Page 33 of Under Fire

Alisa stumbled backward, gasping for air. What the hell had just happened? A familiar choking feeling swarmed up her neck.

Warren spun back to her, wrapping his arm around her, and moved her swiftly beside the house toward the long driveway. Heated voices flooded the backyard as they marched away, silent. Determined, he dragged her, until her heel got stuck in the packed desert ground. He wasted no time hauling her up into his arms. If she expected sympathetic, caring eyes, all she got was a cold expression briefly flashed at her before concentrating on the horizon. She closed her eyes, sinking into his chest. He was done. She felt that.

So am I.

Bobbing in his arms, she wiped a few fallen tears from her cheek. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t process. She felt cold inside. Gazing up into his face, intensity painted across it, a part of her still wished he’d connect with her once more, just like at the pagoda.

But that Warren was gone.

Chapter Eleven

Warren

He was going to kill that motherfucker. Warren snarled in silence as he drove into the parking lot of Alisa’s apartment.Gaudet—what a fucking joke.

Warren couldn’t even describe his level of anger. He had stewed silently for the entire hour’s drive back to the city, with Alisa cold and broken beside him. He gritted his teeth as fury coursed steadily through his veins. He should have listened to his instincts and avoided the party—kept Alisa to himself all night to kick off their seven-day deal.

But there they were. And every second that passed since they’d left the party, he had grown more and more incensed. Though, if he were to be honest with himself, that rage had been simmering since he’d been promoted…and had been forced to train the new guys. They were a different breed than him. Half of them didn’t deserve the trident. And guys like Gaudet? Well, they were fucking pieces of shit.

The Navy SEAL lifestyle brand—that’s all the new guys gave a fuck about. Warren clenched his jaw as he slammed his truck into park in the empty, dark parking lot. Pussy, money, status—new recruits didn’t care about the old ways. They didn’t know one thing about quiet honor, serving the country for the good of it and not for a fucking tell-all book deal. Hollywood just wanted them to parachute out of helicopters onto red carpets, but that wasn’t the way it used to be.

With his hands still tense on the steering wheel, Warren shot a look across the bench. Alisa remained still, curled up against the door, clearly desperate to get away. She was hurting. He could clearly see it. But, what the fuck could he say?

He was who had exposed her to that. He was sorry that a guy like Gaudet wore the trident. And he was going to beat the actual shit out of anyone supporting that mentality. Hell, he was going to beat the shit out of any guy who didn’t get it—being a SEAL meant pissing excellence, personally and professionally. He’d accept nothing less.

The truck motionless and quiet, Alisa glanced across the bench at him, unclicking her seatbelt slowly, as if she’d just woken from a long, slow nightmare. He felt how distant she’d become again, but he understood why.

“I should go,” she said.

He couldn’t find a reply, too angry to get words out. She gazed away, resigning herself to focus anywhere else as she pushed open the door. Watching her edge out, something inside him lit on fucking fire.

“No,” he snapped, seizing her backward, causing the door to slam shut in the process.

He hauled her body across the front bench, staring down into her eyes.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Her lips parted, stunned. “Home.”

“We have a fucking deal. Seven days.”

She found words, though unsteady. “It-it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“That’s true for a lot of things. Doesn’t change what I want.”

As he watched the lamb fold her arms, sheltering her body, a haunting thought ricocheted through his mind—the dishonor of what he was doing. She didn’t want it anymore. She wanted to go home. Was he going to force her? He couldn’t be that guy. He had to show restraint.

“You don’t have to protect yourself when you’re with me,” he pivoted, giving her an assurance that he knew he should not offer. “Okay?”

She gradually released her arms, very much still tepid toward him. She bit her full lip, flickering her lashes up at him. He twitched.Does she even know what she’s doing?He covertly adjusted the hardening length in his pants, telling himself to calm the fuck down.

“Let’s talk about what happened,” he said.

“I don’t know.”

“Talk to me.”

His urging landed. He didn’t know her well, but what he was coming to believe was that she was damn misunderstood—and he wanted to understand her more, engagement ring dangling around her neck or not.

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