“Damn, you fucking dirty dog. So, she's a perfect fit for your cock? Twice in one year? Making me proud.” Tank slapped him on the shoulder. “Not only did you dodge a bullet with your online hook-up you missed, you fell right into new quality snatch.”
Tank was exaggerating slightly about what Roan had told him about the night in June. Roan wasn't the sex chatty Tank was when it came to getting laid. He'd been much more vague while they’d waited at the coffee shop.
Today would not be the day that was changing, either.
“So, you stopped by because you collected a bounty and wanted beer for breakfast?” Roan picked up his cup of coffee for a casual sip.
“What does she do at the hospital?” Tank slurped his coffee between questions. “Picking up the janitorial staff? Invite a cafeteria lady to try your sausage?”
With a long-suffering sigh, Roan handed him a napkin. “She's a doctor. About the beer, I know a place that serves booze with breakfast.”
“No. No. No. No. No. I'm locked on this doctor lady of yours. She's been at your place, and you're planning on returning her mitten. And she's dynamite in bed.” Tank set his coffee mug down to spread his arms wide. “This has ‘whipped’ written all over it. Why haven't I heard about her?”
“Doctor means being on call, and some of us have jobs that don't involve chasing people down and naming their own hours.”
“Wrong, Roan. When the pussy's this good, I'll need serious intel. Set up a meeting, you, me, and her,” Tank finished the cup of coffee and set it down decisively.
“That won't be necessary,” Roan said in a clipped tone.
“Why not?”
So many answers to that one.
Because she's your sister.
“Because this is a new relationship, and you're a total asshole. I don't want to scare her off,” Roan said, secure in this measure of truth at least.
Certainly, nothing would scare Clarissa off more than watching her brother decapitate Roan with a dull butter knife in the kitchen. Tank wouldn't even need the knife. At six-three and two hundred pounds of muscle, he was scary strong when pissed off.
“I am a bad motherfucker. Bad enough that I collected my bounty for 40Gs, and I’m flying out to Oregon today for a hush-hush federal warrant.” Tank praised himself before continuing, “You aren't off the hook, though. We're gonna talk more about this lady. Need the details.”
Another Tank way of saying he had plans to do a background check on her for felonies, parking tickets, and other bad behaviors, along with social media profiles.
Unnecessary and inevitably awkward.
“Give me a minute to change out of sweatpants.” Roan walked sedately past the closed door of his study to his bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.
He needed to hide any evidence of his visitor STAT because Tank had spent ten years hunting insurgents in Iraq and Afghanistan. Tossing Clarissa's belongings in the closet would be a dead giveaway.
First, he swiped their phones off the nightstands, muting hers before turning it off. He tossed it into her pink overnight bag and carried it into the attached master bath. With the water on to mask any noises, he placed the bag under the further side of the double sink.
After peeing and washing his hands, he swung the bedroom door partway open and rifled through his dresser for jeans and a sweater. A man could pee by his lonesome, but shutting his best friend out of his bedroom after they'd shared a tent together would have been suspicious.
It didn’t mean he was required to share everything. In fact, giving Tank mission parameters would be best, as otherwise the train would start driving off the tracks.
Roan sent two quick text messages, having a vague idea of the two recipients’ availability. And to his surprise, they texted back affirmatives immediately.
“You get zero intel until you’ve earned it by behaving your shitty self,” Roan informed him. “You’re the DD, and we’re meeting a few of my hospital friends at the Northstar Cafe.”
“Wait, this might be an even bigger surprise. You made friends?” Tank scoffed from the hallway.
“Yeah, even an antisocial incel like me.” Roan shoved his billfold into his pocket, heading to the door where his coat and boots were waiting. “If you stick to the stated objectives, I’ll answer two questions about her after brunch.”
“Three,” Tank tried to bargain.
“Depends on the questions. Nothing that will make me plead the fifth. Also, while we’re with my friends, you can’t mention her or my relationship in ANY way. Not a word,” Roan gave him the warning now. Outside of the administrative heads that had reviewed his and Clarissa’s disclosure of relationship forms, he had been relatively discreet thus far.
“Do I look like a chick?” Tank was grabbing his own coat. “Though, not a single word?”
