Page 5 of Provoking Bryan

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said, her voice cool as she pocketed the tranquilizer gun.

Bryan stared at her, equal parts relieved and exasperated. “Sara. What the hell are you doing?”

“Saving your life, apparently,” she replied, her eyes flicking to the militia members, who were all slumped unconscious against the truck.

Bryan’s pulse thundered as she stepped closer, her proximity sparking a dangerous mix of anger, fear, and attraction. “I had it under control,” he growled.

“Did you?” Sara’s gaze locked with his, challenging and unyielding. “Because from where I was standing, you were seconds away from being dragged off—or worse.”

Bryan exhaled sharply, his frustration mingling with the undeniable pull between them. “This is my job, Sara. My job. You can’t just swoop in like some rogue operative and?—”

“Watch me,” she interrupted, her tone laced with a kind of amused defiance.

For a moment, they stood inches apart, the heat of the African sun eclipsed by the fire between them. Bryan’s chest rose and fell with restrained intensity, his hands itching to grab her, to demand answers—and perhaps something more.

“This isn’t your fight,” he said finally, his voice low.

“Neither is it yours,” she countered, her lips curving ever so slightly. “But here we are.”

Before he could reply, distant gunfire echoed through the trees, sending a jolt of urgency through both of them.

“We’ll finish this later,” Bryan said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Sara arched a brow, but the glimmer in her eyes promised she wouldn’t make it easy. “Looking forward to it.”

As they sprinted back toward the village, Bryan couldn’t shake the growing suspicion that Sara was more than just a passing complication. She was a catalyst—one that threatened to upend his carefully controlled world.

Later, Bryan paced his cramped tent, the flickering lantern casting jagged shadows against the canvas walls. Outside, the night was alive with the sounds of the savanna—distant animal calls mingling with the faint hum of generators. He’d just returned from a grueling day in the field, and now Sam Carson, the regional security coordinator for Doctors Without Borders, had dropped a bombshell.

“I don’t need a damn babysitter,” Bryan snapped, spinning to face Sam. His hands were shoved into his pockets, frustration radiating from him.

Sam, a burly man with graying hair and a perpetually calm demeanor, leaned against the desk, his arms crossed. “It’s not negotiable, Bryan. The cartel’s already made it clear they see you as a threat. You’re not just a doctor to them—you’re a symbol of resistance.”

“Resistance? What resistance? Because I won’t just turn a blind eye and let people die? Because I save the lives of those they try to kill? I came here to make the situation better, not get tangled up in some cartel war,” Bryan countered.

“That doesn’t change the fact that they’ve decided they want you dead,” Sam said, his voice sharpening. “I told you this might not be a good fit because of your background and your connection to Cerberus…”

“What connection to Cerberus? I don’t have a connection to Cerberus.” Bryan held up his hand to wave off Sam’s concerns. “Do I know some of those guys? Yeah. I served with a few of them…”

“And you do know JJ Fitzwallace. Do you have any idea how much these guys hate her? They’ve tried to kill her—more than once—but her husband is good at making sure they don’t succeed. And there are other women in Cerberus that they’re not overly fond of either. If they take you out, it sends a message to every other organization trying to do good here. You’re a target, whether you like it or not. If you’re going to stay, you’re going to need someone to watch your back. Cerberus has offered to supply us with someone and pick up the cost.”

Bryan exhaled heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. “I work better without someone hovering over my shoulder.”

“This operative won’t hover,” Sam replied, a glimmer of amusement in his otherwise serious tone. “She’s trained toblend in. And—” he added, cutting off Bryan’s protest, “she’s got medical training. She can assist in the field.”

Bryan narrowed his eyes. “A medic-slash-bodyguard? Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

Sam’s expression didn’t waver. “I thought the same thing. Until I met her.”

Before Bryan could retort, the tent flap rustled. He turned, and what he was about to say died in his mouth when Sara stepped in.

Dressed in practical cargo pants and a fitted tactical shirt, she exuded an effortless confidence. Her dark hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and her sharp eyes immediately sought his, as if daring him to challenge her presence.

“You,” Bryan said, his voice heavy with recognition.

Sara’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Good to see you again, Dr. Mena.”

“Wait, this is the operative?” Bryan shot a glare at Sam. “They senther,and you agreed to it?”

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