Mastered By The Mavericks (45 page)

“Well, Dan Colton, as I live and breathe.” She teased it while standing to hug the
guy she once thought she’d spend forever with. Dan was a hunk in anyone’s book, despite
the burn scars down his right cheek that also denoted him as a hero. The rest of his
face was all chiseled model perfection, topped by delicious Dijon waves that were
cut in the latest masculine trend. And damn, could those broad shoulders fill out
a designer suit.

“Wow.” Her ex stood back and raked an admiring glance over her trendy romper and knee-high
boots. “And you’re doing the living and breathing thing quite well.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so full of shit. But I guess that’s what it takes to
be the world’s hottest CEO. What’s it really like, on the dark side?”

He took a swing at the eye rolling thing. “A lot of work.” His tone was heavy with
that truth. “But hell, it’s never a dull day—and Tess is grateful I’m not running
through burning buildings and dodging bullets anymore.”

“CIA’s loss; Colton Steel’s gain.” She winked to finish off the jibe, knowing that
part of him would always pine a little for his days with the Agency, feeling like
he’d made a real difference in the world. One day, he’d hopefully see that creating
jobs in a fair, positive atmosphere was an equally awesome way to give back to his
world.

But she wasn’t here to play shrink on the man. God knew, she’d already attempted to
do that too much already—and had psychoanalyzed all the magic out of their relationship.
Or perhaps had tried too hard to inject some
in
…

“First things first. How are Zoe, Shay, and the baby?”

Her smile grew. “Mommy, Daddy, and little Selene are awesome. She’s so beautiful.
Truly the best baby in the world.”

“Says her favorite auntie?”

“Mmmm…perhaps. I can show you pictures at lunch. I think I have a few saved.”

“Just a few?” He laughed deeply, showcasing the dimples in his jaw, before tucking
her hand beneath his elbow. “I’ve made a reservation at the Lakeside.” He proffered
his elbow. “Shall we?”

After they were seated at a table on the patio overlooking the hotel’s impressive
manmade lake, they each picked an item from the specials of the day as recited by
the waiter, making it possible to set aside the menus and refocus on the conversation.
That was a good thing. Dan fidgeted like a kid about to face shots at the doctor’s
office.

“Okay, big guy.” Brynn leaned back in her chair a little. “Out with it. What’s up?”

Dan loosened his tie. Pulled in a deep breath. “I need to know…that we’re okay.” He
groaned and scrubbed his face. “No. Wait. That sucked. Scratch that. Do-over?”

A giggle spilled out. It was one of their little private jokes, and it brought back
some nice memories. Despite the downfall of their romantic relationship, they’d always
been rock-solid friends. “Granted,” she offered, taking a sip of sparkling water.
“Besides, it’s kind of fun to watch you squirm.”

He scowled. “I deserved that.”

She copied the look. “Bullshit.”

“I’m sorry. For everything.”

Well, that diffused her remaining sarcasm. With a weighted breath of her own, she
reached for his hand. “Don’t be.”

He pressed his other hand atop hers. His gaze darkened to the indigo of the lake’s
waters. “You put up with a lot of grief from me, Brynn. After the fire, during my
rehab, dealing with this,”—he lifted his hand to smack at his scars, once an area
he’d treated like a patch of leprosy—“I was a messed-up fuck.”

Brynn tilted her head. The move accomplished its goal: getting him to look directly
at her again. “And I was an advanced-level psych student who should’ve known that.”
She lifted a soft smile. “Both of us used the relationship to escape our shit. I guess
it beat booze and drugs, yeah?”

Dan flashed a grin that deserved its own trademark. “Sure,” he murmured. “I guess.”

She shifted back as the food arrived. Dan had ordered pistachio-encrusted salmon,
and she was damn glad she’d decided to splurge on an Italian picnic plate, with gourmet
cheeses, olives, and bread next to a rustic salad layered with berries and nuts. After
the waiter left, Dan angled back toward small talk, questioning, “I’ve heard that
you’re opting for full-time school come next month. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

She nodded while spearing an olive then a slice of soft cheese. The salt and cream
were perfect together. “I’m finally getting a little bit of state aid for Enya, so
financially, it’s possible.”

“She’s still struggling?”

She spread some of the cheese onto a slice of bread, glad for the chance to twist
her lips in private. “Yeah. She is. But in some ways…this is going to sound weird,
but…I think I understand it a little better.”

She raised her head, suddenly emboldened. She’d been wanting to talk to someone about
all this so badly, and maybe Dan was the perfect person. Who said she had to mention
names?

“You see, a…friend of mine…was just involved in a brief D/s thing, too. I mean, she’s
the last person you’d expect to do something like that—and she wasn’t
looking
for it or anything—”

“Of course not.” Dan returned her stare with one of friendly interest.
Whew
. She was really capable of this—and felt like a genie suddenly freed from a bottle
for it.

“Like I said, it just happened.” Okay, that part was probably rushed, but Dan still
didn’t even quirk an brow of suspicion. “She wasn’t at a club, or
anything
like that.”

Dan’s lips twitched. “It happens outside clubs all the time, Brynna.”

“Right? And she’s not somebody who would identify herself as a submissive, or anything
close to it—except for how these guys affected her, when they were together. It just…felt
good. It felt right. It felt…” She frantically fought the sting at the backs of her
eyes. “Perfect.” The salad at the end of her fork was suddenly as appetizing as cat
barf. “And now, nothing feels right or good or perfect at all.” She swallowed hard.
Gritted her teeth, forcing emotional bleach through the aching heat in her blood.
“For my friend, I mean.”

Dan’s stillness compelled her head back up. She found him with a bite of neglected
food on his own fork, training
that
stare on her. The one that never failed to read her mind, even when their relationship
had started to falter. “Right.” One side of his mouth jerked up. “Your ‘friend’.”

As he went for the onehanded air-quote, a blush crawled up her face. “Smart-ass.”
She wadded her napkin and threw it at him.

“Yep.” He grinned. “That would be me.” The expression turned sheepish as he returned
the napkin, having gallantly refolded it. “The smart-ass…who’s been thinking about
taking some more major steps in his life soon.”

She seized the chance to do a little mindreading of her own. “As in…things that involve
collars, rings, or both?”

He chewed his salmon with a teasing smirk. “Perhaps.”

Brynn let out a little squee. “I’m so happy for you, ya big dork. So
that’s
why you’re mysteriously in Vegas.”

He nodded. “I met with Tess’s dad this this morning, to ask for her hand and shit.”

“And shit.” She snorted out a laugh. “You do have a way with poetry, Colton.”

“Guess you’re glad she’s taking me off your hands for good.”

Back in her seat, Brynn playfully booted his knee. “She’s a lucky lady. I’m sure she
knows it, too.”

“Hopefully.” He shrugged. “I fly back tomorrow—but need to stop at her favorite jewelry
boutique in town for a special order.”

“She’s going to be thrilled.”

“She thinks I’m just here schmoozing clients—but she also knows I wanted to meet with
you. She’s been worried about us clearing the air with each other.”

“Well, you can ease her mind now. We’re clear.” She pushed around the rest of her
food, her appetite still not restored. Maybe she’d hit the gym on the way home. She
belonged to a barre studio with a busy class schedule, and exhausting her body instead
of her mind felt like a great idea, especially now. “And I’m…grateful.” She pushed
up one last smile. “It took guts to reach out like this, Mr. Colton. Thank you.”

It was the prime opportunity for another charming Colton comeback. Didn’t happen.
Dan seemed to turn her words over carefully before squaring his shoulders and leaning
forward in his chair. “Mr. Colton? So formal, after just declaring how ‘clear’ we
are?”

She snorted. “You complaining about a little respect now?”

“Just saying it might be better directed elsewhere. Like at them.”

She followed the line cast out by his knowing nod.

Until her gaze locked on two figures, poised on the bottom step of the restaurant’s
sweeping staircase.

A pirate.

A Viking.

Both in attire that perfectly fit the red carpet upon which they stood.

“Holy…shit.” She didn’t know what stunned her more: seeing both of them here to begin
with, or seeing them here in cutaway tuxedoes.

And did it matter?

It didn’t.

They were here.

They were here.

She pushed to her feet, yearning to just keep going, to throw herself into their arms
and desperately beg them never to let her go again. But their faces were so stark,
so tight, so unreadable. Was this just a coincidence? Were they in town for some fancy
military awards thing, and had just come by to say hello to their buddy before the
festivities? Okay, even that sounded beyond weird. If that was the case, why weren’t
they in the dark blues of mess dress, with medal fruit salads across their chests?
And why were they dressed like this in the middle of the damn day?

No algorithm computed this. At all.

She forced her mouth to close. Snapped a disbelieving gawk back at Dan. The handsome
hotshot dared to answer with a grin she could only call coy. “Hawk and Z filled me
in on the gang’s latest off-books adventure—in detailed splendor.”

Now
the algorithms lined up. “Oh.”

“Oh?” The coy disappeared. In its place was the squared stance and folded arms of
a man extremely comfortable with his dominant side. “That’s all you’re going to give
me, girl, when I had to move the river to Moses in order to contact them in the field,
just to get their blessing to speak to you today? When they moved the damn river
back
in order fly here no more than two hours after returning from that mission?”

A gulp thudded down her throat.
A mission
. They’d been out on a mission for the last four months, likely humping it through
the middle of nowhere. Was that the only reason she hadn’t heard from them since Austin?
And now they’d flown straight here to see her…what the hell did
that
mean?

Wait. Back the wicker basket
way
back up the Nile. Dan had pulled major strings to contact them during that mission…to
ask for their “blessing”?

Clearly, the three of them needed to talk.

Not
a hardship she was complaining about.

She grabbed Dan by the hand again. Smiled up into his face with all the warmth that
now filled her heart. As he curled up that movie idol grin in return, she murmured,
“Thank you again. Tess really
is
a lucky woman.”

“No more lucky than those bastards waiting on you. Now
go
. I’ll settle up here.”

After she made it—somehow—to the space in front of Rhett and Rebel, she simply let
herself revel in the perfection of them once more. Their scents, sage and cinnamon.
Their eyes, North Sea and South Caribbean. Their faces, rugged and chiseled. They
would never stop taking her breath away. No matter what happened right now—hell, even
if they were here to invite her up the wedding salon to witness them take their vows—there
were parts of them both that would always,
always
belong solely to her. Her heart knew it. Her spirit resounded with it.

She finally molded her mouth around a word. “Hi.”

Rhett stepped down first. Curled a strand of hair around the back of her ear. “Hey,
sweet peach.”

Rebel came down and did the same thing. “
Bonjour, ma chatte
.”

Their greetings, like cream mixed into Creole coffee, zapped her adrenalin into all
the best—and worst—parts of her body. Her nerves sizzled. Her blood tingled. And God,
did her sex pulse back to life.

Rhett trailed a hand to the back of her shoulder. Looked around the room like James
Bond, checking the corners for shifty enemies. “We need to talk to you.”

She didn’t hide the shiver his touch sent all the way down past her ass. “Yes, Sir.”

“But not here.” Rebel did the secret spy glance too—completely not preparing her for
his little bombshell of a follow-up. “We have a room. Let’s go.”

By the time she recovered from the shock that they’d actually sprung for a room here,
instead of bunking out at Nellis or in one of the less expensive properties in the
city, they were ten floors into a thirty-floor ascent. The lovely string orchestra
lilting over the speakers didn’t accomplish its goal of Zen tranquility—not in this
tiny space, situated between her golden, brawny Viking and her dark, burnished pirate.
Not when all she could think about was—

Exactly what they did to her.

“Fuck.” Rebel spun around, smashing her body between the car’s wall and his demanding
form. He locked her head with his hands, holding her in place to receive the heat
of his snarled command across her panting mouth. “No more waiting, goddammit. Not
another second more.”

And then, thank God, his lips were slanting over hers. Slamming into hers. Possessing
her ruthlessly, his tongue stabbing, his teeth invading. His fingers knifed into her
hair, pulling until she moaned, long and hard and needy.

Oh
God
, the pain was so good.

She didn’t hold back on telling him so. She couldn’t. Every minute of her bottled-up
need, every second of her restrained lust…it all exploded in wonderful, bountiful
new ways. The pressure in her breasts fanned along her arms, making her grab him as
violently as he did her. The throbs in her pussy echoed down her thighs, compelling
her to lift one and lock it around his ass. She gave in to wanton desire, pulling
the core of his body against the aching slit of hers.