Maybe he was a sick bastard, but violence got him hard. Really fucking hard. Which made for a very uncomfortable ride home. Rylan shifted restlessly in the passenger’s side of the pickup truck, did some strategic rearranging down below, and hoped that Xander didn’t feel the need to comment on Rylan’s very noticeable hard-on.
But Xan’s gaze stayed on the dark road beyond the windshield. He’d barely said a word since they’d settled in for the long drive back to Connor’s camp.
Rylan reached into his pack and pulled out two cigarettes. “You want?” he asked, waving an unlit one in Xander’s direction.
The quiet man gave a sharp nod.
Rylan lit the two smokes, took a long drag, and handed one over. Xander puffed his down to a nub before another mile passed. Without being asked, Rylan lit another one. He hoped his friend would pace himself on the second, because he only had one left.
Fortunately, it looked like Xan planned to make this one last, probably so he’d have an excuse not to talk. He didn’t need one, though. Everyone knew the source of Xander’s silence. It had been two months since the attack on Reese’s town, two months since the death of Xander’s best friend, Kade. In those two months, all of Xander’s spoken words could’ve been written on a napkin. He’d never been one to crack jokes or run around with a big grin on his face, but the man’s expression had two modes now—stoic or pained. He winced every time Kade’s name came up.
And for all the success they’d experienced tonight, their excursions weren’t picnics. They were battles with live rounds and a shit ton of ammunition. Rylan wasn’t naive enough to think that Kade’s death was the last they’d suffer before the end—if there was going to be an end.
Reese’s plan to take down the Global Council was dangerous, risky, and only working because the outlaws on her side would rather bet their lives than sit on their asses, hiding from the world. Even Connor, Rylan’s best friend and leader, had been brought around to Reese’s way of thinking.
Strike first, strike often, and strike hard—that was their new motto, because as evidenced by the recent attack on Foxworth, the Enforcers who carried out the will of the GC wouldn’t allow the outlaws to hide for much longer.
Rylan rolled his head around his neck, trying to ease some of the tension, but he knew it wasn’t going away with any car-bound workout. There was only one way the granite in his pants would subside—with his hand working his cock while his mind feverishly played images of Reese.
Though if he were being honest, the solo act wasn’t much fun. He liked active, happy companions. More than one if possible, which was why he’d been a frequent visitor to Connor and Hudson’s bed. There wasn’t anything better in the world than driving a woman crazy in the sack, and he got the most pleasure doing it with another man in the mix. Two men, devoted to one woman’s pleasure, meant everyone had a fan-fucking-tastic time.
But Reese’s pleasure was off-limits to him, apparently. Seemed like she’d rather sleep with anyone but him. And he was good, damn it. He knew that if he had the opportunity, he could rock that woman’s world. He’d do it by himself or they could have Reese’s brick-faced companion join them. At this point, he didn’t give a shit who was there as long as he finally got his hands on her. But the stubborn woman continued to resist his every attempt, every sugarcoated word. And in the last couple months, Rylan’s desire for everyone else seemed to have tapped out like a dried well. His dick was raw from all the hand work it was getting.
He stared moodily out the window. It was cold outside, but there wasn’t any snow. Technically it was still winter, but spring-like weather had come too soon, and with it, endless rain. The truck moved slowly in the mud and slush. He hated it.
After another ten miles of smoke-filled silence, Rylan had had enough. Enough of the shitty weather. Enough of the bleak landscape. Enough of the goddamn quiet. He didn’t want to be in his head thinking about Reese, the weather, or the dire situation that the successful raid would no doubt spark.
“Nice work with the electronics tonight.”
Xander grunted.
Okay, this wasn’t going to work. No way could he survive another two hours next to this sullen soldier, especially when his own thoughts were wandering into melancholy territory. If he stayed in the truck with Xan, the two of them would end up singing dirges and wiping away man tears.