“And what makes us the best at handling irregular situations.” Reece waved an arm toward the back of the building, where Greer, their oldest brother and founder of Wilde Security, held court. “If you’ll follow me, Greer’s office is this way. He’s anxious to talk specifics with you and your client.”
The office door shut behind them, and Jude said, “Ruh-roh.”
“You are such a little shithead,” Vaughn replied and touched his already-swollen eye.
“Yeah, but you two make such easy targets.”
Cam parted his lips, no doubt to lash out with a retort, but the office door opened again, and Reece reappeared. Ruh-roh was right. Reece’s gaze all but singed as he zeroed in on each of them in turn.
“Cam, put on a goddamn shirt,” he snapped. “Vaughn, go ice your eye. And you.” He pinned Jude with a finger, much the same as their father used to when they were kids. “You better fucking behave. Kenneth Burke represents a big client. We’re talking a bigger payday than we’ve ever seen, and you are not going to screw us up.” The for once in your life part went unspoken. It never had to be said. They all knew Jude was the family fuck up, and he’d made his peace with that.
“Greer wants you three in here for this,” Reece continued. “So pull your act together and at least pretend you’re professionals.”
Jude snapped into a salute. “Yes, sir.”
Reece just shook his head and shoved back into the office, grumbling something under his breath about little brothers. Dude really needed to loosen up. It must be exhausting to stay wound so tight twenty-four/seven. Sometimes shit happened, and no amount of planning in the world stopped it from happening, so why worry? That was Jude’s philosophy. Have fun when life was good. Bend over and take it when shit got bad. And never, ever look back. Bridges burned for a reason. He made sure of it because the past hurt too damn much.
One of the twins socked him in the shoulder as they passed.
“Good going,” Vaughn said.
“Now he’s gonna be in a pisser of a mood all day,” Cam added.
“When isn’t he?” Jude wondered aloud as he fell into step behind the twins. Reece’s middle name was Stick-Up-The-Ass, and his smiles were few and far between.
But if smiling was a rarity for Reece, it was a completely foreign concept to the eldest Wilde brother.
Greer sat behind his disaster area of a desk, faint scowl lines creasing his forehead, his eyes narrowed in displeasure. Even though he’d been out of the military for almost a year, he still wore his dark hair shaved to the scalp.
And he looked like Dad.
The similarity smacked Jude in the face, and he stopped short just inside the door, struggling against an immediate urge to apologize for…well, everything.
Sorry I never listened, Dad. Sorry I caused you and Mom so much heartache.
Sorry I killed you.
No. He shook his head. Not Dad. Greer. It was Greer sitting there, watching him with those dark, dark eyes.
Jude turned away to shut the office door, needing that extra second to school his features back into an affable smile. His cheeks hurt, the muscles pulling, and he worked his jaw to loosen everything up until he could smile without wanting to scream.
Yup. Bridges burned for a reason.
With his usual smile firmly in place, he faced his brothers, who studied him with expressions ranging from worried—the twins—to disinterested—Reece—to completely unreadable—Greer. Burke, the new client, sat regally in a wood fold-up chair in front of Greer’s desk and acted like they were all too far below him to rate much of his attention.
“Go over it again for my brothers,” Greer told the man.
Burke’s gaze shifted to the twins, who no doubt made an intimidating pair if you didn’t know them. They both grinned like cats in sight of prey, and Burke sniffed disdainfully. “To be perfectly frank, this is a waste of time and money.”
“Again,” Greer commanded in his Army Ranger voice.
Burke pursed his lips. “Of course. I’m a lawyer, and the family I represent is facing a sensitive problem…”
Jude lounged against the wall and dipped a hand in his pocket, jiggling the ring he carried with him everywhere as he settled in for what was sure to be a mind-numbingly long story. If he had a dollar for every time a client came to Wilde Security in the past month with a “sensitive” problem… Well, he sure the hell wouldn’t be working here.
Aruba was nice this time of year. Or any time of year.
He’d be lounging on a white sand beach with a sissy frou-frou drink—because what else did you drink in beach fantasies?—and a beautiful woman cradled in his lap. A blonde. Yeah, but not an out-of-the-bottle blonde. Natural, with golden tones that matched the gold flecks in her light brown eyes. She’d be wearing a purple string bikini with ties at the hips, and as he offered her his drink, he’d reach down and pull the knots loose. She’d laugh and take off her square, black-framed glasses—
Wait. No. His Aruban fantasy woman did not have glasses. Or a purple string bikini. Or anything else that he associated with…her.
And yet he could picture it—and her—so clearly, he could almost smell the vanilla spice perfume she always used to wear.