Page 2 of Wrong Squad, Right Mess

Had they just thrown whatever they’d found in there? Not sorted them at all?

They probably hadn’t wanted to leave us too long.

“Anything in my size?” Kenyon asked.

“Maybe if you worked out more.”

“Again, not fat.”

I had to admit, with my arms around him, I didn’t find a thing wrong with Kenyon’s shape or size. He wasn’t as lean as the others, sure, but the slight layer of fat made him all the more comfortable to hold onto.

Plus, only an idiot would insult their own personal heater.

Still, Carter fished something from his backpack and threw it to Kenyon, who caught it with one hand. “Really?” he asked.

“Hey, I did what I could.”

Kenyon sighed and disentangled himself from me, then slid on the loud shirt, covered in bright yellows and reds with palm trees all over it. It buttoned in the front and was a good four sizes too large for his frame.

Though it also didn’t seem to help, given it was short enough his cock still peeked from beneath the bottom hem.

They all went about grabbing items to wear, doing their best to make them work.

At the end, the four of them stood there, and I had to cover my mouth to hold the laughter back.

Kenyon wore the Hawaiian shirt and a pair of bright orange sweats. No shoes, though. Shear had ended up with a jacket—no shirt—and a pair of jeans that made him look so redneck I thought he might just find some roadkill to cook for dinner. Ingram had found some gray sweats—which he looked far too good in—and a tank top. He’d even added a pair of sunglasses that somehow complemented the whole surfer bad-boy thing he had going on. Carter had on a pair of skinny jeans—salmon-colored, to make it all worse—and a shirt that read, ‘I love my country like I love my bros: with my dick.’

I had to remind myself for a moment that these were highly trained and dangerous espers, capable of lethal force. They looked like a group playing thrift store dare.

“What?” Carter looked over as though he didn’t have a clue what my reaction was about.

I stopped trying to hide the laughter, instead letting it out until I had to lean forward to catch my breath. “Reject Squad indeed…”

Chapter Two

Carter

I walked ahead of the others, Shear to my side. Ingram and Kenyon had stuck to Yun, which was for the best.

Having a guide inside a dungeon was the last thing I’d ever wanted to happen. They didn’t belong here, for fuck’s sake. Guides were supposed to be treasured, protected—even I knew that. For all my faults, I understood this wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Supposed to doesn’t matter,” Shear said.

“What did we agree about my head?”

“That I stay out of it and you don’t break my neck,” Shear responded without a speck of fear. “But if you would stop thinking so loudly, I could ignore it better. Still, you know I’m right. At least we were near her so she didn’t end up here alone.”

Without meaning to, I glanced over my shoulder to see her walking between Kenyon and Ingram, all of them involved in a conversation I had no doubt was dumb enough to cost me a few brain cells if I had to listen.

The idea of her getting stuck here alone made my chest ache and my mind reject the very notion. After everything she’d survived, all she’d been through, I never wanted her to feel alone for a single moment.

I would have preferred if she’d not come here at all, but Shear had a point. If it had to happen, at least we were with her.

Fully clothed would have also been better, but when a woman said to strip, there was only one right answer. I had a feeling that if she said it again, right now, we would do the same thing.

Makeup sex was worth some risk, after all.

“So how did this happen?” I asked. If anyone could work out what had occurred, it was Shear. I didn’t like to think anyone might be smarter than I was, but Shear was one of the few who might just be. “I’ve never heard of this sort of thing happening.”