Drunk or sober, he and Kit would enjoy some adult fun. Hawk glanced over at Caz’s where Aric was bunked down on the floor in Regan’s room.
Following his gaze, Caz grinned. “I don’t think either of them will wake before noon.”
“We wore them out good,” Bull said.
“They make a hell of a team.” Gabe rested his feet on the edge of the firepit. “Damn, they were cute. Like mini-soldiers.”
Hawk chuckled. Lillian had decided adorable clothing came under her grandmotherly purview and bought camo shirts and pants for Regan and Aric.
After the women left for their celebration, the kids stayed up past dark to play hide-‘n’-seek games and see if their clothing worked. Aric had donned a black stocking cap to cover his blond hair. “The camo face paint topped it off.”
“It worked.” Knox tugged on his red beard. “They were purely invisible.”
After the kids won the last game, Hawk snapped pictures before realizing the photos revealed it was after nightfall—far past Aric’s bedtime.
Even worse, both kids had fallen asleep before baths. They were still face-painted and wearing combat clothing.
As if he was reading Hawk’s mind, Caz frowned. “We should get up early and scrub the children down.”
“Erase the evidence?” Chevy had a bullfrog’s laugh. “That’d be smart.”
Hawk rubbed the scar on his cheek and considered. It’d work if Kit slept late. Otherwise, she’d murder him for corrupting her son.
Then Gabe would arrest her. Which would be bad.
Hawk nodded. A few extra orgasms would ensure she slept late. Wouldn’t be a problem.
No, he’d do his utmost for a noble cause.
As his dick stirred to life, he rose to his feet. “I’m going to head out and park at the roadhouse. Just in case.”
“In case they decide to sing their way through downtown?” Bull nodded. “I could see Frankie egging Kit on to something crazy.”
Appalled, Hawk stared at his brother. “Seriously?”
“My woman won’t be drinking,” Gabe said smugly. Then his smile faded. “But Frankie and Kit together might be impossible for her to contain.”
Caz shook his head. “JJ is unpredictable. She might vote for restraint—or not.”
“Lillian can come up with some crazy notions.” Dante nodded approval at Hawk. “Best to have a lookout, just in case.”
Knox and Chevy exchanged worried looks before Chevy turned to Hawk. “They’re supposed to text us for a ride, but if they leave the roadhouse?”
“God help Rescue,” Knox muttered. “You call if that happens, Hawk.”
Yeah, he’d do just that—after he retreated to a safe distance. And took some pictures. Many, many pictures.
“Will do.”
Outside Bull’s Moose Roadhouse, there were ample pools of darkness to help with staging the operation.
Captain Nabera’s men had arrived in black SUVs along with a couple of black passenger vans. They drove into the lot without lights and parked in the shadows.
For transport of their prisoners, Nabera had rented two windowless cargo vans, unfortunately white—the only color available. For discretion, the driver parked them down on Sweetgale until needed.
At the back of the lot, Nabera stood next to one SUV and surveyed the area. The black vehicles were nearly invisible. His men were geared up and ready for action.
The Prophet would have been proud of Nabera’s planning and his people’s professionalism.
Inside the roadhouse, two newer recruits, who wouldn’t be recognized, kept an eye on the targets.
A man walked past the roadhouse front window, light gleaming off his shaved scalp. Conrad. As if without a care in the world, the lieutenant sauntered across the parking lot to Nabera.
“Report, lieutenant.”
“Sir.” Conrad came to attention. “The women are inside and drunk.”
“Very good.” Nabera eyed the roadhouse. “Kirsten is present?”
“Yes, sir.” Conrad nodded sharply.
Nabera smiled slowly. “Now, the world will learn how the Patriot Zealots respond to traitorous women and to having our Prophet murdered.”
And, before selling her, he would spend some quality time with the cunt who’d caused Obadiah’s death and all their problems.
When her phone vibrated against her butt, Frankie pulled the cell from her back pocket and walked away from the noisy table of women. “Hey, JJ, everyone’s asking where you are. Did something happen?”
“Police stuff,” JJ grumbled. “Some bozos at the fishing camps started a brawl, and they called me to break it up. I should book the idiots simply for making me miss the party. Tell Audrey I’m sorry. Is everyone still there?”
“I’ll tell her.” Frankie eyed the tables. “We’re down to just eight of us.” The midwife had gotten a call, then the two sisters who owned the arts and crafts store left with Irene. A few minutes ago, the summer schoolteacher had bailed out, although her daughter, Erica, stayed.
JJ started laughing. “From the noise, your hardcore bunch includes Lillian.”
Strutting alongside the table, Lillian was singing, “Oh, you nasty boys,” to the shouts and whistles of the other women.
Frankie snickered. “The Brit might have white hair, but cavalo, she has some moves.”
“Well, I need to finish up here.” JJ sighed. “Don’t drink so much you can’t have fun afterward with Bull.”
“Right.” Tucking her phone back in her pocket, Frankie made a face because she wasn’t anywhere near drunk. Although her spirit was all-too-willing, her body wasn’t in a drinking mood. Her stomach had been on the fritz for a few days now, probably because she and Bull were testing Asian dishes for the restaurant menu.
At just the thought of dim sum, nausea hit. The gin-and-tonic, which should’ve settled her stomach, threatened to resurface. She swallowed uneasily.
While Lillian conducted the enthusiastic singing of the next song, Frankie fled to the roadhouse’s office.
Thank goodness she had a private bathroom in here.
If Kit caught her worshipping the porcelain god, Frankie would never live it down.
As Lillian waved her hand to direct the next verse in a raucous song, Kit glanced around the nearly empty bar. The noisy all-women celebration had driven most of the regular customers away.
Tucker and Guzman had fled an hour ago, as had Felix and Orion.
A couple of clean-shaven men with short hair sat at the bar—probably tourists. In the front corner, three older women were talking quietly.
The dark windows to the parking lot reminded her she’d wanted to step out back. Bull wanted her opinions on how to make the patio overlooking the lake more attractive. Although she’d studied the area before sunset, she needed to see how it looked after dark.
Slipping away from the table, she crossed the bar and went out the roadhouse’s back door.
Whew, instant quiet. Her ears were still ringing. As she walked around the big patio area, a frosty night breeze rustled the lakeside rushes and cooled her overheated skin.
Lights traveling up the mountain caught her gaze. Whoever built the roadhouse had chosen an excellent location. Tourists drove by it on the way to the resort, and the townsfolk provided steady clientele.