37. Thirty-Seven
The highest compliment I can pay to the mush in front of me would be calling it food. It’s rehydrated something or other, and I know, without putting it in my mouth, it’s gritty and lacks any real flavor.
I feel like I’m playing chicken right now, staring at the plate and waiting to see who blinks first. The rapidly cooling pesto chicken or my stomach, whose growling is escalating at an alarming pace. My lip curls. Today, just like every day with these god-awful meal packs, my stomach wins.
I’m halfway through choking down the meat when Madeline walks into the dining hall. Her hair is twisted up into a towel, and her cheeks are slightly flushed, like the heat of the shower is still working its way out of her. My dick absolutely takes notice of her presence.
I’m caught off guard by my disappointment when I notice she’s wearing her own clothes. Somehow, over the past few weeks, I’ve become accustomed to seeing her body swallowed up by one of our shirts.
It’s odd to be upset that she’s not wearing my sweats, or Tuck’s shirt, but I like her, and I love when the evidence of our presence is wrapped around her body.
“Hey there.” I throw her my best smile for good measure, making sure to angle my head and give her the best view of that dimple I know she can’t get enough of.
“Hey yourself.” Her smile makes me feel giddy as she continues her carefree stride over to me.
“How was training with Boss Man?”
Her eyes dart away from mine at the same time she starts to chew a little on her inner cheek. The redness on her face doesn’t deepen, but I don’t need it to. I knew something was going to go down when I was barred from the room.
Absolute feral delight takes control of me, and I can’t keep the smile on my face from spreading into a full-on grin.
“Oh, you’ve gotta tell me everything.”
She pulls her lower lip between her teeth, biting down a little, the movement captivates me entirely.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says as a tease, bobbing her head from side to side playfully.
She denies me now, but the shine in her eyes shows me she’s just as eager to tell me as I am to hear about it.
“Oh, come on, Princess. Are you going to make me force it out of you?” I lean forward, sliding my food away and resting my weight on my forearms. I lick my lips, knowing that my promise is sitting clearly on my face.
Her eyes narrow, and her chin dips slightly. When she squares her shoulders, I know she understands the challenge. Desire is plastered all over her face and I can feel my body tightening, anticipating the sweet torture I’m going to put her through. She might think she can withstand my methods, but I know I could get her singing in no time.
I groan. I just want to throw her onto this table and edge her so thoroughly she’s begging to tell me every dirty little detail. I nearly get out of my seat to make my move when Boss Man himself strides into the room, a manila folder loaded with thick stacks of paper in hand.
Huh, he still looks pretty much the same.
I would have thought finally letting go with our girl would shift something, but here he is, still wearing his grouchy asshole persona. Still with a grimace that might as well be his suit of armor.
The grimace that’s a little more lopsided than usual.
Dane looks directly at me and I nearly fall out of my seat.
A three inch long gash mars his right cheek. It’s pulled together with uneven, sloppy stitches. I know without asking he did them himself, and it’s going to become one hell of a nasty scar.
Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to conceal the immense pride radiating out of me. She fucking did it. She cut him, and she’s sitting here in front of me blushing at her handiwork.
I whip my head back in her direction, my wide eyes begging her to tell me everything and put me out of my misery, but her coy smile moves only enough for her to mouth the word “Later.” I hold her stare and lean back a little, I will get the story out of her, and I can’t fucking wait.
Two more sets of feet wander into the dining hall, and the whole gang’s back together. Tucker’s eyes go wide at Dane’s new battle wound, and Silas tenses, his whole body going rigid for a second before he settles his weight and rolls his shoulders, shaking off the tension.
Weird.
“She got the best of me,” Dane bites out when none of us are willing to break the silence.
Tucker’s face is set with pure, unfiltered awe, his green eyes blazing. Same. I don’t care how she did it, if she distracted him with her wiles or if she just surprised him with her speed and technique. It’s a hell of a feat, and she will absolutely be rewarded for it.
Figuring out how is going to be fun.
“Are we done gawking?” Dane’s sharp reprimand pulls me away from all the dirty, sweaty, wild possibilities, and shoves me squarely back into work mode. “I’ve made changes since we left the house, and we need to be on the same page.” He sits down at the table in front of me, cutting his gaze at my half eaten MRE before dropping his file. It thuds heavily, and I inwardly groan at the massive dump of information we’re about to receive as I move my plate to the next closest table.
The only thing I really want to know is if I get to blow anything up again, but that hope is thoroughly crushed over the next forty minutes.
Turns out there will be no pyro for me when we sneak into the building in only three days’ time, but that’s not what ratchets up my anxiety. It’s the reminder that Tucker’s going to be walking into the building unarmed and unprotected.
Despite all the changes, he’s still going to be our in, posing as someone from the janitorial company the Giordano’s contract to do a deep clean every time they leave for more than a day.
I hate the idea.
I hate the plan.
I hate that he’s going to be so vulnerable the whole time, but I don’t protest. I wouldn’t dare question the obsessive planning Dane’s been putting into this for as long as I can remember. As long as we all do our part, as long as we’re all prepared, we have a shot. We have the best chance of getting out of this if we stick to all of the points he’s outlined for us. To keep Tucker safe, we have to follow every instruction to the letter, especially all the backups that have been set up.
Madeline seems to be the most locked in of all of us. Not a second passes without her being completely focused and asking question after question, prodding at any weak points she might see in the plan, but every question she asks reveals Dane hasn’t left a single possibility unaccounted for. Through his obsession, he’s thought of everything that could go wrong. Everything that could compromise our safety. Every hole she tries to poke in the plan, and every solution he gives starts to loosen the knot in my stomach.
This plan is solid. We’re going to be okay. Tucker is going to be okay.I have to remind myself of all this, have to drill it into my mind to keep from freaking out.
Dane distributes several identical packets each bound together with a paperclip.
“Familiarize yourself with these. Everything you need to know is here.”
He doesn’t excuse himself before he stands and moves to leave, even this mundane movement calculated and controlled.
“Take her up top. Teach her to shoot.” The command is tossed over his shoulder like an afterthought, as if he somehow just remembered she was present here with us.
We all sit, unmoving at the table, wrapped up in our stunned silence. A combination of shock from the plans, the time we actually have to ready ourselves, and lingering pride over the gash on Dane’s cheek keeps us locked in place.
We have to pull it together. I have to pull it together.
I can’t be shell shocked before the bomb has even dropped. So I reel in the anxiety, pull the lingering terror back into myself, and tamp down on my worry for Tucker.
“You heard the man. Let’s get a gun in your hands.” My voice doesn’t betray the lingering tension, and my smile is enough to convince Madeline I’m not one wrong step from falling apart.
Her responding joy sends a little bit of a shiver through me, she’s ready for anything.
This is going to be a fun distraction.