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“Works for Chief,” I jeer, knowing full well that he and his Little Storm are kinky as sin.
“Jesus, fuck,” Wells hisses, but I don’t miss the upward hitch of his mouth.
Gage barks out a laugh, jerking his chin toward the Dom in question. “Take a page out of his fucking book. Change it to lock you down, and you’ll be stuck with that pussy for life.”
Per usual, Wells ignores our sidebar. “Regardless of what we do for security, lockdown is the reality for any woman you’re involved with. Even if it’s to a lesser degree, they’ll be targets.”
“Sounds like a life of one-night fucks, brothers,” Gage says, chugging from his Black Rifle Coffee mug with a gratified grin. Probably mentally playing out his next one-night.
Wells dives a hand into his black hair—a telltale sign of his distress. “I would never want that or ask it of any of you. So, let’s work through this security issue. Make the best of the challenging life we’ve landed ourselves in.”
He moves from compassionate-friend mode to Chief in a blink, hurling orders. “Get a list of ex-CIA and vet them thoroughly. I want to know their hobbies. Their music and literature preferences. Their habits—sleeping, eating, workout regimen. Hell, I want their favorite color, whether they wear tighty-whities or boxer briefs, and the nightmare they see when they close their goddamn eyes. Narrow it down to those without young families. We don’t want anyone flaking on our family to get home early to theirs. Those without strong ties rise to the top of the list. We can get them invested. Actually, the Little Storm will do that all on her own.”
That final thought has him smiling proudly. Whipped fucker.
“In the meantime,” he says, finally halting his pace, “let’s work with the security team Frank sent with Celeste. They’ve been thoroughly vetted by us and Frank. Plus, after several years with the family, they’re invested in Celeste and fond of Ivy.”
“I can see that,” Gage interjects. “Rex is solid. Same goes for his men.”
“Good.” Wells hedges—an unusual sight—so I press back into my chair, snicking my Zippo open and closed while he takes a breath. He’s clearly weighing his options. “We’ve had two of us with Ivy at all times. Maybe, after the baby arrives, we try one of us and Frank’s team of three for a well-controlled outing. We can use her driver, too, so four men are free to handle conflict.”
“Keeping an eye on Celeste is a taste of what it will be like with another woman in the mix,” Ty muses in consideration. “I’ve been taking her to the stables with her team, and it’s gone smoothly. They’re meticulous.”
“She might need to quit her extracurricular activities while she’s here,” I snap, pissed the hell off with no coherent reason. “If we’re going to be spreading ourselves thin with an extra person, she needs to get in line, like Gage stated. Locked down.”
No stables. No goddamn political douchebags. Because my blood is boiling. Reason enough.
Ty scoffs, his head lolling back. “Fuck, man. She’s not quitting the stables. Not happening.”
Fucking Christ. Why the hell is he jumping to her defense?
“It’s not your call, Ty,” I growl, restraining the urge to pitch my Zippo at his smug scowl.
“No?” He pulls his shoulders back with an incredulous taunt. “Well, it sure as fuck isn’t yours, unless you have something to tell us.”
What in the actual fuck?
His eyebrows dart up in challenge. “Because from where I sit, all you do is give her shit. And you have no right. You know nothing about that girl.”
“And you do?” I counter. “Two outings together, and you’re a motherfucking expert on Celeste Carver?”
The thought of that makes my stomach recoil. It shouldn’t matter, and yet it does. Because, like it or not, the pretentious temptress, who incites me in every interaction, has taken up residence in my head, and I’m unwilling to invite anyone to join us.
“Yeah, actually.” He nods. It’s a piss-off nod. And not something we see very often from Ty, which only makes me more irate. “And there are countless valid reasons for the way Ivy adores her. She’s hella impressive. You just can’t get your head out of your ass long enough to acknowledge it.”
I fling my hand through the air, ready to catapult out of my chair and pummel his ass. “Fuck your savior complex, Ty. It’s not your job to come to the defense of everybody with a damn cunt.”
He balks, lobbing a sardonic grunt at me. “It sure as hell beats terrorizing them because I’m not man enough to look a little deeper or too afraid of what I might find.”
“Terrorizing?” I mock. “Your ass hurts.”
That’s my colorful way of exclaiming he’s full of shit.
He ignores me to spew another accusation. On a motherfucking roll. “This is worse than the shit you pulled with Ivy, and Wells nearly killed you for that.”
“The loyalty test?” I question, aghast, assuming he’s referring to the kiss I was forced to give her. The scheme he pleaded with me to carry out for her own safety even though I felt like a creep.
“Before that.” He waves his hand through the air, features twisted in a disillusioned grimace. “Throwing your hat in the ring. Being a dick for no other reason than seeing her as nothing more than pussy. You were an ass in the beginning, and you know it.”
