Page 53 of Chasing Grace
“Don’t be an asshole,” Chase growled. “You know I’m not cheating on anyone, and besides, I haven’t slept with Gray.”
“Not yet,” Cody imitated, making air quotes with his free hand.
“Not ever, if she doesn’t give me five minutes to explain,” Chase grumbled, shaking his head.
“Fucking Hoyt. You think he dropped that bomb on purpose?”
“Hundred percent.” Lucky for Corporal Hoyt, the urge to find him and beat the shit out of him took a back seat to Chase’s desire to hit the sack instead. As far as the members of the JTT were concerned, Hoyt amounted to a waste of oxygen. Hard to like a person who lived to make others miserable.
“Happy to make him disappear,” Cody said.
“You can’t kill Hoyt.”
“Is that an order?”
“It can be.”
“Shit.” Cody poured himself another shot of vodka. “So, what’re we doing about Kincaid? Can we kill him?”
The news Grant Kincaid was in Palo Pinto on Adam Grayson’s orders had made Chase homicidal. When he’d caught up to Gray in his room, he’d already been fighting an urge to introduce Kincaid to his Glock—multiple times.
One look at Chase’s face, and she’d marked him as easy prey. Going straight for his throat, she’d pushed every hot button he had. In two days, the woman had developed some serious skills when it came to reading him, and she’d come at him hard and fast. Not something he’d been prepared for, and he had to admit, not his finest hour.
Jesus. All he needed was five minutes alone with her to set the record straight. If he could just explain where things stood with Holly.Shit.He should have signed the paperwork on the house months ago. If he had, Holly wouldn’t have been calling him, and he wouldn’t be in this mess.
His fault. Not hers.
If only that rat bastard Hoyt hadn’t—
Cody knocked the bottom of his beer bottle against the table—twice. “A little focus, Sergeant. Are you positive we can’t shoot Kincaid? You might have misheard the colonel’s orders, what with the steam coming out of your ears and all.”
“Don’t go all Southern redneck on me, Babbitt.” The colonel had been clear. They were not to engage Grant Kincaid unless he proved to be a direct threat to Gray or the mission. “He’s off-limits so long as he stays on his side of the fence.”
Critical for mission success, Adam Grayson needed to remain as Sam Black for the foreseeable future. The only way to achieve that goal meant Victor Bodak had to believe his second in command was following orders and actively pursuing Gray.
The solution came in the form of Kincaid. If Bodak or any of his men got too close, Kincaid would send up a warning flare, and Chase and the JTT would take it from there.
Bullshit. Chase shook his head. He’d seen Kincaid in action. The bastard would shoot first and ask questions later. He was a serious risk. One Chase preferred Gray didn’t know about.
Cody broke into his thoughts. “You’re seriously plotting Kincaid’s untimely demise, aren’t you?”
Chase put his empty on the table, looked Cody in the eye, and smiled. He’d do anything necessary to protect Gray. If that meant eliminating Grant Kincaid because the bastard turned out to be a threat, he’d do it.
“You’re such an asshole. No decorating Kincaid with lead-based holes unless you enlist me first. Got it?”
Chase didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The men of the JTT were as tight as any unit he’d ever been a part of, and Cody would have his six, no questions asked. “Briefing in five hours, numbnuts.” He set the alarm on his watch and got to his feet. Stretching his arms over his head, he groaned at the pull of sore back muscles.
Cody set his empty beer on the table and picked up his shot of vodka. “Like I said, you’re an ass.”
Mad at the world,Gray hurled her pillow against the door and grabbed the second. It didn’t make a difference. They both smelled like Chase. Clad in boxers and a T-shirt, her roommate turned the bathroom light off and grabbed the pillow from the floor.
Exchanging it for one from his bed, Tak handed it to her with the cheekiest grin she’d ever seen. She accepted it gratefully, throwing the contaminated one into a corner, which in this room wasn’t too damn far.
“It’s not what you think,” he said, sliding under his sheets. He lay on his side facing her, his knees practically up around his ears out of necessity.
“I’m too tired to care, Tak.” A lump formed in her throat, and she wished she could talk to Tara. She’d know exactly what to say to pull Gray off the ledge, but her best friend wasn’t answering her phone.
Probably because she had enough on her mind following her oncologist appointment. God, let the results be positive in a negative-for-cancer kind of way. Let her be out celebrating with Travis and not at home avoiding Gray’s call because she didn’t want to share bad news over the phone.
