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I draw in a breath, then turn, only to be knocked on the side of my head. "The fuck!" I reel back, more from the surprise than the force of the hit, which was just a tap. I’ve been through worse in training sessions before I left for a mission.
Rick throws up his fists. "Wanna go a round, man? You haven’t eaten my dust in a long time."
Typical Rick, an ex-NHL player who served in the military with me, the man is one-hundred percent pure muscle. He’s also the only other man I know who can hold his own against me in a fight. I crack my neck, then take a step back, but Rick steps forward and into my space so his chest slams into mine. "You’re a fucking arsehole. A selfish, motherfucking, wanker of a douchecanoe who doesn’t care about anything but himself."
Next to him, Cade glowers at me. "You have time to go for a run, but you don’t think of reaching for the phone and calling us?"
"I’ve been busy." I hear the petulance in my voice and wince. Since when do I hide behind excuses? I’ve changed, but surely, not so much that I can’t accept my fault when I’m in the wrong.
"And you're right; I’m a shit human being."
"Not to mention a tosser and a knobhead."
I roll my shoulders. "What’s this, the attack of the barmy army?" I scoff.
"We’re here to make sure you turn up for the get together at Abby’s place," Cade growls.
I roll my shoulders, "The last thing I want is to put on a smile and pretend an enthusiasm I’m not feeling, and—" I snap my lips shut and glower back at Cade. "You know I won’t say no to Abby."
"I’m aware." He smirks.
"Doesn’t mean I’m doing this willingly."
"You can protest all you want, as long as you turn up tomorrow night."
I rub the back of my neck. "Abby could have asked me. I wouldn’t have said no to her."
"The woman is worried about you. She doesn’t like that you’re spending so much time by yourself." Cade frowns.
"I’ve been working. I go into the office. I run. I meet my buddy, Adam—" Both men glare at me, and I realize my mistake. "Not that I don’t want to meet you guys—"
"Youdon’twant to meet us," Rick snaps.
"Neither of you went through what I did. Neither of you will know how it feels to be a captive and live from beating to beating and be so hungry that you have no choice but to eat your own skin."
Both men look stricken. Then, Rick throws up his fist again. I see it coming and block it. "The fuck is wrong with you?" I pant.
"The fuck is wrong withyou?" he roars.
A couple jogging past us look at us in alarm, then pick up speed. A baby begins to cry, and a mother running with her sports-pram shoots us a nasty look as she continues by. Great, now I’m scaring little children.
"You could have picked up the phone and replied to our phone calls. You could have texted and told us you were okay. Hell, you could have told us your new address. Not even Abby knew where you had moved. We had to use a private detective to track you down, you arsewipe, you—"
A loud barking interrupts him. There’s the sound of what seems to be hooves hitting the ground. Then, I hear panting and look around him to realize it’s not hooves, it’s paws. The paws of a massive Great Dane who’s broken away from the man running in his wake. A man who looks like a very harried, Declan.
"Guys, watch out! Tiny’s on a rampage," he yells.
The dog barks joyfully. Rick turns around, then steps aside in one smooth move, so when the big dog arcs his body and sails past him, he crashes into me.
Penny
"Oh, aren’t you a sweetie pie?" I throw my arms around the Great Dane who pranced into the apartment as soon as the elevator doors slid open. "Where did you come from, hmm?" The dog barks. At more than three feet tall at his shoulders, all he has to do is toss his head and he’s able to lick my face with a tongue as big as a dinner plate. It feels like someone dragged a soaking wet towel across my cheek. I burst out laughing, and the dog wags his tail harder. His entire body shakes with effort, and he pants loudly. I rub his neck. "You hungry, baby?”
I look past him to find a pissed-off Knight standing with his hands on his hips. His hair is standing up like he’s been running his fingers through the strands. He’s wearing a T-shirt that must have been white at some point, but is so threadbare, it molds to his ridiculously sculpted chest, showing off the dents between those delicious abs. He completes the ensemble with jogging shorts—that cling lovingly to his powerful thighs. Patches of sweat dampen his chest, and glisten at his temples. He looks virile and strong and like porn on two legs. Moisture bathes my pussy, the pulse between my legs speeds up. Gah, stop looking at him like you want to climb him. I nod toward the Great Dane. "Doesn’t he belong to Liam and Isla?”
He nods.
“So why is he with you?”
