“We play word games to pass the time during a long swim or run.”
“Seriously? You have the energy to talk in the middle of that kind of workout?”
A coal black eyebrow shot upward. “Do you think if we’re in the middle of hiking our asses off an Afghan mountain with the Taliban breathing down our neck that we stop for a break every time we need to pass along a message to each other?”
Her stomach churned at the image he painted of Liam’s life beyond civilian rescues and training exercises. Those scenarios were all too sharp edged, given what Brandon had shared tonight.
“Sorry,” Cuervo said. “Sometimes I forget it’s not everyday kinda stuff for the rest of the world. Part of why we play games to take the edge off, I guess.”
She swallowed hard. “Like what kind of word games?”
Crossing his boots at the ankles, he settled more comfortably in the doorway. “We just started playing this new word game called marry one, screw one, kill one. Some people on the team think it’s not PC enough.”
“Hey,” Wade Rocha shouted from the next room. “I heard that.”
Cuervo continued. “But I think it’s kinda like that ‘people in a boat’ game where you have to decide who gets tossed overboard and fed to the sharks.”
Rachel grinned. “You’re a bloodthirsty one.”
“Our options are laugh or what? Become like Bubbles?”
Bubbles… back in the Bahamas… “The one who always cleans his gun and never speaks or smiles?”
“Right. As for me, I prefer laughing. So”—he spoke loud enough to be heard in the living area as well—“in the interest of equality and all, we’ll give you ladies a shot at playing… with guys to pick from.”
Sunny Rocha stepped up alongside Cuervo. “I assume you’re not going to offer your own names.”
Cuervo clutched his heart. “If only I could, without Wade kicking my ass. So, ladies, pick a subject, and I’ll list three men. You too, Catriona. Come on in.” The dog-sitter stepped into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “For example… I’ll choose three men from the Ocean’s Eleven actors. Or three sports heroes. Or three guys from the cast of Glee.”
“You’re a Gleek?” Catriona gasped. “For real?”
“I own all the past seasons on DVD. Cross my heart.” Cuervo drew an X over his chest.
Catriona shook her head. “I don’t believe you. Prove it.”
“Fine.” He nodded officially. “Challenge accepted. Cast of Glee it is. Puck, Finn, Mr. Schuester.” He named the characters with ease. “Marry one. Screw One. Kill one. And listen up in there, Major. You’ll learn a lot about your lady friend here from her answer.”
“Cuervo,” Liam called from the other room. “We’re working here. You should try it.”
“I’m keeping your girlfriend safe, like you asked.” Cuervo leaned out farther into the hall, speaking louder, “You’re a psychology buff right, Major? On Glee, Puck is the bad boy. Finn is the football star. Mr. Schuester is the sensitive type. So who does your lady friend, Rachel, want to kill? And who will she—?”
“Okay. Enough games.” Rachel shot to her feet and patted Cuervo on the cheek on her way into the hall. “I appreciate the laugh and protection. Truly. But no freebie peeks inside my brain.”
Yet as she looked into the dark wise eyes of Liam’s teammate, Rachel suspected she’d already given herself away. She hurried out down the hall and back into the living area.
Sunny stepped up behind her husband and rested her hands on his shoulders. “Wade, who did you pick to marry when you guys played?”
Wade didn’t even look up from the computer at the long oak table. “I refused to participate. I’m permanently benched.”
“Hey…” Sunny swatted his arm, then brushed a kiss over the top of his bent head. “I think that’s a compliment.”
“Totally.” He snagged her hand and pulled her closer for a firmer lip-lock.
Their happiness just about glowed. Not even the current crisis could dim it. It was hard not to feel jealous right now. Her eyes skated to Liam, who was pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course he had bigger concerns. She needed to prioritize.
Cuervo slung an arm around Rachel’s shoulders. “When we play the game, the major wants to marry all the women.”
Liam glanced up, scowling. “Thanks, my friend, but I don’t need your help watching over Rachel after all.”