Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
New, Different, & Uncontainable
Boyfriend.
Fuck.
No one had ever called him that before. He felt a little ridiculous to be getting hung up on that word at thirty-fucking-five, but none of the casual relationships he’d had over the years had been serious enough to slap a label on.
He didn’t care that they hadn’t. But damn did he like the way that word sounded on Lynn’s lips.
It made him hungry for an upgrade.
In his defense, Jon had gone from eternally single to fiancé all while Lance had been hospitalized. So, Lance now had some catching up to do to keep things balanced between them.
Lance blew out a breath and drummed his fingers restlessly over the steering wheel.
They were headed to Jenna’s, which Lynn had said was halfway across town.
And in Misty Glades, that was about a five-minute drive.
The rain had let up, though the sky was still overcast and the roads were wet, and being that the town was nestled in a mountainous area, the roadways weren’t exactly flat.
None of that was a problem for him. He doubted it was an issue for Lynn, or Jenna’s SUV.
They weren’t driving unreasonably slow … by civilian standards.
Which I am now. He really needed to learn to think like one. At least after the manhunt he was preparing to embark on.
He cracked his neck as he followed Lynn’s taillights through the gently sloped roads, past a taped-off bakery he remembered in brighter lighting, until they finally pulled up to a less-than-impressive apartment community.
A scattering of spread-out, single-story buildings, nothing gated or otherwise protected from passersby in any way save for the thick row of trees at the back that seemed to delineate a borderline.
There was a narrower, unlined roadway system for residents and vendors to traverse, and apparently space to park at the curb in front of the unit they needed.
Lance almost didn’t recognize Jon’s new, dark green truck in the driveway.
He did recognize Billy’s rental parked a few paces ahead.
He took a moment to grab what he thought he’d need from the trunk, then rounded to meet Lynn at the bottom of the driveway and held out his keys. “She’s all yours. Drives like a dream. And there’s a handgun in the glovebox if you need it, fully loaded.”
Both of Lynnette’s eyebrows arched up her forehead as she accepted the keys. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who might need a gun.”
Lance chuckled and looped an arm around her. “Sweetheart, please don’t tell me you think one pistol is the only weapon I was carrying.” At the side-eye she gave him, he laughed harder. “I love that you went there, but no, I wasn’t talking about my cannon.”
Lynn groaned and shoved him off her.
He snatched up her hand. “In addition to being a weapon,” he reminded her calmly, “I’ve got more.” He jostled the bag he’d slung over his shoulder for emphasis.
Lynn sighed and bumped her shoulder into his as they approached the door. Voices drifted out from inside, so she lowered hers. “And you’re sure your leg is okay?”
Lance smiled. He’d explained the normal side-effects of his power, and even told her how some crazy might-be goddess had put a slow-release dampener on them.
He was pretty sure she hadn’t totally accepted that story, and he didn’t blame her, but she hadn’t been able to deny the proof of his visibly healed leg when he’d unwrapped it after their morning coffee.
He'd wrapped it back up after she fell asleep last night, even though it was almost completely healed then. It didn’t ultimately matter whether or not she accepted the goddess bit—he wouldn’t have bought that, either, if it hadn’t happened directly to him.
It only mattered that she understood he wasn’t rushing off injured.
He didn’t want her to sit with that worry hanging over her head, on top of everything else.
Aloud, he said, “I’m sure, Lynn.”
The door swung open moments later and Jon ushered them inside. “Morning,” he said.
“Perv,” Lance greeted.
Jon grunted, shut the door behind them, and said to Lynnette, “I appreciate you taking him off my hands. My condolences.”
“Wow,” Lance said through a laugh, “asshole.”
Lynn threaded her fingers through his and quipped, “I was under the impression he was going out with you today? Pretty sure that implies we’ll have shared custody moving forward.”
Jon chuckled and Lance barked out a full laugh.
“Lynnette!” Jenna exclaimed as they cleared the hall and stepped into the crowded sitting room.
She hopped to her feet, one hand clutching a mug of still-steaming liquid, and slipped past the two standing walls of muscle as she rushed to her friend.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to check in with you after everything at the hospital the other day. Are you okay?”
Lance felt the sigh Lynn breathed out and bit back his smile.
“Yes, I’m okay. And you had plenty to worry about on your own, it’s fine.”
“Speaking of which,” Jon said as he moved up to his fiancée and looped an arm around her middle. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy on that ankle, baby.”
Lance dropped his gaze down to their hostess’s otherwise bare feet, noting that one ankle was wrapped nice and tight.
Herb, sitting back on the sofa, clicked his tongue. “Gotta take better care of yourself, chica.”
Billy, who’d claimed the only chair, chuckled. “Got yourself a rule-breaker, CO.”
Jenna’s face flamed red. “I just wanted to greet my friend.”
Lynn propped her free hand on her hip. “As if I wouldn’t have come to you. Besides, it seems like I’m going to be here all day, we have plenty of time to catch up.”
“You heard her,” Jon said. “Let’s go sit back down.”
While Jon was doting on his flustered fiancée, Lance pulled Lynn’s attention to the rest of the room.
It had occurred to him she hadn’t had occasion to meet their old friends, and while the men would be leaving with them for the hunt, it still seemed appropriate to make introductions.
So, to the room at large, he said, “Guys, this is my girl, Lynn.”
“Girlfriend,” Lynn corrected, making no effort to tuck behind him or otherwise duck from their assessing stares. “He means ‘girlfriend’. I’m still training him.”
Lance grinned.
His friends laughed.
One by one, he made introductions, starting with the closest familiar face. “Lynn, this is Foxe. He will talk your ear off about his baby girl if you give him half a chance, fair warning.”
Foxe offered a smile as more laughter followed.
Lance indicated the messy-haired Hispanic who’d trimmed up a bit in the nine-odd years since he’d left the Corps. “That clever fuck is Herberto, goes by Herb.”
Herb raised a hand in a lazy wave from his seat. “My condolences for whatever short straw you drew to land that one, senorita.”
Lance flipped his friend the bird while Lynn laughed softly, then moved on to the dork who still combed his hair in a side sweep. “Blondie over there is Billy. Makes up for his bum leg with his big guns.”
“Damn right,” Billy said with a firm nod. He smacked the side of the leg that had gotten him sent home. “I move all right these days, too.”
“Bet your wife’s glad for that,” Foxe said.
As the others laughed, Lance moved his focus to the one unfamiliar face in the room. Another tall, respectably muscular male, dark hair that hung over the tops of his ears and brown, assessing eyes that didn’t flinch from Lance’s stare. So, Lance said, “I don’t know you.”
The man propped his hands on his hips. “And yet it’s your fault I got dragged into this mess, arguably.”
Lance cocked a brow.
Jon stepped forward, mimicking Lance’s earlier motion of gesturing between them. “Lance, Alex. You spoke on the phone a few days ago.”
The memory clicked and Lance’s eyes widened. “Oh! Army Alex!” He was the guy who’d answered the phone at the storage company where Jon’s inheritance had been kept.
Alex sighed and reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t remember that becoming my name.”
Billy chuckled. “Yep, that’s definitely your name now. Or I s’ppose we could call you ‘Army Boy’ if you’d rather?”
Herb shrugged. “Army Alex has a better sound to it.”
“Fuck all of you,” Alex said with a sigh, his lips twitching.
“Now that everyone knows each other,” Jon said, his voice switching to boss-mode, “we need to put our heads together and get a move on. We can’t afford to burn any more time.”
The atmosphere in the room grew somber and Lance gave Lynn’s hand a squeeze.
He hadn’t specifically asked her to stay cooped up in Jenna’s apartment all day, so much as he had asked her not to isolate herself unnecessarily.
She had a car, a full tank of gas, a fully charged phone and the cord she needed to keep it that way, as well as at least one offensive weapon.
In addition to her apparently respectable defensive training.
He needed to believe that would be enough, because six men—former Marines or not—against however many cartel bastards was not going to be an easy fight.
He watched Jon lean down to drop a kiss on Jenna’s head, too far away to hear any words they exchanged, and saw the guys get up to shuffle toward the kitchen for war-talk.
Lynn pressed a hand to his chest, drawing his attention. “Do what you need to do. I know this part isn’t about me. I’ll be fine.”
His heart constricted at the idea of leaving and having no one in place to watch her back.
He released her hand to cup her face, pulling her closer so he could talk at a whisper.
“If you get into trouble, any kind of trouble, all you need is an open water source. Jon will hear you from anywhere if you call for him intentionally. Understand?” He hated that he didn’t have his own variation of that obnoxiously useful trick, but it was what it was.