Page 8 of Provoking Bryan

She dropped her bag onto a nearby table and turned to face him. “I thought we already did. Logistics. Medical support when needed. Anything else you want to add?”

Bryan stepped closer, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “What I want is for you to stop scoping out the camp like you’re planning a defensive strategy.”

She didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze head-on. “I am planning a defensive strategy. If someone’s watching us—and they probably are—it’s better they know I’m here as a bodyguard. Hiding it only makes us look vulnerable.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might argue. But instead, he took another step closer, closing the space between them.

“You think you’re calling the shots here?” he asked, his voice dropping to a low rumble.

She felt the heat of his presence, the dominating timbre in his voice, the way his quiet dominance seemed to wrap around her like a second skin. It unsettled her, sent a shiver down her spine that she hoped he didn’t notice.

“I think I’m doing my job,” she replied evenly. “Keeping you alive.”

Bryan’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile, more a deliberate challenge. “And if I told you to stop? To blend in like I asked?”

Her heart raced, but she held her ground. “I’d remind you that I’m not here to take orders from you, Bryan.”

He studied her, his gaze searching hers, and for a moment, the air between them was electric. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her body tense with the effort of maintaining control.

Finally, Bryan stepped back, breaking the moment. “You’re stubborn. I’ll give you that.”

“And you’re infuriating,” she shot back, more sharply than intended.

Bryan chuckled softly, the sound surprisingly warm. “Good. Maybe we’ll keep each other on our toes.”

She watched him leave the tent, her chest heaving as she exhaled.

Sara kept her back to the clinic wall, her senses sharp and her breath steady. The clinic was eerily quiet, the calm before the inevitable storm. She’d noticed the shift earlier—the lingering stares from a group of villagers near the perimeter—a subtle charge in the air that only seasoned instincts could detect.

Something wasn’t right.

“Lara,” she said softly to the volunteer sorting supplies nearby. “Get everyone inside. Now.”

Lara frowned but nodded, picking up on the urgency in Sara’s voice. As Lara ushered patients and staff into the main building, Sara moved toward the entrance, her hand already reaching under her loose shirt to the holster strapped to the back of her waist.

She had barely stepped outside when she saw them—five men advancing quickly through the trees, weapons visible. Her body tensed, adrenaline flooding her veins.

“Bryan!” she barked over her shoulder.

His voice came from somewhere inside. “What is it?”

“Trouble,” she snapped, cutting him off as she drew her pistol.

The first shot rang out before she could issue another order. She dropped to one knee, firing back with practiced precision. One of the attackers fell, but the others kept coming, spreading out to flank her position.

Behind her, Bryan appeared in the doorway, a rifle in his hand and poised to fire.

“Stay inside!” she shouted without looking back.

“Not a chance,” he growled, stepping up beside her.

The fight was fast and brutal. Sara moved with lethal efficiency, ducking behind crates and barrels, using the terrain to her advantage. Bryan held his own beside her, his shots precise, his calm under pressure impossible to ignore.

She hated how much she noticed it.

Two men were down, but the others pressed forward. One broke off, circling behind the clinic. Sara cursed under her breath and bolted after him.

“Cover me!” she yelled.

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