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  “I went to talk to Jack.”

  First Bryn, now Jack? Even Axl wouldn’t be that brave, or that brainless, to repeat this morning’s stupidity. “About me?”

  “About you and about Jack joining my team,” Axl easily admitted, his voice just loud enough to reach her ear.

  Reagan whirled around on her seat, feeling red-hot anger pulse through her veins. She wasn’t sure what she was angrier about . . . Jack joining MKR or the fact that Axl thought he had a right to interfere with her love life. “You son of a bitch,” she snarled. “How dare you?”

  “How dare I warn Jack off dating you or the other thing?”

  “Either! Both! Equally. You had no right.” Reagan hurled the words at him, feeling her heart rate accelerate.

  Axl didn’t seem remotely concerned that she was about to erupt. “Sure I did. Nobody is going to get you naked but me, and as for MKR, that’s my decision too.”

  Reagan closed her eyes and counted to ten. Then she counted to twenty. When she thought that she wouldn’t punch him in the nose, she opened her eyes and sent him her death-ray glare. She was still too angry to speak. How dare he warn Jack off? He had no claim on her. They’d never been on a date, spent any time together where they didn’t kiss or fight. If she wanted to date Jack then she could. Not that she would, but she could. And she should be able to do that without any interference from Axl.

  But what really hurt, what cut deep, was his casual comment about Jack joining MKR. Everyone knew that Jack was ex-military, and while he didn’t speak about his war experiences, they all knew that he was a shit-hot soldier. Axl’s casual acceptance of his skills and his suitability stabbed like a knife. She worked hard to be the best she could be, worked her ass off to show them that she could be trusted, relied upon, was good enough to join his rescue team, but every step forward was a huge victory. Yet, Jack, just because of his history and his experience, was instantly accepted.

  It wasn’t fair.

  When would he see that she was capable and strong and reliable, dammit? Would he ever see her as something other than Mike’s younger sister, the tagalong, the weak link of the Hudson family? Reagan felt the burn of tears in her throat and in her eyes and she cursed herself. You will not cry, she fiercely instructed herself, you will not humiliate yourself like that!

  “We knew that you two couldn’t make it through one evening without a fight,” Sawyer said, raising his beer bottle in a sarcastic toast. “What’s the problem this time?”

  Reagan opened her mouth to explain but Axl spoke before she could. “Reagan and I will work it out, alone and in our own time. We’re adults, that’s what adults do.”

  Reagan clenched her fist and rested it on her thigh. God, she would feel so much better if she could just punch him. She saw Axl’s eyes drop to her fist, and when he looked at her again, his eyes were the cold gray of an Atlantic winter storm.

  “You hit me and I swear, not only will you never get on to my team but you won’t sit down for a week,” he warned her, his voice again so low that only she could hear him.

  Somewhere deep inside her in that place where rationality lived, she knew that punching Axl was not a good idea but, damn, she wanted to. Of course, with Axl’s reflexes, she’d never reach her target and she’d just end up looking like a fool. Reagan forced herself to open her fist but she sent him a look to make sure that he was under no illusion that she was anything other than incandescently angry.

  Axl took the opportunity her silence offered to change the subject. He turned to Pippa. “So, Pippa, I hear that you can play pool. Want a game? I think that I’d be a bit more of a challenge than Kai. Or Sawyer.”

  Reagan watched as Kai exchanged a long look with Sawyer before letting his mouth curve into a wicked smile. “Want to bet on that, Rhodes?” Kai asked.

  “Sure.” Axl looked cocky. “Anytime, anywhere. What’s the bet?”

  Did he know that Pippa was a shit-hot pool player, that Jack had banned her from playing with anyone in the bar except him, Sawyer, and Kai? Pippa would wipe that confident smile off his face and Reagan would enjoy every minute watching her do that. Sawyer and Kai wanted to bet on the outcome . . . Wait, maybe there was a way to get her revenge on Hot-but-Annoying without a fight.

  Mike always said she was sneaky.

  “I’ll make a bet with you,” Reagan stated, before Sawyer and Kai could speak again. Axl flicked his eyes back to her, and his expression was one of supreme boredom but his eyes reflected his wariness. Don’t you look at me like I’m an irritation, Rhodes! You’ll be sorry.

  “Okay, hit me.”

  Reagan cocked her head. “We both know how much I’d like to hit you but Jack doesn’t like violence in the bar. Oh, you were talking about the bet . . .” Reagan straightened her spine and narrowed her eyes at him. “I bet that Pippa will whip your ass at pool.”

  Axl sent Pippa, who was sipping her wine and looking innocent, an indulgent look. “No offense, Pippa, but I don’t think so.”

  Pippa just shrugged.

  “She’ll beat you and if she does, then you allow me to be a part of MKR,” Reagan said, drilling her finger into Axl’s hard stomach.

  “Over my dead body.” Axl whipped the words back, picking up her index finger and squeezing it.

  “What are you scared of, Axl?” Reagan mocked him. “That I might, actually, be good enough?”

  “Dammit, Hudson! This isn’t a game.” Axl slapped his hands on his hips, anger radiating off him.

  “No, it’s my career!”

  “And you only have a career because we gave you one!” Axl shouted, and his words slammed into her, every word as hard and as hot as shrapnel. They gave her her career? So it meant nothing that she trained like a demon, spent hours on the range, worked insane hours to protect her principal? She was there because they felt sorry for her? God!

  Could that be true?

  “That’s not true.” Sawyer held up his hand, his voice hard. “Calm the hell down, both of you.”

  Anger and hurt roiled and boiled and she felt physically sick. “You might not think that, Sawyer, but Axl sure as hell does.”

  “Shut up for a minute, Reagan,” Kai said, jumping into the argument. He pointed at Axl. “You too, Axe. Take a breath, both of you.”

  Reagan opened her mouth to argue but Kai held up his hand and continued. “You’re not going to be allowed automatic entry because you are you, Reags.”

  “It’s my team and my division and I say no,” Axl growled. He pushed his hand into his air and looked thoroughly pissed off. He banged his beer bottle onto the bar and jammed his hands, hands he wanted to use to wring her neck, into the pockets of his pants.

  “Not helping, Axl,” Sawyer said.

  “I don’t give a damn. That’s the way it is.”

  “Are you going to take the bet or not, Rhodes, or are you going to be a chickenshit?” Reagan demanded.

  “Reagan! Sometimes it’s better not to poke the rabid bear,” Sawyer told her, green eyes frustrated.

  Axl’s eyes landed back on her face and she almost took a step back. Jesus, they were so dark a gray they were almost black, and hugely intimidating. She wanted to back down but she knew that if she did, she would never have a better chance at joining MKR. She’d never have another chance at all. “A chickenshit, Hudson?”

  Reagan swallowed but refused to look away.

  “Okay, let’s do this. If I lose to Pippa—”

  “Who still doesn’t know what MKR is—” Pippa hinted, looking for an explanation.

  Axl ignored her interruption. “. . . then you will get a chance to prove that you are up to standard. And I will consider using you.”

  “I want Kai and Sawyer to be impartial judges,” Reagan stated. “You’d fail me just because of who I am.”

  “My division, my responsibility, so mine is the only opin
ion that counts. Take it or leave it,” Axl retorted, rocking on his heels. “And, when I’m feeling calmer, we will have a talk about that insult to my integrity.”

  Reagan shrugged. Bring it on, dude. She wasn’t done fighting with him. “I’ll take it.”

  “And what if I beat Pippa? What do I get?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

  Oh, shit, in her froth she hadn’t considered the flip side of the coin. What the hell would he demand from her?

  “What do you want, Axl?” Reagan drawled, trying to act like she had the biggest set of balls in the room. She didn’t, but she could act like she did.

  Axl didn’t hesitate. “You drop, forever, your plan to join MKR.”

  Reagan felt a spurt of panic. If Pippa lost, she’d allow Axl to dictate her career path. Worse, she’d never know what it felt like to feel utterly accepted, trusted, a part of something important. MKR was where she belonged. She couldn’t allow him to do that. That was too big an ask. God, she had to get out of this, she had to retreat. But how could she without looking like a total loser? Think, Hudson, think!

  “Who is the chickenshit now, Hudson?” Axl stated, a smirk appearing on his face.

  Reagan briefly debated whether kissing or smacking that look off his face would be more effective. Screw him! Taking his beer bottle from his hand, she took a long sip and pointed the bottle in Pippa’s direction. “You’d better whip his ass, girlfriend.”

  Ohshitcrapdamnhell, this wasn’t clever.

  Pippa looked a little panicky. “You’re risking your career on a pool game?”

  Reagan glanced back to Axl and held his challenging look. “Yep.”

  Pippa released a long, audible sigh as she climbed off her stool. “So, no pressure, then.”

  “No pressure,” Reagan agreed. It was only her career and her happiness and her life as she knew it she was placing in Pippa’s hands.

  No pressure, Pippa, but I need you to beat the hell out of him.

  Chapter Six

  AbbyM: Did a fight nearly break out last night at the Fox between the Caswallawn crew?

  BoredWife: Was that Carol-Jane Carmichael I saw last night with Sawyer? I haven’t seen her since we were teenagers!

  DocMolly: Carol-Jane? Didn’t she spend summers here with old Mrs. Spence?

  BoredWife: Yeah. She was last in Mercy for Mrs. S’s funeral. And that was thirteen, fourteen years back. Wait! She had a summer romance with Jack? Or was it Rogan? One of the Sturgiss boys . . .

  Reagan swung into the driveway, easily recognizing the bright yellow house Pippa described to her the night before. Leaving the car, she slammed the door shut and looked at the house with its white trim and black door. It was a happy house, Reagan thought. Even on the most miserable of days, like this one was shaping up to be with its low clouds and icy wind, Pippa’s house looked cheerful. Reagan shoved her keys into the back pocket of her jeans and buried her bare hands into the pockets of her parka, wishing she’d taken a moment to pull a beanie over her head. A few stubborn leaves still clung to the trees but winter was slowly smothering autumn.

  Reagan ran up the shallow steps, and before she could look for a doorbell, the front door opened and Pippa, dressed in black jeans and a white cable-knit sweater, gestured her inside.

  “I’m having coffee and a muffin. You in?” Pippa asked as Reagan shrugged out of her jacket.

  Reagan checked her watch, saw that she had time, and nodded. “That sounds great. I skipped breakfast and went for a run. I’m starving.”

  Reagan heard banging upstairs and looked toward the stairs. Had Pippa had an overnight guest? Good for her if she did.

  Pippa grinned. “Flick’s upstairs. She came back to check that she hadn’t left the bed unmade or her underwear on the floor. Flick is a bit of a slob, God knows how Kai puts up with her,” Pippa added, leading Reagan into a spacious kitchen with white cupboards, black granite counters, and a black-and-white-tiled floor. The walls were raspberry, and a six-foot clock dominated one. Photos of Flick and Reagan, in various states of sobriety and dress, covered the fridge along with scribbled recipes and reminders.

  Reagan thought that she should assure her that she wasn’t a messy roommate. “I’m not, a slob that is. In fact, I’m ridiculously neat.” It came from living in a house with a father who alphabetized his spice rack and stored his clothes by season, type, and color.

  Pippa wrinkled her nose. “I’m neat but I’m not obsessive. Is my leaving a dirty cup in the lounge or an empty wine bottle going to annoy you?”

  Reagan shook her head. “Nope, and if it did, I’d just pick them up and take them through to the kitchen. I don’t sweat the small stuff.”

  “Good to know,” Pippa said. She reached for a coffee cup and gestured Reagan to take a seat at the scarred, polished wooden dining table. Reagan sighed at the state-of-the-art coffee machine and inhaled the rich aroma of grinding coffee beans. Pippa suggested a rent that sounded ridiculously reasonable, spoke about what was included, and asked Reagan if she cooked.

  “I can.” Reagan nodded. “The basics, you know.”

  Pippa placed a mug of coffee on the table and gestured toward a pitcher of milk and a canister of sugar. “Help yourself. We can take turns cooking when we need to but Flick normally stocks the freezer with meals. She makes home-cooked meals to order and she always makes enough for there to be leftovers.”

  Reagan heard Flick running down the stairs and looked up when Flick skidded into the kitchen, wearing one of Kai’s long-sleeved T-shirts and socks, her hair a mess. She looked fantastic.

  “You arrived here dressed and with your fiancé,” Pippa said, reaching for another cup.

  Flick flashed Reagan a friendly smile. “I did. He came on up to help me move some boxes, and one thing . . .”

  Pippa slapped her hands over her ears. “Lalalala!”

  Reagan smiled at the happy, blissful look on Flick’s face. “Kai left ages ago and, not to boast, but he left with an enormous smile on his face.”

  “Too much information.” Pippa rolled her eyes at her. “God, you two are like muskrats or rabbits or some other oversexed animal.”

  “I can’t help it, he looks at me and I start stripping.” Flick dropped into a chair opposite Reagan and held up her hand. “That’s the last time, I swear. I’ve stripped the bed and Kai has promised me that he’ll send over a couple of guys today to clear out the rest of my stuff. You’ll need new linens but I’ve left the curtains.” Flick sent Pippa a naughty look. “And my lucky bed.”

  Pippa passed Flick a cup of coffee and, holding her own mug, walked to the table and took the seat between her and Reagan.

  “Where’s the monster?” Pippa asked. Flick assumed that she was referring to dog-horse Rufus.

  “Running with the love of our lives. Kai, Sawyer, and Axl wanted to run before some meeting and Kai took Ru with him.”

  At the mention of Axl’s name Reagan looked down at the table and tapped the side of her cup with her fingernail, knowing that both women were looking at her. They were going to start asking questions, Reagan thought, suddenly anxious. They wanted to have a girly heart-to-heart and she didn’t do heart-to-hearts. God, she barely did girly.

  “So, Axl lost to Pippa in pool,” Flick said, amusement in her voice.

  “He was . . .” Pippa paused. “. . . a gracious loser. Better than Sawyer.”

  “Gracious, my ass!” Flick hooted. “He was pissed! Oh, he said all the right things and even bought you a drink but his jaw was as hard as a rock and his eyes were spitting lightning bolts!”

  Reagan nodded, thinking back to the evening before. Pippa had, indeed, beaten Axl, and Axl, Neanderthal that he was, hadn’t liked it. Yeah, he’d congratulated Pippa, kissed her cheek and, when they rejoined their group, bought her a drink. He’d had his temper under control until she’d opened her mouth and destroyed their evening.<
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  “So, when can I try out for the team?” she’d asked. Reagan meant the question to be for his ears only but, because Fate was a bitch and had it in for her, the question dropped into silence and everyone heard her question. She didn’t blame them for the lifted eyebrows, their hard stares condemning her gloating words and pushy attitude.

  Inexplicably she felt the need to explain to Flick and Pippa that she hadn’t meant to be a bitch. “It just, like, popped out,” Reagan said, wrapping her hands around the hot mug. “I wasn’t trying to be ugly.”

  Flick nodded. “Foot-in-mouth disease, I had it all the time around Kai. My brain simply never engaged around him. I’m convinced that the higher the level of attraction, the more brain power you lose.”

  Reagan frowned at her. “I’m not attracted to Axl.”

  Pippa and Flick both laughed out loud, with Flick slapping the table. When she could speak again, she leaned across the table and pointed her finger at Reagan. “Honey, you are so hot for that man that when he finally gets you into bed, you’re going to spontaneously combust.”

  No, she wasn’t, she couldn’t be that out of control. She wasn’t the type . . .

  “He’s going to turn her inside out, flip her over, and rearrange her,” Pippa agreed.

  “I’m not, he’s . . .” Reagan pushed her fingertips into her forehead. “Shit!”

  Flick banged her cup against Pippa’s in a toast. “And he’s not holding it together any better. After you made that stupid comment, I thought he might put his hands around your neck and strangle you. He was that pissed.”

  Reagan pulled on her stubborn face. “Then he shouldn’t have taken the bet.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have made the bet and called him a chickenshit,” Flick pointed out. Reagan sent her a hot look, thinking that she didn’t need to be lectured, and put her hands on the table to stand up.