Spread Your Wings: Men in Blue, Book 4 (15 page)

Jambrea spied Ellie peeking from behind the curtain, frowning as the injured man left her without so much as a goodbye. When she caught Jambrea’s stare, she blew a kiss, then disappeared into the house, which overflowed with friends.

Mason held his hand up in farewell before joining the others.

Then they were backing down the gravel driveway, the ruts in the road lulling her with the sway they caused when paired with the springs of the bench seat. A particularly large bump sent her careening into Clint’s side. She didn’t have the energy to extricate herself from his careful grasp. Instead, she laid her head on his broad shoulder and tried not to remember what it had been like to have him inside her yet be robbed of the memory of his expressions while they shared something so precious. Or what should have been.

Thieves. They’d stolen intimacy from her by keeping her blind.

Sure, she’d checked that box on Lily’s survey, but it seemed like they’d gamed the system, making her the loser.

Jambrea dozed on the ride to her apartment. That might have been because of the chemicals lingering in her cells or maybe because she wasn’t ready to hash things out just yet. In any case, she shouldn’t have worried, because the guys were on red alert, focused on transporting her unharmed as if she were precious cargo instead of some girl they’d pity-banged.

Because what other reason would they have had for hiding their identity? They could have shown themselves
then
blindfolded her. The point was sensory deprivation, not hoodwinking.

Drained, she floated in and out of consciousness. Each time her eyelids fluttered open, she caught the cops scanning the horizon or the truck’s mirrors for any sign of danger. As she expected, there were none.

“Wild thing, wake up.” Clint shook her gently, careful not to aggravate her arm. “We’re here.”

She wished more than anything she could scramble up the metal stairs and into her den. Crappy and old as it might be, it was home…at least for a little bit longer. Instead, she drafted a mental checklist of all the things she’d need to gather.

“How long should I plan on this taking? You know, the investigation.” She tilted her head, but didn’t argue when Clint slid from the truck and held out his arms. Being carried sounded nice at the moment. Might as well make good use of the convenient excuse letting her give in to unwise urges.

“Why not stay a while? Permanently, maybe, if we can keep from killing each other?” Clint smiled at her, a little wistful. His adorable factor shot off the charts when he winked. “A guy can hope, right?”

“Clint and I have always kicked around the idea of getting a place together. Save on rent. It’s not like we spend much time apart anyway. Even on days off, we end up hitting the gym or grabbing something to eat and stuff.” Matt shrugged. “It could be a nice arrangement.”

Jambrea allowed herself a moment of weakness. She inhaled the scent of Clint’s skin, sadly covered by a borrowed T-shirt. Still, he smelled nice—a little sweat mixed with his soap.

When she considered how he’d exerted himself, she shivered. Then she laughed. “You guys hid from me when we fucked and now you’re talking about sharing an apartment. Come on. That’s a little much, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, don’t rush.” Clint glared at Matt. “We’ve got a lot of talking to do. Explaining. Listening.”

“I hate that shit,” the bigger man grumbled as he raked his fingers through his hair.

“Well, you’re going to have to learn to communicate better if you want this to work out,” Clint snapped. Tension crept into the muscles cradling her. When his hand tightened a little close to her bandages, Jambrea couldn’t help but whimper. At least she tried to convince herself it was the physical discomfort—not the reminder of the emotional sensitivity plaguing her—that ached so badly.

“Am I hurting you?” He shifted his fingers away from her wound. Of course that meant he only inflamed the rest of her more.

“Not at all.” She rested her cheek on his shoulder, burying her face in his neck as they rushed to her door. Maybe being carried caused the world bounce more. She didn’t remember the stairway swaying so much when she ascended. Then again, all three of them made a much heavier load than her alone. It was only because of Clint’s dedication to the gym that she didn’t doubt him capable of lifting her in the first place.

Matt had all the bulk of a refrigerator.

And damn it had felt fine beneath her. A sigh buffeted Clint’s neck.

“Almost there, wild thing. We’ll be quick then we can call it a day.” He promised her heaven. If only they were all sleeping together, she might get some rest.

Matt flicked a hand signal at the non-descript sedan parked in the lot below them, at enough of an angle to allow its driver, Lucas, to keep an eye on her door. Two seconds later, he’d unlocked it and let them in.

“Where’d you get my keys from?” she wondered aloud, realizing she’d abandoned her set with her purse in Lily’s office.

“Uh.” He cleared his throat. “Remember the night Mason and Tyler broke your door down? Because the three of us were…
busy
.”

“You mean the night we sucked face, before you two got all messed up and acted strange around me? Well, even more weird than you were when you were fighting over me?” She shoved Clint, glad when he set her down gently.

“Yeah.” Matt grimaced. “Well, when it got fixed, the contractor gave us a copy. I guess he thought it was our place too since we picked up the bill for the installation. I meant to give it to you and forgot. Then I kind of liked having it on my key ring. Sorry, that sounds creepy when I say it out loud.”

Jambrea scrubbed her hands over her face. What the hell had been going on all this time? She’d thought they didn’t want her enough to risk messing up their friendship when both had actually been interested. Had she gotten it wrong for so long?

And how would they make things work now that she suspected they were running as scared as she had been? From her…
and
each other.

“It does sound a little sketchy, uh huh.” She dropped her evil eye act. It warmed her to know they’d looked out for her. Hell, the door they’d paid to replace, insisting it’d been their fault the original had gotten broken, had been at least ten times as secure as the old one. “But I guess I don’t mind. I trust you guys. Or at least I did before last night.”

“Shit.” Clint cursed. Then he looked beyond her and did a double take. “Going somewhere?”

She followed his gaze to the stacks of white cardboard boxes she’d begun packing her belongings in. “Actually, yeah. Handy now, but I’d decided to move. I’ve outgrown this place and there’s…nothing…holding me here anymore.”

“There was before?” Matt caught on to her hesitation.

“Maybe.” She walked past before he could ask what, or who, she’d been waiting for. She knew it was stupid, but some part of her had worried that if she left John wouldn’t know where to find her when he came back. From wherever he’d gone.

Stupid.

For two reasons, really. First, because any super spy would be able to track her in half a second or less, even if she moved to the opposite side of the world. Also because he obviously had meant it when he said he never planned to see her again.

“Where were you going?” Clint looked at her with one brow raised.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t found the right place yet.” She shrugged.

“This never did seem to suit you.” Matt pivoted to face her. “It’s not bright or cheery or open or cozy. It’s too sterile.”

“It was my first home I had on my own. All I could afford. Felt like a castle back then.” She smiled, remembering how proud she’d been of her achievements.

How could she have let herself get stuck in a rut? If she wasn’t careful, these guys could suck her into another one. Maybe a habit so tempting, she could never claw her way free. Before that happened, she had to make sure they could give her what she needed.

No more settling.

No more sacrifice.

She prevented the partners from digging deeper than she was ready to venture at the moment by pointing them to a stack of boxes. “Most everything I need is in these. Clothes, extra supplies for Parker. Shove aside the ones with memorabilia and we can take the rest. I’ll go pack some toiletries and transfer Parker to his travel bowl. Ten minutes tops, I swear.”

Matt wandered to her heap of cartons. While she piled them, she’d heaved and grunted more than she cared to admit. As if it were nothing, he bent and gripped the handles on the bottom of the stack. Her jaw fell open a little when he bent his knees and picked up five containers at once. “There’s plenty of room in the truck. Why not bring them all? I’ll run these down while you and Clint get the rest of your stuff. Let’s not waste time sorting through them now.”

“Showoff,” Clint grumbled beneath his breath.

Jambrea couldn’t help herself—she laughed. It felt so good to see them bicker like she was used to. Never did that back and forth amount to more than friendly competition between them. They always recovered their balance, reclaiming their camaraderie.

Another thing that worried her. She never wanted to come between them when they were so obviously a pair. Why hadn’t she seen it before?

Thank God for Lily and her insight.

But if the Mistress had been right about that, could she also have been correct to toss Jambrea in the mix? Even in the sneaky way she had?

Biting her lip as she tossed toothpaste, shampoo and other necessities into a bag, she was surprised when Clint came up behind her. “It’s going to be okay, Jambi. We’ll find out who wanted to hurt us and make sure they can’t ever again. I’m only sorry you got caught in the crossfire. Another mistake I’ll never be able to forget we made with you.”

She turned, surprised when his arms caged her against the sink. Blinking into his bright green eyes, the honesty there stole her breath, giving him a chance to continue.

“If you’d gotten hurt. Worse…I’d never have forgiven myself.” He leaned his forehead on hers.
 

She couldn’t help but splay her fingers on his chest, soaking in the warmth and strength of his pecs, kneading them a little. “It’s all right. We’re okay.”

“Not yet. But we will be.” He shuffled closer until his feet were bracketing hers and his body pressed against her full-length. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he held her loosely. They both knew she wasn’t going anywhere. Couldn’t escape the attraction between them. Especially when he whispered, “I promise I’m going to make this right. I’ll bring him around. I know what I want and I won’t let it slip through my fingers. Last night showed me what I could be missing. And how quickly everything can be stolen.”

Her heart melted when he nuzzled her nose with his. Then he kissed her.

If she hadn’t been shaky before, she would have dropped to the peeling linoleum floor when he stole every last bit of her spine, leaving her a mass of rubbery nerves and blubbering sentiment.

She could have kissed him—soft, vital and devoted—for hours.

Except Matt broke up their party.

“Ahem.” He cleared his throat roughly. Rather than fuming, he looked away. The glimpse of hurt in his eyes affected her more profoundly than if he’d been jealous or angry at their dillydallying. “We should head out. Lucas thought he saw someone hanging around downstairs. Not the old lady with the thirteen cats, either.”

Mrs. Wilkenson had lived on the ground floor since this complex had been new and spotless, in an up-and-coming neighborhood instead of one on the cusp of revitalization. Jambrea shook her head, trying to clear the daze Clint had inspired. She pledged she wouldn’t end up that way. She’d do what it took to make these guys live up to the potential she felt every time she found herself between them.

Oh God, it had been heaven
between
them.

“Sorry.” Clint stepped away from her, looking as dazzled as she felt. He adjusted the crotch of his jeans as subtly as possible, then tried to barge past Matt, out of the tiny bathroom. Not possible when his partner easily blocked the entire doorway.

“I don’t blame you.” The massive man smiled at his partner, then clapped him on the shoulder, taking away the guilt in his furrowed brows. “We’re going to have to figure out the rules of this thing soon, though, so we quit trampling each other when we don’t mean to. Let’s find someplace quiet first, huh?”

Clint didn’t answer, but he held his fist out and Matt bumped it.

Jambrea imagined them doing a lot more than that. What if Matt had kissed Clint like the other man had just done to her? She moaned, then clapped her hand over her still tingling lips.

“I’m hoping we hear a lot more of that later.” Matt grinned at her. The expression had become increasingly rare lately. To see his bright white smile again filled her with optimism. Together, they could figure this out.

Couldn’t they?

“Come on.” Clint snagged her toiletry bag and held his hand out to her. “The sooner we get on the road, the sooner we can work on that.”

Matt strode to the few remaining boxes. She couldn’t believe he’d cleared out the majority of her apartment so quickly. Her head spun as she inventoried the blank, dusty shelves that had held her military memorabilia, a few pictures of her family and awards from the hospital. Only generic kitchen stuff and her threadbare furniture would stay behind.