Ignite (Unbreakable Bonds 7)

“JB, this is Rowe Ward. My boyfriend. I’ve already been shot at once. He’s here to cover my back.” He wanted to reach out and force JB to lower his weapon, but he didn’t want Rowe to accidentally get shot. “Rowe, put your damn gun down.”

A second ticked by. And then another, before JB slowly lowered his gun. Rowe hesitated another second before doing the same. But he didn’t put it away as he continued to glare at JB.

Sighing loudly, Noah pulled free of JB’s hold and stepped around his friend to cross the room. He roughly brushed past Rowe and flipped the lock back into the room so he could close the door and secure it. No need to make it so easy for someone else to follow them into the room.

“Boyfriend, huh?” JB said. There was a lightness to his voice that had Noah inwardly cringing. Fuck, he did not need JB throwing more fuel on the fire. “Sorry about the kiss. You didn’t mention a boyfriend.”

Noah turned and glared at JB. It was still hard to stay mad at him. The kid, though it was hard to call him that when he had to be at least thirty-three or thirty-four by now, had the sweetest face and an adorable smile on just-fuck-me lips. And yeah, Noah knew firsthand exactly how fuckable those lips were, which he’d have to hash out with Rowe. Not that it should matter. That past had happened while Rowe was married to Melissa, but he was pretty damn confident that Rowe would have a problem with it.

“That call was the first time we’ve talked in years. When you told me that Paul and Chris were dead, I didn’t think it was a good time to give you an update on my love life,” Noah snapped, wiping the smile from his handsome face.

JB seemed to deflate right in front of them, his shoulders slumping. He shoved his gun into the holster on his hip and his hands hung empty at his sides.

Noah stepped up and slapped Rowe’s shoulder, nodding toward the gun he still held. Rowe glared wordlessly at him for a second, but he tucked his own gun away and crossed his arms over his chest. Oh yeah, they were gonna have words. Angry ones.

“JB, this is my boyfriend, Rowe Ward,” he formally introduced. “Rowe, this is JB Alexander. We served together. Former Ranger and hell of a good soldier. And a good friend.”

JB extended his hand and Rowe took it.

“What? I don’t get a kiss hello too?” Rowe sneered.

JB opened his mouth and Noah was sure that he was going to apologize again, but Rowe didn’t deserve another one. JB hadn’t known. It wasn’t his fault. Noah smacked Rowe’s shoulder again.

“Ignore him. He’s being an ass.” Rowe released the bear grip Noah was sure he had on JB’s hand, not that the younger man was showing any discomfort, and at least had the good sense to look slightly chastened. “Why don’t you tell us what’s going on?”

JB paced a short distance away from them toward the bathroom, shoving both hands into his soft, dark-blond hair. “I don’t know. I wish I did, but I don’t.”

“JB—”

“Jesus, fuck, Noah. They’re dead. Chris and Paul are both dead. Chris hadn’t been home for more than six months, I think. Paul was home maybe a year.” He paced back and there was no missing the fresh tears that glistened unshed in his pale blue eyes. “We’re home. We all thought we’d be safe here. Sleep in a bed without having a sidearm under your pillow.”

Noah looked over at Rowe and whatever anger had cut lines across his face had instantly been replaced with worry and compassion for JB. Noah was sure he’d not let go of the kiss yet, but he could at least put it aside in the face of JB’s pain.

Stepping forward, Rowe moved directly into JB’s path and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Sit down. Tell us what you know. We’ll get this figured out. No one is going to touch you or Noah.”

JB’s worried gaze jumped to Noah’s face just over Rowe’s shoulder and Noah nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. That same question had crossed Noah’s mind once a few years ago. What could a civilian do when a murderer was hunting them down? When it came to Rowe Ward, the answer was a lot.

JB sat on the edge of one bed, while Rowe sat on the edge of the opposite bed. Noah stepped over and grabbed a chair that had been placed next to a battered old dresser, putting himself between the two men and the door.

Running his hand through his hair again, JB left it sticking up in different directions. Now that Noah wasn’t worried about friendly fire, it was easy to see the dark circles under JB’s eyes and the lines of stress and fatigue around his mouth. The guy looked dead on his feet.