Page 102 of Protective Heroes

“Lincoln, stop!” That sweet voice broke through his haze of anger, but he couldn’t stop.

“Enough!” The barked order brought him back to his senses. Guys fell upon them, ripping them apart.

Ford flailed, trying to get at him, but Lincoln gave him a grin and the middle finger.

“Your commanding officers will be hearing about this,” the sergeant said.

Ford shrugged and backhanded the blood from his mouth. Lincoln was still feeling that punch to the midsection. Tomorrow he’d feel it worse, but he embraced the pain in his hand from punching that little fucking weasel in the face. Multiple times.

He shrugged off the guy who was holding him back.

“You got this, Lincoln?” he asked.

“Yeah,” he said, tone gritty. “I’m in control.” He swung his gaze toward Allison—just in time to see her walk away.

Fuck.

She vanished through the door.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He hurried to catch up. He caught her on the sidewalk half a block away and wondered if she’d taken off running the minute she hit the open air. His heart squeezed at the sight of her angry face.

“Allison, stop.” He got in front of her. She circled him and continued on.

He jogged to her side once more. “Please talk to me.”

“All you soldiers are the same. I knew I shouldn’t have let myself get carried away with thinking things could be different.”

He pressed his lips tight. “You mean with Ford?”

“With anybody. You guys think you own a woman, that you’re entitled to something because of your positions. Possessive assholes. All of you. And I was dumb enough to fall for it twice now.”

“Wait.” He pulled her to a stop, and she stood glaring up at him, a flush high on her cheekbones and her eyes bright with unshed tears. His chest walls flexed, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her close and comfort her. Kiss the angry away and show her he wasn’t like that at all. And tell her she might be wrong about Ford and whoever else had hurt her, but not about him.

“Please don’t do this, Lincoln. Let me go and don’t mess with me again. I’m glad your foot is healed, but this is where whatever the hell this is ends.” She jerked forward, moving around him. He stood on the sidewalk for a moment, watching her go. That sweet little ass of hers walking away from him.

His heart in his throat and an unreal ache in his body.

After she made it to the corner and rounded it, he brought a fist to his mouth. “Fuck. Goddammit fucking hell motherfucker!”

A guy in uniform gave him an amused glance, and Lincoln turned from him before he beat the shit out of him too.

The worst was knowing she’d gone out with Ford. Was this the first time? Lincoln had served with Ford—they’d fought together, shed blood together. They hadn’t been getting along for a while now, but he respected the hell out of the guy. He was good at soldiering and never let their team down.

As Lincoln headed back to the barracks, he let his mind wander. He’d probably get called in for an inquisition about the event at Walker’s. He didn’t give a damn about that, nor did he care about smoothing things over with Ford.

At least she wouldn’t be in Ford’s arms or bed. The idea made Lincoln grind his damn teeth. Since the moment he’d set eyes on Allison, he’d felt something there. A kindred spirit kind of thing, and if he believed in soul mates, then he’d call her that.

“Shit.” He couldn’t believe he’d lost her before he’d had her.

There had to be a way to bring her around. She’d looked at him with those big blue eyes and he’d felt their connection twine together instantly. She was resisting this pull between them, but only because of some hang-up from her past. Whatever it was, he wanted to help her work through it. And he wanted to be the guy who came to her rescue, swept her up and let her see how worthy she was of love.

Then make such passionate love to her she couldn’t walk for a week.

No matter what she’d said, all soldiers weren’t cut from the same cloth. He was different, and he had to get close enough to prove it to her.

How was a huge question mark in his mind. As soon as he walked into triage, she’d find someone else to take care of him, no matter what injury he faked. No, he had to find another way to speak with her, to make her see that her fears were unfounded and he wasn’t somebody to run away from.

As far as Ford was concerned, Lincoln hoped he’d taken care of his rival. Ford wasn’t right for Allison—the way she looked at Lincoln was proof of that. The way she’d kissed him. Fuck, his dick got hard just thinking about it. Now he just had to make her see that the right man for her was one who’d lay down his life for her, shed blood for her and give his all for her.

---