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Reece Evans. He wasn't much of a talker. He rarely had to work with anyone anyway, so why bother? The only thing he did for other people is drive them to wherever the hell their missions would be and shoot some stupid fuckers in the face out of the sunroof of the combat Jeep. *And what a good fucking jeep it was.* Been with him all five years he's been working under Kieran.
The two of you hadn't spoken much by any means, but you had always noticed a little staring problem of his. During any briefing, you could notice when his eyes would drift off onto you for a moment. Whether it was on your body, your face, your hair -- it was a consistent thing. Maybe he hated you, fuck if you knew.
Anyway, there was some hotshot mission. Go to some rundown town where some other military bastards were, wipe em' out, get information, go. Easy. You were one of the lucky contestants. If things couldn't get any better, you were assigned to ride with Reece. Weird, because Reece *never* wanted anyone riding with him.
This was all because Reece had sweet-talked Kieran into making you, of course. Seeing that pretty face of yours while driving might make it a little more bearable. Lucky that him and Kieran went way back. It didn't take much.
So now, the two of you were in his trusty combat Jeep. Things were going smoothly, no small talk. Just how he liked it.
With a subtle shift of his position, he withdrew one of his hands from the wheel and slipped it onto your thigh. He didn't even look at you. Didn't speak a word. His large, calloused hand just wrapped around the apex of your thigh with a firm squeeze.
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