Page 52 of Coming In Hot
Riggs shoots us one last warning glare. “Suit yourselves, but remember, there’s no fighting in group. It’s my only rule.” He stares at each member of the circle, eyeing them carefully. “Who doesn’t have a lot going on this summer and wants to volunteer for a good cause?”
The room quiets for a second, the challenge hanging in the air as Riggs’s gaze lands on each of us, waiting for someone to bite. His eyes narrow when no one immediately speaks up. We all know that tone of his—he’s not asking out of kindness. He’s looking for someone to take the bait.
“Anyone?” he presses, his voice still sharp but with a hint of forced patience.
I feel a twinge of annoyance stir in my chest because I know exactly what he's doing. Riggs doesn’t ask unless he’s got something in mind—some mission, some task he wants done. He knows damn well how we all operate, and he’s testing to see who’ll crack first.
The silence stretches out awkwardly. It’s one of those rare moments when no one has anything to say. Normally, the guys are quick with a quip, but not today.
Riggs clears his throat.
Brandt kicks West.
Nash tips his chair back and points to Rhett behind his back.
“Well, I’d love to,” Stiles lies, “but I have a job.”
“Same,” West adds. “Brandt and I have boot camp and physical therapy.”
“I have therapy, too,” Rhett parrots, piggybacking on West’s lame excuse. “And I have to work.”
Nash’s chin bobs. “I have therapy, meetings, and… and… I’m sure I’ll have some work.” He rights his chair, and then tacks on, “I also have a cat and plant to care for. It’s a full-time job.”
Mandy stays quiet because he’s incapable of telling lies. He’s thinking them, though, because his cheeks flush bright red.
McCormick is next. “I’m almost positive I’m booked all summer. But I’ll get back to you, Riggs,” he says respectfully.
Pharo’s out because he’ll most likely be deployed. So that leaves me. I don’t have to tell lies, I just flat out don’t want to do it—whateveritis.
“This is fucking dumb,” I bitch. “We’re just going round and round in circles with our dicks in our hands. It’s literally the definition of stupidity.”
“It’s not stupidity,” Pharo snarks, “it’s the definition of a circle jerk.”
“Why are we sitting here arguing about dumb shit?” West asks, glancing around the group.
“Please,” Rhett snorts, swallowing his laughter. “I once wasted forty-five minutes arguing about the proper way to blow out the hem on my ABUs.”
Riggs rubs his temples like he’s warding off a headache. “That’s it. Consider yourselves voluntold. Problem solved.”
“Who?” I ask a little defensively? “Who’s being voluntold?”
Riggs fixes his steely gaze on me. “You, for starters. And every one of you who doesn’t punch a clock. Basically, everyone but Pharo and Stiles.”
Pharo grins.
Stiles blows out a relieved breath.
Everyone else whines and pouts.
“You still haven’t told us what we’re signing up for,” West points out.
“I’m so glad you asked,” Riggs says, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. He leans forward, resting his hands on his knees as he scans around the group, making sure every pair of eyes is on him. “You’re all going to volunteer as camp counselors this summer here at BALLS. They need all hands on deck.”
West furrows his brow, clearly unimpressed. “So we’re gonna babysit a bunch of kids for the summer?”
“Not babysit,” Riggs corrects, his tone too serious. “We’re going to mentor them. Guide them. Entertain them.” He pauses, clearly relishing the dramatic effect. “You’ll be helping with activities, tutoring, and just being a positive influence in their lives. Some of these kids don’t have much going for them, and we’re gonna give them something to look forward to.”
Nash’s expression is saying a whole lottafuck this shit. “And what? We’re supposed to do all that for free? You know, I’ve got better things to do than play hero for a bunch of random kids.”
