Page 72 of Stealth Mission
As she approaches the bed, her expression softens. “I’m Camile. That guy in the baseball cap is Scout, and…” She punches the arm of the one standing in the middle. “This is Justice and he’s a flirt.”
He ruffles her hair, smiling that electric smile of his.
She leans into the last man. “This big guy is mine, his name is Beast. And yes, I recorded that because I wanted Evan’s woman to see how badly he wanted to get to her.”
Instant silence falls to which she seems oblivious. Gripping the footboard of the bed, she continues to smile at me. “Anyway, we all work with Evan at Agile Security & Rescue. But he’s been very private about having met you. He hasn’t even told us your name.”
The men share a look as Beast clamps a hand over Camile’s mouth and picks her up by looping an arm around her waist. “And…we’ll be going now.”
Somewhere on the other side of the curtain, his deep voice rumbles. “Babe, I think you might have opened a can of worms.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Outside The Hospital
Four hours later…
It was destined to happen.
I’ve always ruined the things I want in life. Knew I’d fuck this up.
It’s a blessed Sunday miracle I didn’t wreck my career in the SEALs.
But this… this thing with Marianna… whatever it was. I destroyed it.
And I’ve only got myself to be mad at.
The only thing that pierces my blinding rage is the wrecking ball headache inside my cranium. Jesus, my brain hurts.
I must be breaking it too.
No doubt, I’m being monitored on hospital security feeds. Crazed visitor prowling the parking lot.
At least I was. Now I’m hanging onto the truck like we’re in another earthquake.
If I let go, I might make things worse. By storming into the hospital and…
And what?
Begging Marianna to listen to me?
Already tried that.
Beast is the first one of my team to have the nerve to speak to me in a while. “Man, I’m sorry.”
I can’t peel my forehead off the hood of the Agile truck—the one I didn’t get blown up.
Another good thing I fucking ruined.
“Leave me alone.”
Some time ago I resorted to pressing my face into the metal and clinging to the hood to stop myself from beating dents into the thing.
There’s a sharp squeeze of my trapezius. The kind that takes a mammoth grip to dish out—a hand like Beast’s.
“You got it bad for her, huh?”
“Stop. Talking.”