Impossible Odds: Rescue Team Nine (Book 3)

Chapter 30

Dice

Through the night, between love-making sessions with Cloey, I think about Benjamin Easton. He's been too quiet. There have been no more attempts on Cloey's life. I know that's not his usual style compared to the notes I read in Wildcat's folder she brought with her when she came in. But I know men like Benjamin. He may not be military, but his training is analytical. I know he's following the same motto I would. It's easy to catch a mouse. It's what you do with it that matters. He's biding his time because he knows he can't get in here like he would anywhere else without exposing himself. That puts him in Dalton's court.

Walking into the breakfast area the following day, it still plays out in my mind. The bruise along Gunner's jaw and eye shows how my partner's night played out.

"I don't want to talk about it," he growls. Lowering myself next to my comrade at the small breakfast table, I study him over his cup of coffee. He has definitely fought a losing battle. It's visible all over his face. Aside from the bruises, he looks like he hasn't slept a wink. His hair barely looks brushed; worse, he's more ornery than usual.

"I think I know exactly what her call sign will be. It won't even be up for debate."

My brow arches up in question. There are times when it's better to stay silent. This is one of those times.

"Wildcat. Plain and simple. I've been around cats tamer than that ... that ... thing."

It's then that I notice what I hadn't from farther away. Along his arm are scratches, and one long one runs down the other side of his cheek just under the eye. And here I was thinking Cloey and I had a wild night.

"What's wrong with a fighter? I bet she's great in bed."

Gunner's jaw is set tight when he glances at me. His eyes cut into slits. There's no smile on his face.

"I envy the poor bloke who tries."

"Serves you right for not filling me in on what was happening."

Wildcat's voice rings through the room. She doesn't look much better herself. Her curly red hair is partially tamed and tied back. Shadows are visible under her eyes. Cloey stands behind her, looking radiant. There is no loss of sleep where she's concerned, at least not the type that can't be remedied. Winking in her direction, I pull two chairs out for the women.

"At least one of you is a gentleman."

"At least one of you is a lady," Gunner shoots back.

A man I don't recognize walks into the room. There have been a lot of new additions to the servants in the home since I've been gone. I'm not surprised. Not many last long in the Sanders home. Hell, even I don't want to be here. Still, I don't recognize him, so I'm on high alert, especially when he eyes Cloey with interest. I wouldn't put it past Benjamin to send someone in from the outside. I need to get a list of the new employees from Ambrose. The man doesn't even have a chance to ask what we want before Gunner and Wildcat yell 'coffee' simultaneously. It's soon followed by 'black' before the pair glares at each other across the table. Cloey bites her lip in an attempt to keep from smiling. The struggle is real because she's failing miserably.

"I guess you two didn't get much sleep."

My question is met with more narrowed gazes, this time in my direction. An average person would have cowered at the murderous look in their eyes, but not me. I'm used to Gunner's way. In fact, Gunner is at his peak performance at times just like this. But I wouldn't be a friend if I didn't enjoy toying with the guy here and there, and this is the perfect opportunity to give my partner a hard time.