Page 32 of Under Fire

Alisa could practically sense Warren recoil in that same unease she’d felt earlier. She couldn’t tell if it was because he was surrounded by his drunken subordinates or the aggressive guy standing before him. Whichever it was, Warren’s body language was shifting.

Gaudet’s rambling didn’t stop. “And you being here? Makes us feel like you actually give a shit about us—as people, not just warm bodies.”

The comment came across backhanded, and Alisa didn’t miss how Warren’s eyebrow quirked.

“Obviously, I give a shit,” Warren said. He tightened his grip on her waist, drawing her closer against his body as Jen circled with a full glass of wine.

Gaudet turned to Alisa, gesturing to Warren. “You with this guy? He’s a fucking beast.”

“Her name’sAlicia,” Jen said in a fake Latina accent, lunging in. Wine sloshed against her expensive-looking dress, but she was too fixated to notice.

Warren shot an unimpressed look, and she felt him tensing. Alisa kept her mouth shut, scanning quickly for escape routes.

“I didn’t know you were dating,” Jen said.

“He doesn’t tell us anything,” Gaudet said.

“So, where is your family from?” Jen asked, focusing on Alisa.

“Why does that matter?” Warren started.

Alisa took a deep breath, knowing what the woman was after and hating those conversations more than anything. Warren tugged at her to turn them away, like she didn’t have to answer, and they could just bolt. But something stopped Alisa. She put her hand on his bicep, stilling him, and the silent look she gave Warren only seemed to rile Jen up.

Unbalanced, Jen continued to eye Alisa up and down, pointing a finger at her. “Aren’t you a Mexican?”

“No, I’m not Mexican,” Alisa explained slowly. “I’m American.”

“But where are your parents from?” Gaudet pointed at her golden-brown skin, demanding answers.

“That’s enough.” Warren waved his hand over the group.

Gaudet stepped forward. “No, really—I just am curious.”

“My father had Scottish heritage, my mother was from India,” Alisa relented, crossing her arms protectively.

She was used to shielding herself, and the topic of her deceased parents wasn’t a happy one.

“Oh, Warren—how exotic.” Jen smirked. “All the way fromIndia.”

Alisa felt her jaw tighten and heard Warren grumble about why he didn’t go to parties. The way he pulled again at her waist told her it was time to go.

“So, wait.” Gaudet laughed, his drunken mind seeming to process. “Like, you’re from India?”

“My—” Alisa started to correct.

“And how’d y’all meet?”

“It’s—”

Gaudet cut her off, pointing at Warren. “So, like, is he your owner?”

Everything stopped. Everyone else in the circle sucked in breath, some people gasping.

Warren took one big step forward, right into Gaudet’s space. “What the fuck—?”

Laughing, Gaudet didn’t get it. “Like, she’s yourslaveand you’re her—”

Warren drove his hard, fierce fist forward, landing square on Gaudet’s smirking face, knocking the words right out of him. Standing over the top of the man as his body crashed to the ground, Warren snarled down, flexing and clearly ready for more if the body so much as flinched.

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