Feeling Hot (25 page)

Brendan’s nostrils flared. “Who the hell do you think you are, ordering me around? I don’t know you, asshole. And you know
nothing
about my relationship with—”

“Again with this relationship bullshit?” Cash sighed. “Just nod and tell me you understand, buddy. If you don’t, the only relationship you’ll be having is the one with my fist.”

Dylan snickered.

On Cash’s other side, Seth reached into his pocket for a pack of Marlboros. He extracted a smoke and lit up, looking bored as he inhaled, but the deadly look in his eyes belied his casual pose. Seth could rip Brendan to pieces in a nanosecond, if the provocation presented itself.

Brendan went silent, his eyes shifting from one man to the other. Then, as if he knew he was beaten, he mumbled a curse and said, “Fine. I won’t bother her again. Happy, asshole?”

“Ecstatic. Now that we’ve cleared all this up, you can—”

The right hook blindsided Cash.

Fortunately, he saw the fist coming at his nose at the last second and shifted his head so that Brendan missed the intended target. The blow sliced into the corner of Cash’s mouth instead. His bottom lip snagged on his teeth and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth.

Oh,
hell
no.

As Jen’s ex charged forward with a second attack, Cash struck him with a jab that made the man’s head snap back. With a roar, Brendan threw another punch, which Cash easily blocked. Blood continued to pour from the side of his mouth, but he didn’t bother wiping it away. Anger pulsed in his veins, and his vision became a red haze. Blocking the fists swinging in his direction, Cash sidestepped and got his arms around the man from behind.

“Are you done?” he demanded as he secured Brendan in a chest lock.

“Screw you!” was the sputtered response. And then the guy elbowed him in the jaw before spinning around and landing a lucky kick on Cash’s groin.

Years of training had taught him to ignore the pain zipping through his balls. Without so much as flinching, he drew his arm back, prepared to pummel the asshole’s pretty mug again, but Seth’s fist beat him to it.

A sickening crunch sounded in the air.

Blood erupted from Brendan’s nose and his hands flew to his face. “You fucking asshole!” he shrieked. “You broke my nose!”

Seth just chuckled. “Shouldn’t have played dirty, going for McCoy’s balls like that. A broken nose seemed like suitable punishment.”

Cash stared at Jen’s ex, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction from the unnatural tilt of the guy’s nose and the blood flowing freely from his nostrils.

Seth retreated and walked over to Dylan, who had watched the entire scuffle with visible amusement.

Cash got in Brendan’s face again, narrowing his eyes. “This is your last warning. Stay away from Jen. If you try to make contact again, my friends and I will pay you another visit, and trust me, next time you’ll have a lot more than a broken nose.”

He stepped back just as sirens wailed from a distance.

Shit.

Cash caught the flicker of alarm on Dylan’s face, the resignation in Seth and Jackson’s expressions.

A car door slammed and footsteps thudded into the alley.

He didn’t need to turn around to know what awaited them.

“This is the San Diego PD! Hands in the air!”

Chapter Ten

Coming up with excuses not to go after what you want won’t achieve a damn thing.

Jen couldn’t get those words out of her head as she wandered around the apartment. After Cash left, she’d tried occupying herself by posting some photos on her blog, but her heart hadn’t been in it. Sifting through her photographs, she’d kept thinking back to everything Cash had said. Ordering her to stop making excuses and
man up
. Accusing her of letting her parents’ criticism erode her self-esteem.

His words had hurt, but not for the reason he’d clearly believed. He hadn’t damaged her pride or hurt her feelings. No, what he’d done was voice the truth she’d been too blind to see.

She’d always told herself that photography was just a hobby. The thought of pursuing it on a professional level had crossed her mind once or twice, but her lack of experience and education had held her back. Better to call it something she did in her spare time and leave it as that.

But who was she kidding? Photography was her one and only passion, the only thing in her life that made her feel contented and confident. Cash was right. She couldn’t make excuses any longer. She chose to work at pointless dead-end jobs not because she didn’t have any other options, not because she sucked at everything else, but because she was too scared to pursue the one thing that made her happy.

Biting her lip, she paused in the middle of the living room, wishing Cash would come home already so she could explain that she wasn’t angry with
him
, but with herself. For being a damn scaredy-cat and letting her parents and her own self-doubt hold her back for so long.

Where the hell is he
?

She stalked into the kitchen to check the time, frowning when she noticed it was past eight already. He was supposed to meet Brendan at six thirty, and she couldn’t imagine the confrontation lasting this long.

And that was another thing—why had he insisted on confronting her ex-boyfriend? Cash possessed some serious protective instincts, but she got the feeling this was about more than protecting her. This was about him…staking a claim.

Her teeth dug deeper into her lower lip. Was Cash developing deeper feelings for her?

Was she developing deeper feelings for
him
?

No, of course not. This was just a fling. A fling that would end in a week and a half.

Does it have to?

Did it?

Yes.

Well, maybe.

She took pause, weighing the notion in her head. Her cheeks scorched as she thought about all the spectacular sex they’d been having. And the threesome…God, the threesome. Her body still tingled at the memory, and yet as amazing as last night had been, she wasn’t looking for a repeat performance. A fantasy fulfilled, that was how she viewed it, and she couldn’t see the whole ménage thing becoming a habit.

Besides, Cash McCoy didn’t need outside assistance to satisfy her. The man was perfectly capable of driving her wild all by his lonesome.

But his superior bedroom skills weren’t the only things she liked about him. He might be gruff and intense at times, but he was also funny, sweet, smart…and a military man to the core. He’d confessed his desire to go to officer school, which told her he was committed to the military life, and he was still young, which meant he had at least another decade or two before he rode a desk at the base.

Regret rippled through her. No matter how much she liked Cash, she didn’t want that kind of life. She’d already watched her mother struggle, and now she had to watch her sister-in-law suffer the same fate, spending long stretches apart from her husband, unable to talk to him anymore because they felt like strangers.

When a knock came on the door, Jen made a beeline for the front hall, needing the distraction. She peered into the peephole and found her brother’s cloudy blue eyes staring back at her. Instantly, her mood sank even lower. She hadn’t spoken to Carson since she and Cash had witnessed his coffee date with that redhead, and she was not looking forward to the argument that lay ahead.

“What’s up?” Carson said once she let him in. “Your messages sounded cryptic. All seven of them.”

He looked annoyed as he followed her into the living room. “Want something to drink?” she asked, stalling.

“No.” He flopped down on the couch and glanced around warily. “Where’s McCoy?”

She sighed. “Being a hero.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means the big, bad soldier is determined to have it out with Brendan.” She settled in the armchair and tucked her knees into her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “Brendan managed to get my cell number from Tessa.”

“Psycho McGee was bothering Tessa? And Cash is meeting with him now? Where?”

When her brother started to get up, Jen said, “Oh, sit down already. Cash is probably on his way home, so you’d be too late to back him up.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

Suspicion crept into his voice. “Why did McCoy go after Brendan?”

“He’s just being a good friend.” She quickly changed the subject before he could grill her further. “I talked to Holly, by the way.”

Carson’s shoulders stiffened. “When?”

“Sunday, after we left Mom and Dad’s house. She told me you two aren’t connecting.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Jenny.” Visible discomfort creased her brother’s features.

“Tough shit, because you’re going to.”

She took a breath. How on earth did she even start?
Hey, big brother, are you cheating on your wife?
The direct approach probably would be best, but a part of her didn’t want to ask the question for fear of what his answer would be.

Exhaling, she slid her knees down and placed her palms on her thighs. “Look, I need to ask you something. I know it’s none of my business, but I—”

A cell phone rang.

She suppressed a groan as Carson held up his hand and said, “I gotta get this.” He fished his phone out of his pocket. “Hey, Beck, what’s doing?”

Jen’s heart dropped. Beck. Thomas Becker, Carson’s CO.

Carson listened for a few seconds, a frown marring his mouth. The frown deepened the longer Becker talked, and then Carson said, “Fucking hell!” and shot to his feet. “Yeah, I’ll meet you there.”

She stood up too, fighting a tremor of panic. “What’s wrong? Are you going overseas?”

“No,” he said in a clipped tone.

“Then what’s going on?”

“What’s going on? McCoy and his band of idiots got arrested,
that’s
what’s going on.”

“
What
?”

Carson was already marching to the door. “I’ve gotta go. Someone needs to bail their sorry asses out of jail.”

“Wait, I’m coming with you!”

He glanced over his shoulder and shot her a firm look. “Out of the question. You’re staying here and locking the door behind me. I’ll call you when I know more.” And then he strode out the door, slamming it loudly behind him.

“Great job, McCoy. Great fucking job.”

Cash scowled at Seth from across the holding cell. “Nobody asked you to join in and defend my honor.”

“They would’ve hauled me in either way. Texas and Wade didn’t take a swing and they’re still in jail.”

Seth was sprawled on one of the long metal benches, his cloudy gray eyes fixed on a cracked piece of plaster on the ceiling. On the other side of the cell, Cash and Jackson sat side by side, their heads resting against the cement block wall, legs stretched out. Dylan had been pacing the concrete floor in front of the iron bars for the past hour.

The four of them were the holding cell’s sole occupants. Ironic, how the asshole who’d thrown the first punch was conspicuously absent, but when the cops showed up at the alley, Brendan had sprinted toward the cavalry and proceeded to spin a sordid tail in which he, the poor victim, had been jumped by four goons who’d broken his nose. The two uniformed officers took one look at the four SEALs and the cuffs had come out.

The last thing Cash heard before being carted toward the squad car was Brendan’s announcement that he was pressing charges against his assailants. Lying asshole.

Across the cell, Dylan finally quit pacing and turned to face the group, his broad shoulders slumped. “Shit, we’re totally gonna do hard time for this.”

Cash rolled his eyes. “We won’t do hard time. It was just a brawl.”

“Didn’t you ever see
Con Air
? Nicolas Cage ends up in prison for a
brawl
. Know why? Because his body is considered a lethal weapon thanks to his military training.”

“But didn’t he kill a bunch of dudes?” Jackson pointed out. “And then there was that scene where Harrison Ford is all
Get off my plane
. Best movie line ever.”

“That’s
Air Force One
, dumbass,” Seth said with a grin. “But yeah, I think Nic Cage accidentally killed someone. See, Wade, we’re fine. Nobody got accidentally murdered tonight.”

Dylan didn’t seem to be listening. Scraping a hand through his blond hair, he glared at Cash and said, “I can’t go to prison. It’ll break my mother’s heart. And you know I’ll be fighting off would-be rapists left and right.”

Seth snorted. “You already like it up the ass, so what’s the problem?”

“Ha ha. I’m dying of laughter here.” Dylan looked frazzled. “Fuck, those inmates will be all over me. I’m too good-looking to resist.”

Everyone snickered.

“Conceited much?” Jackson drawled.

Dylan stared down the Texan. “You saying I’m not good-looking enough to attract a bunch of lonely, horny prisoners?”

“No, just saying if we’re basing it on looks, I think I’d be the one holding the rapists at bay,” Jackson replied. “The ladies never stop raving about my face. And my fine ass.”