Bronco cracked his knuckles. “Somehow he knew about the squadron gathering. God, it can’t be one of us.”
Crusty’s foot picked up its nervous energy pace again. Did the guy mainline sugar? “I’ll talk to Reis regardless. We’ve worked together on some…uh… projects before,” he finished vaguely. Apparently there was more to this guy than met the eye.
All that aside, Rick had to focus on today. A lot could happen in the twenty-four hours until Monday morning. “I want this bastard caught. I’m tired of waiting around for the cops to do nothing. And I’m tired of watching for him to make his move when Nola’s at risk every second this guy remains free.”
Bronco finished cracking the knuckles on his other beefy fist. “Dude, I’m with you on that. This sicko sounds like he enjoys the game a little too much.”
An idea came to life in Rick’s mind. His hands clenched in fists in anticipation of leveling the bastard, face-to-face.
Crusty’s foot dropped off his knee. “Whoa, are you thinking what I believe you’re thinking?”
“What would that be?”
“That you want to lure this bastard out and catch him on your own.”
“I wouldn’t kill him.” Rick held up his hands in defense—even though he wanted to throttle the stalker. But he wasn’t a lawless creep like the man who’d made Nola’s life a living hell. “That would be illegal, after all. And I’ve sworn to uphold the beliefs of my country.” As much as he wanted the man dead, he couldn’t turn his back on his honor. But he would protect those he loved.
Loved?
Loved.
Hell yes, he loved her. He loved her grit, her humor, her tender heart, her passion. Most of all he loved the way she challenged him. She was one helluva woman. And he couldn’t let another day go by without doing something to make sure this bastard left her alone.
“No, I won’t kill him unless the bastard guns for Nola first.” He thought of the sheer agony this criminal had put Nola through these past weeks. “But I will make his life hell before turning him over to authorities.”
Crusty nodded. “Then you are thinking exactly what I imagined.” He looked at pensive Mako on his left and oversize Bronco on his right. Both nodded. “Want some help?”
The camaraderie kicked right over him in a way he hadn’t felt since his days as a part of a pararescue team. He’d known he missed it. He just hadn’t realized how starved he was until this second.
A man didn’t operate as well alone as he did in a team. He knew that, damn it. So what had he been trying to accomplish this past year in turning his back on his family? His child?
What if Nola had shown up on his doorstep twelve months ago? He would have been too much of a moron to recognize the best thing to ever walk into his life all because of his messed-up view of what made a hero.
A solid team built itself on the strengths of a cohesive group. He had something of value to offer. He was one helluva leader and here were men asking to take on the task.
Rick extended his hand to the three men in front of him, sealing the deal one handshake at a time. “I welcome the help, but I don’t want to worry Nola while she’s recovering.” He remembered how close Nola had come to dying, a thought that shook him in his boots. “Let me get her checked out of the hospital and settled in at the hotel again where I know she’s safe. We can meet outside her room by the pool and map out some plans while she sleeps.”
A cleared throat sounded from across the room. A distinctively feminine sound.
Uh-oh.
Rick didn’t need to be a master detective to realize they were busted. He pivoted on his heel and sure enough, there stood Nola, pale but still totally curvaceously hot in surgical scrubs with tousled hair. Her bandaged foot reminded him again how close he’d come to losing her—permanently.
She perched a hand on her hip. “Excuse me, but Nola’s already awake and very much pissed off over being excluded.”
Chapter 15
Nola hobbled on her heel toward the cluster of males. She hated how her aching foot put her at a disadvantage. She wanted to stride, act confident, be in control, but doggone it, the scorpion sting hurt.
Her brain stumbled over the notion that Rick must feel this way all the time—at a disadvantage as he limped through life, robbed of the physical edge he’d worked so hard to achieve in his chosen profession.
“I’m very curious about these ‘plans’ of yours.” Nola swatted Rick on the back of the shoulder. “And very curious about why you felt the need to keep this a secret from me.”
What was up with their testosterone dance? These three flyboys were supposed to be on her side.
“Thanks for the big brother act, guys, but it’s not needed. I’m feeling much better now.” A bit of an overstatement, but at least she was on her feet again. “Rick’s not here to do anything but scare off the bogeyman.”
Crusty hooked an arm around her shoulders. “Doesn’t he know you’re quite capable of fighting bogeymen on your own?”