Iris (Mike Bravo Ops 1)

I whip out my phone, get the evidence I need, and then hightail it over the back fence.

Instead of jumping numerous more fences, I walk down the side of this house and out to the street. Only, I’m not expecting anyone to be standing on the front porch.

It’s a sweet-looking old couple who eye me warily.

“Sorry. I was visiting my girlfriend.” I thumb behind me. “And then her husband came home. Oops.” I leave their stunned faces and run down the street to Atlas and the car.

I climb in the passenger seat. “Op’s over. Let’s get out of here.”

“What was it?” Trav asks.

“Want to know why Rowling calls burner phones a lot? It’s not some big drug conspiracy. He has a mistress.”

“Shit,” Trav hisses. “Did you get photos?”

“Yep. I can send them through—”

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I get the sneaking suspicion we’ve been played. There’s been talk of Rowling possibly taking a run at state senator, and I’m assuming the people who hired us don’t want him to get that far. We were never looking for drugs. They wanted us to uncover this so if it ever got out, we could be blamed and their hands are clean while Rowling’s political career dies at the local level. That’s not our job. Delete the photos, and get out of there.”

Trav sounds pissed. Someone in a very important political position is about to get reamed. I half wish I could see it, but then I remind myself Trav can be scary when he wants to be, and seeing it is intimidating.

“So that’s it?” I ask.

“Yep. Go home. You too, Saint.” Trav clicks out of the conversation.

“Race you home?” I say to Saint.

“Last one home bottoms tonight.”

“Deal.”

Atlas covers one ear with his hand, having to keep the other on the steering wheel. “Ah, la, la, la, la, la I don’t want to know.”

“See you soon,” I sing at Saint and then take out my comms. I turn to Atlas. “Drive slow.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Saint

For the first time since everything went down in Udoola, my life has finally got a sense of normalcy to it. Which is weird in itself because I’ve never done the domestic thing before. Hell, I’ve never had anything that resembled a relationship. But there’s no denying everything with Iris comes naturally.

Working for Mike Bravo and learning the tech side of things has been fun and interesting, and like most things, I’ve picked it up easily. My favorite part is that I don’t have to be at my physical peak. I still need to work out, and Trav makes sure we’re all taking care of ourselves and maintaining the muscle mass and strength we need to be on his team, but the pressure to be the best no longer sits on my shoulders, and it’s the lightest I’ve felt in … possibly ever.

The PTSD symptoms I’d been experiencing have slowly dissipated, but that hasn’t stopped me from wanting answers.

I still can’t remember the ambush in the desert, and no matter how many times Iris or Trav tell me that knowing might be worse than having fuzzy snippets, I’m sticking with hypnotherapy, even though that’s not really working either.

After another failed therapy session where he could only pull the same confusing memories I’ve already relived a thousand times, I leave my therapist’s office with my head low and throw myself into the passenger seat of Iris’s car.

“I take it from that look on your face that you couldn’t slay your inner demons today?”

“A bit hard to do when I don’t even know what those demons are,” I mutter.

“Want me to take you for ice cream to reward you for being such a good boy?”

I glance over at him. “I’d rather a different kind of reward, maybe without the condescension.”

Iris smiles. “Would I really be me if I did that?”

“Nope, but I am hoping you can replace my disappointment with a form of your own.” I reach over and run my hand up his thigh.

“Did you just call my dick a disappointment?”

“Dare you to prove me wrong?”

“Wow, you’re desperate for a hard fuck, aren’t you? That has to be the only reason you’d goad me like this. And so far away from home that you want to drive me mad the whole way.”

“I really need it,” I say. “If I can’t remember what happened to me, then I want to forget. I want you to turn me inside out until I stop obsessing over something I can’t control. I want you to fuck me so hard that tomorrow it’ll hurt to sit. Every twinge, every ache, I’ll think of you instead of this helplessness that won’t go away.”

Iris grips the steering wheel tight with one hand while the other presses down on his erection pushing against his pants.

“It’s been so long since you’ve been inside me,” I say.