Hell or High Water (Deep Six #1)(26)
“Right.” Wolf nodded. “Maybe then he’ll stop pining and realize one chucky is as good as the next.”
“That’s possible,” Bran mused. Though he had some doubts. He’d never seen Leo look at another woman the way he looked at Olivia, his eyes chockablock full of heat and hormones and…something else. It was the “something else” that made Bran twitchy. “And since we’re on the subject of ax waxing and one chucky being as good as the next”—he turned his attention to Mason—“when will you get back on that horse and ride, eh?”
Mason shot him a look meant to shrivel his balls. “Who the f*ck says I haven’t?”
“Me,” Bran declared.
“And me,” Wolf added.
“It’s complicated,” Mason insisted, his expression about as friendly as a jar full of scorpions, which was pretty much SOP—standard operating procedure—whenever they dared bring up the subject of his philandering ex-wife. Bran had never hated a woman in his life. But he hated the former Mrs. Mason McCarthy with the fiery heat of a thousand suns. No good puttana.
“What it is, is way past time,” Wolf was quick to insist. “Besides, it can’t be healthy. How many years has it been now? Six?”
“I thought it was seven,” Bran added helpfully.
“You can both immediately and rigorously go f*ck yourselves; it’s only been five. And I got your healthy right here.” Mason flexed one arm, his massive bicep rolling into a hard sphere that looked about the size of a bowling ball.
“Have you ever noticed,” Bran mused, grinning evilly, “that guys who work out and get super beefy are generally trying to overcompensate for embarrassingly tiny sex organs?”
“I have noticed that.” Wolf played along, nodding sagely.
“Puh-lease,” Mason snorted. “You could lay both your dicks end-to-end and they still wouldn’t compare to the hog I have packed in my pants. And why did this get turned around on me, anyway? Weren’t we talking about LT and Olivia?”
“Speak of the devil and she will appear,” Wolf muttered softly. Then he raised his voice. “Come on in, Agent Mortier.”
Bran spun in his seat to see Olivia standing in the doorway. And he could totally understand why Leo dug her. On the one hand, she was lean and mean, an honest-to-God government fighting machine. On the other hand, she was soft and pretty, a woman in her prime. And that combination was incredibly dynamic. And very hard to resist. Especially for guys like them who could appreciate more than most a woman with a backbone forged of white-hot alloyed steel.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked, her smoky voice rougher than usual. And from the shuttered look on her face Bran wasn’t sure how much of the conversation she’d heard.
Hopefully none. Because Leo would skin them alive if he knew they were talking about his currently nonexistent sex life. But if he knew Olivia had overhead as well? Good God, a mere skinning would seem like child’s play compared to what Leo would do to them. Bran imagined it would be something rather foul and undoubtedly painful involving their coglioni.
“Nah.” Wolf motioned for her to come in. “We’re just gearing up. So, what’s up? Is there a problem with the receiver or something? Are the signals—”
“No, no.” She shook her head. “Everything is fine. The signals are coming in loud and clear, and all indications are that the capsules haven’t moved. I just got off the satphone with Morales. He says the contractors are about fifty minutes behind us, but headed our way to provide support should we get close and find the tangos are still on site. So we should be…uh…we should be good.”
“Roger that,” Bran said after she’d sort of stumbled to a stop. Standing there in the doorway, her expression appeared to be filled with… Was that doubt? Okay, now that wasn’t very Olivia-like. “Was there something else you needed?”
“I…” She took a step into the room, then paused. For a split second, Bran thought she might turn tail and run. But then she squared her shoulders and marched toward them, stopping next to the table to spread her feet and balance herself against the gentle sway of the ship. “I was hoping Wolf would tell me about that promise he mentioned,” she blurted.
For a couple of seconds, no one moved. Bran was pretty sure no one breathed. And not because their vow was a secret or anything—for shit’s sake, they each carried the evidence of it right there on their bodies. But more because it wasn’t something they talked about with anyone…ever. Why would they? No one but the seven of them, the remaining members of the Crazy Eight, could ever understand what it meant.
“Because it’s been… Well, it’s really been bothering me,” she continued. “And I…I know I’m asking a lot of you guys and I know you all thought you were finished doing this kind of stuff but I figured a half a million would make it worth your while—more than worth your while—but if helping me means that you’re going back on your word to someone, then maybe I should call Morales and tell him to find another dive team. I mean you guys are our best shot right now for retrieving the weapons and staying off the CIA’s radar but it’s not like we couldn’t tap someone else if we had to and I just—”
“Whoa, whoa!” Wolf cut in. “Slow down. I don’t know about these two”—he flicked a thumb at Mason and a finger at Bran—“but I could really use some punctuation here.”