Page 45 of Viper

Paige was in the shower and Havoc, Reaper, and Wraith had gone to their short-term rental to clean up and rest. Of course, Atlas had taken the opportunity to grill him.

Flicking suds off his fingers, he placed the rinsed pan in the drying rack and then toweled off his hands. “That’s a little crass, don’t you think?”

Striker glowered at him. “Don’t turn the tables. Honesty goes a long way.”

Troy glued his tongue to the backs of his teeth. Indecision waged a war inside him. Should he wait until Paige was next to him to break the news? Should he beat around the bush? Change the subject? Go on the defensive? Just tell him?

He stared at the gray eyes that he’d known for years. He and Striker had been through hell and back together. They’d buried friends. They’d lost battles. Hell, they’d won a lot, too. This was what had divided him for so long—he couldn’t stand the thought of losing his best friend.

Nor could he stand the thought of not being with Paige.

Striker hiked up his eyebrows expectantly, his mouth firm and his brow hard. But behind the semiangry glare was something else . . .

Understanding.

Christ.

He dragged his hand over his face. “I hope you know me well enough to know it’s not like that.”

“You motherfucker!” He stepped forward, slamming Troy in the chest.

Troy’s back hit the lip of the counter. Striker swung for his jaw, but he grabbed his friend’s fist, stopping it midair.

Anger rolled through him. No. He wouldn’t do this. Wouldn’t let this come between them. He just had to find a way to make Striker okay with the idea of Paige and him.

Though that likely wasn’t happening today.

“Dude. Calm down. You don’t want to fight, and you know it.”

“She’s my sister,” he spat, withdrawing his hand and pacing away. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. How long?”

He held out his arms at his sides. “How long what? Since I’ve fallen for her?”

“Since you’ve been bangin’ her,” Striker shot back coldly.

Troy extended his index finger in warning. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

Striker’s eyes narrowed. “How long?” Some of the venom had left his voice.

“I fell for her five damn years ago, man. You’re not stupid. You saw us talking at your parents’ anniversary.”

“So what, it was love at first sight? You expect me to believe that when you’ve had a woman in your bed every weekend since?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t fall for Molly right away. I saw it.” He took a step closer to his friend and poked him gently in the chest. “Just like you saw Paige and me that night. That’s why you jumped between us so fast.”

“I jumped between you because I don’t want her to get hurt. To be . . . used.”

Troy rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head. “If you think I’d do that to her, you don’t know me at all.”

Silence stretched between them. The air arced with tension, but some of the intensity left Striker’s stance.

Troy inhaled through his nose, steadying his beating heart. He might be pissed at Striker’s reaction, but he couldn’t blame him. All he could do was prove he’d treat Paige right.

“The truth is I’ve tried to get Paige out of my head for five damn years. Yeah, I filled my bed looking for someone like her—and that didn’t happen. I came down to Florida to speak to her to see if she felt the same way.” He cleared his throat. “She does.”

Striker’s lack of response was palpable.

“Nothing’s happened before now.”