“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Skylar muttered. “Give me fifteen minutes in the ring with her and I’ll show her how fucking serious I am.”

Ryker’s eyes widened and he looked like he was about to drop to his knees and worship at the altar of Skylar. He even put one hand over his heart as if reciting his pledge of allegiance to his teammate.

“Holy fuck, that would be hot,” Edge breathed, his eyes widening in exaggerated fashion. “Oh wait, my sincerest apologies for my unfortunate, extremely inappropriate response, Ms. Watkins. The more appropriate response would be, that would be very educational and an excellent example of just how serious-minded this extremely serious organization of serious special forces operators is. And of course how serious we take the serious matter of opening up a can of whoop ass, er, uh, I mean the matter of seriously training our new recruits, how seriously we take respect, particularly when it comes to the serious issue of humor. We, of course, have no senses of humor and take serious offense to the supposition that the nonexistent senses of humor are in any way inappropriate.”

Skylar lost it, bursting into laughter and shaking so hard that she began wheezing. She held her ribs, choking each time she tried to form a word. Swanny’s eyes were huge as he stared in shock at the big man who’d just spoken more words in a minute than he had in the entire time he’d been a member of KGI. Nathan and Joe exchanged amused glances, each shaking his head.

“Wow,” Ryker whispered. “That was righteous. Shit, I had no idea what an irreverent bunch I had fallen in with. I think I’m in love. In a completely platonic, heterosexual way, of course.”

“Jesus,” Nathan muttered. “We’ve got mutiny on our hands. We’ve got a temper worse than P.J.’s, with more than enough to back up the bravado, and then we have a guy who makes my other brothers look like two-year-olds in the sarcasm department. And then the new guy over here egging them all on. You deal with them, Joe.”

Joe snorted. “I’m kind of scared of Skylar. I think I’ll just stand here and keep my mouth shut or she might decide to give me fifteen minutes in the ring. I like my good looks just the way they are. But Edge, dude, gotta say, that’s the funniest fucking shit I’ve ever heard in my life. Will you write that up for me so I can hang it up in the team room? I’m thinking about making it our new mantra. And something to aspire to, you know? We should all strive to be more . . . serious.”

The others groaned. Swanny rolled his eyes. “Leave the humor to Edge, man. You just killed the buzz.”

“Which one of you cares to share what’s so funny?” Sam asked tersely.

“Uh-oh,” Edge murmured so only his team could hear. “The serious nanny is about to give time-outs because somebody laughed while school’s in session.”

Skylar and Swanny made choking sounds again, Ryker had his face turned up toward heaven while mouthing thank you, God, and Nathan looked frozen in place while Joe fought with his lips as they tried to fidget right off his damn face. Ah fuck it. Edge was right. Skylar was right. This serious bullshit was just that. Shit. If the rookie couldn’t deal with a little morbid humor, then she didn’t fucking belong on any KGI team to begin with.

“Things were getting a little too . . . serious,” Joe said, causing his teammates to groan as they fought another round of laughter. “Just trying to break up the monotony. Anyone got a problem with that?”

He scanned the room as he made the challenging statement, his gaze lingering on Allie a little longer than the others. Yeah, he was calling her out. It was obvious, but his team was right. Everyone needed to lighten the fuck up. When his gaze found Allie again, she flushed and then glanced down, realizing his team’s pointed message. Joe felt a twinge of guilt. He didn’t want to embarrass her, but for fuck’s sake, she’d embarrassed herself enough at the last meeting when every single person had tried to make her feel more at ease in her surroundings.

“Not like you to let someone other than Sophie keep your balls for you, Sam,” Joe drawled. “Any particular reason why you’re allowing it now?”

Sam’s glare was murderous. Garrett looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel as he fought to keep a straight face. Donovan didn’t even try. He covered his face with one hand and looked upward as if praying for guidance, deliverance or strength. Joe couldn’t tell which. Or maybe he was praying for Joe to disappear before Sam did burst something. One thing was clear, though. Joe’s team wasn’t the only one that had problems with Allie’s judgment and disapproval. They were just the only ones who’d had the guts to say anything.

Sam crossed his arms over his chest and then leaned back against the planning platform as he stared Joe down. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?” he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

Skylar cleared her throat. “He doesn’t mean anything, Sam. He’s covering for comments I made, and while you’d probably find those comments inappropriate, I stand by them.”

Joe held up his hand. “Stand down, Sky. And that’s an order.”

Skylar lifted one eyebrow but went quiet. She shot Edge an inquisitive look. Joe couldn’t blame her. He and Nathan didn’t give orders and they definitely didn’t voice one in the way he had, like he was on some power trip. They were a team. A well-organized, well-oiled and damn efficient group that did what was needed, no questions asked.

“My team stands by statements and opinions expressed by my team,” Joe said, an edge to his voice. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation had you not butted into what was clearly team communication in an attempt to micromanage and suppress any hint of a goddamn sense of humor. Get a clue, Sam. No one on my team is offended by humor or opinions, so look somewhere else for your problem. Now if we can get this over with, I’d appreciate it, and I’m sure everyone else would too.”