A few hours later, Cash trudged down the beach to meet the guys. His mood hadn’t improved as the day dragged on. He’d tried apologizing to Jen, but she’d brushed it off, saying it was no big deal, but clearly it was, because she’d barely uttered ten words to him all afternoon. He’d almost blown off this workout to stay home and make things right with Jen, but slacking off wasn’t an option in his line of work.
As he approached his fellow SEALs, he pushed all thoughts of Jen from his mind. Seth and Jackson walked up to greet him but Dylan hung back, averting his eyes. Shit. So this
was
going to be awkward.
“’Sup, Wade,” he said tentatively, sticking out his hand.
After a beat, Dylan lifted his head. Rather than the discomfort or embarrassment Cash expected to see, Dylan’s green eyes displayed a twinkle of knowing humor. “’Sup, McCoy.”
As they bumped knuckles, the tension in Cash’s body eased, replaced with a tremor of relief that last night’s activities hadn’t fucked up their friendship.
“How’s the lovely Jen?” Dylan asked with a faint grin.
“Pissed. Her psycho ex got a hold of her cell number.”
“Did she talk to him?”
“Yeah, but only because I forced her to.” He glanced at the other two. “I need to be out of here by six, so let’s get this show on the road.”
They stuck to the same routine as last time. Fortunately, it was cloudy out, so Cash didn’t have to worry about coming down with sunstroke again.
Un
fortunately, he was preoccupied about his impending encounter with Jen’s ex, which allowed all three of his buddies to kick his ass in the push-up competition Seth challenged everyone to after the swim.
It was quarter to six when they finished up. Carrying their sneakers and socks, the foursome walked soaking wet to the parking lot, drawing several appreciative glances and a few come-hither smiles from a group of female tourists loitering near the Hotel Del.
While Seth and Jackson walked ahead, Dylan sidled up to Cash. “What’s going on? You’ve got the expression you wear when you’re in ass-kicking mode.”
His voice lowered to a lethal pitch. “I’m paying a visit to Jen’s ex.”
Seth overheard and turned to stare at him. “What the hell you doing that for?”
“Because I’m tired of this creep not getting the message. Someone needs to make it clear that Jen doesn’t belong to him.”
“And that someone has to be you?” Seth asked, perplexed.
They reached the cars, and Cash popped the trunk of his Escape and grabbed a few towels and four water bottles. He tossed the others one of each, then dried up and chugged some water. Normally he drove back to his apartment in his wet trunks, but since he was heading straight to the bar, he realized he’d have to change right here in the parking lot.
“Make sure nobody’s looking at my bare ass,” he called as he grabbed a pair of camo pants from the duffel bag in his trunk.
He ducked behind the open driver’s door, quickly shucked the swim trunks, and yanked his pants on, commando. The black T-shirt he’d stripped off before the workout went on next, and rather than sneakers, he grabbed a pair of clean socks, rolled them on his feet, and put on his boots.
When he turned around, he noticed the other men rummaging through the duffel bags in the back of Seth’s Jeep. Trunks were stripped off, pants and shirts came on, and all three opted for shitkickers as well.
Cash frowned. “You all live around the corner. Why you getting dressed?”
“We’re coming with you,” Dylan answered cheerfully.
“Duh,” Seth said in a dry voice.
“You think we’re going to let you confront the psycho without backup?” Jackson piped up as he bent to lace up his boots.
“I’m only going to talk to the guy.”
“Talking’s for pansies,” Seth replied. “If you want him to get the message, you’ve gotta rough him up a bit.”
“It might come to that,” he admitted. “But you guys don’t need to get involved. It’s not your fight.”
“Like hell it isn’t,” Dylan shot back. “Your fights are our fights. Besides, I wouldn’t mind giving that asshole a warning of my own. Considering what happened last night, I’m feeling a tad invested in Jen’s safety too.”
Seth’s head swiveled from Cash to Dylan, and then he started to laugh. “Son of a bitch. You tag-teamed the LT’s sister?”
“No,” they said in unison.
“Wow. Just…wow.” Seth doubled over, gripping his side as he laughed. When he finally settled down, he sent a mocking look in Cash’s direction. “You realize you went from begging us to help you not screw her, to screwing her, to screwing her with Dylan. What’s next? Can me and Texas join in next time?”
Jackson’s slow drawl joined the mix. “Yeah, can we? I still haven’t had the pleasure of meeting the mysterious Jen.”
Cash glared at Dylan, who seemed to regret opening this can of worms. “No one is joining in. But if you’re serious about coming along, I’d appreciate the backup. I haven’t met this guy, so I don’t know what to expect.”
“Where are we going?” Seth tossed his wet trunks in the back of the Jeep.
“The Gaslamp Tavern.”
Seth headed for the driver’s door with his badass swagger, while Jackson walked around to the passenger side. “We’ll meet you there.”
After the Jeep sped out of the lot, Cash glowered at Dylan. “Did you have to drop that
last night
comment? I didn’t exactly want those two knowing about the threesome with Jen.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Clearly. Way to blow it.”
“Actually, I blew you,” Dylan said glibly.
They looked at each other for several long moments.
And then they burst out laughing.
When the laughter died down, Cash shot his friend a somber look. “We cool? You’re not going to get all weird around me now, are you?”
“Naah, we’re cool.”
Relief fluttered through him. “Good.”
Dylan smirked. “You were actually worried, huh? What, you thought I’d morph into a teenage girl and never talk to you again?”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
“Aw, you love me, don’t ya? You would’ve missed your bestest fwend ever.”
Cash gave him the finger. “Get in the car, asshole.”
Fifteen minutes later, Cash slowed the car in front of the Tavern. There was no meter parking outside the bar, so he had to drive to the next block to find a spot. He and Dylan strode down the sidewalk a few minutes later, scanning both sides of the road for Seth’s Jeep.
“There they are.” Dylan shoved his fingers in his mouth and whistled to get Seth and Jackson’s attention.
The duo jogged across the street and met them at the front door of the Tavern. The after-work happy hour was in full swing when the four men entered the bar. Cash took the lead, pausing at the edge of the main room to search the crowd for lone male patrons. All he saw were groups of three or four, clad in business attire and chatting over beers and cocktails.
His gaze shifted toward the counter, the haven for single males. Out of the dozen people occupying the tall stools, most were older men who wore weathered, tired looks as they silently nursed their drinks. One man seemed around the right age, but his gleaming shaved head and plethora of tattoos, including one circling his thick neck, told Cash the guy was no investment banker.
He continued his inspection. Bingo. A man in his late twenties or early thirties sat at the far end of the counter. He had a slick look to him—perfectly styled brown hair, clean-shaven face, expensive Rolex on his wrist. He wore a black suit, no tie, with an open-collar white shirt. Cash couldn’t deny the guy was handsome, but something about those sharp clothes and perpetual smirk rubbed him the wrong way.
“Nine o’clock,” he murmured.
The others followed his gaze. “That him?” Seth murmured back.
“Let’s go and find out.”
They started walking, drawing uneasy glances from several of the other patrons. The female bartender lifted her head at their approach, her eyes lighting with unconcealed approval, but something about their expressions must have triggered her internal alarm, because as they got closer, the appreciation in her eyes faded into wariness.
Her concern didn’t surprise Cash. The four of them made a formidable sight. Six-feet-plus, two hundred pounds of muscle, and in military-issued shitkickers, to boot.
They moved toward Mr. Slick the way they moved on an op—with single-minded focus and a helluva lot of aggression.
The man looked startled when he noticed them. He set down the wine glass he’d been sipping. “Can I help you?” he asked coolly.
Cash instantly recognized that gravelly voice. “You Brendan?” he said, equally cool.
“Who’s asking?”
“My friends and I were hoping to have a little chat with you.”
Brendan’s shoulders stiffened. “Screw off. I’m waiting for someone.”
Cash bared his teeth in a not-so-pleasant smile. “Yeah, about that…I’m afraid Jen won’t be coming.”
Surprise flared in Brendan’s brown eyes. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”
Behind the counter, the bartender inched toward the telephone hanging on the wall. When she reached out for it, neither Cash nor the others missed the movement of that manicured hand.
“I’ve got this,” Jackson said.
He moved toward the pretty brunette, resting his elbows on the counter and flashing that
aw-shucks
smile of his. “Don’t worry, sugar, there won’t be any trouble,” Jackson drawled. “Just a few friends shootin’ the breeze.”
“Who are you?” Brendan repeated, beginning to look irritated.
Cash’s smile widened. “Oh, I didn’t introduce myself? I’m Jen’s boyfriend.”
The other man’s jaw went slack. Then he scowled. “Bullshit.”
“Sorry, man, but it’s the truth. And see, as her boyfriend, I’ve gotta admit I’m getting really fucking annoyed with your harassment.”
Brendan slid off the stool in a huff. “I don’t believe you. Jen would never go out with someone like you.”
He raised his brows. “Someone like me?”
“Yeah, the dumb muscleman type.” Contempt dripped from the man’s voice. “Military too, from the looks of you. Jen doesn’t date military muscle heads.”
Cash exchanged a grin with Dylan and Seth. Jackson, who’d lured the bartender away from the phone, glanced over and flashed a grin of his own before resuming his flirting.
“Military muscle heads, huh?” Cash slanted his head. “Well, these military muscle heads want to talk to you outside.”
“Fuck off.”
Brendan tried to take a step, but he hit a wall of—surprise—muscle. Dylan and Seth flanked Cash, and all three men crossed their arms over their chests.
“Get out of my way,” Brendan said through visibly clenched teeth.
“That’s not gonna happen,” Cash replied. “Not until we get some things straight. You’ve got two options here. Either you calmly follow us outside so we can continue this discussion, or I drag you out by the collar of your shirt.”
“I’d choose option one,” Dylan suggested.
“Yeah,” Seth agreed. “That shirt looks expensive. Wouldn’t want it getting ripped when Cash hauls you outta here.”
Brendan took another step forward. Hit another wall of muscle.
Bitterness crept into his tone as he capitulated. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Hiding a smile, Cash clapped his hand on the man’s shoulder and led him to the hallway at the rear of the bar. They received a few odd looks from the wait staff as they crossed the employees-only area.
A metal door met them at the end of the corridor. Keeping a hand on Brendan’s shoulder, Cash pushed open the door, which led out to a narrow alley separating the Tavern from the neighboring Chinese restaurant. Dumpsters cluttered the space, and the smell of garbage and urine wafted in the air. The sun hadn’t completely set yet, but the sky was cloudy, casting gray shadows over the alley.
Once outside, Brendan got a taste of freedom and tried to scurry away, his gaze glued to the opening where the alley connected with the street.
Cash swiftly stepped in his path. “Now, now, no running off,” he said pleasantly. “We haven’t had a chance to talk yet.”
Seth and Dylan flanked him again, while Jackson stayed by the door, his dark head scouting the alley and the exit of the restaurant next door.
“Look,” Brendan burst out, “I don’t know who you are, but my relationship with Jen is none of your business.”
“Relationship?” He made a
tsk
ing noise. “She dumped you, Brendan, and rather than handling the breakup like a mature adult, you’ve decided to play these sick games with her. But it stops tonight, understand?”
Tightening his jaw, Cash got right in the other man’s face. “Stop emailing her. Stop calling. Stop harassing her family and friends. As of this moment, Jen does not exist.”
Brendan looked livid, but his jaw remained shut.
“She doesn’t want to see you, she doesn’t want to talk to you. Hell, she doesn’t want to
think
about you. It’s time for you to get the message. Go to Oakland, do your investment banking thing, and leave Jen alone.”