“You hit paper!”

She looks over to me with a little bit of panic in her eyes. “What?” She turns her body, gun still in her hands, without thought, and I immediately step in and push her arms back toward downrange.

“Keep it pointed that way,” I instruct. Her eyes go wide with panic as she realizes what she’d almost just done. “It’s okay… Your turn to do it all by yourself. The kickback will be stronger, but you know what to expect now.”

She looks at me with an expression of uncertainty, but my only response is to step farther away from her to emphasize that she can do this on her own. I watch her turn back toward the target, see her shoulders rise as she concentrates on what she’s about to do, her small frame tensing just before she pulls the trigger. Her body jars with the recoil, but she does well holding her stance, and I have to say I’m rather impressed with both her shot and her form.

I retreat toward the staging area as she glances over to me, a smile spreading on those lush lips of hers, and there is something about her in the moment that causes my feet to falter. Maybe it’s her regal beauty mixed with the rough elements around us: black hair against soft cheeks, cold metal in the hands I know are smooth, emerald eyes standing out amid the sea of camouflage netting around her. I can’t pinpoint the exact nature of it all, but the excitement in her eyes combined with the softness of her smile has that familiar feeling dropping through me that I don’t want to feel – not here, not with her.

In my head, I immediately hear Stella chastising me, telling me to step back from the ledge because my libido is leading the charge in a way that makes me want more from Beaux than just her photographs. It doesn’t seem to help to remind myself this feeling is straight lust fueled by loneliness and desire. A total fuckup of a combination.

What sane man wouldn’t be attracted to her? Shit, I fell for her ruse, so I can’t feign innocence, but at least I learned my lesson.

“Damn, Thomas, she can pull my trigger any day,” Sarge says under his breath as I pull my ear protection off. He has just proven my exact point.

“Nah, I think she bats for her own team.” The comment is off my tongue before I can stop it, and thank God he laughs. I do too. The only difference is that I’m laughing at the ludicrousness of my knee-jerk response while he’s thinking what a shame it is to waste that body of hers.

“Fair warning, I’ll start to think less of you if you, the consummate ladies’ man, can’t make her switch-hit for just one inning.” He whistles out in appreciation when Beaux sets the weapon down on the ledge in front of her and stretches her arms out overhead in a motion that gives us both a great profile view of her rack.

And as much as I want to audibly groan in appreciation of the sight, there’s no way I’m going to draw more of his attention toward her. So many confused thoughts are running through my head by now, and the situation only feels more fraught when Beaux’s smile grows wider and she holds my gaze a little longer than necessary.

“Ah, you just might have a shot, Thomas, if she keeps looking at you like that,” Sarge teases, snapping me from the wave of thoughts that don’t belong.

“What the fuck ever,” I snort. “You got her for a bit? I want to go say hi to Maverick and see how he’s doing.” It’s been months since I’ve seen him, so I know he’s probably fine now after taking hostile fire, but it never hurts to recement connections here.

And now that I’m watching Sarge interact with Beaux, I realize what a bad idea it was coming here with the hope that he might have some time to babysit. Because bringing a gorgeous woman to a military base full of men who have been on deployment for months on end is like flaunting chum to hungry sharks. Someone is going to bite, and while chivalry may be dead, my ability to throw a punch to defend her honor sure as fuck isn’t.

And that’s the last thing I need, to cause trouble and bite the hand that feeds me.

“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.