Free Rhapsody (The Teplo Trilogy #2) by Ayden K Morgen

mock-whisper, holding two fingers about a centimeter apart to demonstrate the size of the deer in question. "Remember in the Lion King where Pumba runs away, screaming that Nala is going to eat him?"
    "It went down exactly like that," Rachel finished with a laugh. "He ran all the way back here, screaming at the top of his lungs. We thought he'd shot Tristan."
    Lillian clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing at the image of a little deer chasing Jordan through the woods while he screeched that the poor thing was going to eat him. Even though she'd just met him, she could absolutely see that happening. He was so different from Jason, so much more open and approachable.
    "And he had a loaded gun," Tristan added with a smirk.
    "I forgot!" Jordan huffed, though a smile twitched at his lips, too. He didn't mind the teasing. "Besides, deer weren't in season."
    "They aren't in season now, either."
    "Aww, come on, man. I'm having a kid in three months. I gotta learn to protect my baby, and Jase refuses to shoot with me," he cajoled, ignoring Tristan's teasing and the accompanying laughter from the rest of the group.
    "I wouldn't mind going out for a bit," John said.
    Tristan heaved a sigh and glanced at Lillian, looking torn.
    "Go." She smiled at him. "I'll be fine."
    "Are you su-?"
    She covered his mouth with her hand. "Yes, I'm sure. Your aunt, and Rachel and Zoë will keep me company until you get back."
    "Yeah," Zoë inserted, making a shooing gesture, "go! Jase won't be here for another forty-five minutes or so. You have plenty of time."
    Katherine nodded her agreement.
    He tugged her hand away from his mouth, looking reluctant. But he knew when he was outnumbered, and gave in with displeased grumble. "Fine. We won't be far."
    "Tristan," she warned, rolling her eyes. They were safe here, miles from Teplo . He needed to relax. Besides, she got the impression that Jordan really admired him. Who knows how long it had been since they'd last had male bonding time?
    "Just call me if you need anything, baby. I mean it." He stood before leaning down to brush his mouth across her cheek. "We'll be back before dinner. Can I borrow your gun?"
    She leaned forward and slid the weapon out of the small clutch at her feet.
    "Damn," Jordan whistled as she held her gun out to Tristan. "She carries a gun? That is hot ."
    "Jordan?"
    "Yeah?"
    "Shut up." Tristan tucked her gun into his waistband and kissing her hard on the mouth. "We'll be back soon."
    "Have fun." Her insides twisted at the affectionate, desire-filled look in his eyes, like she was the center of his world, the only thing he saw.
    Jordan dropped a kiss atop Rachel's head before he and John headed toward the kitchen door. Tristan pulled his eyes away from Lillian and followed reluctantly along. He glanced back at her once before Jordan dragged him outside and closed the door behind them, going on about retrieving bullets. Lots of bullets.
    Her stomach did a flip at the look in his eye. So torn, so protective. So Tristan . He drove her insane with his overprotectiveness, but a little part of her loved that he cared so much about her. Aside from her dad, no one had ever cared for her like that. The Company had taken good care of her, sure, but that had been different. She'd been an asset to them, nothing more. With Tristan, she felt like she mattered. He genuinely cared about whether she was safe and comfortable. Too much, sometimes.
    "Sorry," she mumbled, her cheeks heating when she realized that Katherine, Zoë, and Rachel were all watching her. "He's–"
    "A pain in the ass?" Rachel supplied helpfully.
    "Worried. I guess you know someone else was murdered?"
    Everyone nodded.
    "She was still a kid. We talked to her last week. He thinks it's his fault they killed the girl." She frowned, twisting the glass stem around in her hands, unsure if she still felt the same or not. Part of her did. Part of her probably always would, but Anton and Paulo Vetrov and Pedro Francisco were