Tank
Wyatt “Tank” Reid watched the sexy little vixen as she made her way out of the bar. He loved her long dark hair and how she pulled it back in a ponytail that looked just right for pulling. She had an edge to her that made him horny as hell. He loved a challenge and judging by the way she swayed her hips out of the room, she’d give him just that. He was in town for just one night, visiting his best friend and old college buddy, Quinn Mitchell. Tank didn’t plan on hooking up with anyone until he spotted the woman at the end of the bar, shamelessly eyeing both of them. It had been a few years since he and Quinn shared a woman but he had to admit, he was game if his friend was. When Quinn leaned over to him and suggested they do just that, he nearly stood up and high fived his friend.
They called the young bartender over and when Tank handed the kid his hotel key card, he thought the poor guy was going to swallow his damn tongue. He even had the nerve to ask if they wanted her to meet with both of them, up in their room. Tank didn’t want to spell it out for the guy, since it was none of his damn business, so he just nodded. When the kid came back to return his key card with the sexy little bombshell’s message written on it, he fought back the urge to walk over to her and toss her over his shoulder to carry her back to his room. God, he loved a woman with spirit and she had it in spades.
Quinn must have read his mind and when he was going to stand, his friend whispered to him to wait her out. “She’ll come to us, man,” Quinn whispered. But she hadn’t. She finished what looked to be her fifth shot, if he counted the empty shot glasses correctly, and stood to leave the bar area. Tank watched as she got into the glass elevator and rode it to the second floor.
“Fuck,” he growled. “She’s gone.” Quinn chuckled and Tank wanted to beat his friend’s ass.
“We know what floor she’s staying on and I’m sure my connections here at the hotel will find me which room she’s staying in,” Quinn boasted.
“We don’t even know her name Quinn,” Tank complained. “Honestly, how can you feel good about using your pull to look up a stranger and stalk her room? Doesn’t that go against the hotel owner’s handbook or something?” Quinn chuckled but Tank didn’t find any of this funny.
“I own fourteen hotels now and I’m pretty sure I have enough clout and resources to find out who my guests are without having to stalk them. We’ll politely ask her to let us share her for the night and if she still turns us down, well then I’m sure we can come up with something to do, Wyatt. There are other fish in the sea, man.”
“Yeah, but she was the cutest little fish I’ve seen in a damn long time,” Tank grumbled. He hated how he sounded so grumpy, but he couldn’t help it. He had been undercover for months now and today was his first day off in as long as he could remember. He was hoping to hang out with his friend and catch up. Blowing off some steam with the sexy brunette wouldn’t hurt either and then he could get his head back in the fucking game. He was hoping to finish up his current caseload before heading into his new position. The FBI were sticklers for leaving no loose ends and Tank liked to make sure all his I’s were dotted and his t’s crossed.
“Come on man,” Quinn stood and threw down a fifty. “Let’s go to my office and do some research.” He bobbed his eyes at Tank, causing him to chuckle. His old buddy was nothing if not resourceful. After college, Quinn used his master’s in business to go into the hotel industry. Within his first year, he had purchased his first hotel and Tank knew it was only the beginning for his friend.
Tank didn’t have the luxury of picking and choosing what he wanted to do after college. He got his degree in criminal justice and owed Uncle Sam for his education. He had gone to college through the ROTC program and when he got out, he had to enlist and give back. He did just that and had to admit his time in the Army made him into the man he was today. He was a mechanical specialist for the Army and driving tanks for a living wasn’t too shabby. That was how he got his nickname and Quinn was the only person he kept in touch with, from the old days, who still called him Wyatt.
“Fine,” Tank grumbled and stood. “But if we go to jail for stalking that woman, I’m going to tell them it was all your idea.”
Quinn chuckled and slapped him on the back, “Deal,” he agreed. Tank wasn’t sure if any of this was a good idea, but the thought of not seeing the sexy brunette who gave as good as she got, just pissed him off.
Quinn
Quinn felt like a badass when he walked out of his office, holding up a piece of paper with the woman’s name from the bar written across it. He could see from the look in Wyatt’s eyes he didn’t believe he’d be able to pull off the impossible and find the hot woman from earlier.
“Got her,” he barked and handed Wyatt the paper. “Her name is Lyla Devlin and she is staying in room 215.”
“Great, you’ve got her name. Now what, genius?” Well, fuck, Quinn hadn’t thought that far ahead. Wyatt was always the one with the plan and he had to admit they were going to need a damn good one to weasel their way back into the sexy brunette’s good graces. He and Wyatt fucked things up sending his bartender over to give her Wyatt’s key card. It sounded like a good plan when they came up with it, but she turned them down flat and disappeared up to her room for the night. Now, Quinn was rock hard just thinking about her, and from the way Wyatt paced in front of him, looking about ready to launch on his prey, he felt the same way.
“How about we go up to her room and introduce ourselves,” he asked. “Can’t hurt.”
“Sure,” Wyatt taunted him. “I’m betting she’ll be naked and waiting for us and usher us right on into her room.”
Wyatt always had a knack for the dramatic, even in college, but sometimes his friend got on his last nerve. “Well, you don’t have to be an ass, Wyatt. I was just trying to offer a solution. You were the one who came up with the whole, ‘Let’s send her my keycard’ bit,” Wyatt grouched.
“Fine, lead the way,” Wyatt made a grand sweeping gesture with his arms and Quinn didn’t hide his smile.
“You know, I think you missed your calling by joining the FBI. You have such a flair for the dramatic, did you ever consider the theater?” Quinn teased.
“Fuck off,” Wyatt barked, causing him to full-on belly laugh.
They got into the elevator and rode up to the second floor, finding room 215. “This is it,” Quinn whispered.
“I know,” Wyatt loudly whispered back. “Why are we whispering?” he asked. Quinn shrugged, not having a good answer for that. He was never very good at this sneaking around, playing spy thing. That was all Wyatt. Quinn was good at business and making money. At just thirty-five, he was a millionaire hundreds of times over but none of that mattered to him. That was one of the reasons why he liked to have Wyatt into town, he helped Quinn forget his money and responsibilities and treated him like the dumb, scared college freshman who shared a cramped dorm room with him.
He and Wyatt had quickly moved from roommates to best friends before the first semester came to an end and they were inseparable the rest of the four years until they graduated. Quinn was almost painfully shy, especially when it came to dating and Wyatt was the king of casual hook-ups. They started going out to bars together, once they were both of age, and Quinn sat in the corner watching Wyatt work the room and usually end up leaving with at least one woman, sometimes even two, on his arm. One night, Quinn asked Wyatt what was up with him not hooking up and even questioned if he liked women. When Quinn admitted he had never really had a steady girlfriend and was too shy to meet women, Wyatt jumped in and showed him the ropes. He was the one who suggested he and Quinn share women and it was less daunting knowing Wyatt was right there with him the whole time. The women didn’t seem to mind either. Most of them liked having both him and Wyatt giving them their full attention.