Ranger's Baby Surprise (Special Forces Elite 2)

“I’ve got a twenty-four hour layover,” she whispered.

“Thanks.” I grinned before ducking out of the jet.

“Call me, Sam.”

I ran my hands through my dark hair and shook my head.

I wasn’t going to pretend I couldn’t get any woman I wanted. I knew how they looked at me. How they licked their lips when I walked by. I worked hard for this body. I spent endless hours in the gym lifting weights and working with my cross-fit trainers. It didn’t happen overnight, but I looked like a god when I took the field. There were painful weeks and months of sweat and hard work that went into creating the physical machine I had become. I didn’t care if I was eye-candy to them—the season started tomorrow and they were background noise.

I’d throw her number away as soon as I found a trashcan. No distractions. No women. Tomorrow night the spotlight was on all of us, and I had to show the world Sam Hickson was more than a lucky first-year rookie. I was as much a champion as Wes Blakefield. I had a career ahead of me that would blow all the numbers out of the fucking world.

I smiled at the cameras and walked past Wes. He was still answering questions. There was a bus waiting to take us the hotel. I hopped up the stairs, feeling the coldness of the air conditioning rush over my head. The season opener was all that mattered now.

There were two different playbooks. I stretched my legs on the hotel bed and picked up the one designed for Warriors games. We had our own set of rules when we faced them. I had been over it at least twenty times before tonight, but I wanted to review the plays again.

“Sam, you in there?”

I sat up when I heard Stubbs’ loud voice and his fist pounding on my door. I walked over and opened it.

“Hey, man. What’s going on?”

“We’re going out,” he announced.

“Out?”

He grinned. “Hell, yeah. We need to blow off some steam. You’re coming with us.”

I shook my head. “I’m studying.”

“You sure you’re not still a fucking rookie?”

I glared at him. “Maybe I’m the only one who wants to win tomorrow night.”

He laughed in my face. “No, you’re the only fucker who thinks studying will make a difference. We’ve got this game. So come on. We’re going out.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Do you know where we are?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. It was rhetorical, so I waited for him to answer for me.

“We’re in fucking A

ustin. Where the Warriors live. Where they eat. Where they drink. Where people think they aren’t the biggest dicks on the planet.”

“What’s your point, Stubbs?”

He crossed his arms. “Not only are we going to beat them tomorrow night, but we’re also going to beat them tonight. We’ll drink their liquor. Hit on their women. Party like they could only dream.”

The Wranglers liked to party. No—the Wranglers liked wicked debauchery. We threw the kind of parties you couldn’t mention at Thanksgiving dinner. Last year, as the ring leader of the rookie class, I was responsible for the Dean. It was a tradition to give the veterans a party that satisfied their every sinful need. And I did a pretty damn good job. We had high-stakes poker, strippers, and top-shelf liquor, and no one left without an A-list blowjob. But that didn’t mean I was up for it tonight. Things were different. I wasn’t a rookie anymore. I had to prove myself and I wanted that damn bonus this season.

“Get your ass out here, Sam,” Stubbs ordered.

“I’ll meet you.”

“Like hell you will.” He jammed his foot in the door. “Get your wallet and keys.”

I hung my head. Damn it. This was the last thing I wanted to do right now. Stubbs’ grin said everything when I met him in the hallway. Tonight was going to be Wrangler-level epic.