Protected By The Soldier Tiger (Special Ops Shifters: Dallas Force Book 2)

by Meg Ripley

So how could she still feel the way she did, even after all this time? He’d hurt her—deeply. Sabrina had nearly put her career in jeopardy after he’d left her, since she’d spent all her time in bed or with her head in the fridge. It hadn’t made things any better in the long run, but it’d made her feel better in the moment.

  Stop being such a baby, Sabrina, she scolded herself. Dwelling on the past isn’t going to do anything to help your future. Go to bed. She reached for the lid to the memory box, ready to slide it back into the dark recesses under her bed.

  5

  Max wiggled his toes on the plush rug. Everything about this apartment was cushy and luxurious, and it was driving him crazy. There was no rational reason for it, but as far as he was concerned, there didn’t need to be. Sabrina was just getting to him.

  He’d seen the look on her face when she’d emerged on the rooftop, and he’d sensed the hesitation in her body before she’d boarded the chopper. She didn’t want him to be a part of this mission any more than he wanted to be. It was an awkward situation they’d been put in. It was just too bad she wasn’t being more cooperative about dealing with it.

  They’d eaten dinner at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, sitting two feet apart and hardly speaking. She hadn’t even given him the chance to chip in for his portion of the meal, paying for it ahead of time to show off just how much money she’d been making. As if he hadn’t already been able to tell how loaded she was.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. Max liked to keep the ringer off when he could so he wouldn’t have to hear the noise.

  It was Vance. “Hey. Just thought I’d check in and see how things were going.”

  Max was immediately suspicious. Had Sabrina called and complained about him already? No, that was ridiculous. It wasn’t as though just anyone could track down the phone numbers for the Force. Even her conclave probably wouldn’t have given her that information. “Just fine.”

  “No problem making the transition from the conclave guard?”

  “No.” Max had wondered exactly who the guy who’d been assigned to her was, his tiger’s jealousy rippling just under the surface. He’d noticed the warmth and affection with which the guy had looked at her, but he’d restrained himself enough not to pursue that conversation yet.

  “Good. And her place is secure?”

  “As secure as it can be,” Max scoffed. “You know, I haven’t looked up real estate listings for luxury apartments like this one, but if I did, I’m sure I’d find they cost enough to warrant coming with their own bodyguards. And you should see the windows in this place. With just a flip of a latch, they’re open.”

  Vance didn’t say anything for a moment. “You sure you’re all right with taking this job?”

  Was he sure? Of course not. But he wasn’t about to admit that. Max had learned a long time ago that ignoring his weaknesses was often the easiest way to deal with them, even if it wasn’t the best way.

  No, he wasn’t sure he could stand being around Sabrina like this. No matter how comfortable her expensive couch was, there was no way he could actually sit still for more than a few minutes because his tiger was raging and roiling inside him, demanding to come out. It didn’t matter that the only person there to see that was Sabrina, and she’d long ago learned how to shut off those instinctive feelings.

  He’d wondered about that with her. A long time ago, Sabrina told him she’d wept almost every night when she came home from working her residency. That was before she’d found her passion in cosmetic surgery and was still learning the in’s and out’s of cutting people open for a living. She’d watched people die. She’d seen them suffer as they awaited treatment and answers. When the patients were under anesthesia and didn’t know what was happening, Sabrina had witnessed their loved ones anxiously waiting. She’d claimed it’d been a heavy burden on her.

  But that wasn’t the Sabrina he knew, the one who could brush off all the touchy-feely stuff because it was getting in the way of getting the job done. The Sabrina he knew was stone-cold in the operating room, not thinking about anything other than the instruments in her hands and the vitals of the person on the table. She’d carried it over into her personal life, too. If her tiger had responded to his presence when they’d seen each other again on that rooftop, she’d given no signal. Sabrina was the ultimate ice queen.

  “Yeah, of course. I’m fine.” He’d nearly forgotten that Vance was still hanging on the other end of the line, concerned about whether or not he could do the job. “You don’t need to check up on me, man.”

  “I’m not. It’s just that this is a different mission than the ones we’re used to getting. I reckon it’s important that we do a good job since the local conclave has hired us. We don’t want to piss them off since our relationship with them could be vital to our operations.”

  He sounded more like some pompous executive than a simple rancher. “It’s good to know you trust me with this,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “It’s not that, Max. You were acting pretty fucking weird this morning, so my concern is both for the job and you.”

  Max appreciated the thought, but he didn’t need someone worrying over him. It was only going to make his moodiness worse. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  Vance sighed. “All right. If you say everything is fine, then I’ll take your word for it. Just promise you’ll call if anything changes or there are any emergencies. I’ll be meeting you tomorrow morning at the hospital to take over for the day.

  Have fun spending all day with Dr. Distance. “All right. See you then.” He hung up, not wanting to risk hearing any more of Vance’s worries. Everything was fine. He would get through this, and then he and Sabrina could go their separate ways again.

  Feeling restless, he pushed himself up off the couch and patrolled the perimeter of the apartment. Opposite the front door, he paused and looked out the wide, sliding glass doors that led out onto a long patio. The view from there was stellar. Max was used to seeing the city from the ground when he went for his early morning jogs or from overhead when he was at work. This was completely different. The skyscrapers downtown were illuminated for the evening in bold shades of blues, greens, and yellows, but they were far enough away that the light pollution didn’t reach Sandoval Terrace. Thunderclouds rolled in, darker than even the charcoal skies they obscured. Brilliant forks of lightning traced across the urban vista, searching for some connection.

  Max instantly related to them. For years, he’d been drifting through the sky, looking for something to tether him down. Any time he thought he’d finally found it, he immediately began pulling back. He wanted to be grounded but not trapped. It was a very fine balance, and for a while, he thought he’d found it with Sabrina.

  Unbidden, he pictured her the way he used to see her. Not the upper-class surgeon she was now, requiring private transportation and a hired guard everywhere she went, and not even the angry and distant woman she’d been when he’d decided to leave. No, this was the younger and happier Sabrina, the one who still knew how to have fun. The one who could distract him from all the hell inside his brain, the one whose feline sensuality could pull him to the bedroom with little more than a glance from under her lashes or a quirk from the corner of her mouth. He found her incredibly attractive, and when they slipped between the sheets together, he’d practically worshipped her body. But she was also smart, funny, and so unbelievably strong.

  How had it all come to this?

  Running a hand through his hair, Max turned away from the window and moved through the darkened kitchen. Sure, he’d already given the place a once-over to analyze it for any weak points. It was such an automatic habit for him, no matter where he was, that he didn’t know how to turn it off. He even did it at headquarters, even though Garrison from the D.C. Force had designed and renovated the place to make sure it was up to standards. But god damn, Army life had fucked him up good.

  As Max turned back toward the front of the apartment, he spotted a line of lig
ht limning the bottom of Sabrina’s bedroom door. His heart froze as he stared at it for a long moment, listening for any evidence of an intruder. She’d gone to bed long ago. Anything could be happening on the other side of that door. Had he let her down already?

  His body surged to life, barely in control as he charged across the floor. In the fleeting moment it took him to get to her door, he was back in Iraq. Someone’s life was on the line. He had to fix things. There had been blood, so much blood.

  The knob was cold against the palm of his hand for a split second as he shoved it open with his shoulder. It shuddered on its hinges as it slammed back against the bedroom wall. Spotting Sabrina on the floor next to the bed, and his heart squeezed in panic. It was too late.

  But just as quickly as terror had overtaken him, Max realized he was utterly wrong. Sabrina was, indeed, on the floor. But she wasn’t dead, dying, or even bleeding or bruised. She was wrapped in a plush cream robe that did little to hide her curves—and even less to hide the smooth muscles of her thigh as she pushed something underneath the bed.

  She was on her feet in an instant, pulling her robe tighter in front of her chest and tugging the bottom of it down to cover as much leg as possible. “Max! What the hell are you doing?”

  He swallowed, taking in the sight of her standing there next to the big bed. Her deep brown hair was down for a change, the dark waves hanging damp past her shoulders. She’d never been the kind of woman who needed a lot of makeup, and she wore none now, yet her smooth cheeks and heavily lashed eyes didn’t need it. Max cleared his throat, forcing his gaze to remain on her eyes. “I saw your light on, and it’s late. I thought something was wrong.”

  “I just can’t sleep, okay?” She glanced severely at him through her glasses. “Just because you were told to stay here all night doesn’t mean anything about my life has changed.”

  He’d been so worried, and now he privately chastised himself for doing so. “No, of course not. You wouldn’t dare go even an inch out of your way if it was for anyone else, would you?”

  Sabrina’s left eye narrowed more than the right one as she fixed her gaze on him. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

  “As if you didn’t know.” While just a few minutes ago, he’d been reminiscing on how loving and warm she could be, Sabrina had reminded him of why they weren’t together anymore. He knew precisely why he’d left, and even why he hadn’t bothered to tell her before he packed his shit and slipped out the door.

  “No, I can’t say that I do. What I do know is that you’re here in my apartment, and all of a sudden, you think you can dissect my life like some high school science project. Oh, and there’s plenty of extra credit for anything that somehow doesn’t meet your standards.” She took a step closer to him, her hands gesticulating wildly as she spoke. “I happen to notice, though, that what disturbs you the most is the fact that I’m actually doing well for myself!”

  “Maybe you’re right,” he growled. “Maybe it does bother me to see just how far you’ve come, considering I know it’s only happened because you’re so cold-hearted and calculating. You bought this douchy apartment on the blood of innocent people.”

  Her voice was quiet when she responded, her eyes glistening. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

  “You heard me.” Damn it. He was being an ass and he knew it. Sometimes it was too easy for Max to get tied up in his thoughts; he lived in his head than he wanted to admit. But eventually, he caught up to himself and realized what was going on. Unfortunately, it was too late to back out now.

  “I bought this place with the income I’ve earned from performing my job. And we’re not talking about innocent children from families who can’t afford surgeries. We’re talking about wealthy men who want their wives to look like they’re twenty again, and the wives that are shallow enough to agree with it. We’re talking about people who can’t be satisfied with the looks they were born with and feel the need to rearrange their face into someone else’s to meet some random socially accepted standard.”

  Her bare feet punctuated her words as she stepped forward. Max had been thinking of her as nothing more than a frigid woman, but in that moment, he was heavily reminded of the tiger she truly was. Sabrina stalked him from across the bedroom as her strong legs moved slowly and deliberately, her feet setting down heel-to-toe, her stare unwavering.

  “So yeah,” she continued. “If you want to say I have the creature comforts in my life because I took advantage of people, then fine. I took advantage of people who were more than eager to throw their money at me. It might not be the work I want to do, and you might not be able to see what it’s going to get me in the long run, but the way I see it, that’s none of your fucking business!” Light flared in her eyes as all her fury was directed straight at him.

  He snarled. All that anger might be for him, but it wasn’t making him want to turn away. His inner beast was responding now that she was showing hers, and all the frustration and resentment he’d been dwelling on was shifting. “What’s your end goal here? Where the hell could you go from here, when you’ve already got a job at the nicest hospital in the state and an apartment better than ninety-nine percent of people around these parts can afford?”

  Sabrina shook her head and pursed her lips. Her tongue poked the inside of her cheek, and Max could tell she was debating whether or not to continue this argument. She was only a foot or so away from him, which forced her to look up as she spoke. “You really don’t know?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.” He clenched his fists at his sides to fight off doing something rash, but it certainly wouldn’t be violent. That bed of hers with the covers cast aside was so damn close.

  “I don’t have to tell you, you know. The two of us are through, and there’s no reason to justify myself to you.” Her feet hadn’t moved again as she stood poised for whatever may come, and yet Max could swear she’d come even closer.

  “I know.”

  “You think I’m shallow because I want the fame of being a top surgeon. I do want that fame, and I can’t help that money happens to come with it. But the only reason I’m taking these jobs is so that I can have enough leverage to create the space and funding for those who fucking need it. I want to get back to helping veterans who need reconstructive surgery after being wounded and children who’ve been sick or injured. If you can’t understand that, then call up whoever it is you work for and tell them to send in someone else.” She lifted her chin defiantly, daring him with every cell of her body.

  Fuck. He’d been such an asshole. He’d been so caught up in himself that he hadn’t bothered—or maybe hadn’t allowed himself—to think about who she was as a whole. Sabrina could be who she needed to be in the moment, but that one temper tantrum or unwillingness to deal with him wasn’t the sum of her parts. She was daring him, but she had no idea just what she was daring him to do.

  His hands moved swiftly, latching onto her hips and pulling her close as he pressed his lips to hers. Sabrina was stiff in his arms, frozen from surprise. But her tiger was dominant now, and it soon melted in his palms. Sabrina became soft and pliant in his grasp as her lips explored his. Max felt their animals stalking around each other, sniffing, inspecting, wondering. He lifted his hand from her hip and moved it to the curve of her lower back, pressing her harder against him, wanting her to feel exactly what she was doing to him.

  But that was when she retreated inward again. Max could feel her tiger moving away, defensive, almost scared. At the same time, Sabrina put her hand on his chest and pushed herself away, her lips ruddy from their short but intense liplock. She held them just barely apart as though she were breathless, her eyes wide. Her intense look was enough to make him want to yank her back against him and relive that moment over and over again. But it was gone, and no matter how much of a dick he could sometimes be, he wouldn’t push her that far. She was fully human again, having locked her creature away where it couldn’t influence her any longer.

  Sab
rina made a small sound in her throat as she retreated another step, still facing him. She gestured nervously at the bed. “I think, um, I think it’s time I got to bed. I’ve got to work in the morning.”

  Max glanced once again at the bed. It was one of those tall numbers, the kind most people would need a boost to get up on. The fluffy down comforter was sheathed in a cream duvet cover the same shade as her bathrobe, but it was pulled back to reveal smooth sheets of a deep burgundy. The dark stain on the four-poster bed completed the picture, making it look so incredibly luxurious and inviting.

  But he’d understood that she most definitely wasn’t inviting him to bed. He backed toward the door, which still stood open. “Right. Early morning. I’ll just be right out here.”

  She nodded. “Thank you for checking on me.”

  It was the slightest fissure in that austere façade she’d so carefully constructed. It was tempting, making Max want to pick at it like a fresh scab. He’d pushed things far enough, though. “Sure. I’ll be out here if you need anything.” He continued to back out of the room, feeling foolish when he realized he must have looked like some groveling servant who’s not allowed to turn away from the queen, and shut the door.

  Once he was out of her sight, he spun around and headed straight back for the couch. “If you need anything?” Max echoed to himself in a whisper as he flung himself on the cushions. “Yeah, I think we both know what ‘anything’ meant.” He’d botched this all to hell, but in retrospect, he didn’t know how he would’ve changed his actions. Sabrina did things to him. She made him act crazy, and he wasn’t entirely sure if it were a good crazy or a bad crazy.

  The one thing he did know was that it was damn hard to have merely a door separating them. Had she taken off her robe, exposing the creamy curves of her skin, fresh from the shower, before slipping between those sheets? It was too easy to imagine her there under the covers, the swell of her breasts barely hidden beneath the comforter, her hair splayed out against the paleness of the pillow.