Not seeing something didn’t negate its presence. As a former SEAL, he was all too familiar with hidden dangers. Steadying his breath, he slowly moved closer to the farthest edge of The Veranda and the cluster of shrubbery.

  A burst of sand hit him in the face, and he growled, brushing it away as he jumped over the hedge and took off after the black-garbed hooded figure that bolted from behind the giant palm tree. Something red made Saint skid to a halt. He turned, his stomach dropping at the blinking red light. Years of training kicked in. He leaped back over the hedge and hit his PTT button, though his supervisor and fellow team members were already on the move, having seen him spring into action.

  “Bug out! Possible IED,” Saint shouted into his com.

  Everything moved in a flash. The Kings, the Wild Cards, and every security agent in place went into military/bodyguard mode, taking their positions. Agents alerted hotel security while Mason called 9-1-1. The rest of the team and their bosses rushed guests toward the emergency exits. They hurried everyone along, ensuring no one fell in the pool or got trampled.

  Neither Val nor Frank had coms, but their voices boomed over the crowd, ordering everyone to move as quickly and calmly as possible. A woman twisted her ankle, and Frank scooped her up without missing a beat and carried her out the exit. Saint turned to follow his team members when he saw Val helping up a guest who’d tripped right in front of the trees concealing the device.

  “Val!”

  The man Val helped up ran for the exit just as Saint bolted in Val’s direction. If that thing was an explosive device and it went off, there was no telling how far the devastation would reach.

  The world around him seemed to slow down, and somewhere in the distance, Ryden shouted his name, but Saint had to get Val away from the damned trees. Seeing Saint running, Val took off, reaching for Saint’s hand just as everything went to hell.

  Saint threw his arm up over his face as he soared through the air. Scorching heat whooshed over his body, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. He gasped for breath as something sharp struck him, and all at once, icy cold replaced the heat.

  Cold water swirled around him, and he forced his eyes open. He was in the pool. Chunks of debris speared the water as he tried to figure out which way was up. Not panicking, he stilled, floating. Looking around, he spotted a chunk of one of the stone columns had fallen into the pool, pinning an unconscious Val to the bottom.

  Fuck. There was no way he would be able to move it on his own. Then someone dove into the pool. Ryden. Fuck yeah! Oorah.

  Ryden motioned to the pillar, and they each grabbed one end. Saint gritted his teeth. Air bubbles rushed to the surface as they grunted, using all their strength to move the stone. Red mist floated around Saint.

  Blood.

  Someone was bleeding. He couldn’t worry about that now. The chunk of pillar hit the bottom of the pool with a muted thunk, and Saint quickly wrapped an arm around Val’s waist. He swam with the bigger man, gasping and sucking in air when he broke the surface. The Veranda had been reduced to rubble, the palms and bushes on fire, smoke filling the night air.

  “Saint! Hand him over.” Ryden was already out of the pool. He kneeled on the ledge, reaching for Val as Saint hoisted his limp body. Quickly, Saint climbed out, wincing at the sharp pain in his side, but he was too busy helping Ryden check Val to pay it any attention. Probably just pulled something.

  “No visible injuries,” Saint confirmed.

  Ryden was about to perform CPR when Val woke and started choking. They rolled him over onto his side as he coughed and spat water. He gasped for air, and Saint ran a soothing hand over his back.

  “We need to get out of here,” Ryden said, grabbing Val’s arm.

  His friend was right. There was no telling if there were any more devices. Saint helped Ryden get Val to his feet.

  “Come on, Chief,” Saint growled as they each wrapped an arm around Val and hurried him out of the emergency exit…and into a complete circus. The street was blocked at each end and lined with ambulances, police cars, and other emergency vehicles.

  “Saint, wait,” Val croaked, his fingers digging into Saint’s shoulder.

  Before Saint could respond, Mason stormed over. “What the fuck! You assholes couldn’t answer your damn coms?” When he reached them, he realized they were soaking wet. “Shit.”

  EMTs ran over to take Val, one trying to put an oxygen mask on him, but he brushed them away.

  “Chief Serrano, please,” the EMT said, only to have Val move his face and shove the mask away.

  “Saint,” Val growled. “Hospital.”

  Saint frowned. “You want me to go with you to the hospital?”

  “No,” Ryden said through a gasp, his eyes lifting to Saint’s. “He means you need a hospital.” He carefully peeled Saint’s jacket away from his side, and Saint’s world tilted off its axis. “Fuck.”

  Mason started shouting, but Saint couldn’t make out the words as shadows and colors swirled around him. Darkness encroached, and Saint felt multiple pairs of hands on him. Was that King?

  “Boss?”

  “You’re going to be okay. You hear me, Cavallero?”

  Saint nodded, or at least he thought he did. He couldn’t tell. Then he was lifted off his feet, his back against something soft, the night sky above him. What the hell was happening?

  A calloused, firm grip on his hand had him trying to focus, but he couldn’t make out who it was. The touch was nice. Comforting. Saint thought maybe he’d said Val’s name, or maybe he just thought it. Before he could figure it out, the darkness took him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Here.”

  Val opened his eyes to find a paper cup filled with coffee before him. He took the cup from Frank with a mumbled, “Thanks.” His body ached, and his lungs still burned. He also couldn’t shake the cold despite changing into dry clothes.

  All he could think about was how damned lucky they’d been. How lucky he’d been. If that slab of stone had hit him in the head, or if Saint hadn’t alerted him in time and he hadn’t run when he did? Fuck, there were a hundred ways he could have died back there. Saint….

  Val dropped his gaze to his hand. He could still feel Saint’s hand in his, his strength and warmth. Instead of warning him, Saint ran to him and reached out. Val had felt eyes on him the whole night, and whenever he looked up, their gazes met. Was it interest or something else? Every time he thought there was something between them, Saint retreated. Was Val reading too much into the looks? Wishing thinking on his part? Why couldn’t he get Saint out of his head? For fuck’s sake, he was too old to be pining after straight guys.

  “He’s going to be okay,” Frank assured him.

  His best friend knew him too well.

  “What happened?” Frank asked, taking a seat next to him in the brightly lit waiting room.

  “It all happened so fast. The force of the explosion sent us into the pool, and the only reason we didn’t get burned was because of a pillar between us and the bomb. Of course, when it went off, a huge chunk of the damned thing slammed into us. I got pinned by it. Ryden saw us hit the water. He dove in and helped Saint get me out.” Val shook his head. “Saint got impaled by something, and whatever it was must have come out when we hit the water. He was bleeding out and didn’t even know it.”

  Frank cursed under his breath. “With all that adrenaline pumping through him, he probably didn’t even feel it.”

  Val grunted. The two of them knew a thing or two about adrenaline and pushing through the pain. They might not be former military like Saint or most of the guys at Four Kings Security, but Frank had been a pipeman, along with Val, at the same firehouse back in the day. They’d had their fair share of near-death experiences and life-threatening injuries. One of those injuries had put an end to Frank’s firefighting days.

  Frank took a sip of his coffee and grimaced, making Val smile. His Cuban friend had always been a coffee snob. Frank got up, tossed the coffee in the trash, and resumed his seat. “Any word on how he’s doing?”

  “Last I heard, he was in surgery,” Val said with a sigh. “Ryden’s been sending me updates.”

  “Ryden?”

  “He’s Saint’s emergency contact.”

  “Right. You got any updates on what the hell happened tonight?”

  Val scrunched up his nose. “Retired, remember? I offered my services to the new fire chief and was informed he was…handling it.”

  “Why did you say handling it like it should be in air quotes?”

  “Let’s just say the mayor and I had a few words over who should be appointed my successor, but it’s all about re-elections and making the right people happy, so he went with someone who fits the ‘American hero’ narrative.”

  “What the fuck? And you don’t fit the American hero narrative?”

  “I’m the gay son of Italian immigrants, Frank. So no, I do not. Never did.”

  “Fuck that bullshit. He knows how many lives you’ve saved, how many times you risked your life. What about when you almost died saving that fucking asshat who left a gas generator running in his closed garage after the hurricane?” Frank cursed in his native Spanish tongue, making Val chuckle. His friend had never been the type to mince words.

  As the only two openly gay firefighters in their house at the time, they’d stuck together, watched one another’s backs, and quickly became best friends over their propensity for being grumpy-ass, miserable fucks who liked good food, great coffee and telling the status quo to go fuck itself.

  “What’s he know about being a hero? Asshole couldn’t even change his flat tire. He had to call you guys. Because that’s what the fire department is there for. To be his personal auto club.” Frank shook his head. “What about King? Anything from him?”

  If anyone could find out what was going on, it was King and his band of merry mischief makers. “Mason’s using his contacts inside the police department to get whatever information he can, but I doubt they’ll give him much. You know what they’re like. Whoever Saint saw was long gone by the time the search started. Hotel cameras got nothing. They knew what they were doing. With so many city officials in attendance, hell, even the Kings being there as guests, it’s not going to be easy to figure out the intended target.”

  Frank leaned back in his seat and laced his fingers over his chest. His all-black suit, shirt, and tie looked out of place in the bright white and sky-blue waiting room. “Do you think King’s gonna use his secret weapon?”

  “Considering King’s secret weapon was placed in harm’s way along with his brothers, I’d say there’s a good chance he’s going to do whatever it takes to track down the bastard.”

  Frank scratched his chin. “I kinda hope King finds the asshole before the cops do.”

  The former Green Beret was not a man to be trifled with. That was for sure. Val had worked closely with the Kings when he’d been Chief. The Kings had their ways, and Val had quickly discovered that as long as they didn’t get in the way of him doing his job or break any laws—at least not in front of him—then working together would benefit both of them. He’d also learned that you did not mess with any of the Kings and their family. Something told him the new “Let’s get back to good old-fashioned family values” fire chief wouldn’t be so accommodating, considering none of the Kings were straight.

  “You sure you don’t want to head home and get some sleep?” Frank asked. “It’s been a rough night.”

  Val shook his head. “I want to see him. Make sure he’s okay.” He swallowed hard and frowned down at his hand. “Thank him for saving my life.” Just as he’d said the words, a tired-looking Ryden walked through the double doors and headed his way. Val sat up, hating the ball of lead in the pit of his stomach.

  “Hey, fellas. Fuck, what a night,” Ryden drawled, his Texas accent getting heavier the more tired he got. He rubbed his left eye, leaving his right open, drawing attention to it. Val felt for the guy.

  Ryden’s left eye was half amber and half gray, and his right was a foggy gray due to an accident that had taken his vision while he served. Val had heard that the Marine pilot had taken his honorable discharge really hard. These days, he seemed to be doing a lot better.

  “How is he?” Val asked.

  “He’s out of surgery and doing good. They said he was real lucky. It’s a big ass flesh wound, mostly. He has a bunch of stitches, so he’ll be put on leave for a while, but he’s a big, strong boy. He’ll be on the mend pretty quick. Gonna drive us all out of our fucking minds, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ryden blinked at him. “You got a former SEAL with nothing to do. Getting him to sit still is gonna be about as easy as pissing up a rope.”

  “I think Val can help with that,” Frank said, grinning wide as he thrust a thumb in Val’s direction.

  Val and Ryden exchanged confused looks before Val turned to his friend. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The tavern.”

  “Tavern?” Ryden frowned. “What tavern?”

  Val snorted. His friend needed more caffeine. “The man has a hole in his side, and you want me to put him to work?” He shook his head. Besides, the last thing he needed was to have Saint hanging around him all day, sweating, using those strong arms and hands to…. No. Abso-fucking-lutely not.

  “What tavern?” Ryden asked again.

  “A few years ago, I realized there wasn’t a local watering hole for our first responders. Somewhere they could grab a few beers and some burgers. So, I decided that when the time came, I’d retire and open one up. It would give me something to do and keep me connected to the community.”

  Ryden’s face lit up. “That’s awesome! Saint loves building shit. Not that your tavern is shit, but you know what I mean. Opening a tavern’s a great idea too.”

  Before Val could stop this nonsense, a nurse emerged from the double doors. She stopped in front of them and smiled.

  “Mr. Cavallero is awake. He’s asking for you.”

  “Let me know how he’s doing,” Val told Ryden, surprised when the nurse shook her head, a mysterious little smile on her face.

  “He’s asking for the Chief.”

  “Oh.” Val ignored his best friend’s obnoxious grin and stood. He followed the nurse through the doors and down the long corridor, turning this corner and that, walking past the nurses’ station and occupied rooms. He thanked the nurse and opened the door, slipping inside and closing it quietly behind him. It looked like Saint had fallen back asleep.

  Val walked over to the side of the bed and stood there for several heartbeats. What was it about Saint that enthralled him so much? Of all the men in this city, in this damned state, he had to be interested in the straight guy. What was wrong with him? Saint wasn’t the first straight guy Val had been attracted to, but he was the only one Val couldn’t move on from.

  Man, he was something. Younger looking than his thirty-something years. His brows were dark and thick, as were the lashes now resting on his cheeks. Stubble covered his jaw already, and his full lips were slightly parted.

  Despite just having come out of surgery, he looked big and strong. His skin—a rich tan, a combination of his Latino heritage and the unforgiving Florida sun—sported bruises and scratches from the explosion. His dark brown hair had lighter brown strands and stuck out all over the place, which made Val smile.

  He never felt this kind of want, and he’d get hurt if he didn’t stop these feelings. Bad.

  Saint opened his eyes, and his smile stole Val’s breath away. Yep, he was screwed.

  “Hey,” Saint said, sounding groggy. “You came.”

  “I was in the waiting room. Ryden’s kept me updated.”

  “You’ve been waiting for me?”

  “Well, yeah. I was worried.”

  “You were worried about me?” Saint smiled again, his eyes closing. He was so out of it. “That’s nice.”

  Oh boy, he was stoned big time. “Of course I was worried,” Val replied. “You were hurt saving me.”

  “Are you okay?” Saint asked as he forced his eyes open.

  “A little banged up, but good. Thanks to you.”

  “Couldn’t leave you.”

  Val smiled. The guy was in the hospital, injured after risking his life, but he was worried about Val. It said a lot about the kind of man Saint was. Chances were, Saint wasn’t going to remember any of this. He’d have to thank the guy when he wasn’t lost in a fog of painkillers.

  “Hey.” Saint reached up, and Val wasn’t sure what to do. He leaned in a little, and Saint motioned for him to come closer. Bending over, Saint surprised the hell out of him by cupping Val’s face. He ran his thumb over Val’s cheek, stroking, then across his bottom lip, his whiskey-colored gaze fixed on Val’s mouth.

  Val held his breath, afraid Saint would let go and, at the same time, afraid he wouldn’t. His pulse shot up, and heat shot through his face when Saint moved his hand, sliding it behind Val’s neck and tugging until their faces were so close that Val could feel Saint’s hot breath against his skin. What was happening? Maybe he was dreaming. He’d fallen asleep in the waiting room, and this was a hot, torturous dream.

  “Saint, what are you doing?” Val asked, his voice quiet. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Saint’s gorgeous mouth. All Val had to do was lift his chin, and their lips would touch.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re straight,” Val murmured, moving his gaze to meet Saint’s.

  “Am I?”

  What? What the ever-loving—What?

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Aren’t I what?”

  “Straight.”

  “I am.” Saint’s brows drew together in a frown. “At least, I think I am. Or was? I’m not so sure.”

  Val needed to sit down, but he didn’t dare move. “Maybe now is not—”

  “I mean, can you really be straight if you think about kissing another guy?” Saint asked softly, his fingers stroking the back of Val’s neck. “What if you think it but don’t do it? Can you still say you’re straight? What if you don’t want to kiss other guys, just one guy in particular.”