The host responded, clearly relieved at the interruption. “No problem. I’m required by Ohio law to inform you that no one in the car, driver or passenger, is legally allowed to consume them inside a moving vehicle, so keep the bag sealed. How many do you want?”
Alex glanced around, correctly deciding Tank would not benefit from one. “Umm, three sounds good.”
Their host reached into a nearby alcove near the counter and traded cash with Alex for three brown paper bags stapled closed. “I do fully support the sister thing, by the way. Gotta protect them.”
“So right. I like him,” Tank agreed, and Alex’s phone beeped.
“Uber,” Alex said, giving Roan, Tank, and Drew enthusiastic hugs. “Thanks, guys. This is the best I’ve felt for weeks. Probably because I’m smashed.”
“Fabulous.” Roan pointed to the door as Alex handed him one of the bagged drinks. “Leave now before Tank tracks you home.”
CHAPTER 3
Drew had no compunction about hustling himself out the door with Alex. The chilly weather was much more hospitable at this point.
“Give me that. I need it.” Tank marched out into the snowy parking lot.
Taking no chances, Roan opened the bag, popped the top off the mimosa, and downed it. “Sorry. Save your boozing for your flight after you drop me off at home. And no, you don’t get to hang out and cry because one doctor thought your sister was dateable.”
For good measure, he tossed the bag in the trash and headed out, forcing Tank to follow him.
They climbed into Tank’s Jeep and got on the road in silence. Roan held his tongue because Tank, the professional operator that he was, would wait until he was in a safer environment.
Yep, the second they were on the clear main city street, Tank let loose. “What the fuck? How did you let this happen!”
“Nothing happened,” Roan said, feeling the last drink hitting his bloodstream. Thank God he had always been a nice, polite drunk.
Horny, yet nice.
“When I kill him, I’ll make it look like an accident. You can help me. How much cyanide can you sneak in his coffee?” Tank asked.
“None. Drop it.” In the past twenty years, he’d heard similar diatribes from Tank about his goal of keeping the entire global male population away from Clarissa for eternity.
“Hell no. If you won’t poison him, can you help me bury his body?” Tank’s hands had a death grip on the steering wheel.
“No chance. Ground’s too frozen,” Roan made a promise he would definitely keep. “I promise you, a hundred percent, Drew will never touch Clarissa.”
“How sure are you that he already hasn't?” Tank responded, stopping at a light.
“I said a hundred percent. He has never touched her, and he never will.” Roan spoke the truth he understood in his bones. It never left him, simmering beneath the surface of every interaction he had with her. No one else had ever touched Clarissa. Only him. And he wanted to see to it that no one ever would. She was his, belonged to him. Any hell, even this purgatory, it was absolutely worth it.
“I’ll hold you to that.” Tank punched the steering wheel. “It’d be easier if I could kill him.”
Maybe Roan was going about this the wrong way. If he intended on keeping Clarissa permanently, he’d have to deal with this immovable object—her brother—someday.
Today might be that day.
“She’s an adult, stuck at a hospital full of twenty-something singles for eighty hours a week. If Alex, who is a walking romance disaster, noticed her, others did too. There are limits on what you and I can do to fend them off.” Other than date her himself. He’d been holding back making a big deal about it thus far, but it would be an excellent way to keep other guys from sniffing around her.
“I liked it better when we had a chain of command and a captain like you could order anyone away,” Tank grumbled, his energy dissipating by degrees.
Roan debated his next words and decided to use the liquid courage he’d already consumed. “She’s gonna find someone someday. Hopefully, employed, educated, and all that.”
“I don’t care. No man on the planet is worthy of her. She’s a goddamn angel. I fucking fought two wars for her.” Tank was unwilling to face a reality that he had no idea had already occurred.
“You fought two wars because you wanted to get paid, shoot guns, and do what the U.S. government told you to,” Roan reminded him.
“Small matter of protecting the ideals of democracy and stopping terrorists from flying planes into buildings,” Tank retorted, building up a new head of steam. “Point is, no matter what I got out of it, I was making the world safer for her. I was protecting her. The parents sure as hell aren’t. I may not be what they wanted, but her? She’s a fucking saint. Good, sweet, and saves babies, right? That’s what she does, correct?”
