Page 6 of Provoking Bryan

“You’re welcome,” Sara said smoothly, stepping further into the tent. “Though I’m not sure why I expected gratitude.”

Bryan turned to her, his frustration bubbling over. “I don’t need you here.”

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze steady. “Tell that to the men who’ve been asking questions about you in every village within a hundred-mile radius.”

Bryan bristled, but before he could fire back, Sam held up a hand. “Enough. This isn’t a debate. Sara’s assignment comes from higher up. You don’t have to like it, Bryan, but you damn well better cooperate.”

Sam’s tone left no room for argument. He pushed off the desk and headed for the exit, pausing briefly. “Play nice,” he said before disappearing into the night.

The tent fell silent, charged with a kind of frenetic energy thrumming in the air. Bryan stared at Sara, every part of his body tight.

“You don’t have to like me,” she said after a moment, her voice calm but firm. “But we both know this isn’t about you. It’s about the people you’re here to help. If I can keep you breathing long enough to do your job, I’ll consider the op a success.”

“And what about your medical training?” he asked, his tone edged with skepticism. “You going to patch me up if I stub my toe?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Try taking a bullet. Then we’ll see.”

Her response caught him off guard, and he couldn’t help the flicker of grudging respect that crept in. Still, her presence unsettled him—not just because of the danger she represented, but because of the way she seemed to look right through him.

“Fine,” he said finally. “But let’s get one thing straight—I call the shots when it comes to my work. Stay out of my way, and we’ll get along just fine.”

Sara stepped closer, her eyes locked on his. “I’ll stay out of your way,” she said softly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “As long as you don’t put yourself in mine.”

The heat between them was tangible, charged with something neither of them wanted to name. For a moment, Bryan couldn’t look away, his breath catching at the way her eyes seemed to challenge and invite him all at once.

“We’ll see,” he murmured, his voice low.

Sara’s lips curved ever so slightly. Without another word, she turned and walked out, leaving Bryan alone with the uncomfortable realization that his biggest threat might not be the cartel after all—but the woman assigned to protect him.

Bryan crouched over the table in the center of the medical tent, his hands moving with practiced efficiency as he organized supplies into precise rows. Gauze, syringes, antibiotics—everything in its place. It wasn’t just a necessity; it was a ritual, a way to impose control over the chaos that had engulfed his life.

The flap of the tent rustled, and a gust of hot, dusty air swept in. He didn’t need to look up to know who had arrived.

“You’re like a walking hurricane,” Bryan muttered, his voice low but edged with irritation.

The sound of boots pausing just inside was followed by Sara’s measured reply. “That’s funny. You don’t strike me as the type who gets swept off his feet.”

Her words drew his attention. He looked up sharply, catching the faint glint of an amused challenge in her eyes. “This isn’t going to work if you think you can waltz in here and play games,” he said flatly.

“I don’t play games,” she countered, her voice steady and calm, though her tone carried a hint of irritation. She stepped closer, the subtle sound of her tactical pants brushing as she moved, her posture radiating confidence. “And let’s be clear—I’m not thrilled about working with a civilian who knowingly puts himself in harm’s way.”

Bryan stood to his full height, forcing her to tilt her head slightly to maintain eye contact. “Then don’t,” he snapped. His tone was firm, unyielding. “I didn’t ask for this. I don’t need this. If you’ve got a problem with me, there’s the door.” He gestured toward the tent flap.

She didn’t budge. Instead, her lips tightened, her expression hard to read.

He watched her closely, noting how she seemed to steady herself in the wake of his words. Was it stubbornness? Or was there something more, some reaction beneath the surface she was working hard to mask? Whatever it was, it flickered in her eyes, faint but there.

“That’s a flap, not a door, Doc. And I don’t walk away from my assignments,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter but no less resolute.

Bryan took a step closer, his gaze boring into hers. She didn’t flinch, though he could feel the tension tightening between them. “You don’t like working with civilians,” he said slowly, testing her. “But here you are, sticking it out. Why?”

She hesitated, and he didn’t miss the way her jaw tightened slightly before she answered. “Because I’m good at my job. And for now, you’re my job.”

He studied her, his instincts tuned to every flicker of expression, every shift in her tone. “Is that all I am to you? A job?”

Her breath hitched, so faint it was almost imperceptible, but he caught it. Her next words came quickly, as if to cover for the slip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The conviction wasn’t there, and Bryan felt a surge of something darkly satisfying as he took another step, closing the distance. He wasn’t touching her, but the air between them felt charged, heavy.

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