Page 24 of Fatal Intent
“You should stop running your mouth,” another operative said from the entrance of the room. Rylan Webber’s salt-and-pepper hair glimmered in the glow of the overhead lights. His body, like all operatives serious about their conditioning, was buff and hardened from hours of workouts.
“You know what I’m saying is true,” Cartwright protested. “These broads are nothing but arm candy the boss flies from country to country while men like us do the real work.”
Webber’s disgust was apparent. “Brandon, you’re about ten seconds away from having a live demonstration of how capable the women of Artemis are. Unless you want to be the butt of jokes for months around Fortress, get your gear and head to the firing range.”
A snort. “You’ve got to be kidding. What are they going to do? Run crying to the boss because I called them on their bluff?”
Webber’s eyes narrowed. “Are you disobeying my order?”
“I don’t need more range practice. I need respect from the people I work with,” Cartwright snapped. “I deserve to be treated better than this.”
“You’ll get respect when it’s earned,” Grant said.
“Give me a break, Bowen. Just because you’re the Golden Boy doesn’t mean you can give the rest of us advice. Besides, you’ve only been at Fortress a few months. What makes you any better than the rest of us? Elite team or not, you put your pants on the same way I do. Not only that, but you haven’t been here long enough to merit the accolades you’re reaping from Maddox. He must owe you a huge favor for you to get this kind of preferential treatment so early on.”
Webber stepped closer to Brandon, scowl fierce. “Last warning, Cartwright. Go to the firing range right now or face disciplinary action.”
“Yes, sir,” the operative spat out, spun on his heel, and strode toward the door. A few steps from the hallway door, Brandon grabbed Rayne’s wrist and yanked her toward him.
Before anyone could react, Rayne used her momentum to shove him against the wall and pressed a knife against his throat.
Brandon froze, his eyes wide as blood trickled down his throat from a thin cut.
“Don’t touch me,” she said, voice soft.
“Rayne,” Iona said. She didn’t have to say anything else. Her name spoken in that tone of voice said it all. Either get it together and back down or face the consequences.
Rayne lifted the knife from Brandon’s throat and stepped back, never taking her gaze from the operative.
Webber growled. “Cartwright, with me. Now.” He left the room.
Brandon kept a wary eye on Rayne as he sidled toward the doorway.
Grant stepped into his path, gripped his shirt with both hands and slammed him against the door frame. “Consider yourself lucky that Rayne was in a good mood. She could have gutted you in seconds. By the way, if you ever touch my woman again, I’ll take you down with no mercy and bury your body where no one will find it. Am I clear?”
The other man swallowed hard and gave a slight nod.
Grant shoved him into the hallway, staying in place until Cartwright and Webber were gone. He turned to Rayne. “You okay?”
No. “Aren’t I always?”
He didn’t look convinced. Guess she needed to work on her game face.
“I need to go to Maddox’s office.”
Rayne glanced at her phone screen. “So do I.”
“Better not keep the boss waiting,” Seth said.
Iona looked at Riley, who gave a slight nod. “We should all go, Seth. We’ve completed the checklist of training exercises for this morning, anyway.”
“A break wouldn’t be a bad idea,” he agreed. “Grab your gear and let’s go.”
As they left the kill house, Rayne overheard raised male voices in one room. Cartwright and Webber, from the sound of it.
Grant grunted. “Cartwright may be out of a job if he’s not careful.”
“You think Webber will convince the boss to kick Cartwright to the curb?”
