he seems to realize he’s in the grave, sprawled over the leaking, reeking bodies of his comrades. He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking.
“They’ll f-f-find . . . you.” His breaths start rattling. “Th-they’re . . . com . . . coming.”
Dom’s attention sharpens. “There are more of you?”
“More than you . . . can stop,” he whispers, then he coughs, coating his lips in blood.
The man goes limp, and Dom and I exchange a look.
“Fuck!” He stands and shakes his head. “We should have taken a hostage.”
“Oh yeah? Did you have an opportunity for that? Because I sure as hell didn’t. You know as well as I do not to fuck around in this terrain. You get the shot, you take it.”
Dom rubs a hand over his mouth, glaring down at the corpse pit like he could revive one of them with the force of his ire.
I grimace. “Look, the others need to know about this—we should go back to Bristlebrook.”
“We have a camera set up about a klick from here. I told Jasper to keep an eye on it—I’ll put up a sign so they know to look out for another group.”
Irritation spikes again, fueled by my buzzing adrenaline. “Unnecessary. We can cover our tracks, Dom. We’ll be careful this time. There’s no reason to take the long way.”
Damn it, I want to go home and kiss our girl again, not be stuck out here with his sulky ass.
Dom just raises his dark brow in the condescending way he knows I hate. “They could be coming right to this clearing—we don’t know how the groups were communicating, or what their rally points are. It’s safer to leave a decoy trail. If we go through town and the caves, they have no lead on Bristlebrook. Not to mention, your pet might appreciate some clothes of her own. We can use the trip to stock up.”
That . . . Damn it. She probably would like that.
The smugness comes now, hiding in the tuck of his smile. Dick. He knows he has me now.
But the real joke’s on him, because this only proves my point. Even if he’s using it to manipulate me, he’s still thinking about her. He pretends to be the aloof, in-control CO, but he’s more considerate than he gives himself credit for. He’s still thinking about what she needs.
He’s acting like her dominant.
So, fine, Dom can pretend he doesn’t care till the cows come, but I know him through and through. The man was hooked the second she turned those big eyes on him for help, and he was lost the minute she submitted to me and Jasper right in front of him.
I’m sure it pissed Dom off that I shared her with the sadist instead of him.
It was meant to.
The proud asshole could choke on that one for being a dick to our girl.
I let out a long sigh. “Fine. We go through town. But in five—I need a break.”
After walking upwind of the fetid clearing, I sit, stretching back against a mossy tree. To my surprise, Dom sits next to me, pressed against my shoulder. I pull out my canteen to take a sip, then spot the hole going right through it. I toss it down.
Wordlessly, Dom hands me his, and after a moment, I take it and drink deep.
“Thanks,” I mutter, handing it back.
As he screws the top, his jaw flexes tight. “Our friendship can’t take another hit, Beau.” He looks up at me, golden eyes solemn. “We’re full of holes as it is.”
“I didn’t break us, Dom.” I smile at him, a little bitterly. “You did.”
His eyes flinch shut, and his head drops back against the tree. “I know.”
The words float between us, like a musty old secret freed to fresh air. Just hearing him acknowledge it, finally, soothes some of the sullen ache in my gut. But it also births a new pain. Because he thinks it too. We’re broken, riddled with wounds, and we have been for three years.
“Maybe,” I start, then stop, trying to find the right words. “Maybe we shouldn’t have left those holes to fester. Maybe we should find someone to help us heal them. We’ve always been better with a third.”
“Or maybe we should fix ourselves first before we try to involve anyone else.” Dom’s voice is full of rebuke. “I won’t do it, Beau. Even if we were ready for that, the girl isn’t right for us—she’s too timid. She’ll be gone in a week.”
Eden melts through my memories—her chin lift, her clever, quiet regard—and I give Dom a grave look. “You’re wrong about her. And if you wait too long, she’ll move on before you realize exactly how wrong you are.”