Rebel (Renegades 2)

As the camera changed position and drew closer, she recognized the resemblance between Wyatt and Wes. Wyatt had the same broad build as Wes. Both had a square jaw, slim nose, strong cheekbones. Wyatt’s hair was a medium brown, cut military short. His eyes were darker than Wes’s, but she couldn’t tell what color. He lay on top of the covers, wearing gym shorts and a T-shirt, hair mussed, unshaven.

“This is Wyatt. ” Wes’s familiar, sexy voice came over the speaker and made Rubi’s heart skip.

Made emotion rush her chest. God, she was ridiculous.

“Hey, Miss Rubi,” Wyatt said to the camera with a wave, a grin, and a deep Southern drawl that she hadn’t expected. “Wish you were here…” He spoke with the kind of warmth reserved for deep friendship and delivered with as much sincerity as if she were standing in the room, not an absent, anonymous stranger on the other end of a video clip. He added, with a mischievous grin so much like Wes’s, her heart squeezed, “So I could kick your ass. This is some hard-ass work, girl. ”

“And you thought the Marines were tough,” Wes quipped, making everyone laugh, including Rubi.

“Daddy,” a little voice squeezed in, filled with reprimand. “Ass is a bad word. ”

More laughter, with adult female voices in the mix.

Wes tilted the camera down, and the two girls in the photo he’d sent earlier—towheaded, fair-skinned, and blue-eyed—appeared on screen. “Say hi to Rubi. ”

“Hi, Rubi. ” Their young voices vibrated over the speaker.

“These are my nieces,” Wes said. “Introduce yourselves, girls. ”

“I’m Abby,” the smaller one said with the enthusiasm of a child who was photographed often.

“I’m Emma. ” She was older, a little on the shy side, and didn’t look at the camera.

“All right,” Wes’s voice came over the speaker again. “Get to work, slacker. Let’s show Rubi this rig in action. ”

“Slave driver,” Wyatt complained.

They didn’t look so scary. She always associated terrifying, annoying, or pathetic people with the concept of family. But these people were all normal. Like Wes. Like Rubi. Not the “family” that had frightened her into rejecting Wes’s invitation.

“Only one more lift,” a female voice added. By the way it shifted, Rubi could tell she was moving. “He’s already done too much today. ” She stepped into the picture as she rounded to the far side of Wyatt’s bed. Her blonde hair spiraled down her back, Taylor Swift style. When she turned and reached out to support Wyatt’s leg, Rubi saw there was more than just her hair that resembled the music mogul. This woman had a beautiful, pixie face and light eyes. A nice build too, slim but top-heavy in the breast department. Rubi would have guessed she was Wyatt’s wife, but she was dressed in solid turquoise scrubs. Had to be the physical therapist. “You’ll be sore tomorrow. ”

Rubi glanced up, located Rodie digging in the sand, and returned her gaze to the video.

“Okay, Whitney,” the blonde said. “Ready. ”

Rubi had no idea who Whitney was but assigned the name to another anonymous female in the room. Silence descended for a moment, then the familiar sound of the rig’s motors filled Rubi’s ears, and anxiety ramped up in her chest.

Wyatt lay flat, took a breath, and bent his knee, drawing it toward his chest. The move was as simple as they came, but Wyatt’s face scrunched with effort. The hand at his side fisted in the sheets beneath him, and as his knee drew closer to his chest, he growled between his teeth. Then he slowly released his leg, easing it back to the bed at an utterly ridiculously slow pace.

He let out a relieved breath when it rested flat again, then grinned at the phone camera. “Couldn’t do that two days ago. ” He gave a thumbs-up. “Thanks, Rubi. ”

“And that’s our show for today,” Wes said, then added a soft, private, “You’ve made a real difference here, beautiful,” before the video cut out. “This rig would have been pathetic without your programming. You should be proud. ”

The video ended, leaving her screen with a still image of the first frame, a big circled arrow overlaying the center. The darkening sky seemed to float closer. The wind off the ocean chilled her skin and blew her hair. And emotions swirled in her chest.

“You’ve made a real difference here. ”

The words lingered like an echo. And despite her initial urge to douse the pride that was indeed filling her chest, push it off, and give Wes credit—well-deserved credit—the meaning of this stuck. Yes, she made a difference with projects like the one she was struggling over with the NSA by aiding in national security. But it was so diluted, she didn’t feel it. Never saw it. And when someone worked in an isolated setting as she did, motivation and morale drastically improved when she saw the direct correlation of her work—like she did with Renegades. Like she just had with the rig.

And the light, open, promising sensation filling her chest made her realize some sort of crossroads for her life loomed close.

Rubi trusted her gut and dialed Lexi’s cell.

“Hey,” Lexi answered. “I’m glad you called. I’m going to need to cancel dinner tomorrow tonight. I’ve got a client who can’t come in any other time, and—”

“I’ll make you a deal” Rubi closed her eyes. “I’ll forgive you for canceling dinner if you take me to the airport on your lunch break. ”

“Of course,” Lexi said, surprised. “I didn’t know you’d planned a trip. Where are you going?”