“It’s not that. If anything she’s pushing the accelerator. It’s just…I like her. More than like her, and that bear in a cage in my head? I let it out, you know, in Fallujah or Kandahar, but when shit happens with her…”
“The bear wants to come out,” Ren finished.
“I like that bear,” Steady added absently, reaching for Tox’s plate of wings.
Cam nodded, “We all like that bear when it’s saving our asses.”
“Dude, there’s nothing wrong with a little bit of bear in a relationship,” Steady added.
“Bear in the bedroom,” Cam joked.
“Look at North for fuck sake.” Nathan “North” Bishop guarded his family with an irrational ferocity. Ren went on. “Your problem is you haven’t had the opportunity to see how the bear behaves around civilians. Shit, the way you were with women when we were active, you wouldn’t have had time to find the key to the cage before you were out the door.”
Cam lifted his shot glass in a fuck yeah toast.
“Excuse me, ladies. I saw you sitting here looking lonely, thought I’d buy you a round of drinks.”
Finn McIntyre stood behind Chat holding a tray full of tequila shots. The men jumped to their feet and embraced their brother, grabbing a glass as they did. Finn had been injured in an IED explosion, his movie-star looks marred on half his face by scars from burns and metal fragments. His injury and subsequent capture had birthed a rage in Finn that eclipsed the happy-go-lucky guy they once knew. These days, he rarely left a bar without leaving someone unconscious on the floor. Like Cam, Finn worked as a CIA non-official cover officer, hunting down some of the worst criminals in the world. He had a lot to be angry about.
“You guys want limes and salt?” The waitress stood at the table, eager to engage the troops.
Finn downed his shot, the damaged nerves in his scarred face allowing only half a smile. “No training wheels needed darlin’.”
Steady toasted him. “Hey Spook, what brings you by? Slow day at Langley?”
Finn held his trademark poker face as he swung a chair from a neighboring table and joined the group. “Got some leave. Thought I’d head up for a visit. Twitch knew where to find you.”
“That’s convenient timing,” Ren noted.
Finn chuckled. “Need-to-know, asshole.”
Cam smacked Finn on the back. “Just in the nick of time. Your swim buddy’s been bitten by the love bug.”
Finn gave Tox an analytical glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Tox spun his empty glass on the table. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“Uh-huh.” Finn knew his friend like he knew himself. “Relax, big man. You just haven’t fucked her yet. Hell, I’m obsessed with the redhead at the bar, but I’ll be over it before the condom hits the trash.”
“Not every redhead.” Ren chuckled under his breath.
“What’s that, Ren?” Finn challenged.
“Nothing. By all means, continue your lecture on the virtues of the hump and dump.”
“Doesn’t seem like your area of expertise, brother.” Finn snapped. “The most action you see is watching the sales girls change the clothes on department store mannequins.”
“Just because you’ve conducted more research, doesn’t mean you’ve gained more insight, Finn.” Ren held his ground.
The group sat in silence waiting to see if Ren had lit Finn’s very short fuse. Finally, Finn grabbed an unclaimed shot, downed it, and smiled. “I’ll keep experimenting. Let you know when I have a breakthrough.”
Cam laughed. “Well, the redhead looks like she’s otherwise occupied.”
Finn glanced over his shoulder to see a balding guy hovering in the redhead’s personal space. Finn waggled his empty shot glass at the waitress and indicated a round for the table. “Nah, it’s too early to leave with a chump. I’ll move in when she shuts him down.” He snagged a wing. “The second mouse gets the cheese.”
The men chuckled.
“I take it you heard about our little discovery.” Ren broke the ice.