Good Behavior: An MM Forbidden Romance (Wild Heart Ranch Book 2)
Good Behavior: Chapter 23

It’s nice waking up in Bram’s arms in a room that isn’t the exact size of our bed. I could get used to it.

When we got to the bunkhouse last night, Ant was still passed out on Erik’s lap in the living room. Erik’s large hand rested on Ant’s shoulder like he was trying to protect him from the things we’d been too late to stop. He had a thousand-yard stare going that neither Bram nor I dared interrupt.

We weren’t in much better shape, truth be told. Bram only made it halfway through our shower before he lost it. I held him as he sobbed, then held him some more as he tossed and turned through the night.

I saw both of his kills, and he was decisive in the moment. Ruthless. But in retrospect, it’s a terrible thing to take a life. Even if he wouldn’t change it.

We haven’t slept much when morning light filters through the blinds. He, Charlie, and Erik have a brief conversation about what to do with Ant. They decide he needs to stay busy for the time being and ask if I’ll go to work with him today.

So, despite being a big damn hero yesterday—Bram’s words—I’ll be spending today building fences and making sure Ant doesn’t…actually, they wouldn’t specifically say what they’re worried he’ll do.

Thankfully, he seems like himself when he busts me creeping out of Bram’s room at the ass-crack of dawn in borrowed sweatpants and Bram’s well-worn college T-shirt.

“Shut up.”

“Didn’t say anything,” he says, sipping his coffee.

“Yeah, well. Your eyeballs are loud.”

He lifts his chin at me as I make my way through the living room. “You going in to work?”

“Yeah. Something about making sure you don’t go on some mass killing spree.”

“Drama queens,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“You know, just because you’re more or less a Bash doesn’t mean you have to kill people.”

“Fuck off,” he grumps into his coffee.

“Fine. I’ll go get changed and be back in thirty.”

“Slut,” he cracks.

“You would know,” I shoot back, then grimace. “Sorry, that probably wasn’t—”

He snorts into his coffee and sends me off with a middle finger.

The day goes pretty well. I don’t fall asleep at the wheel, Ant doesn’t brutally stab anyone, and we both manage to avoid getting hate-crimed, so there’s that.

Midway through the day, we get texts from Charlie, calling us in for a meeting at the bunkhouse after work. When we arrive, Bram, Levy, and Erik are already sitting around the coffee table.

Tired and a little full of myself, I walk right up to Bram and sit on his lap. Rather than push me off and tell me to shower, which I was sure he’d do, Bram pulls me in close, nuzzling against my neck.

“I love the smell of your sweat,” he whispers. “Have I ever told you that?”

“Ugh. Gross,” Ant says, standing a little closer than either of us realized. “I’m going to sit next to Erik.”

Laughing and not at all fooled by his little maneuver, I take the empty space next to Bram and snuggle in against him.

Charlie and Justin walk in a few minutes later, grabbing additional chairs from the kitchen.

“Thanks for joining us today, especially Nacho and Ant, since you’ve already put in a full day.”

“I have a feeling regular work hours don’t apply here,” I answer, thrilled when Bram grabs my hand.

Sitting on the chair like he’s about a hundred years old, Charlie nods. “That’s probably accurate, but let’s get right into it so everyone can get on with their evenings.”

We lean in, curious about what he has to say.

“Alright, quick update on the state of things. First, the ranch has been cleaned up, all the bodies dumped, and most of the dogs are on their way to a breed-specific rescue organization. They’ll need a massive amount of retraining, but the organization feels positive it can be done. Probably not as family dogs, but many show potential for K-9 units domestically and in military operations.”

Erik smiles. “I took one to retrain for the search-and-rescue missions, and Hopper took the one following him around. He said his Great Dane, Zoe, needs a friend.”

Charlie face-palms. “Erik. Did you warn Liam?”

Erik laughs and holds up his phone.

Liam: Why did my husband come home with a creepy German Shepherd?

Erik: You’re just lucky he didn’t show up with the whole pack.

Charlie, clearly exhausted, snorts. “True enough. Any questions?”

We all shake our heads.

Justin is the next to speak. “Charlie has an idea about the fencing company that he brought to me and my brother, and I think it’s a good one. Regarding the trailer full of people we helped, a number of them qualify for a trafficking visa, and they’ll need employment. Of those, a few showed interest in the fencing, but they’ll need to be trained.”

Turning to Ant and me, Justin continues, “In order to say yes, I need to make sure you two are comfortable with handling most of that since it will need to be done in Spanish. We’ll adjust your salaries accordingly.”

Ant and I look at each other and shrug.

“Sure,” I say, answering for the two of us. “Just checking…you’re not using them for cheap labor, are you?”

To his credit, Justin doesn’t look offended.

“They’ll be on the same pay grade as everyone else.”

Charlie grabs his hand. “My hubby is too pure to do anything unethical.”

I chuckle to myself, and Ant makes a disgusted sound at the back of his throat while sticking out his tongue.

“Guys,” he moans, bored already. “Can we not talk about how in love y’all are? Like, focus please.”

Charlie smiles warmly, but there’s hesitation there. “Of course. But then that does bring us to you.”

Ant shifts uncomfortably.

“What about me?” he asks as though he thinks we wouldn’t be discussing his whole sneaking-into-the-mission-and-stabbing-a-guy-in-the-face-until-he-didn’t-have-a-face thing.

I’d given him a few opportunities to talk about it while we were working, but he was having none of it. He can slip that maneuver past me, but he won’t be so lucky with the rest of them.

“You followed us to the property even though we made it clear you were not to be a part of the mission,” Charlie says, his voice even and kind. “You endangered the entire team.”

Ant throws his hands up. “I saved Erik’s life.”

“I hear you. But we can’t operate if we can’t trust you to follow the mission parameters. That’s job one. Anybody on a team who’ll go off like that isn’t someone the rest of us can depend on. If you wanted to show us you’re ready for this, you did the exact opposite.”

Scrunching his nose, Ant responds, “Well, I guess I’m just not on your team then, am I?”

“If you’re not on our team, you’re a liability. And I do want you on the team, Ant. In some capacity. Eventually. But until you go to therapy…” Charlie opens his hands, silently asking Ant to see reason.

Eh. I think he’s going to be disappointed.

“I don’t feel bad about killing him, Charlie.” Ant crosses his arms over his chest and lets out a huff. “He was going to kill Erik.”

It’s our turn to shift uncomfortably. He’s not wrong.

Bram holds up his finger. “Can I say something about that?”

Charlie gestures for him to take the floor.

“Ant, I killed two people last night, and I didn’t sleep a wink. When I found out we have access to an excellent therapist, I called her this morning, and I’ll be getting on calls with her once a week for at least the next month. I think it’s a mistake to assume that lack of guilt equals zero trauma.”

“Oh my God-d-d-d,” he exaggerates, rolling his eyes. “So dramatic with the trauma. Believe me, I know trauma, and that wasn’t it. I feel fine. Y’all can’t force me to do something I don’t want to do.”

“I hear you, Ant. Really, I do,” Bram says, readying himself for the larger point. “But while you feel fine with what happened, none of the rest of us do.”

Ant’s disbelief is like its own presence in the room. “Not even the fact that I saved Erik’s life?”

“Of course we’re grateful for that, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Once it was clear the man was dead, you continued to mutilate him. While we would never force you to do anything, we have decided as a group that you cannot join us on any missions, even search-and-rescue missions, until you see a therapist.”

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

Everyone else shakes their heads, but they’re lying, and he knows it. They’re scared of him and for him, and having worked closely with him these last several months, I don’t think that’s the way to approach this.

Instead of going along with everyone else, I nod in response to his question, cracking a smile. “Dude didn’t have a face after you were done with him. That’s, like, the opposite of sane.”

He sticks his tongue out at me, amusement returning to his eyes. He knows I have his back, even when that means telling him the truth he doesn’t want to hear.

Dropping his eyes to his hands in his lap, he squares his jaw.

“I know I went a little overboard. But you can’t keep me from helping. You don’t know what those people did to me. The sex was the least awful part of that life. I was made to feel so worthless all the time. Mine wasn’t some extreme, horrible, rare case. There are thousands, millions, of people, mostly kids, being forced into the worst-case scenarios possible, again and again. If you…”

We’re all frozen, quiet as he clenches his fists, finding the rest of his words.

Finally, shaking his head and pulling his shoulders up around his ears, he spits out, “I can’t stand the thought of them getting away with it. I have to do something. If you don’t let me do something with you, I will do something on my own.” Pinning a look on Charlie and Erik, he continues, “And you won’t be able to stop me.”

A chilled quiet follows his declaration. I don’t think a single one of us doubts his intentions.

Charlie, in his gentle, calm way, is the first to break the silence.

“Ant, your history makes you both the best and worst candidate for the things we want to do. You understand the victims—the survivors—in a way that none of us ever can. But you lack the objectivity and good decision-making skills required in these ops. You have not shown even the slightest bit of remorse for taking a life. Even when it’s necessary, most people feel remorse about that sort of thing.”

“Well, maybe remorse is one of those things that got beat out of me.”

Another uncomfortable silence.

Erik leans forward, supporting his forearms on his knees. “My cousins, Anders and Odd, don’t have your background, but they don’t feel remorse when they kill someone either. Hell, if it’s someone particularly bad, Anders enjoys it.”

“See? Y’all work with him all the time.”

“But he was raised in a healthy, loving home. Anja and Georg always knew exactly who he and Odd were, and they didn’t want them institutionalized, so they trained them and set strong boundaries with them. You have had none of those things.”

“That’s not my fault!” Ant says, getting more upset.

Erik is careful with his next words. “We know, Ant. We’re not blaming you. You can’t know what you don’t know. It’s just…you scare the hell out of us.”

“Why are you picking on me? Is it because I look so young?”

“No,” we all say, though Erik is slower to join in.

“Whatever,” Ant says, getting up and stomping to the kitchen. “Everyone here has killed someone.”

I raise my hand. “I’ve killed two men in self-defense, and I haven’t ever recovered from that, and I doubt I ever will.”

“Well, I guess that makes you better than me,” he says, yanking on the junk drawer.

I let out a frustrated breath and join him in the kitchen. “No. It means they’re never going to make me the pointy end of the stick. But whoever is at that pointy end? They need to have their head on straight, at least enough to work with the team. Anders, whatever else he is, works with the team.”

Ignoring me, he finally wrangles open the drawer and grabs a pair of scissors. I hold up my hands and step back. Erik jumps up, and Ant points the scissors at him. “Stay back.”

“Dude, what are you doing?” I ask in Spanish, wondering if he’s actually going to get violent.

He grabs his ponytail and starts violently hacking at it right above the elastic. His hair is thick, so if he thought he could do it in one dramatic snip, that’s not happening. Still, we’re frozen all over again as he chops through the hair.

“Ya,” he barks, eyeing Erik as he holds up the decapitated ponytail. It’s done.

I don’t know what, exactly, is done, but I’ve always suspected he’s kept the long hair for a reason. Whatever that reason is, he’s over it. Walking to the garbage can, he stomps on the pedal, dropping the thick hank of hair into the bag.

Catching our concerned looks, he asks, “Why are you looking at me like this? All of you have been acting like I am this little broken boy since you brought me here. So I’m cutting off the last part of that life. That’s not me anymore.”

None of the professionals have any words, so I go in again in Spanish, speaking low and fast. “You dramatic asshole. It’s official. You look like a crazy person now.”

“I’m. Not. Crazy.” His eyes blaze as he defiantly pushes the choppy strands behind his ears. “So stop calling me that.”

I hold up my hands. “You’re right. But we’re not lying when we say you’re worrying the hell out of us. Seriously. The hair is nothing. You snuck onto a mission. We were in the middle of everything fucking going wrong, and there you were. What if that guy had gotten the drop on you? He was easily twice your size. What if he’d fallen on you when you took out his Achilles? What if you hadn’t been able to take his gun? You got so lucky, and you don’t seem to understand how bad that is.”

“Why is it bad that I got lucky?”

“Because if you can get lucky, you can get unlucky. Even as crazy as he is, Anders is focused. When he’s in the middle of an op, he is working for the good of everyone. You were completely on your own, and you do not realize how dangerous that made the situation for everyone else.”

“Again, I saved Erik’s life. How did I make it worse?”

“Because the people here love you, and if anything had gone wrong with that, they would have sacrificed themselves to save you.”

Looking over at Erik, he snarls again. “Yeah, they love me. Like a brother, remember?”

“Some people don’t even get that in a lifetime. Fuck, I know this thing with Erik is hard for you…”

“Don’t fucking say it. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Okay, but you can break your own heart and keep making shitty decisions based on all the shit you survived, or you can face your past and make something amazing of your future. I know which one I’m rooting for.”

His eyes finally meet mine, and…shit. His feisty attitude does a damn good job of covering up the reality of how much pain he’s been in this whole time. But now it’s sitting there right behind his eyes.

“You say that, Nacho, but you don’t have any idea of the things I have to face. You want me to talk to a therapist to dredge up all this bullshit. Brother, I can’t,” he says, grabbing my wrist, his voice cracking. “It’s too much.”

I pull him into a hug, whispering in his hair, “The therapist isn’t gonna make you talk about anything you don’t want to. Everything they’ve said sounds like she knows how to help. Just tell her what you told me. Hell, she’s Anders’ therapist—she’s probably heard way worse.”

He buries his face in my chest, laughing and crying as he shakes his head, hugging me back. I shed a few tears for my friend, but if there’s anything this life has taught me, it’s that people are pretty fucking resilient.

I choose to believe that about Ant. Hell, I choose to believe it about myself too.

“So, uh, did y’all finish making plans for world domination?” Charlie asks, joining us in the kitchen.

“Not before he’s at least had a chat with Hedy,” I answer, squeezing him close.

Ant pushes away from me, but he does it affectionately. “Ugh. Fine. I’ll see her, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to cooperate.”

“Don’t worry, Ant,” Bram says with a smirk. “Us therapists have a way of getting our patients to cooperate.”

I turn to him, open-mouthed. “Did you really just go there?”

“I’m the guy fucking his patient. What makes you think I wouldn’t go there?”

His joke, so completely inappropriate, puts a huge crack in the tension in the room, and the air fills with groans and laughter.

“Now, if you all don’t mind, I’m going to fix this hair,” Ant says, turning toward the hallway.

“But you’re not gonna hurt yourself, are you?” Erik asks, worry lines creasing his forehead.

With a deep, put-upon sigh, Ant shakes his head. “I want bad people to die. Not myself. I’ve survived too much to give up now.”

Hesitating, Erik walks up to Ant and yanks him into a rough hug, kissing the top of his head. I feel terrible for my friend, knowing that this kind of affection is the worst.

Ant pats Erik’s chest, stepping away from him. Sending us a small wave, he heads down the hall, disappearing into the bathroom.

Charlie shakes his head. “I don’t know what you said to get him to cooperate, Nacho, but thank you. He worries the hell out of me.”

Justin and Charlie share a look. Both of them made attempts on their life, so the fear is reasonable.

“He worries me too, but…I believe him when he says he’s not gonna hurt himself. I think living is a form of revenge for him.”

Charlie shrugs. “After I survived my attempt, I definitely had a living well is the best revenge attitude. I’ll take it.”

Justin grins, wrapping himself around his husband. “Ah, see. That’s where you failed. You fell in love with me anyway.”

Charlie kisses him with a smile. “That’s completely the fault of your I’ll follow him out to the parking lot and get him to fuck me against his truck attitude.”

Holding up his hands in a mockery of innocence, Justin fires back, “It worked, didn’t it?”

Charlie kisses him again, this time lingering.

Levy clears his throat. “Don’t know if y’all remember, but I was shot in the abdomen yesterday, so if we could move this meeting along, I’d appreciate it.”

It’s Bram’s turn to roll his eyes. “You were barely grazed. Don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Levy laughs, then winces as he holds his side. “Says the guy who lost his shit at the doctor trying to put me together.”

“The doctor? Do you mean Anders? I was looking out for your well-being. You’re welcome.”

They go back and forth for a few more minutes until Levy reaches out and grabs his brother’s hand. “Thank you. Really. I know I scared the shit out of you.”

“Only because you fainted at the sight of a little blood,” Bram fires back, then looks instantly regretful.

Shaking his head, Levy kisses Bram’s temple. “It’s okay. We can make jokes about the fact I saw our parents die.”

“Fuck you,” Bram grumps, patting Levy’s cheek.

“Ant was right,” I say, gesturing to the lot of them. “Y’all are dramatic as fuck.”

Charlie waves his hands, trying to get us back on track. “Okay, Nacho, point taken. I do want to get this last part out of the way while Ant is out of the room and my husband still feels super loving toward me.”

Justin narrows his eyes as Charlie faces me.

“Nacho, you’ve been clutch in these last two ops. You’ve shown quick thinking and leadership, and you’re exactly the kind of guy we would like to bring on.”

“Wait,” Justin protests. “You can’t take him from the fencing company!”

“I’m not trying to do that. But if we have a rescue where he’d be valuable, I’m going to pull the husband card. That is if Nacho agrees to help.”

Justin thins his lips, even as his eyes sparkle with mischief. “When do you not pull the husband card?”

“You like it when I pull the husband card.”

“Guys,” Levy says, comically gripping his side.

“Excuse me. You will not be putting Ignacio in danger like you did last night,” Bram says, his voice meant to broach no argument.

That sets off another round of bickering, this time between Justin, Bram, and Charlie.

Having not been asked my opinion, I finally lean in close to Bram’s ear and whisper, “You do know the bossy thing only works when we’re playing, right? That doesn’t actually work out here in the real world.”

His jaw drops as I kiss his cheek.

“No, Nacho. Absolutely not,” he says, even though he has to know he’s already lost the fight.

“Won’t you be going on some of these operations?” I ask, thinking I’ve made a very solid point.

“Sure. But…I have multiple black belts. I can handle myself.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a black belt in keeping my brown ass out of trouble. Also, you can’t tell me what to do.”

Everyone else is looking back and forth between us, like it’s a verbal tennis match, waiting to see what the other has to say. Bram, noticing the attention, takes a deep breath. “We will discuss this later.”

“Can we be naked when we do?”

Something about that must tickle Erik because he begins to laugh. Hard. In fact, he’s laughing so hard that when his laugh cuts off abruptly, we all follow his line of sight.

“Ant, holy shit, dude,” I say. “You just did that in the bathroom? Right now?”

“Yeah,” he says self-consciously, running his fingers through his hair. “I’d already watched a bunch of TikToks on how to do it, and I was mad, so…yeah.”

“Dude. Maybe you should be a hairstylist.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he says, shooting me the double bird. Shaking out his hair, he raises his chin at me. “You really like it?”

“You look amazing,” I say, hopping off Bram’s lap to get a closer look.

It’s on the longer side of a shorter haircut—like a modern shag that could probably use a bit of a cleanup—but it’s perfect for him. Better yet, he actually looks closer to his age now.

He shrugs. “It didn’t take long.”

I give him a double thumbs-up. “I approve. Hedy will love it.”

He grumbles under his breath, saying, “I already promised I would go.”

Grinning broadly, I fire back, “I know. I’m just making sure you follow through on your promise.”

He scrunches his nose. “I hate you.”

I drag him into a hug. “I love you too, bro.”

Just as I’m declaring my eternal affection for Ant, I catch Bram’s eyes. They flick away briefly, then come back to mine with all the weight of a sledgehammer.

Oh fuck. I felt that in my chest. We’ll definitely be talking about my role at Wild Heart later tonight.

Ant looks between the two of us and shakes his head. “Ah shit. It’s on now.”

Ignoring Ant’s commentary, Bram gets up and prowls toward me. “Levy, I assume you’re okay for the evening?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Excellent.” Pausing to possessively wrap his arm around my waist, Bram sends everyone a quick salute. “Then goodnight, y’all. I’m taking Nacho home now.”

Jeers and whistles spin up, and I laugh, pulling him in for a kiss. Grabbing my hand, he marches me out of the house with a proud smile.

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