Page 33 of Rogue Mission
My chuckle is dark, but there’s a burr in my throat. “She’s not a missus anything. But she’s mine to protect while she’s in our care. So fuck off.”
As he’s strolling away, I call his name. “Ryker, I won’t believe you anyway, until after you meet your own personal wrecking ball. Then we can talk.”
He’s nodding, a cocky grin on his face when he punches the door open to the small pastry shop.
Fucking hell.
He’s right, though. I’m about to crawl out of my skin.
The wind gets knocked out of me for the thirteen-thousandth time when I open the door and see Rosalie’s beautiful face anxiously looking for me.
“Is everything okay?”
“False alarm. Elderly driver, poor depth perception. Bad timing.”
Her worry softens, and she reaches for me, slipping her fingers between mine and sinking the last nail in my coffin.
“I’m glad. You guys are too fast to rush into unknown situations.”
Just that simple touch of her hand makes it impossible to think of a reply.
“Donuts for everyone!” Beast rumbles as he lands in the driver’s seat, tossing a white-and-pink box onto the center console, and I almost laugh out loud at the absurdity of the moment. Fuck, we’ve been through the ringer and now… donuts.
“Keep your grubby hands off my cream-filled chocolate-glazed ones,” he says, glaring at me in the rearview. “Fingers will be lost.”
“You better be fast, then,” I reply, grabbing the box—but Rosalie interrupts me by pointing toward the front window.
“Hey, guys, what’s wrong with Ryker? He looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm.”
“Good fucking question,” Beast mutters, already throwing open the door.
Beast and Ryker meet halfway across the parking lot. Whatever it is has both of them ramrod straight, which means I need to be read in on the situation.
“I need to go see what’s going on. Lock the doors, sweetheart.”
“I’ll just guard these,” Rosalie says, but adds softly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be joking—obviously something bad has happened.”
I brush her cheek with my thumb, protectiveness making my chest heavy. “Guarding the donuts is an important job. Just so you know, jokes are part of dealing with stress in jobs like ours.”
The door lock clicks behind me, but I’m not taking my eyes off the SUV, even as I move to talk to them.
My attention is divided. Can’t lose sight of her. Not for a second.
“What gives?” I ask, joining their huddle, positioning myself so I have a clear view of Rosalie.
“There’s a situation inside,” Ryker reports, his gaze locking onto the small shop’s storefront with as much intensity as I have directed toward the vehicle.
His intensity is impossible to ignore.
The man is charged as if he’s about to go to battle, ready for tactical engagement. I’ve only seen him like this in the field during ops.
“Is there a threat in there?” I ask.
“Not at the moment,” he replies, voice gravelly as he shifts in his boots. “The woman won’t tell me what’s going on, but she’s got a lot of bruises. My gut says she’s in serious danger.”
Beast and I stiffen at the same time, instinct kicking in.
Abuse? None of us stand for that shit. Not ever.
