I cast a sidelong glance in Dante’s direction and saw that he was staring out the window. His foot was tapping incessantly on the floor, causing his whole leg to bounce and I had the insane urge to put my hand on his thigh to try and settle him. His right hand was at his mouth, his fingers worrying his lower lip. I’d never seen him so agitated before – yeah, he was the high-energy type, but I would have expected him to lash out with some inappropriate comment to deal with his frustration rather than bottle it up.
I focused my attention back on the road. Traffic was heavy as we neared our destination and I dreaded what was to come. I wasn’t at all fazed about testifying in the upcoming trial, though I knew the high powered defense team was going to come at me with everything they had. No, what had my chest hurting and my head still throbbing was the realization that within the next half an hour, I was going to be officially closing out this chapter of my life.
All I’d ever wanted to be from the time I was old enough to start dreaming about my future, was a cop. But not just any cop. No, I’d wanted to be a Texas Ranger. It was in my blood…literally. My grandfather on my father’s side had been a Ranger and he’d often taken me to the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum in Waco when I’d been Matty’s age and regaled me with stories about his nearly forty-year career as a Ranger. Over the next four years, he’d spent every moment we’d been together preparing me for the day I’d walk in his footsteps and despite my young age, like a sponge, I’d soaked up everything he’d told me. I’d resolved to myself to have all the qualities Rangers were valued for and I’d even started learning to shoot a gun shortly before my grandfather died. I’d been rudderless after his passing, but my dreams to follow the same career path had never subsided, even as my life had begun to fall apart around me when my parents split up a few months later.
I pushed away the dark thoughts that started to drift through me and focused on my too quiet passenger. I hadn’t heard the girls leave this morning, but I was still struggling with what their presence had meant…well, not so much what it had meant, but my reaction to the whole situation. Just like when I’d walked in on Dante in the bathroom with the guy at the wedding, I’d been unreasonably angry. The part I was trying to understand was why I was so damn angry. It wasn’t like I had any say in what he did – he was free to do whatever and whoever the hell he wanted and I’d long ago accepted that he tended to think with his dick first. But how was that different from a lot of guys? Why did his behavior piss me off?
You know why, you jealous bastard.
I flinched as the words tumbled through me. How the fuck could I be jealous?
Over a man.
It just wasn’t possible. I wasn’t into guys. Whatever physical reaction I was having to Dante had to be related to how much he pissed me off.
It just wasn’t fucking possible!
“Magnus, it’s green.” It wasn’t Dante’s voice that broke through my fog of self-denial. No, it was the sensation that burned my skin where his hand was resting on my arm. Even with a layer of fabric between his skin and mine, I couldn’t ignore the electricity that surged through me.
“What?” I asked dumbly as my eyes fixated on Dante’s long, strong fingers. Would they feel good on my cock or too hard and rough?
“The light, it’s green,” he repeated and it wasn’t until several car horns began blasting behind us that I realized I’d missed the stoplight changing. Hell, I didn’t even remember stopping at the damn light.
“Sorry,” I muttered, though I wasn’t sure why I was apologizing to him.
I pulled my arm away from his hand and forced my eyes back to the road in front of me.
“You okay?” I heard him ask.
No.
“Yep,” I said as casually as I could. I ignored him as I concentrated on the traffic around us and didn’t speak again until I’d parked the car in the underground garage beneath the office building that served as Ranger headquarters. Before Dante could get out of the car I said, “You should stay here.”
It wasn’t a surprise when he muttered, “Not fucking happening, Pop-pop,” but when he reached for the door handle, I grabbed his left bicep. I ignored the not entirely unpleasant sensation that traveled up the length of my arm.
“Are you carrying?” I asked.