Page 5 of Iron Willed Warrior

I had a slight hang-up about people in distress. Especially women in distress. It was a visceral reaction, something I couldn’t ignore. Even if it would’ve been smarter to.

But nobody had ever accused me of being a genius.

Pulling on my beanie, I got out of my car and approached, moving slowly out of caution and ignoring the twinge in my left leg. Too many hours crammed in a too-small airplane seat. As I neared, I picked up their voices over the noise of passing traffic.

“Don’t be stuck up, sweetheart. I took the trouble of stopping. Just let me help. If you’re worried about owing me, I’m sure we can work something out.”

My spine straightened. Was this guy for real?

The jerk was in his twenties, built like a cornfed football player. Expensive sneakers and leather coat. The woman was pretty. No, make that gorgeous. Model gorgeous. Long black hair tied up in a ponytail at the crown of her head. Large eyes with thick eyelashes I could see from a distance. She didn’t look frightened or flustered, but there was a wariness in her gaze. She crossed her arms, eyes bouncing over to me and back to the football player again.

I stopped about two yards away, undecided about how I should handle this. I preferred not to step in if I didn’t have to. Because things inevitably got messy. I wound up getting involved, and pretty soon I was in deep, committed to risking life and limb even though I always got burned in the end.

Hell. I gripped the bridge of my nose. Why did I seem to find myself in these situations?

You’ll be going undercover against Stillwater, my buddy AidenShelborne had said.We don’t have anyone who can do this but you.Come on, Lynx. You can’t say no.

When did Ieverknow how to say no?

I was a bounty hunter operating exclusively south of the United States border. But I didn’t track down fleeing sex offenders by wearing disguises or cooking up elaborate cover stories. Hell, no. My usual MO was to track the guy, march up to the dive bar or flea-ridden hotel he was skulking in, and make my presence known. The fugitive never had any doubt about who had arrived to ruin his Acapulco vacation.

Me. Cole Bailey, aka Lynx.

But Aiden was an Army brother and the founder of the Last Refuge Protectors, a group of men who—like myself—refused to stand by and watch innocent people get victimized by the scum of the world. And when I’d heard the mission was against Stillwater? There’d been no question.

I’d taken the first flight available, which connected through Houston, and then I’d flown on to Denver International. I’d chosen that airport because it was large, busy. Easier to go unnoticed in case anyone affiliated with Stillwater was watching.

The flight from Houston to Denver had been packed. I’d given up my aisle spot so a lady could sit with her ten-year-old daughter. Nobody else had been willing to volunteer. I had ended up in a middle seat in the back row. The loud talker at the window beside me had spilled his third Jack and Coke on my lap. Then he’d needed the bathroom and came back with white residue on his nostrils and a bad case of the sniffles.

When he’d asked to get up yet again, I’d glared without a word until he averted his eyes. He hadn’t asked again.

And now this. The detour, the menacing jerk bothering a woman by the side of the road. As if the universe enjoyed making my life as complicated as possible. A cosmic jokeagainst Cole Bailey, the guy who’d been punished for just about every good deed, and yet kept coming back for more.

It’s how you wound up married, I reminded myself.And then out on your ass with divorce papers in your hand.

When was I going to learn?

The asshole football player took a few more steps toward the raven-haired woman. Reached out to grab her wrist. And that did it for me. The answer wasnever. I would never learn. I would keep on butting in and trying to help because my brain was wired that way.

Scowling, I started toward them.

I wasn’t fast enough. The moment he touched her, the woman lashed out. She spun, and the football player in the fancy sneakers—who was twice her size at least—flipped through the air and landed on his back with a thud in the dirty snow.

Holy cow. Hadn’t expected that.

I’d made it to them by then. Paused to look down at him. I probably had a look of shock on my face, but it was nothing to the stunned expression on his. It took him almost a full minute to get moving again.

“What thefuck.” The football player jumped up, brushing at his clothes angrily. “You stuck up little?—”

I grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him back toward his SUV. “You’d be wise not to finish that sentence. Best be on your way. Unless you want her to come at you again.”

As for the woman I’d been intending to rescue, she walked back over to her car. She spared a single glance at me, giving me a hard glare in case I had any ideas of making the same mistake this guy had made.

The football player’s cheeks went even redder. Muttering, the guy stomped over to his vehicle. His wheels spun as heaccelerated back onto the road, nearly hitting another car as he merged.

Good riddance.

I looked over at the woman. She was watching me with mild curiosity, along with that same wariness I’d seen earlier. And maybe a hint of smugness at the way she’d flipped him, which she richly deserved.

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