Wet For Her Warriors (Book 5 of the WILD -- Warriors Intense in Love & Domination -- Boys of Special Forces) (9 page)

“Shut your hole.
You have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“Except that I
was the guy who almost shot a soldier on
our
side, because you freaked
about saving a woman who only
looked
like Luna.” Finally halted by
Hokulani’s other hand, Kell released something that was half gloating chuckle,
half derisive grunt. “You lost your grip in Indonesia, Bommer. It’s the whole goddamn
reason we’re here.”

“Hmm.” Hokulani’s
interjection came with a purposeful stare swung toward Kellan, her brows arched
in sensual intent. “Then maybe I need to be thanking him for the breakdown.”

“I’m not broken,”
Tait snarled. He tore from beneath her hold. “And
he’s
not someone you
want to be gushing over like that.”

Kellan bristled.
“In case you weren’t listening, the woman can think for herself.”

“Fuck you,
Slash-aroni.”

“Damn it.” Kell restarted
the cowboy swagger. “That’s it!”

“Stop!” The
woman between them—literally and figuratively—rammed the guy back against the
refrigerator. Tait backpedaled in the dining room, and Hokulani’s stance
straddled the doorway between the two rooms “Okay, look. Your concern is
appreciated, Sergeant Bommer. But the last time I checked, I was a grown woman
with a mind of my own. And you weren’t my father
or
my brother.”

Kell snorted.
“Want that ass served in a cup or cone, man?”

“Shut up,” she
countered. “You’re not off the hook, mister.”

“But—”

“Shut. Up.”

It was too damn
easy for Tait to cut loose a snide snort, too. “What was that, dude? About ‘ass’?
You are, after all, the king of nailing it in every city we hit.”

The woman in
front of him pulled up on her posture. Just like that, she was every inch the
imposing goddess who’d first had him gaping in awe last night on the beach.
“Your welcome in my home has expired, Sergeant Bommer.” She raised her gaze,
sucking him straight in with the amazing blue silver of her irises—the same
eyes that openly condemned him now. “While I’m grateful for what you did for me
last night, I won’t be labeled a piece of ass beneath my own roof.”

Heat detonated
across his face. “Shit. I didn’t mean—it had nothing to do with you!”

“So if you’d
come in and not found Kellan and I together, you’d still be singing his praises
as the magical man slut?”

The image she
brought up, of she and Kell pulling the goo-goo-mushy at the stove, brought a fresh
mix of inexplicable rage. “Goddamnit, Hokulani. You deserve better than what
he—”

Kell’s roar cut
him off. “Bommer, for fuck’s sake, let it go!”

He ripped out a fresh
glower at the man. “Are you capable of staying out of this conversation for two
seconds?”

“Stop.” It was a
tight utterance from Hokulani, which Kell easily ignored.

“Are
you
capable
of keeping your head straight and seeing her without your fantasies wound in?”

“Fantasies?” He
pushed forward again. “I
buried
Luna, you asshat. My ‘fantasies’ got dissolved
when I watched the waves swallow her ashes. I don’t get the luxury of fantasies
anymore!”

“All right,”
Lani charged again, “
stop
.”

“Is that so?”
Kell cocked his head. “So what do I have to blame for the shitty shot you
called in Indonesia, huh? Simple dumbass-ery? Did you watch the waves swallow
your brain, too?”

“Damn it!” Her
voice now broke the air on a scream. “I said stop!”

Tait was one
move ahead of her. He turned and let his head drop, unconcerned if his “buddy”
witnessed the defeat in the move. Like Kell would care. The guy had a caustic
streak; Tait had always known that, though never imagined he’d be on the
receiving end of it. But Rebel Stafford, the team’s resident southern boy
philosopher, had a favorite expression.
If the chair’s too comfy, wait five
minutes
.

Who knew it
applied to friendships, too?

He should be
grateful for what life
had
given him with Kell. Tait had joined the Army
to justify his existence, to find the purpose Dad always said he never had.
Getting one of the closest buddies of his life had been an added bonus of the
journey, one he’d never expected to keep this long. He wasn’t the kind of
person people stuck around for. Dad had been tenacious about
that
lesson, too.

Behind him,
Hokulani’s hisses peppered the air. Since he’d stomped his way back to the
living room, he couldn’t discern what she said. Kell’s comeback was a clear
crack, though.

“What?
He
started it, damn it.”

Tait clamped
down the urge to bellow a retort. He turned the indignation inward, instead—and
muttered the words during his march toward the front door.

“Fine, asshole.
I started it. And you can deal with me ending it, too.”

*
* * * *

After he slammed
out of the house, it’d been painfully apparent that he had no fucking clue
about his bearings. He didn’t want to calm down long enough to think much about
it, either. Flashbacks from last night gave up images of a bamboo walkway and
some rose bushes, neither of which were visible from the front of the house.
That left him with a choice between a long paved driveway to the main road, or
a packed dirt truck trail that bordered a huge paddock containing several dozen
horses lazing their way through the July day.

In his state of
mind, animal therapy felt like the right way to go. Besides, the trail was
drenched in shade as the sun rapidly neared its high point. The decision was a
good one; the pastoral peace buffed out the edges of his rage within a few minutes.
A few times, the horses daring to meet his gaze were rewarded with a small
smile.

It didn’t take
him long to start understanding Hokulani’s fierce devotion to this place. With
the small mountain that cushioned one side and the thick forest along the
other, the property was a self-contained paradise where the grass grew thick,
the flowers scented the air, and the wind blew warm. What had she called it?
Hale
Anelas
. Again accessing distant knowledge from language training, he knew
that meant the home of something. His money was on something like fairies,
gods, or angels—creatures that turned this land into something truly magical
and serene.

Though whoever
gashed the air with their angry bellow might have an argument about that.

Tait heard the
shout as he cleared the corner of the pasture, and planned on returning to the
beach through the grove of banana, mango, and breadfruit trees ahead. Instead,
his attention was tugged to the right, where he caught sight of more fencing,
this time the border of a small riding corral. The sound of rapid hoof beats
preceded the spirited swish of a dark tan horse’s tail, which brushed the fence
once before disappearing.

More cantering.
A heavy thud, like something hitting the ground hard. Another violent yell was followed
by a youth’s voice spewing the
f
word. Then again.

The situation
suddenly earned itself a little recon.

Tait walked
along the edge of the barn until he could see the whole corral. When he did,
his curious frown grew to a full scowl.

He would have attached
a laugh to the look if not for his concern about the agitated Palomino filly
skittering around the enclosure. Following the filly—correction,
chasing
the animal—with a lead rope and training pole was a lanky teenager who shared
Hokulani’s striking eyes and full mouth. The boy also had thick black hair in a
spiky short cut that showed off his strong neck and jaw.

Tait sheltered
no doubt that the kid was related in some way to the goddess back at the house.
It was just a shame that he didn’t share Hokulani’s smarts.

“Fuck!” the kid
spat again. “Damn it, I’m trying to help your ass here!”

“Do you kiss
your mama with that mouth, boy?”

The kid lurched
to his feet and flung a dagger of a glare. “My mother’s dead, asshole, so back
off.”

Since they were
skipping down the path of childhood traumas, Tait let his own act as advisor
for a reaction. He envisioned Uncle Jonah appearing and scratching his cheek with
that aw-shucks smile before issuing advice along the lines of getting a pissy
’coon to come around faster with a muffin than a stick. Damn what he wouldn’t
give for just one day with the man again.

“My mom’s gone,
too,” he said softly.
And I’d give a row of teeth to find her again.
“So
I get it.”

The kid
straightened the pole and rope, preparing to make another try for the horse’s
obedience. “You don’t get shit, Sergeant Bommer, so don’t try your Army Jedi
mind tricks on me. I’m not some dumbshit foreign hostile.”

He held back another
laugh—barely. “Could’ve fooled me,” he mumbled through a smirk.

“
What
the
hell’d you say?” the kid accused.

A verbal muffin
was in order. “How do you know who I am?” The casual simulation came easy,
since he and Kell had used it on Benson’s boys last night.

The kid rolled
his eyes. “You think I came home to find one guy krunked-up in my living room
and the other napping on the office couch with my sister, and not find out who
the fuckers are?”

That brought a
confused pause. Kellan likely had a wallet in tow last night, but the only
things
he’d
carried from Franz’s place were his shirt, shorts and the
flock of geese on his vodka bottle. “By reading my ‘krunked-up’ mind?” he
finally challenged.

“By using my
sober one.” The kid didn’t take his eyes off the filly. Thank God he got
that
part of the process right. “Rush’s ID gave me a clue about both of you. For
you, I snapped a shot on my phone and texted it to Franz for a positive check.
He was very helpful with the positive scope…and a few backup details, too.”

Tait’s gut
clenched by the way the boy emphasized the last of that. “Wonderful,” he
mumbled, just as the kid took advantage of a break in the horse’s attention to
try and slip the lead rope around her neck again. Not a chance. The filly
bucked at him, causing him to take another textbook ass plant. Tait couldn’t
hold back his chuckle any longer. “Franz may have given you some dirt on me,
kid, but in the filth department, I’d say we’re even.”

“Fuck you!”

“Strike that.
You officially take the scum crown now.” He cocked a brutally placid stare back
through the corral slats. “It’s Leo, right? Aren’t you supposed to be going to
some fancy academy? They let you spew filthy language like that at your special
school, Leo?”

“They let you
turn into a pussy like
that
in Spec Ops
,
Sergeant? Aren’t you
used to much worse than this?”

Considering the
morning he’d already endured, the kid’s Prince Snotty act should’ve made him leave
and let the idiot earn a hoof—or four—in the face. The sooner he left this
place behind, with all memories of the blood-heating, soul-stirring woman back
at the house, the better. But because of her, he turned toward the barn
instead. He remembered Benson taunting Lani by invoking the legacy of both her
parents, so Leo was the only family she had. If he left the kid to tame the
filly and Leo wound up with a serious brain injury because of his stupidity,
Tait would never excuse himself. And the list of unforgivable shit in his life
was too damn long already.

As he’d hoped,
he found some sets of extra boots sitting in the corner near the barn door. Barbecue
bonus: several pairs of jeans hanging on some pegs on the wall. That made
sense, considering the island’s humid weather didn’t make it tolerable to drag
down one’s legs in denim for hours.

He found some
boots in his size and a pair of jeans that were close. Though the pants fit low
on his hips, they’d get the job done.

After changing his
shorts for the jeans, he walked back out to the corral. Leo didn’t miss his cue
to let out a mocking grunt. “You trying out for a romance novel photo shoot in
those jeans?”

He moved on
without pausing, stepping up on the fence then swinging a leg over. “And do
you
want to get this horse in a bridle today, or not?”

Leo’s eyes went
wide. Well gee fucking whillikers, the boy actually seemed surprised—and
humbled. “Yeah,” he stammered. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then shut up
and listen.”

A huge slice of
the kid’s attitude slid away as he stepped back. “Her name is Isis.”

He allowed a
smile to slip free. “One of the most important goddesses of all time.”

Leo rolled his
eyes again, though the action came with humor more than attitude. “Well, it
fits. And she knows it.” As he extended the pole to Tait, a full crack appeared
in his veneer. Beyond it was a core of pure tenderness. “I’ve been trying to
get this around her neck for weeks. She doesn’t get the pressure that’s on. If
she isn’t fully saddle-trained by the time Benson gets his claws into this
place, he’ll sell her to the glue factory along with the others.”