Chapter 27Wren
“Where is she?” Jude asks, his eyes darting around several of the other guys to look down the hallway.
“Sleeping,” I answer, surprised they’ve been here for ten minutes before someone asked about her.
“In your bed?” Finnegan questions, mirth filling his eyes like he’s not so certain I could seal the deal with any chick.
“Get serious guys.” I give Flynn a look of thanks for saving my ass.
“You better come up with a better plan,” I mutter, returning us back to the original conversation. “Because this shit isn’t going to fly.”
Ignacio chuckles, and no matter how much I know deep down he’d never try to go after my girl, I’m still a little uneasy with him being in the same apartment as her. She wants me. That’s clear as day with the way her eyes light up around me, but I’m still floored by her reaction to him last night. First the words, then the redness in her cheeks. It was unbearable.
The guys watch me as I step away from the counter to pour yet another cup of coffee. I spent half the night tossing and turning, trying to figure out a way to end this shitshow as quickly as possible and the other half going in and out of the guest bedroom to make sure she was okay.
I’m exhausted, and I know she must be feeling the same way. She didn’t shift or lift her head once when I creeped in there last night. Even Simon reacted the first couple of times.
“We’re not saying use her as bait, Wren,” Flynn says, his voice low like he’s trying to coax a scared puppy out from under the porch.
“We’re saying make it look like she’s bait,” Ignacio adds.
“You already set up some of it by using her real name for her plane ticket yesterday. If he’s tracking her like we know he is, then he knows she’s already back here,” Flynn continues.
“Your plan falls apart because she didn’t go home or use her name for a hotel room last night. He doesn’t know she’s here. Don’t you think he’ll be suspicious if two nights later she finally pops up on a manifest somewhere?” I sigh, rubbing my hands over my face, willing my eyes to stop feeling like sandpaper. “He’s too smart for that.”
“He’s desperate,” Finn says. “He won’t be able to resist checking up on any leads.”
“And what keeps him from sending some gun-toting thug like the fucking Russians did with Deacon and Anna a couple of months ago, huh? It’s too fucking dangerous.”
“For who?” Jude snaps. “She’ll be here with you. Not to point out the obvious, but this is what we fucking do, Wren. It’s literally just another day.”
“It’s not just another day. She’s not just another client.”
I pace the length of the kitchen, talking myself out of destroying my personal space. Plus, I don’t want Whitney to wake up in the middle of all of this.
“She is,” Flynn snaps. “She is another client, and I realize you’re close to this and right in the fucking middle of it, but so was Anna. Who was also another fucking client, and you know that we’d give our lives for any fucking one of them. We make that commitment when we sign that contract. That’s why we make sure they’re fucking worth it before we start. We would’ve died for Anna in South America or the Maldives, just like we’d die for Whitney in some shitty hotel on the other side of town if that’s the way it ends up.”
“I want to be there,” I concede, unable to look Flynn in the eyes as he seethes beside me.
“Absolutely not.”
“No way, dude.”
“Fuck no.”
They all chorus their own responses, but they boil down to a resounding no.
“I’m a part of this,” I argue.
“You’ve done your part,” Ignacio says, his fingers tapping on the closed cover of my laptop.
“Let us do ours,” Flynn adds.
“I can’t. I need to be—”
“Wren?”
We all spin around, and suddenly my mind is no longer on arguing to play a part in taking down Jones at a seedy hotel room. All I can focus on is Whitney standing at the end of the hall, hair in tangles around her shoulders. She has an adorable crease on her face and an embarrassed smile on her face. I watch her throat swallow, figuring out that she called my name before she discovered all the guys standing around me.
“Nice pussy,” Ignacio says.
Flynn groans, and Jude chuckles.
My eyes dart to the apex of her thighs, but she’s wearing sleep shorts. They’re not indecent, but the tank top barely holding her tits is another story.
Simon is a happy boy this morning, purring and circling around her legs like he’s finally forgiven her for torturing him for several days.
“I love ginger pussy,” Finn interjects.
Everyone cackles, and even Flynn cracks a smile. I know they’re testing me. They probably took bets and planned this shit out to see who could make me lose my shit first.