Trouble (B-Squad 2.75)

"Fuck. Tamara is right again." Isaac almost laughed out loud at the sudden confused look on Drew's face. Man, he hated to enlighten the guy—especially since it was his sister they were talking about—but someone had to and if Drew took it anywhere near as hard as Isaac had, it would hit harder than a fist ever could. "You love her."

"Tamara?" Drew asked, obviously not following along.

All the amusement drained out of Isaac's body. "Not unless you want to die slow, you moron. Leah. You're in love with Leah."

Drew didn't respond. He just stood there and glowered, his hands curled into tight fists at his side. Jesus. The man had it bad. It almost made Isaac feel bad about what had to happen next, but not enough to change plans. Balancing on the balls of his feet, he exhaled and swung his right fist at three-quarters strength connecting with Drew's cheek and sending the other man stumbling back a couple of steps.

Eyes bleeding the kind of amped-up tension that always blazed to the surface after a mission, Drew rubbed his face and shot him a dirty look. "You asshole."

Isaac shrugged, being sure to stay on guard even as his stance said nothing but good old Texas boy fun. "I've been accused of worse."

Drew launched himself at Isaac, landing an uppercut that made his teeth clang together and knocked him off balance. It was a nice shot that was gonna hurt in the morning. The other man followed through by wrapping his arms around him football style and taking him down like he was a tackling dummy at the start of two-a-days. After that it was just a series of half assed jabs and the occasional well-placed punch as they rolled on the small grassy area off to the left of the ER entrance.

"What in the hell is wrong with the both of you?" Leah's shouted question made Isaac's ears ring more than Drew's punch.

Shit. She sounded exactly like mom. The shock of it hit him so hard that he didn't dodge in time to miss Drew's final punch to his gut and all the air wheezed out of him. As he tried to get air back in his lungs, he glanced over at the ER doors where Leah stood with Tamara. Neither of them looked very impressed with either him or Drew at the moment.

"Lucky shot, dickface," he managed to get out when he could suck in a breath.

Drew didn't pay him any mind.

"Are you two done because I could really use someone who will wait with me until it's time to do the CT scan," Leah said. "The doc and Tessa talked me into it."

Thank God for Tessa Daniels, the cardiac nurse Leah had gone to high school with who'd spent her break in the ER giving his sister the what for about trying to skip out on a CT at the very least.

"I'll do it," he and Drew said at the same time, both of them scrambling up from the gra

ss.

"Can you manage it without taking another swing at each other?" Tamara asked, arms crossed and hip jutting out.

"I'm good." Oh hell, that was definitely her don't-fuck-with-me stance. Isaac turned to Drew. "You good?"

"Yeah." Drew nodded as he used his thumb to wipe away the blood at the corner of his mouth.

Like a man with only one purpose in life, he strode over to Leah. They didn't touch. They didn't have to. It was awkward just watching them look at each other as if they were having an entire conversation and then going inside without ever saying a word.

"Was all of that really necessary?" Tamara asked when he reached her side.

"Yeah." Nothing gave away a man's intentions more than a couple of rounds in the ring—or on the grass depending on the circumstances.

"Are you satisfied that I'm right?" She hooked her arm through his as they walked toward the ER doors. "Come on, I want to hear it."

That was his Tamara. She never gave up. Ever. "You're right."

"I know that hurt to say." She brushed her lips across his already bruising cheek. "Let's get in there before Leah changes her mind about the CT."

9

Leah

The rest of the hospital was a blur. In the beginning it felt like so much sit and wait, but by the end it was all hurrying from one spot to another until the doctors confirmed she didn't have a concussion and sent her on her way. That didn't mean she was totally off the hook, of course. She had to agree not to be by herself for the next twelve hours and she needed to be woken up every few hours tonight to make sure her condition hadn't changed. After that there was some more dick measuring between Isaac and Drew until she told them both to go take a flying leap but that she was going to where her bags were and that meant Drew's house. That was her story anyway. The truth, she only admitted to herself when Drew pulled into his garage, hustled around to the passenger side, and helped her out before leading her into the kitchen.

One touch from him and she was home, safe with the man she loved. After everything that had happened tonight she wasn't going to ask why, she was just going with what she knew in her gut was right—and that was being with him. He went into the house first, tension clear in the unforgiving lines of his shoulders and the hard edge to his jaw. He was just as tuned up as she was, heat and a dangerous volatility emanated from him in waves.

"I gotta warn you," he said, positioning his body so it blocked her line of sight. "The living room's still a mess."

She flinched and her hand flew to her swollen cheek, not meaning to but unable to help it. Drew's arms were around her before her brain registered her reaction to the mention of the room where she'd fought and lost to Curtis.