Page 76 of Under Fire

Warren finally replied. “Sure. You ride?”

Dean’s mouth widened in a snarl-smile, and he shot back, “Sure.”

The reverend seemed to take a step back, trying to understand what was happening between the two men, who were obviously squaring off. Dean realized that and grinned as if nothing were wrong, beckoning the reverend back. He played it cool—very cool, apparently unwilling to let the ceremony crumble to a halt.

“That’s a military bike club.” Warren nodded at the patches, seeming to know exactly what theDeadeye MCwas, surprising Alisa.

She’d always thought the club was fringe.

“Yeah, Marines,” Dean responded proudly, nodding at the marking on his jacket’s chest. “Two tours Iraq.”

“Cool,” Warren responded, betraying nothing.

“Yeah, I’ve seen a lot of shit,” Dean leaned back, putting his arm around Alisa’s waist, pulling her into him as she squeaked.

His chest puffed. Clearly, he was engaging in a dick-measuring contest, much to Warren’s obvious amusement.

“Lots of shit, huh?” Warren led him on.

“Fuck, I can’t even count the firefights, man,” Dean laughed, bordering on bragging, glancing back at the reverend. “But you know—chicks dig a vet. Iraq was a bitch—”

Warren cut him off, “Tell me about it.”

His tone was obviously sarcastic, drawing ire from Dean, who was used to people fawning over him.

“You been to Iraq, buddy?” Dean scoffed, shooting him the side eye.

“More times than I can count.”

“What—?” Dean began to ask but cocked his head instead. “You military or something?”

“Something.”

“He’s a SEAL, actually.” Alisa pushed Dean off, stepping away from him and toward Warren.

That meant something.

Dean’s focus snapped to Warren and back to Alisa, a whole lot ofnot goodflushing up his cheeks. The reverend cocked his head, starting to understand what was happening—and the dick-measuring contest continued.

“A fucking Navy SEAL, huh?” Dean sneered at Warren, then back at Alisa.

“Yeah, ‘chicks dig a vet’,” Warren repeated the guy’s words, deadpan.

Screaming inside, Alisa sucked in a deep breath, wondering if that was her moment—once and for all. She started walking.

“Where do you think you are going?” Dean snapped, lunging to her wrist.

Warren launched forward, chopping Dean’s arm and sending him backward with ease, his body crumbling down into the sand, but the man bounced back up fast.

“Back the fuck up.”

“She’s mine.” Dean’s eyes grew dark, still holding back.

“Not anymore,” Alisa squeaked.

Warren brought his arm around Alisa, and she twisted her ring in her hand. Dean readjusted his sandy jacket in a huff. The outline of the knife he packed along his ribcage grew obvious, as if he were sending a clear signal to Warren.

But, before anyone could say anything else, Warren turned, hauling Alisa with him up the beach. She didn’t dare glance back, but in her peripheral vision, all she could see was an infuriated Dean flexing to fight and a startled reverend retreating from the beach.

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