Page 11 of All Bets are Off
“Wouldn’t be the first time someone transferred the blame for their own stupidity,” Jase says.
“So, you’re thinking the bullet might have been meant for Colt. But why him and not Sean, who was out there, too?”
Jase sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe Slade is the most likely target.”
I rub my temples where a headache is forming. “Honestly, I don’t know what to think. I need a break.” Getting up from my chair, I stretch my stiff muscles.
Saying he has some calls to make, Jase heads upstairs while I go downstairs to work off some energy on the treadmill. An hour later, I’m exiting the shower when I run into Colt.
Logan says the kid favors me, but I don’t see it. Sure, we’ve both got the boy-next-door look going on, but Colt’s a lot younger than I am—not even thirty, for fuck’s sake. And I’m forty-one. Thankfully, I still have all my hair, but my face and body are beginning to show some wear and tear from my twenty years in the Marine Corps. I wouldn’t admit it to Logan for anything, but I’ve recently started a skin care routine.
“Hey,” Colt greets me affably. “You heard from Logan?”
He’s always so concerned about Logan, I think uncharitably. Also unreasonably, as everyone on the team has asked me the same question recently.
“He’s flying in tonight,” I say.
As usual, Colt doesn’t seem to notice my irritation with him. Or maybe he just doesn’t care that he rubs me the wrong way. “That must mean his mom’s doing okay,” he says, trailing after me to the lockers.
Dropping my towel, I reach for some fresh clothes, then slam the locker door shut and pull on my briefs. When I turn around, Colt’s changed into swim trunks. My eyes run over him. Every minute he isn’t working or training, Colt’s riding the waves, and his skin is a golden brown from the sun. The perfect little shit doesn’t even burn.
Again, I inwardly chastise myself. Colt’s a good kid. If it wasn’t for the way he looks at Logan like he wants to find a secluded place to make out with him, I’d probably like him. I’m a jerk, I know. Colt’s only sin is to have the good taste to be interested in the man I admire most. But the thought of him and Logan together burns me alive with jealousy, something I won’t allow myself to examine too closely.
CHAPTER SIX
Logan
Still a little on edge from worrying about my mom for weeks, it feels good to be back at the mansion on the beach. How many people are lucky enough to have this kind of job? Sure, I put my life on the line, but I get to live in luxury on the beach with a team who is slowly becoming like family. Oh, and I get to work with my best friend, too.
If we can still work together productively.
Although I’m extremely relieved Mom’s physician doesn’t believe she has Alzheimer’s, a diagnosis of dementia isn’t exactly good news. Imagining my mom one day walking out of her house onto the nearby highway scares the shit out of me.
Rounding the corner upstairs, pulling my suitcase behind me, I notice West’s bedroom door is closed. When Jase picked me up from the airport, he told me West’s been putting in a lot of hours on his case and went to bed early the night before. I don’t want to wake him, but, leaving my suitcase in the hall and pushing open his door, I give in to the impulse to take a peek at him. When awake, West is always animated. I rarely get the chance to observe him in repose. He’s sprawled on the bed. His blond hair has grown long enough to fall across his forehead, making him look younger and oddly vulnerable. He’s thrown one long leg out on top of the sheet and is holding a pillow to his chest.
Hearing someone come out of the bathroom down the hall, I step into the room so as not to be seen, then grimace when I knock something over that makes a loud thump on the hardwood floor.
Immediately, West’s awake and sitting up, hand reaching for the gun on his nightstand.
“It’s me,” I say. “Sorry I woke you.”
“Logan?”
“Sorry,” I say again, bending to pick up the suitcase I knocked over. “Going somewhere?” I ask, heart sinking. As much as West was making me crazy when I left, I’ve missed him a lot and was looking forward to spending time with him. If he’s packing, he must have a case.
Rubbing his eyes, West shakes his head. “I got that out when I found out you left.”
I chuckle. “And of course never thought to put it back.” Opening the closet door, I shove the suitcase inside and close it again. “You’d think twenty years in the Marine Corps would teach you to be tidy.” The bedside lamp clicks on, and, turning, I still at the sight of West shirtless and sleep rumpled, propped on his elbows as he regards me with sleepy green eyes.
“Actually, it feels great not to have to worry about stuff like that anymore,” he says. “Good flight?”
“Tolerable. Not much leg room.” I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the closet door instead of at him.
“Something on your mind, buddy?” West asks quietly. “Gloria okay?”
Yes, think of your sick mother, not your sexy friend. “For the time being.” I sigh. “I’ve been thinking maybe I should convince her to move here. I don’t like her being so far away from us.”
“We can look into senior living in the area,” West says.