Close Cover (Masters and Mercenaries #16)(3)

His woman. He knew that because his dream self damn near salivated at the sight of her, but she was a shadowy figure, her face always too backlit to make out her features.

How his friends and coworkers would laugh to find out Romeo Remy dreamed about his future wife. Which was precisely why he wasn’t telling anyone about it. He’d learned long ago to keep those weird dreams he sometimes had to himself.

Shane was chuckling. “You have to admit you’re a little on the Hollywood side, my man. You fit right in with that crowd in LA. I think that’s why Joshua Hunt didn’t like you. You’re almost as pretty as he is.”

“I admit to nothing but having a small amount of taste, and Hunt didn’t like me because I was more popular at his club than he was,” Riley replied. “And Tag would call us douches even if we were dressed like hoboes. He’s wired that way. From him, it’s almost affection.”

Declan shrugged one big shoulder. “Better than a hug.”

Wade took the seat closest to Remy and leaned over. “Hey, what was all that yelling about this morning? Sounded like a problem from home, man.”

Remy frowned. He’d shut the door the minute he’d realized it had been his cousin calling. Apparently the solid wood door hadn’t been thick enough to contain his rage. “Why do you think it was personal?”

“You started yelling in French,” Wade pointed out. “You don’t speak French unless someone calls you from home or Charlotte needs help ordering from the Paris Chanel store. Since Big Tag isn’t screaming about how broke he’s going to be, I assumed it was the former. Is it about the bar? Did he up the damn price again?”

The others had stopped their argument over whether or not Riley’s designer clothes made him less manly and all heads turned to him.

“He upped the price again?” Shane asked. “Because you’re already paying too much for that market.”

“Way too much.” Riley and Shane had done some investigating and concluded that his cousin Jean-Claude was an asshole of the highest order.

Remy could have told him that. “He didn’t up the price.” It was much worse. “He wants it all in cash in six weeks or he’s going to sell out to a land developer who’s been looking at our town. If the wharf goes, the town goes. No more shrimpers. No more small businesses. If he sells our land, the rest will have to sell, too. The whole town depends on having access to the water. If Jean-Claude sells the land, they’ll immediately oust everyone who rents a slip in our marina. They’ll evict the mechanic shop connected to the wharf and our entire way of making a living goes away. Unless we want to work in the big resort he’s planning, we’ll have to move. Most of those families have lived on that bayou for a hundred years, some more.”

“How much?” Dec asked, his voice tight.

Remy shook his head because it didn’t matter.

Dec gave him one of those looks that told Remy he could tell him or Dec would find out himself. “How much?”

Remy sighed and sat back. “I’m seventy thousand short. And that’s seventy thousand short of merely qualifying for the loan. I thought I would have another two years, but my time’s run out.”

Wade held up a hand.

Remy knew exactly what he would say. “And no. Killing Jean-Claude wouldn’t help anything. The wharf would go to a distant cousin, who’s even greedier than he is. And no. Killing Jean-Claude and his cousin won’t fix it because he’s got a large family and they would keep coming.”

“I’m only saying that between the five of us, we can kill a lot of people,” Shane said.

“I can make a chart,” Riley offered. “I’m a very organized killer.”

“I appreciate it, but no.” He was done killing, tired of all the blood on his hands. “I’m going to talk to the bank again. The last time I talked to them, the real estate boom hadn’t started. Maybe they’ll up the property value of my house.” His rundown two-bedroom in a bad part of town. “No matter what, I’m going to find a way.”

Whatever arguments might have come out of his teammates’ mouths were silenced by the door opening and Big Tag walking in, his gorgeous wife, Charlotte, right behind him. Oddly enough, of the two, Charlotte scared him more than the former CIA assassin. Charlotte was utterly ruthless and did not mind leaving a man with two hand grenades waiting to go off while she sashayed away to have fun.

The hand grenades had been her twin daughters and yes, the “fun” might have been giving birth to baby number three. He prayed those two were done gifting the world with their spawn because he wasn’t sure he could handle those two baby girls again. Not without a wife.

But they had gotten him thinking. They were stinky but awfully sweet. After he’d calmed down and accepted that he had to take care of two little girls and a dog who looked like he could kill but peed whenever new people showed up, he’d settled in. He’d found some cartoons and the girls had finally climbed up onto his lap and watched. After a while they’d fallen asleep and he’d studied them. They were cute and sweet and cuddled up like kittens looking for warmth. They were trusting in a way no adult could be. He kind of wondered what it would be like to have one of his own.

Big Tag had a future right there in those tiny things.

“Welcome to the civilized world,” Taggart said, taking his place at the head of the table. “Riley, Dec, and Shane, welcome back from La-La Land. Nice job. The client didn’t die and you managed to blow up a whole Mexican drug cartel and out a dirty CIA agent in the process.”