Page 11 of Flint's Battle

“McClane!”

Emery winced as her name echoed through the factory, the sheer intensity of it rattling the windows. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was followed by a concussive shock wave because if there was one thing her captain excelled at, it was shouting.

The din of conversation cut off, everyone turning to gaze at her. Emery rose from where she and Flint were studying the weapons stacked inside one of the crates, nodding toward the man standing in the doorway.

“Here, sir.”

Captain David Milligan narrowed in on her, eyes squinted. Mouth pursed tight. He didn’t smile, simply pointed at her and Flint, then at the door. “You and your… friend. Outside. Now.”

Emery groaned inwardly. The man obviously knew Flint had been more than just an idle bystander, though, she’d wait to see how much before outing them. “Of course, sir.”

He didn’t wait for them to walk over, merely turned on his heels and left, letting the door slam shut.

Flint moved in beside her. “Wow. And I thought Castle could yell. He’s got nothing on your boss.”

“Milligan’s perfected it. You can hear him outside the station, just the way he likes it.” She snagged Flint’s arm. “Remember…”

“Let you do the talking.”

“And no more heroics. You’ve done enough for one night.”

“I have a feeling nothing will ever be quiteenoughwhere you’re concerned. But I’ll keep it in mind.” He waved at the door. “Ladies first.”

Emery turned to leave, then stopped glancing at him over her shoulder. Had she heard him right? Flint merely smiled, then motioned toward the door, again.

Now wasn’t the time to focus on what Flint had meant or how he made her feel. Especially after all he’d done for her. If she hadn’t been crushing over him for the past month, she would have started tonight. The fact she was already halfway down that rabbit hole meant she’d fallen even harder than she’d thought.

Milligan was standing off to one side, arms crossed over his chest, feet braced apart. He didn’t give an inch as they stopped in front of him, staring her down until she swore he’d already sussed out everything he needed to know without her saying a word.

Emery reminded herself not to give him more than he needed as she smiled. “Sir.”

“You know, when your previous captain told me I’d be a fool not to hire you when you decided you wanted to move back to the island, I thought the man was doing me a favor. Now, I realize that it was self-preservation on his part because you have a knack of getting in way over your head, then finding your way out by breaking just about every damn rule there is.”

He took a breath, as if he knew he wouldn’t get another chance for a while. “Before I ask you to explain how the hell a simple check-in resulted in a massive gunfight — accompanied by a high-speed car chase and subsequent crash — you should know that I just spent the past thirty minutes listening to twofreshman students recount their adventure where they were rescued from an armed gunman by a lady detective and some super soldier who apparently breaks through walls and shoots bad guys while running at a full sprint.” He turned to stare at Flint. “In the head, no less.”

Milligan tugged on his shirt, smoothing his hands down the front. “So, take a moment. Get it all straight in your head. Then assure me you didn’t let one of Hawk’s men accompany you on official police business. Because you are one of Hawk’s men, right?”

Emery sighed, thankful when Flint remained silent. “He’s something like that.”

Milligan raised a brow. “Something like that? He’s either part of the Brotherhood Protectors, or he’s not.”

“Flint’s actually here training with Hawk’s crew.”

“As a recruit?”

“As one of their instructors.”

Milligan closed his eyes for a moment, muttering under his breath as if he was counting to ten, before looking directly at Flint. “You’re still active military?”

Flint glanced at her, then nodded at her boss. “Lieutenant Flint O’Connell, U.S. Navy.”

“Please tell me there’s a ‘retired’ at the end of that.”

“Not, yet.”

“Well, shit.” Milligan glared at her. “Seriously, McClane?” He groaned. “Damn, you’re probably a SEAL to boot, right? Because all of Hawk’s men are ex-Special Forces.”

When she merely nodded Milligan groaned, again. “This just keeps getting better. And how, exactly, are you going to explain this without me asking for your badge and tossing his ass in jail?”

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