by Susan Bliler
Monroe smirked and lifted one shoulder in a ‘so what’ gesture.
“Send her to Apex!” Remy demanded. “Let Tyce deal with her training.” He turned steely eyes on Mason. “Surely you can’t want this for her.”
“Of course I don’t,” Mason snarled. “If it were up to me she’d stay in the office with Amanda.” His eyes flickered dangerously at the mention of his Angel’s name. “But she won’t be deterred.”
Remy turned back to Monroe. “Are you fucking serious? Do you actually expect me to do this?”
Monroe made a show of smoothing non-existent wrinkles from the sleeve of his suit coat. “I do.”
“If I do this,” Remy snarled, as he stepped forward. “Then know now, she’ll get no special treatment. I’m not babysitting out there. If she can’t make the cut,” his eyes slid to Mason. “She can’t make the cut.”
“That’s all we ask,” Monroe replied. “Give her a fair shake.” He shrugged. “Who knows? A week with you and your men and she might be running back to Mason begging to work the office with Amanda.”
Remy had gone so tense that his muscles began to whine under the strain. “What do I need to know?” he gnashed out between clenched teeth.
“She’s a fighting non-con.” Mason offered. “Treat her accordingly.”
Remy’s eyes jerked around to stare at Mason in disbelief. “A fighting non-con?” He snorted. “Get real.”
“She is!” Mason growled.
Remy understood the terms passed around in the screening rooms by the psychiatrists and doctors who had to clear each individual for the rigors of Sentry training. The evaluations were done mostly to ensure no Megalya or government assigned lackeys infiltrated StoneCrow. It wasn’t just Sentries that had to go through the rigorous pre-testing though. All human staff had to endure the evaluations. Monroe had to be absolutely sure.
In this case, non-con was short for a non-confrontational individual. So, it was funny that Mason was labeling his sister as a fighting non-con. It was oxymoronic.
“What do you mean she’s a fighting non-con?” Remy hissed. “She can’t be both. It’s one or the other!”
“Not in her case. She is non-confrontational by nature, but her upbringing has turned her into a pugilist. She’s not afraid to defend herself and, while she isn’t inclined to start a fight,” he turned to pin Remy with dark eyes, “She’ll finish it.”
Remy grinned. “A fighting non-con.” He nodded once. “Fine. She’ll be placed accordingly, but again, I’m granting her no special privilege. I don’t give a shit how hard her upbringing was. She either makes the cut, or she doesn’t. No favoritism because she’s your sister.”
Mason smirked. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. And Remy.”
Remy met his gaze.
“If she gets hurt, you’re fucking dead. Touch her inappropriately, and you’re fucking dead. Use her to get back at me and…”
“Yeah, yeah,” Remy snorted. “I’m fucking dead. Got it.” The floor under them shook, and Mason’s eyes darted about the room as he tensed, but Remy and Monroe didn’t even flinch. They knew what that rumbling vibration meant. Out in the fields below the silos, large metal panels covered in faux wheat were retracting to reveal state of the art obstacle courses lifting from where they were kept hidden underground. Anyone flying over the Estate would never know the training facility existed unless they happened to be overhead when the equipment was raised, and that wasn’t likely to happen as the Estate housed its own satellite surveillance.
Remy paced to the window, turning his back on Mason as he stared down at the precise line of Sentries as they exited their barracks to begin drills. Cason was his Second until Legions return. He watched as the beast of a Walker shouted orders to the Sentries. Movement from the edge of the grid caught his eye, and Remy’s gaze snagged on Leto Reigns and the slight female he was leading toward the barracks. Remy pulled his eyes away. He was done wasting his time on Mason’s sister. It had already cost him too much. He’d train her, he’d break her, he’d be rid of her, and that’d be it.
Glancing over his shoulder he eyed Monroe, then Mason. “Anything else?”
The look on Mason’s face let him know his previous nemesis wasn’t finished.
Mason took a step forward. “This should go without saying.”
Remy turned to square up, showing with his posture that he wasn’t afraid of Mason before holding up his hand. “Yeah. I know. You already said it. Hurt her and I die. Let her get hurt and I die.” He pointed at the door. “Save it.”
“Report back at week’s end,” Monroe commanded as he strode for the door. “She’s got one week to prove she can make it, if not I’m moving her to another occupation.”
Remy nodded grimly. Oh, little Miss EnemyHunter was getting moved to another occupation alright, and he’d ensure it didn’t take a week for that to happen.
Monroe was half out the door when he turned. “Remy! How was your mission in Great Falls? You haven’t filed your report.”
Tensing at the reminder of the woman he’d been trying to forget, Remy responded sarcastically. “Fan-fucking-tastic.” Truth was, he’d been unable to stop thinking about his beautiful lavender goddess. When he had realized the woman had checked out of her room and left, Remy knew he could have tracked her, hunted her, but he wasn’t in the habit of chasing women who didn’t want to be chased. It was a hard pill to swallow -- she was the first woman ever who’d apparently been completely immune to his charm. “Report’s on its way.” Then he slammed the door behind them.
Chapter 5
After securing her issued attire and gear in her footlocker, Harlow sat on her hard cot, eyeing the barracks. God, what have I gotten myself into? The room was pristine. Not a speck of dirt or lint on the tan wooden floors. The walls were made from the same wood, which belied the corrugated metal on the outside of the structure. When Leto had driven her out to the field and exited the vehicle to lead her to the grain silos, she wondered what in the hell was going on. Days earlier she’d seen Sentries training on this site, but when she’d arrived today all she’d seen were fields of golden wheat and the silos. Leto had led her into one of the silos through a door that was barely visible. Cut into the structure and curved to match the profile, the door looked like someone had simply taken a welder and cut into the structure.
“This is the barracks,” Leto stated, as he pointed to a cot with an open foot locker near the foot. “That’s yours. Get settled. Your Commander will be in to speak with you shortly.” Then, without even a goodbye, he’d left.
Not wanting to get caught unprepared, Harlow hurried to secure her gear. Her cot was second from the door in a line of six against one wall, but the one beside hers, nearest the door, was unmade like hers, which led her to believe no one slept there. On the wall at the head of her cot was a shelf with a rod beneath it. Eyeing the other sentries’ arrangements, she hung her dress uniform from the rod. Pulled sheets off the shelf she quickly made her bunk, then tucked her reaming gear and rucksack into her footlocker before closing it up and sitting on the lid to wait.
After a few minutes, when no Commander showed, she stood and began looking around the barracks. At the far end of the room was a doorway. Upon inspection she discovered it led to the latrine. Two bathroom stalls, with doors—thank God—were against one wall. Against the opposite were a row of six ridiculously small stalls covered by plain beige curtains. She peeled one back and saw a bench attached to the stall wall and another curtain. Stepping into the stall, she peeled back the second curtain and was met with a tight shower stall.
Okay, this might work. Honestly, she’d been more concerned with shitting and showering around a group of Walker Sentries than she’d been about anything else. But this looked like she could make it work. The shower stalls with the cordoned off dressing area would be perfect to protect her modesty.
Exiting the latrine, she paced slowly back to her cot, her eyes following the line of perfectly organized spaces. Shee
ts and blankets were perfectly tucked; personal items neatly stowed on shelves like the one above her own bunk. The first had a stack of CD’s and a pile of men’s magazines, the kind that featured naked women. Rolling her eyes, Harlow paced toward the next cot, the shelf above holding a few books. Leaning forward, she tilted her head to the side to read the titles. Art of War, Shakespearean Tragedies, Atlas Shrugged. Righting her head she stepped to the next cot, walking forward to look at the picture on this Sentry’s shelf. It was of a woman with dark eyes and dark hair. She beamed a smile from a field of grass where she sat with a guitar propped on her thigh as the wind took her hair and the sun shone down giving her an ethereal glow.
The next Sentry’s shelf had what looked like some sort of radio she was afraid to inspect so she ignored it and went to her own cot. She dropped down on her foot locker and waited, and as was typical for the past few days her free time had her thinking back to that night. God, it was good. Too good! Part of her regretted not getting the guy’s name or number, a bigger part of her regretted not asking him to stay the entire night. Even now when she thought about how he’d touched her, how he’d fucked her, she got wet. She was remembering the feel of him inside her when suddenly the door slammed open and she startled.
A tall guy smirked at her as he stood with his body half in the door and half out. “You must be the new guy.” He winked. “Come on. We need to get you in formation before the Commander gets here.”
Harlow faltered only a moment. The guy was too small to be a Walker, but thank God for small favors because he wouldn’t scent her arousal. She raced out the door after the guy.
“I’m Josef. I’ll be your team lead. You answer to me, I answer to the Commander. Got it?”
“Got it.” She hurried to keep up.
When they got out to the field, there were three rows of teams lined up. The team furthest from her was made up of just three men, but they were huge. Walkers. Thank God they were too far away to scent her. They stood in military precision, none of them so much as blinking. Beside them was a team consisting of a few large men and two women. She didn’t know if the females were Walkers, human females and Walker females were the same size, but the men must have all been Walkers, as they were larger than the males on the team she was being led to. She balked a second.
This isn’t right. She was supposed to be on a Walker team. Mason had said he wouldn’t intentionally make things easy for her.
Josef took his place among the tall, but not as tall as Walkers, men and snapped his fingers before pointing at a spot right beside him. Harlow took it and mimicked his rigid stance, staring straight ahead with intentions of rectifying the misassignment once she got the chance.
With her in line between them that made five on her team, and she couldn’t help but feel a little deflated that she was standing among humans and not Walkers.
The crunching of booted feet caught her attention, then a huge figure stalked down the line. The behemoth in BDUs had to be Commander McCabe. Chancing a glance, Harlow peeked out of the corner of her eyes at the approaching Commander and her heart stopped. Mouth falling open to help her suck in a breath, her hands began to tremble. She didn’t dare blink. It was him! That night, the masquerade! It was him!
Standing straighter, she leaned back slightly hoping he wouldn’t notice her, knowing that even if he looked straight at her, he couldn’t know it was her. There was no way she’d be recognizable like this. Hell, she hadn’t even taken her mask off the night they’d been together.
Straightening, she threw caution to the wind and turned her head slightly to get a better look. She had to know, had to be certain!
Beside her, Josef hissed quietly, but she ignored it as she studied the Walker stalking down the line toward her. Fuuuuuuck! Definitely him! Definitely fucking him!
He strode down the line with confidence and authority, and Harlow prayed enough time had passed that he’d forgotten that night. That exquisite unforgettable night!
Chin held high, chest puffed out, he was mere feet from her and her heart was pounding like a jack hammer. A few steps later and he passed right in front of her. Harlow held her breath. A few more steps and she released that breath in relief. Thank God!
Then, it happened. The Commander came to a hard stop, like he’d slammed into a brick wall and her gaze jerked to him. He stood stock still for several tense moments before his head whipped around, shocked eyes landing on her. She’d broken protocol, and they stood staring at each other until his face twisted with rage.
Shit!
“Fall out!” he boomed.
Without hesitation everyone hurriedly filed from the field. Harlow ducked her head and tried to follow, but strong hands grabbed her from behind. In the blink of an eye, she was jerked around. The Commander’s hand wrapped around her throat as his big body stepped forward and pressed into hers.
“What in the hell have you done,” he snarled, eyes flashing dangerously.
Harlow tried to deny it. “I don’t know what you’re…” She didn’t get to finish. She was up over his shoulder with her ass in the air before she could even blink, then the ground was moving beneath them at such a fast rate, she was getting queasy from the motion.
Moments later they entered what she thought were her barracks. When he lifted her off his shoulder and righted her, she realized they were in a barracks, but it wasn’t hers. She assumed it was his. The Commanders.
“What is your name?” he barked.
“H-Harlow. Harlow, Sir!” She didn’t look at him, her eyes pinned forward as she tried her best to stand at attention despite her trembling limbs.
The Commander’s head fell back and his chest heaved before a rolling growl rattled his chest and filled the room. He didn’t look at her as he snarled, “EnemyHunter?”
“Y-yes. Yes, Sir.”
And suddenly he was back on her. The same hand was around her throat, while the other gripped her ass, lifting until her back was pressed into the wall, her legs resting on either side of his hips. But this wasn’t sexual as much as it was aggressive. He wasn’t hurting her though, and she was relieved for that.
“Did Mason put you up to this?”
His words were so enraged, so vicious, that she felt fear flood her veins. “N-no,” she whispered, locking her eyes on his. “No!” She stated more firmly. “He had nothing to do with it. And it wasn’t some nefarious plan. How could I know I’d ever see you again, that you’d be here? That you were a Walker?”
“Let me guess,” he scowled. “You go spreading those pretty little legs for any man that spills champagne on your luscious tits.”
That had her struggling in his grip, but stilling just as quickly when her grunts, and his power as he held her against the wall, reminded her too much of how they’d fucked. Heat flooded her belly and Harlow grabbed the wrist of the hand at her throat. “Put me down,” she demanded angrily.
Anger twisted his features, he held her trapped against the wall for long seconds, both of them glaring at each other, before he finally relented.
He released her throat first, stepping back quickly as she dropped to the ground, but it wasn’t quickly enough. She felt the unmistakable bar of his hardened cock as she slid down his frame and it rubbed against her sex, sending a punch of unwanted lust shooting through her.
Remy’s nostrils flared, and his expression darkening further. “Really?” He asked in disgust.
Harlow’s eyes snapped to the front of his BDU’s, where his pants were tented. “Really?” She asked mockingly, before turning to leave the room, but his words halted her.
“You’re dismissed from training.”
“The hell I am.” She spun on him. “You’re not pulling me from training for something we did before we’d ever even formally met!”
“And shouldn’t we have met?” He stepped forward, frowning down at her. “Shouldn’t I have had the pleasure of your name before having the pleasure of your sweet, tight pussy?”
She winced away f
rom him. Asshole! “Stop talking like that!” Her chest heaved from adrenaline and fear, certainly, but also something else. Shockingly, his nasty words were making her all hot and achy. “It was just sex! Consenting adults do it all the time. You don’t have to make it into something it wasn’t! And you certainly don’t need to be blaming this on me.” She leaned forward and hissed. “I tried to stop what happened between us.”
If possible, Remy’s expression darkened. “You tried to stop a freight train by whispering at it?”
His words were full of condescension, and now Harlow was enraged as well. “Would shouting have done the job?”
Remy tensed.
Of course shouting wouldn’t have done the job. Nothing would have stopped him from finding his release. Nothing could have stopped either one of them in that moment, and she’d be damned if she was going to take all the blame for what happened.
“Two weeks,” he growled. “You’re dismissed from training for two weeks, and know now; I’m only letting you stay on because I don’t want to have to explain your dismissal to your brother. Stay away from the Walker barracks. I don’t need them sniffing around. My scent is faint, but it’s still in you. If someone were looking, they’d find it.”
His words stung, and she felt heat flood her cheeks. He didn’t want any of the Walkers scenting that he’d been with her. He was…ashamed?
She stomped toward the door, not looking back. “Not a problem, Sir.” But she wasn’t letting him off that easy. Hand on the knob, she turned to scowl over her shoulder. “And the next time a lady tells you to stop, I suggest you listen.” Ignoring his growl, she lifted her head and left the room.
Chapter 6
Harlow raced back to her suite, running the entire way, and when she got to the main house, she didn’t slow. No, she shoved the front door open and ran as hard as her legs would carry her up to her second-floor suite, got herself in quickly, then slammed and locked her door. Striping on her way to the bathroom, she left a trail of BDU’s in her wake before stepping under the spray and scrubbing her skin.