You don't want to fail them again, that's all.
Sure, that's what I would tell myself. Our team could use a morale boost. We'd been running on less than empty for the past five years.
The comm in my ear opened. Faust's slow cadence filled my ear. "Can someone explain to me why I'm watching our mark run the opposite way? Knox, confirm, is the target secure?"
I growled out a curse. I'd failed them again today anyway. "Negative. Target is not secure."
The only reason the comms weren't cluttered with curses was because of training. The curses would come, and I would deserve them.
"We're throwing it in for now. I'm coming to get you."
When there was no confirmation, I barked, "Confirm."
"Affirmative." The crisp word was flung at me from four very irritated alphas.
I checked the perimeter, though it was unnecessary. In a place like this, we posed the greatest danger. As I stepped out onto the sidewalk, blending in with the flow of pedestrians, the tube of lip balm jostled in my pocket.
I gripped it, nearly snapping the plastic cylinder in two before ripping it from my pocket. The end smelled fruity and tropical, but it also smelled of Jazz.
His lips had glistened. Was this stuff why?
I pulled the cap off, bringing the wax to my nose. My cock pressed against the inside zipper, straining to get toward that scent. It had been a long time, for all of us, and Jazz's scent—rosemary, lemon, and warm vanilla—felt like a soft stroke up my length.
We'd never come as close to capturing the young man as we'd come today. I bit back the smile that always threatened my lips when I thought of Jazz.
I should've been nothing but irritated by his antics as the others clearly were. We'd signed up to apprehend a man's runaway son, not a nymph with magic powers. But the kid was damned impressive. He thought on his feet, and he was fast. Even without that magic trick of his, he would've been a difficult catch. I missed seeing his red hair today. I'd dreamed of his red curls, something I would never admit to the others. After first contact, that night, I'd dreamed of his soft thighs opening, guiding his hips down as his body swallowed my cock. He'd moaned with each upward thrust, his curls bouncing in time with our lovemaking.
I snarled and shoved the lip balm in my pocket while reminding myself of all the reasons that couldn't happen.
Punk, insufferable, cruel, and a little shit. Those had been Jazz's father's exact words when describing his son. He'd claimed to be the over-indulgent father to a brat who had grown up with too much money. He'd told me Jazz had gotten in over his head, that he'd begun dabbling in the black market—specifically selling weapons to people he had no business interacting with. He'd painted himself as a well-meaning father who was just looking out for his son's best interest.
He was full of shit. But his lies didn't make sense. Anyone who spoke with Jazz for more than a few seconds could tell he wasn't cruel or insufferable. Naughty? Yes. But in a way that felt more like he was testing his limits than anything else.
I hated knowing only half a story. When I caught Jazz again, and I would, I'd just ask him before handing him over. He would have to go back eventually. Jazz's father had paid us half already, and once we secured Jazz and returned him, we'd get the other half and would finally have enough to devote all of our attention to what really mattered.
Faust waited for me at the Hummer. Dog sat at his side glaring at the pedestrians passing by. "What happened?"
I growled. I wasn't the original leader of our team. Mercenary work had been Pierce's idea. But he was dead now, and these guys needed someone to follow. "Nothing." I exhaled sharply. "He outsmarted me."
More accurately, he played chicken with something apparently I cared more about than he did. I wasn't sure where the "paddle his ass" comment had come from, but I meant it. I never wanted to see Jazz with a gun against his head again.
We loaded up, and I flipped the Hummer around, going the opposite direction. At the stop light, the back doors opened, and the twins slid in on either side. Dog growled and jumped to the row behind him. He didn't share anything with anyone but Faust.
"What the fuck, Knox?" Jagger snarled while Huntley just stared. They weren't blood twins, but if it weren't for the scar running the width of Jagger's throat, telling them apart would be almost impossible. After so long together, they even smelled the same.
"He got away," I growled.
"Got away? Or did you let him go?" Huntley shot him a knowing look.
Maybe years ago, before everything that had happened, these men would've understood what I'd gone through. The terror I'd felt. I'd stared down the asshole of Satan himself and laughed, but I hadn't been able to outwit a kid nearly half my age. "I told you what happened."
On the night we lost not only our chosen team leader but our pack, homes, friends, and family, the five of us had survived, but only physically. Whatever spark in each of us that allowed a body to be more than muscle and instinct had died that night too.
Since then, vengeance propelled us. My thirst for revenge was the only thing that got me up some mornings. Then we took the job to find Jazz. What had started as a distraction and means to secure funds had become an obsession. But not one the others shared.
And if they thought I wasn't as devoted to finding who was responsible for murdering our family, then they wouldn't follow me.
Things hadn't always been this way. Loyalty had once bound us. We'd been a brotherhood. Now, we were shells of our past selves.
Taking the exit out of the city, we drove under an overpass, and there was a thud on the roof. The tires vibrated, threatening to swerve out of control. I spun the wheel, yanking the Hummer into neutral until the tires rolled normally again.
"I told him to stop jumping on the Hummer," Faust snarled along with Dog.
The back door opened, filling the vehicle with turbulent wind as Diesel slid from the roof to the back seat while the Hummer sped down the highway.
I could've slowed down and made his time easier, but, as Faust had explained several times to him, he was going to bust the shocks if he kept up the habit.
"Tell me we're going back," Diesel snarled, ignoring the way Dog's lips curled to show him his teeth.
"We're going back." I needed to get Jazz's scent out of my head, and we all needed to concentrate on what was really important.
***
Under two hours later, I turned down the unmarked road toward our new home base. The way was paved, but the concrete had been so poorly maintained there were large, uneven cracks amid deep potholes.
The brush on either side was in serious need of a trim. Or a chainsaw. Thick blackberry bush stalks thwacked the windshield and sides, making Faust growl.
"Ruining the paint job," he muttered under his breath.
I'd see him out here in the next couple of days aggressively chopping down any bush that dared to hit the Hummer. To the rest of us, it was a means of transportation, but machines spoke to Faust on a level that none of us could match.
I took the final corner, revealing the angry Oregon coast in the distance as I pulled up to a crumbling water fountain. The fountain was in good shape compared to the enormous structure behind it. The sign out front was peeled, the wood mostly rotted, but the words Hotel Royal Paynes were still legible.