Played by Cara Dee

Three

Breakfast the next morning looked a little different. Darius and Gray were up before the sun to prepare pancakes, finish the morning chores, and serve up cake leftovers from yesterday.

“How can I convince you to wear one of the party hats?” Gray asked, adjusting his own.

Darius yawned and poured two mugs of coffee. Then Jayden’s mug with two-thirds milk, the rest coffee. “You don’t. You just put the hat on my head and tell me that’s the deal.”

Gray grinned sleepily and did exactly that. “You know, I didn’t think you could get any sexier. But when you’re all daddy-like, I’m ready to come in my pants.”

“You stroke my ego so fucking well, knucklehead. Keep it up.” Darius set the rest of the food on the breakfast tray. “All right, let’s go wake up the birthday boy. Can you believe he’s nine already? Seems like it was just yesterday he was eight.”

“Oh God. Yeah, you’re definitely a dad, baby.”

What? Darius thought it was funny as fuck.

The rest of the day was fun too. It usually was, when it was just the four of them. Jayden got to open more presents; Darius and Gray had given him a fishing pole, winter boots, a couple books, and a new action figure. They’d also helped Justin pick out some Lego that were for the both of them.

The only thing that affected the good mood a bit was their evening plans. Jayden and Justin were excited for their sleepover with Chloe and Aiden, but for Darius, it was yet another return to a past he’d sworn to never revisit. Several times.

While the boys played and ate their body weight in candy and cake, Darius started preparing for the arrival of their crew. He did inventory of gear and ammo, he got the guest cabin ready, and he texted Ryan, who was in the air by now.

Darius and Gray had discussed the mental switch required to go between being a parent and a soldier or PMC, and it took its toll right off the bat when someone wasn’t used to it. And Darius wasn’t. It was difficult to balance the two, going from cleaning one of his AR-15s to comforting Justin when he scraped his knee.

He didn’t like it when the past and present mingled.

“You’re all right, buddy.” He sat down on the porch steps with Justin on his lap. “Let me look at that knee.”

Justin whimpered and wiped at his cheeks.

It was just a few small scrapes from tripping on the bridge. Darius suspected the fall had frightened the boy, and the tiny drops of blood made it worse.

“Jayden?” Darius called. “Can you get your first aid kit?”

“On my way!” the boy yelled from somewhere behind the house. He was teaching his new action figure rock climbing, last Darius had checked.

Gray should be done in the shower any moment too. Madigan and Abel would be here soon.

“It stings,” Justin croaked.

“I know, sweetheart. It’ll pass soon, I promise. We’re gonna get you a Band-Aid.”

Jayden rushed by, only pausing to see the damage, and fetched his backpack in the entryway. He had requested one for school that looked like Darius’s everyday-carry bag. Army green, “badass,” and equipped with Velcro and a MOLLE grid that he could attach pouches and patches to. He’d received some new patches for his birthday from Gideon and Gabriel that Jayden had already fastened on the bag.

Darius only had two patches on his own bag. His blood type and one simply reading, “No.”

Gray thought they summed up Darius’s personality.

The knucklehead wasn’t wrong.

Jayden was cute as shit. He sat down with his medic kit with an expression of sheer concentration, and Darius could tell the boy was silently going through his brief education in first aid.

“A wipe first, right?” he asked.

“That’s right.” Darius nodded and repositioned Justin so Jayden could get access. “We don’t want it to sting more, so grab the one that says nonalcoholic.”

Justin tensed up a little and shifted closer to Darius’s chest. “No stinging, Daddy?”

“No, the stinging’s gonna go away.” Darius kissed the top of his head.

Jayden carefully cleaned the scrape on Justin’s knee, and it was right around the time Gray stepped out with a towel around his hips.

“What happened?” he asked, concerned. “I thought I heard something.”

“I fell over there.” Justin sniffled and pointed toward the bridge.

“Aw, sweet boy. Did you get any splinters?”

“I was just gonna ask!” Jayden huffed. “That’s the rule. I ask where he got hurt so I know if I should look for splinters or little rocks and sand.”

Darius’s chest expanded with pride.

“You are clearly in good hands, baby.” Gray grinned and touched Justin’s cheek before backing off. “I’ll go prepare the snacks. Abel and Madigan will be here any moment.”

Before long, Justin was as good as new, and he appeared fond of his new Transformers Band-Aid. Funny how quickly the pain faded when the blood was gone.

“Great job, small fry.” Darius ruffled Jayden’s hair before standing up, and Justin was ready to put the ordeal behind him.

“I’mma help Daddy with snacks,” he said and ran inside.

Darius smirked and felt a cigarette would’ve been perfect, but…

He stuck a new toothpick into his mouth instead.

* * *

As nice as it was to see Madigan and Abel again, Darius was ready to get the ball rolling. He’d received texts from all his buddies who were on their way, and they were down to the last two hours before the cabin turned into a PMC reunion.

And actually, something had ruined his thoughts about Madigan and Abel. It wasn’t that nice to meet up with them anymore, which he knew was his own fucking fault. It was that irrational fear again. His possessiveness over Gray.

Darius had been friends with Madigan for years, but he’d just recently learned that Gray had not only shared a fuck-buddy relationship with his best friend Abel, he’d also been with Madigan. So that was two of Darius’s mates Gray had been with, Madigan and Jamie.

The knowledge poked at insecurities Darius hadn’t even known he had. He couldn’t stop thinking about how little sense he and Gray made as a couple, whereas it made perfect sense for Gray and Abel to be together. They were about the same age. They had the same interests. They’d grown up together.

It’d been a fluke that Darius had found out. He’d been able to tell by Gray’s expression when Abel had made a comment last time they’d come down from Vancouver. Something about the beds they’d shared in the past.

Darius chewed incessantly on his toothpick.

It was his problem. He hadn’t lost an ounce of the rational part of his brain. It just didn’t stop certain thoughts from going on a motherfucking loop in his head. So while rhyme and reason urged him to get over it and that Gray had never been anything but devoted, there was that other side too. You don’t make sense. You’re over twenty years older than him. You dragged him out into the woods, away from his life, away from his hobbies. You happily supported his quest to trap y’all with two kids. He’s gonna get bored. He hasn’t lived yet. Oh, and he’s fucked all your buddies.

“Excuse me.” Darius shot up from his seat on the porch and headed inside when Abel was in the middle of a story about…something. There’d been laughter.

Darius felt sick.

None of this was okay.

He went into the bathroom under the stairs and splashed cold water on his face.

Then he gripped the edge of the counter and stared into the mirror.

What the fuck are you doing?

Shit, not even in his teens had feelings confused him so much. He’d made fun of people who acted like a bunch of drama queens, though. Oh, he’d done that a lot. It wasn’t that long ago his youngest brother had been dumped by the girl their whole family thought was gonna be with them forever. Lias and Evelina had started going out in junior high or something. They’d been rock solid throughout high school, all the way through college, and then she’d up and left. Darius had viewed her almost like a sister. Just like Avery was a brother to him.

Despite that, Darius hadn’t been able to grasp why it was taking Lias so fucking long to get over an ex. His patience had run out about two months after the breakup.

Now he knew that two months was nothing.

There were two quiet knocks on the door, followed by Gray’s voice. “You okay, hon?”

No. I’m feeling a bunch of fucking feelings, and it’s freaking me the fuck out.

“Yeah.” He drew a deep breath and reached for a towel. “Be right out.”

* * *

Gray knew something was up. Hell, so did Abel and Madigan, but Darius waved it off as being distracted by work, an excuse that Gray bought—considering he was aware of what kind of work it was.

The two kinky lovebirds who’d shared a bed with Gray back in the day left when the sun started setting, and promises were made about meeting up the next time they were in town. They wanted Darius and Gray to visit them in Vancouver too, and yeah, they’d see about that.

Darius planted his ass on the porch steps while Gray got the boys ready for their sleepover, including packing Jayden’s backpack for school tomorrow. Lighting up a smoke, Darius figured maybe it was a good thing Gray was spending the night at his parents’ house too. It would allow Darius some time to screw his head back on right, because he had the evening shift at the restaurant tomorrow, starting around the same time Gray clocked out from his shift at the inn. In other words, they wouldn’t see each other until tomorrow night.

“Gray, I can’t find my Deadpool pajamas!” Jayden yelled somewhere in the cabin.

“Check the laundry, sweetheart!” Gray hollered back. “They should be folded on the counter!”

Darius glanced over his shoulder. The door was open a foot or so. Then he took a drag from his smoke and faced forward again, exhaling with a sigh. Gray hadn’t given him a single fucking reason to worry about their future, so what the fuck was going on? Why did Darius feel so goddamn uncertain? He didn’t do uncertain.

Besides, how much more concrete could their relationship even get? Marriage wasn’t his thing—not really. It hadn’t been in the past, that was for damn sure. Perhaps he wasn’t too sure anymore, but either way, parenthood was stronger than a slip of paper. Raising a family tied them together more than marriage ever could. Although, the notion of stamping his last name on Gray’s forehead was appealing.

For mostly the wrong reasons. Christ, the last thing Gray needed was a territorial bastard.

The urge to protect and keep Gray safe hadn’t faded either. A night at the restaurant didn’t come without a few moments where he just had to check in with his knucklehead.

A short while later, Gray stepped out with the boys and was ready to go. He spoke a mile a minute about what food they had in the fridge, the reminder to pick up the boys tomorrow, and milk. They were out of milk.

“I’ll take care of it.” Darius followed them across the property, down to the cars, and opened the door to the Wagoneer. “In you go, boys. Be good for Chloe and Aiden.”

“Wilco!” Jayden replied.

Darius smiled faintly and made sure the kids were buckled in. Then he rounded the car and joined Gray, who was gonna say something. He hadn’t opened the door yet, so Darius steeled himself.

“Are you sure nothing else is wrong?”

Darius parted his lips to respond, to deliver a bald-faced lie like he’d done in most of his relationships in the past at one point or another. Only, he couldn’t. Lying about their mission was one thing. Lies that concerned them as a couple was a whole other, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Being vague would have to do. “I reckon the gig is just stirring up old shit. You know how fucked your head can get around this.”

Gray nodded with a dip of his chin. “As long as you don’t shut me out. If something’s wrong, you gotta talk to me. Same with work—I won’t pressure you to do anything you don’t believe we can handle, but whatever you land on, I wanna be included in.”

That was fair. And, unfortunately, not a promise Darius could keep. “We’ll talk as soon as I know more,” he settled for saying. “We won’t let Lange get away, though. You have my word on that.”

Gray reached up and kissed him quickly. Too quickly. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I can see you’re hiding something, but I left my interrogation brain in the cabin. I love you.”

Darius was struck by a soft blow of surprise. He hadn’t expected Gray to see through him. Either the kid was good, or Darius was growing rusty. The latter wasn’t allowed to happen.

Before any other words could be exchanged, Gray got in behind the wheel and closed the door. Darius backed up a few paces and caught Gray’s little smirk through the window. Shit, maybe he would get through to Darius. After all, Gray was a good student who’d had a good teacher.

Gray backed out until he could turn the car around, and after that, it wasn’t long before the taillights disappeared between the trees.

Darius blew out a breath and trekked back to the cabin.

He actually felt better. Gray was an emotional human being, yet weirdly rational when it came to relationships. Far more destined for success in that arena than Darius, who struggled with how to communicate sometimes, especially when it came to feelings. Which Gray knew. Of course—he knew. So he was patient with Darius.

* * *

It was completely dark by the time Darius’s tablet lit up with an arrival at the gate.

Two cars, at least three people. He guessed four.

They’d all been given the code.

Darius fetched napkins and beers in the kitchen, then went out to the porch around the time the first car pulled up at the bottom of the property. A familiar buzz started making its way through him, because his past wasn’t merely crashing the party this time. The past was the party. And it did something to him. He had to revert to the man he’d been.

“Pizza delivery!” Ryan’s booming voice echoed and sent a pack of birds fleeing the trees. “I have two brothers here too, bitching about how I drive!”

The cavalry had arrived.

Darius descended the steps and lit up a smoke. Sorry, knucklehead, the two-smoke limit wasn’t in effect tonight.

First to appear out of the shadows was his brother, the person Darius preferred to work with the most. A skilled marksman and sniper, bold, two steady hands, a happy-go-lucky grunt who knew how to go oorah.

“Brother.” Ryan handed over a stack of pizza boxes and eyed the cabin. “You’ve come a long way since last time. Good shit.”

“Maybe next time, you bring the family,” Darius replied. Because they had to fucking stop meeting up only for work they’d supposedly quit doing.

“Amen—and it would be nice to have a Grace & Frankie marathon with Gray that wasn’t over the phone.”

Darius wasn’t touching that one. The first time he’d caught Gray and Ryan discussing a damn TV show as if their lives depended on it had been too bizarre.

After leaving the pizza on the porch, Darius went to greet the next two men. River and Reese Tenley. They’d met in the field maybe ten years ago. A set of batshit-crazy twin brothers who’d taken more risks than Darius had. Mainly because River’s job had usually involved handling sensitive information, and as soon as that was the case, you had a red laser dot on your forehead. His brother, Reese, had been in charge of security. He was loud and outgoing where River was quiet and observant.

“For the record, Riv was bitching, not me,” Reese stated. “Ryan was always good at operating heavy machinery.”

“I love you too, sunshine,” Ryan hollered from the porch.

Darius shook his head in amusement.

“Good to see you again, guys.” He shook their hands firmly.

“Not too good,” River noted with a wry smirk.

Darius chuckled.

“Fuck it. I’m stoked.” Reese looked it too. “Don’t get me wrong, we didn’t retire a minute too soon, but it’s still a rush, innit?”

No one could deny that.

“I am too fucking old for these rushes, boys.” The voice emerged from the darkness and revealed Alicia Dawson, a petite ballbuster with an impressive résumé. Everyone coming here tonight was in their early to mid-forties, but Alicia had the most experience, though not that many years in the field.

Once a wunderkind who’d started college at fifteen, she’d been recruited into the private sector from MIT when she was just two shits high. Granted, she was still only two shits high. She’d worked all over the place, it seemed. For one, she was former CIA. As a biochemist specializing in chemical warfare, she’d always been able to pick freely among employers. So it was no wonder she’d returned to the private sector eventually. That was where the money was.

“Ally.” Darius smirked and offered to grab her luggage.

She huffed and handed it over, then promptly lit up a smoke. Fuckin’ menthols. “I guess these heels weren’t made for walking in grass. Christ—ever the heathen, Quinn.”

She didn’t like the woods. She preferred penthouses, deathtrap heels, and lipstick the color of blood.

“How the fuck are ya, darlin’?” Reese asked.

“I’m rich, bored, and I’ve been trying to pin something on Lange for years. I guess that works in your favor,” she replied coolly.

Darius smiled. “By the way, we have a funder.”

Alicia smirked and raised her hand.

Truth be told, Darius wanted to cover some of their expenses because this was personal to him. But yeah, the costs shot skyward pretty fast, and they needed help.

Ryan had never met Alicia before—they only knew each other through the grapevine—so while Reese handled introductions between the two, Darius shifted his focus to the next car that pulled up.

“We can talk and eat at the same time. I’m starving,” Ally announced.

Darius spotted two guys, so that had to be Elliott and Tariq. They were close, and both lived in the LA area. Elliott Jones shared a similar background to Darius. Semiretired, twenty years in high-risk security and extractions, and these days he ran a bodyguard business.

Tariq Amin was a short guy nicknamed The Fly. Because he was the proverbial fly on the wall who got access to information nobody wanted to share. He’d started out as a photographer in combat zones who’d seen the demand for interpreters early on. He was fluent in nine languages, and Darius had worked with him more than a few times, especially in the Middle East.

“I see retirement’s working out great for you, Quinn.” Elliott slapped his hand into Darius’s and shook it.

“I got five years of peace.”

Elliott grinned. “That’s more than most, I guess.”

Darius chuckled and shook hands with Tariq too. “Good to see you both. There’s pizza and beer on the porch. Dig in.” He saw their last arrival parking now too.

Dante Williams. Another fucker with an impressive résumé. Born in Jamaica, but came to the US before he’d started first grade. He was ex-Army, ex-NYPD, ex-PMC, and now worked as a consultant in risk assessment, all while running a martial arts center in Queens.

“Of course you have to live in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere, Darius,” he said with a laugh.

“Of course I do.” Darius smacked Dante’s shoulder and offered to grab one of his bags. “You’ve been promised food and a briefing, so let’s get to it. How’s your ma? Do you tell her I miss her cooking?”

Darius remembered crashing on Dante’s couch for a couple weeks after a particularly rough assignment. It was shortly before he’d decided he was out of the game. Mrs. Williams’s Jamaican cooking had helped, though. She’d spoiled Darius rotten.

“She asks about you sometimes.” Dante slid him a crooked smirk. “She worries for your restless soul.”

Darius barked out a laugh. “Oh—I guess that’s one thing you can appease her with. I’m settled down and have two kids now.”

Dante did a double take. “What the fuck? I wasn’t too shocked to hear you’d hooked up with a guy, but kids? You fuckin’ with me? How many times have I heard you swear you’d never have any?”

Darius chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. Safe to say, he had a fair bit of shit coming his way for all the years he’d been vocal about never settling down.

The two joined the rest on the porch, where the table was already filled with open pizza boxes. Despite having brought two extra chairs to the short end of the table, Darius had known it wouldn’t be enough. But he had no issues using the railing. Ryan was already seated there with pizza and beer for them.

Darius grabbed a slice and got comfortable too. “Y’all need foreplay first, or can I dig right in?”

“If that’s what you tell Gray, I feel for the kid,” Ryan said with his mouth full of pizza.

All right, so the first laugh at Darius’s expense was out of the way.

“Don’t be gentle with us, hon,” Alicia said. “Just cut to the chase. I’ve been waiting far too long to end that motherfucker.”

That was a good place to begin. “Said motherfucker is Alfred Lange, as I’ve told you,” Darius said. “Ally’s the only one who’s had him on her radar before, so she’s gonna share what she knows in a bit.” He paused to take another bite of pizza. “I can tell you right off the bat that it’s gonna be a messy op. There will be combat.” He exchanged a brief look with Reese, silent reassurance that Darius hadn’t forgotten their deal. The Tenley brothers couldn’t agree to anything high-risk anymore. “The good news is, we’ll be in the middle of the desert. We’ll have the element of surprise on our side too, and our targets aren’t equipped to handle chaos. Their security probably is, but I like our odds.” Then he nodded at Alicia. “Can you pull up the satellite image Squeezy sent you?”

She retrieved her laptop from her purse and positioned it against the wall so everyone could see. “To no one’s surprise, I wanted to be as prepared as I could be, so I went straight to Willow. She’s a tad better at technology than her brothers.”

A tad.

This next part came from the information Darius and Gray had received from Kellan Ford and the finest mobsters Philly had to offer. “There’s property linked to the Langes outside of Vegas, and it’s cut into three separate lots.” Darius watched as the satellite image appeared on Alicia’s screen. “As you can see, two of them are empty.” And the third piece of land was home to an old brothel about to collapse. “We don’t know why the land has been cut into three. It used to be only one, and it’s the same owner for all three. Maybe they had bigger plans originally, selling it off in pieces, renting it out—fuck if I know. But this is where it gets interesting—and it was how we learned that there’s activity. As of four months ago, all three lots draw electricity. Squeezy’s tracked it all through NV Energy.”

He took a swig of his beer and grabbed another slice.

“So there’s something underground,” Elliott deduced.

Darius inclined his head. “There has to be. And according to the electric bills, it’s of considerable size too.”

They could only theorize about the land being split into three properties, and Darius leaned toward stealth. There was literally nothing topside. It didn’t draw attention, not with that old building the previous owner had used as a brothel. From the satellite image alone, you could tell it’d been neglected for years.

“That brothel seems like a good place to hide an entrance to an underground compound,” Ry noted.

Darius nodded. “It’s the ultimate cover. Literally.”

He knew firsthand that buyers didn’t mind giving up some comfort for the sake of security either. Back when he’d boarded the luxurious yacht where he’d bought Gray back from captivity, he’d heard stories from the other buyers. Security and anonymity came first, luxury and comfort second.

“But that’s not where Lange’s hosting his birthday party, is it?” Dante asked.

“No, that’s a whole other shitshow,” Darius replied. “I’ve outsourced that job to our cousins.” He gestured between Ryan and himself. “Casey and Boone know Vegas better than anyone, and they’re no strangers to getting intel.” He’d omitted everything about this out-of-town location when he’d spoken to Casey the other day. Darius wanted their complete focus on what the Langes had planned for the official reason so many in their organization were meeting up. “So while they’re digging up whatever they can find on the Langes’ hotel reservations, the ballroom they’ve booked for the party, catering, staff, and transport, we’re gonna focus on this right here.” He crammed the crust into his mouth and wiped his hand on his jeans. “Squeezy needs a volunteer who’s willing to go to Vegas ASAP to check out their property. Or the old brothel, more specifically. We need measurements and info about surveillance. She’s got a drone ready to assist that she controls remotely.”

Tariq cleared his throat. “You need pictures too, no?”

“The drone takes care of that,” Darius answered. “But it can’t pick up signals or detect cameras. That’s why we need a man on the ground. Alicia, you said something about soil samples too.”

“Yes, that would be good. If I can send the soil off to my lab, I can figure out when and where on their land they’ve been digging.”

Tariq shrugged. “Sign me up. I have all the gear I need—except for sample tubes. I assume you want me to drill.”

“I’ll make sure you have everything,” Ally said.

“I appreciate that.” Darius tipped his beer bottle their way. “As for the rest… We’re still a few weeks out. It’s gonna be a while before we know exactly how we’ll play this. Casey reports to Squeezy and me as intel comes in, and we wanna hold off for as long as possible. The more we know before we go in…well, you know.”

“In the meantime, we’ll prepare at home,” Ryan said.

Darius nodded in agreement. “Aye. I reckon it’s safe to assume that all the people who will show up at the compound don’t deserve to breathe, as opposed to the official party, where they’ve invited family members too. In other words, prepare for combat in confined spaces, indoors, with and without light, with and without firearms. We don’t know if we have to cut the power at some point, and we don’t know if we’ll have to pummel through the first line of defense silently.”

“And why are we assuming something’s gonna go down at all?” River asked quietly. “How do we know it’s not just a party? Four months of paying the electric can mean a lot of things.”

Yeah, more info provided by Kellan Ford, only half of which Darius—or Willow—had been able to confirm. But that was enough. “Partly rumors from my original source—whispers from the underworld about a big auction taking place—partly an educated guess based on how they tend to operate, and partly some shipments that we’ve tracked.” Kellan had made notes about supplies that’d been delivered to a self-storage facility in Henderson. Everything from towels and certain makeup products to gags and syringes, from metal hooks and chains to cocktail glasses and furniture.

Darius believed with all his heart that this was it, which he said out loud too. He already knew that if he showed the extensive list of supplies to Gray, he’d believe it as well. Because he had horrific memories including everything that Kellan had listed. The knucklehead knew what it was like to be restrained to metal hooks in the wall. He knew what it was like to have his bruises covered up with foundation right before he was auctioned off. He knew what it was like to be gagged and sedated.

River nodded in a silent fair enough.

Elliot hummed. “That original source of yours seems…very helpful.”

Darius retrieved his smokes. “If only. It’s in their interest to have the Langes wiped off the face of the earth, presumably so they can expand their turf. I don’t know. And frankly, I don’t care. I don’t trust him worth a damn, but if Squeezy can confirm a rumor, I’ll believe it. I trust her.”

Reese was the next one with a question. “How many names have you linked to Lange so far?”

Oh Jesus Christ. Many. Darius lit up his smoke and exhaled heavily. “Around twenty? Something like that. Whenever I drive over to Squeezy’s, there’s a new name to add to the list.” Unlike him, Willow loved that shit. She’d had fun repuzzling the pieces that Kellan had already puzzled together. It’d taken her five days just to make the connection between Lange and the land they owned outside of Vegas. “Lange uses his wife’s family a lot, we’ve learned. The land where the brothel is, for instance, has his brother-in-law’s lawyer’s name on the deed, but the payment’s coming from a shell corporation linked to the same company that paid for the yachts comin’ outta Galveston. It was on one of those I found Gray.”

He let his buddies process that and polished off his beer before he went back to their training.

“There’s one more thing we gotta take into consideration,” he said. “We don’t know where Lange is currently housing his trafficked victims—experience says several different locations—but we can be fairly certain they’ll be at the compound when we go in. Which means we’ll be doing rescue and recovery too.” That was where River and Reese entered the picture. “The goal is to crash the party, incapacitate and restrain buyers and affiliates—but not kill or leave marks—then recover any innocent person in there, get them out, and lastly, eliminate the rest.”

Dante let out a low whistle.

“What’re we talking here?” Reese furrowed his brow. “You wanna line ’em up and…” He pulled an imaginary trigger.

“As tempting as that sounds…” Darius smirked slightly. “No. Our resident biochemist is in charge there.”

Ally filled in the blanks. “Carbon monoxide poisoning.”

A low hum of surprise flitted through the guys, with Ryan’s voice rising above the din to express his excitement about finally getting to use the gas mask his wife claimed nobody needed.

“That’s why we’re doing all this, little brother.” Darius clapped Ryan’s shoulder. “So you can say ‘in your face’ to your wife.”

The men laughed.