by Rie Warren
What with the unending lashings from five pairs of hands and boots, I didn’t get a good look at my assailants. Their questions came on repeat, ringing in my ears with no rhyme or reason. What’s your name, slut? You got a rank, soldier girl? Who are you working for? Where had I been for five months? My answer to every accusation was a gob of blood splatted at the closest beater-upper.
They obviously hadn’t been trained in the fine art of interrogation, or fighting, by Commander Cutler, or if they had, it’d been a slapdash operation. But that didn’t matter. A punch was still a punch. And that shit was starting to hurt, especially since I’d made sure Cannon had roughed me up so I looked like I’d been done-over recently so my cover would be airtight before he sent me on my merry way. He’d probably enjoyed it too.
Not as much as these untrained shit stains, though. Except when the door crashed open and one tall wall of barely leashed man strode into the room. They all dropped their punching-bag fists before he said a single word.
“Who gave you the order to interrogate this prisoner?”
“The c-command came from CEO Cutler, s-sir,” the little rat bait with the truncheon fists stuttered.
“The CEO is not in charge of this or any other Corps operation. They fall under my jurisdiction.” Crackling blue eyes leveled every rookie in the room until the smell of fresh sweat coming off his soldiers joined the iron tang of my spilled blood. “Does it look like she was anywhere near snitching to you?”
The dumb nuts stupid enough to answer in the first place replied, “No, sir.” His red hair was a total match for his red face.
“Where are you from that you learned such sloppy tactics, soldier?” Sir asked. His back to me, shoulders stretching his uniform, he grilled his insubordinate.
When no answer came from any of the troops, Sir pivoted toward me. His jaw snapped as he scanned me top to bottom. I made sure the beat-ass didn’t show in my precise military bearing, unlike the unlucky mugs who answered to him.
With his finger pointed in my face, he gazed around the room, settling on the jar-faced cunt who’d commandeered my beating.
“I didn’t hear your answer, soldier.” His words were drawn out like silk over the edge of a sword. He waited long enough for the trooper to start flapping his gums; then, before he had a chance to get any more irate, he simply whipped out his fist, flattening the redheaded blunder boy.
He galvanized the rest of them with, “Have I been sent any other ninety-day wonders?”
“NO, COMMANDER, SIR!” went up the deep chorus.
Fucking Linc Cutler. I should’ve known it. I’d never seen anyone control a room of fuckwits like that except Cannon. I sized him up while he seemed to mull over whose ass to kick next.
He didn’t look like Nate apart from their irises, but Linc’s were storm-ridden blue, not fresh as fucking flowers. And like a thunderstorm, his earlier look had hit me with lightning force. He was built slightly larger, a fresh shave clearing every single whisker that dared to appear on the straight line of his clenching jaw. His dark blond hair was shorter, his shoulders wider.
Linc’s powerful presence caused a delicious spiral of heat between my legs, and beneath my ripped shirt, my nipples tightened. Thoughts of his big body against mine pressed the air from my lungs. My immediate attraction to him was unexpected, and worse, unsettling as the sensual line of his mouth became a single neat slash while he watched my perusal. One eyebrow cocked—in interest or disdain, I couldn’t tell. I inhaled silently and slowly, training my sights on my Eagles spun out across the floor.
“Good, clean up this mess. And bring Lieutenant Grant to my office.” Neither did Linc speak like Nate, whose southern patois was a soft and passionate song. He hadn’t once raised his voice or broken a sweat.
And he sure as hell didn’t worry about getting his hands dirty.
“Sir, yes, sir!”
Unimpressed by their late show of rank and file, he swept a steely appraisal over me a second time, springing a new leak in my formidable armor. This time it was derision paired with a hint of admiration, or maybe I was just headed for a concussion. Dizzies from getting my face punched in would be easier to brush off than feeling breathless and kneeless because Linc had found me interesting enough for a twice-over.
He kicked my twin Eagles to me, saying, “Make sure those stay on safety, and get her a goddamn clean uniform. She looks like someone pissed all over her welcome-home parade.”
Stalking from the room, he jammed the elevator button, his gaze swinging to mine and holding for several pounding heartbeats before the doors closed between us.
Everything about him denoted coiled power, and I made no mistake about it: Commander Linc Cutler was a man made of deadly detachment. I got the distinct impression he was gonna blister my ass from one end of Beta to the other, and if I thought Cannon was bad, Linc was about to introduce me to a brand-new level of suck.
I’d wanted to get his attention. Mission accomplished.
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Contents
Title Page
Welcome
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
About the Author
A Preview of On Her Watch
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Copyright
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by Rie Warren
Cover design by Claire Brown. Cover photo copyright © Masterfile.
Excerpt from On Her Watch copyright © 2013 by Rie Warren
Lyric from “These Birds” by Shotgun Tori. Copyright © 2011 by Sheer Music Publishing. Reprinted by permission.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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ISBN 978-1-4555-7414-8