“Sure. I’ve got time before my next briefing,” he tells me right before Beaux fires another round, the pop drowning out all sound around us.

“Thanks.” I stride out of the range with the hopes of letting a few more people know I’m back in action while she stays under the watchful eyes of Sarge. I trust that he’ll take care of her without making a move.

Plus, he thinks she’s a lesbian.

If he’s watching her, that means I don’t have to. And if I’m not watching her, then I can’t keep getting irritated at how damn much I want to experience the feel of her body against mine again.

Besides, I don’t like her.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Tanner.

Chapter 9




When I return to the range, there’s no one there. At first, irritation flickers that Sarge couldn’t stay put for a whole thirty minutes, but then I look at my watch and realize it was more like an hour. Shit. I glance at the service bars on my phone that are nowhere near consistent – ranging from zero to one – but that doesn’t mean I’m any less irritated by their up and disappearing.

So where in the hell are they? I try to figure out the most logical place for Sarge to take her, but I come up with nothing. Add the fact that neither is answering their cell phone because their cell reception probably sucks as badly as mine.

But the more I start searching for them in places near the range without any luck, my mind keeps going to Sarge’s comments about how attractive she is.

Hell yes, I’m an asshole for the suspicion that they could be off sleeping together somewhere, but my temper doesn’t fucking care. I start poking my head into random buildings, half expecting to get my ass chewed out for it and frankly not really caring. Both of their numbers are on constant repeat on my damn phone and still no answer.

By the time I’ve searched a seventh building only to come up empty-handed, the temper I try so fucking hard to keep under control is boiling over. So I make myself stop for a moment and wonder why in the hell I am so worked up… Why am I letting this get to me? First of all, I have no claim to her. Secondly, she’s a grown woman, able to make her own decisions regardless of how wrong they seem to me. Like sleep with me and the next night turn around and sleep with someone else. I remember meeting Beaux a few mornings ago in the stairwell dressed in her clothes from the night before.

I stop in the middle of the street and blow out a breath as I rake my hand through my hair. I just plopped her on a base of horny men and walked away. What was I thinking? My anger turns inward as worry starts to take over. I search a few more bungalows before I hear her laugh behind closed doors followed by a man’s laugh. In full big-brother mode I jog to the door, my imagination running wild in a way that adds fuel to my temper. When I pull the door open without knocking, what I expected and what I see couldn’t be more different.

There’s a room of about twenty soldiers, and Beaux is standing in the middle getting instructions from one of them on how to aim the dart in her hand properly at the dartboard on the wall opposite them. Her back is to me; her attention is on the fresh-faced kid while his hand is on hers, showing her the proper technique. The flash of jealousy that streaks through me instantly more than pisses me off.

“Okay, guys,” she says, rolling her shoulders to make an innocent production of it all in a comical way. She garners a few chuckles from the men around her who appear mesmerized by her. It’s not a hard thing to be, considering my boots are rooted to the ground as I watch the show. She shoots and misses, laughter falling from her lips as the guys stumble around her to help pick the dart up.

The guys reach out to touch her shoulders and arms – a pat on the back, a helping hand – all seemingly innocent; but I’m a guy. I know what’s probably running through their minds, and a single touch is way too many for my liking. So when she lifts her head and locks eyes with me, I stop in my tracks even though I’ve got one foot out to move forward. There’s something in the exchange that unnerves me: her soft smile, the fact that she’s looking at me when all of these men are vying for her attention. I don’t understand it exactly, but the minute it hits me, I hate it.

“You ready?” My voice comes out in an authoritative tone, causing the conversations in the room to die around us as my posture alone lets it be known that she’s with me. Exactly what I want them to think.

She hesitates, the softness in her eyes turning to a defiance that causes me to grit my teeth.

“The lady’s having fun,” the private next to her says, squaring his shoulders to let me know that he’ll step up to the plate for her. Little does he know I can throw a fastball with the best of them.

“It’s time for the lady to leave,” I assert.

He takes a step forward, two guys stepping up beside him, and I know a fight brewing when I see one. I’m definitely not afraid to take a hit, but causing trouble on the base is not a good idea when I need to stay in the military’s good graces. More guys take notice of the showdown that looks like it’s about to go down, postures stiffening and necks craning to catch a glimpse of the stranger invading their space.

I steal a look at Beaux and use it to tell her the words I can’t say aloud: Get your ass out the door right now before fists start flying. And of course she fucking hesitates again, adding heat to my already boiling anger. She matches me glare for glare. I’m not sure what kind of game she’s playing right now, but I’m definitely not in the mood for it.

“Sorry, boys,” she finally says when the tension is so thick, it feels like I’m swimming in it. “My babysitter is right. It’s time to go.”

The soldiers let out a communal groan with some of the guys throwing out offers for their babysitting services. I don’t find it amusing. At all.

Beaux takes her sweet ass time sauntering to the door, saying good-bye to a few of the guys as she heads my way before granting me a smug little smirk, and exiting through the door I hold open for her.

I salute the soldiers inside a farewell before shutting the door and following after her as she stalks off down the street. As I quicken my stride to catch up, I’m confused as fuck as to why she’s mad at me when I did nothing wrong. With each step, my anger intensifies at her and at myself.

After all, I spent all this time worrying that I had put her in some bad situation when she was in fact sitting there flirting playfully with those guys. I wasn’t rude, didn’t act like a dick, but rather just told her it was time to go. And what do I get in return? I get her goddamn attitude and hips swaying back and forth, telling me to fuck off with each step.

“What’s your problem?” I’ve gotten sick and tired of always being the one playing chase in whatever game of cat and mouse we seem stuck in. I’m not a man used to the idea of chasing, and it doesn’t sit well with me.

“Go to hell, Tanner,” she yells over her shoulder.

“Where’s Sarge?” I ask, trying to ignore her melodramatics.

“Had to go to a meeting. You were late. He left me in good hands.”

Good hands? Really? That’s clearly what she thinks, although in my mind that was the farthest thing from it. “What the hell type of game were you playing back there?” She just keeps stalking away, and confusion riots inside me. Here I was worried sick about her, remembering what happened to Stella… and to think she was in there parading her ass around and getting the attention she must need to keep that ego of hers overinflated.

Jesus Christ. What the fuck is wrong with me? I can’t decide whether I care about her or whether I can’t be bothered to care. It doesn’t really matter, though, because I’ve got so much pent-up fury when I catch up to her just as she turns a corner toward an alley. I don’t even hesitate when I reach for her arm and whirl her around so that her back is against the wall behind her.

“Let go of me!” Her teeth are gritted, and there’s spite in her voice that I still don’t think I deserve.

“Babysitter?” I snarl, unsure why the term pissed me off so bad when it’s exactly what I am in Rafe’s eyes. Maybe it’s because in front of all of those guys I wanted to be more than that.

“Yeah, babysitter.” She tries to step into me, use that compact little body of hers to emphasize her point, but there’s not much space between the wall and where I stand, so all she accomplishes is pushing her chest against mine, causing warning bells to fire off, but fuck if I care because the goddamn alarm’s been sounding since I couldn’t find her. “You think you can issue an apology, take me to the range, and you’re forgiven? I don’t hold grudges, Pulitzer, but I also don’t forgive at the drop of a dime either —”

“Shut up!”

“You’re arrogant and condescending and an asshole —”

“Will you be quiet?” My voice escalates with each word, bouncing off the concrete around us and coming back to me.

“No, because you —”

I don’t know what comes over me other than wanting to shut her mouth, but it must be the feel of our bodies connecting, the heat of our tempers igniting the chemistry on constant spark between us, because without preamble my fingers are in her hair, and I crush my lips to hers. Savoring her taste. Goddamn it. It’s everything I don’t want but crave all the same because it tempts me and calls on me to have more.

But by the time I realize what I’m doing, and that she’s kissing me back after the few seconds of shock pass, it’s too damn late to stop. And I don’t think I could if I wanted to. Anger and emotion fuel the kiss, plus adrenaline adds a bite of hunger that makes me not care if our lips are bruised when we part. Right now I need to answer the insanity this woman brings out in me.

So I let myself fall under the haze of the kiss with the heat around us and her soft body against mine. It’s when she slides her hands up my chest and starts to respond with more than just her lips and tongue that the reality of what I’ve just initiated seeps through the desire ruling my body.

Then I break my lips from hers, feeling completely confused about how I can be so wrapped up in this woman and at the same time despise her. Our faces are inches apart, breaths warming each other’s cheeks as her eyes tell me she’s trying to understand what the hell happened. Just like I am. It’s no use trying to explain, so I hold on to the only emotion that makes sense anymore, my anger.

“I still don’t like you,” I mutter as I turn on my heel to walk away but not before I see the shock flash through her eyes. I don’t hear her footsteps follow behind me. “You’d best be following me, because I’m not going to save your ass again, rookie.”

Two hours later, the bar is loud, the drinks are cold, and I hate that I keep thinking about Beaux. It doesn’t help that she’s sitting on the other side of the room, surrounded by men. And it’s not her fault; the male to female ratio here is almost ten to one, so I get it.

But I don’t want to wonder why exactly I care so much.

The more I watch her, the more worked up I get. She’s flipping her hair, and several times she meets my eyes above the crowd around her… because, yes, she has a crowd. She just draws people to her, and it’s annoying and understandable all at the same time. But the minute our eyes connect, that sneer returns to her lips and she averts her eyes from my gaze.

“If looks could kill, man…,” Pauly says with an audible exhale, and leaves the end of the sentence hanging.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I mutter, shaking my head when he pushes a glass of something amber in front of me. “No, thanks.”

“What’d you do to piss off the princess?”

I snort at the endearment. “Nothing. She was being stupid, and I put her in her place. Now she’s pissed at me.”

“So in other words you were being an asshole? Or should I say you were being yourself?” He’s grasping for clues and fuck, I love him, but I’m not giving him the details he wants. That means confessing we were with Sarge, and that’s a Pandora’s box that needs to stay closed.

“Something like that.” I glance up and meet her eyes again, but this time she doesn’t look away. She meets me glare for glare before standing and striding over to where we are sitting. Pauly whistles at the sight of her curves swaying and tits bouncing beneath her tank. And of course I groan in reaction, and as much as I appreciate the sight of her, I know she’s going to cause a scene.