Chapter Seven
They went to breakfast. Scout hadn’t realized such a small thing could feel so personal.
Every new discovery with Clay made him want another.
He had never been more terrified of becoming an addict.
Truthfully, everything about Clay scared the shit out of him.
They stared at their menus as if they were equally afraid to talk.
Scout hated serious discussions. For his entire life, Scout had been forced to keep a tight lid on any emotions.
Feelings were a weakness to be cut from them.
The things they had to do required a cold detachment that was unbreakable.
They couldn’t come home after murdering other human beings and feel what they had done.
Their minds would never survive it. Maybe Scout’s mind hadn’t lived on beyond his childhood.
Scout felt things. He felt them deeply. But Scout wasn’t good at expressing himself.
As much as he hated when other people didn’t communicate properly, when it came to emotions, he wasn’t very good at putting his thoughts into words.
It was a huge failing of his, actually. He would probably be a terrible boyfriend.
As badly as he wanted to keep Clay to himself, he wasn’t sure how to go about that or even if he could doom Clay to what would likely be a daily exercise in frustration for him.
Scout’s gaze lifted from the menu. He caught Clay staring. Clay smirked. Butterflies stirred in Scout’s stomach. Clay knew he could rock Scout’s world. Scout knew it too, and it fucked with him hard.
“Hey. I didn’t expect to find you here.”
A large guy with perfectly styled hair and laughing brown eyes appeared at the edge of their table.
A smile lit Clay’s face. “Jett. Hey. When did you make it to town?” Clay slid over in the booth as he questioned the new arrival… as if he knew this Jett guy a little too well.
Jett filled the empty space Clay made for him.
“Late last night. I chose the last flight so I could make sure the house was good before leaving. You know me.” His gaze slid Scout’s way.
“Who are you?” It couldn’t have been more obvious Jett was in the long line of men crushing on Clay.
He sounded exactly like he needed to know his competition.
Clay nodded Scout’s way. “This is Scout. He’s one of the Agafonov brothers.” Clay motioned Jett’s way. “This is Jett. He’s a perimeter guard and doesn’t live on property.”
Jett eyed Scout. “What’s your specialty?”
Scout held Jett’s stare, letting him see the ruthless killer inside. “I shoot fast, accurate, and don’t mind getting close and making it personal.” Clay was his. Jett needed to recognize his place and stay there.
Clay jumped in, massaging his clavicle as he spoke, as if hurting.
Oops. Scout had done that. “You should see him. He’s fucking amazing.
I’ve never seen anything like it. Scout can hit the dead center of a dozen targets, on the move, faster than you can see it happen.
He’s been trying to teach me, but I’m realizing it’s probably a skill best learned from childhood.
My vision and reflexes can’t keep up or sync the way they should to do what he does. ”
Scout couldn’t tear his gaze away from Clay throughout the entire speech. Clay looked and sounded as if Scout truly impressed him—like he was proud of Scout. Scout’s chest warmed. His throat felt kind of funny. He was like moved and shit. No one had ever bragged about him in that way before.
Jett glanced between them.
Scout saw the battle brewing inside Jett between losing hope or doubling his efforts. He had no clue which choice Jett made because he changed tactics.
Jett focused on him, turning friendlier. “I met a few of your brothers on the flight last night. Tracker, Shadow, Ridge, and Zeus.”
“Zeus isn’t my brother.”
Clay spoke over him. “Zeus is here?”
For fuck’s sake. How many men on this trip would Scout have to wade his way through to keep Clay’s attention? Goddamn. He was exhausted just thinking about it.
Jett focused on Clay and nodded. “Yeah. From what I gathered, he’s working on some project with Tracker.
So he decided to tag along and help Tracker get the house here up to the same level of security as back home.
In their downtime, they plan to put together some type of database.
They didn’t give details, and I didn’t ask. ”
Scout fought the urge to massage his temples.
He truly hoped Tracker kept Zeus out of sight and mind.
As far as Scout was concerned, Zeus was his only true competition.
Clay didn’t look at anyone else the way he did Scout and Zeus.
He honestly didn’t know which Clay would choose if given a real ultimatum.
Zeus would never want anything serious. In fact, a one-night stand was likely all anyone would get from that guy.
Unfortunately, Scout didn’t think he had much to offer someone as amazing as Clay, in the long run.
What the fuck did he know about long-term relationships?
Scout wasn’t sure if he could even be considered fully human.
The more Scout thought about the situation he had gotten himself into, the darker his mood became.
Then Clay’s foot brushed his beneath the table.
Their gazes met and held. A weight lifted from Scout’s chest, allowing him to breathe.
Happiness and a deep longing filled him.
Somehow, he would convince Clay to be with only him. No matter what it took.
Breakfast had been interesting. While Scout had been the one to suggest going out, he had acted strange, and Clay couldn’t stop overthinking it.
Before Jett interrupted, a few heated looks had passed between them.
Afterward, Scout turned quiet. Their breakfast together went from feeling like a date to eating with a couple of friends.
Clay fucking hated that. Every time he thought Scout showed signs of wanting more, Scout snatched his hope away.
Now, Clay shot moving targets in a sequestered bunker behind the vacation home.
Scout gave pointers. Clay listened and tried to forget about last night.
Last night. Holy shit. That had been the hottest night of Clay’s entire life.
Scout had acted so freaking needy. Clay didn’t think Scout had been pretending.
The begging had been in his eyes. Clay hadn’t wanted to look away.
He still fought the urge to stare into Scout’s eyes and search for Scout’s feelings.
“Let’s do this.”
Clay didn’t have time to decipher Scout’s words.
Scout pressed against his back, molding against him.
He held Clay’s wrist, guiding it to a certain target.
“Take a breath.” Scout kept him trained on the same target.
“As I move from target to target, just follow your instincts and pull the trigger. You’re overthinking each shot.
Thinking slows your reaction time. You’ve handled weapons for a long time.
You know when to shoot.” Scout said each word against the shell of Clay’s ear.
Clay was hard as steel. Scout just aroused the fuck out of him.
“Now.”
Clay pulled the trigger each time Scout pointed him toward a target.
After a few seconds, he felt the moment he should fire.
There was the slightest hint of hesitation.
Scout didn’t pause for even a full second.
But Clay was so attuned to everything about him in that moment, he didn’t miss a single thing about the way Scout held him.
The magazine emptied. Clay hit the release, and Scout slapped in another.
Clay recognized the pattern. He felt invincible.
By the time the final magazine was empty, each breath Clay took heaved in and out.
He sounded as if he had run a mile. Clay was ready to fuck.
Scout backed away, seemingly oblivious to the carnage he had caused. “You did amazing.” Scout moved to the wall and hit the button to stop the targets. Once they settled, Scout removed each target and brought it to Clay for him to inspect. Each one was marked with a number.
Scout wore a huge grin. “Look at this.” He got close again, teasing Clay with his heat.
“You started on target three.” He motioned toward two of the bullet holes.
“These were already there. You can ignore those.” He pointed out three more and went in order of when they were shot.
“This is the first one.” He moved on to the next.
“Second shot.” He moved to the third that was dead center.
“This is when my method clicked with you.” He waved a circle around the target.
“Notice these five are the only holes. You shot this individual target eight times.”
Clay was thoroughly distracted. “Did I miss the other three times?” There was a nervous chuckle with the question. Maybe he hadn’t been as tuned in as he thought.
Scout smiled. “No. You hit the center perfectly each time. That’s why this hole is slightly larger than the rest.”
Clay blinked at the target. “Really?” Truthfully, he was more impressed with Scout than with himself.
Clay already knew he couldn’t make those shots again alone.
“I can’t believe how much you saw. You knew the exact target we started with and what order each target was hit down to the bullet placement. That’s fucking amazing.”
One side of Scout’s mouth lifted in a sardonic smile. “We’re talking about you. You were impressive as hell. We haven’t even worked on rapid magazine exchange. You just automatically did it—like a pro.”