Page 4 of Deadly Strain

“The patrol found no one alive?”

“No one.”

Grace breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. “Did they get their breathing gear on right away?”

“According to their report they did, but they’re nervous. Whatever killed those people, killed them fast.”

“Okay. I don’t have to tell you guys how to prep. You’re as well trained as I am. Consider this a live weapon.”

“Will do,” Cutter responded. He looked at Sharp standing next to her. “I’m assigning Sharp to ride herd on you, Doc. Where you go, he goes.”

“I’m not arguing, Commander, and I’ve worked with Sharp plenty of times. It’s no problem.”

“Good. We leave in fifteen.” Cutter nodded at her, gave Sharp a nod, then moved off to brief the rest of his team.

“I have to get my go-bag and the rest of my gear,” she said to Sharp, her mind on the eight million things she needed to do before those fifteen minutes were up.

“I’ll give you a hand.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need any help.” She was going to have to deal with his protective crap sooner rather than later, but carefully. “I do need every friend I can get, though. Are you in for that?”

At his grin, she relaxed a little and refocused on the job at hand.

* * *

Sharp watched Gracerush away for about two seconds too long.

“Do I need to replace you with Runnel?” Cutter asked.

He jerked his head around to stare at his commander. He’d thought Cutter had been briefing the rest of the team. “No.”

Cutter stood with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet apart. “Then pull your tongue back into your head. You’re damn near panting after her.”

“Not fucking likely. She’s just the only person on this base who can beat me in poker. If something happens to her, I’ll have nothing to do for the next month,” he said. His easy grin slid off his face. “Besides, something’s not right. She’s been off her game since Marshall decided to be an ass. She’s our number-one asset, but I’m worried.” The way he’d found her the other day, damn near passed out, shaking and hyperventilating like she was about to fly apart... It had hit him—a sucker punch to the gut. She was reliving something awful.

Post-traumatic stress disorder.

How many guys did he know who lived with PTSD? Ten, twenty, fifty?

What was Marshall’s connection? Something he’d done or said had set off a bomb in Grace’s head.

Even weirder, Marshall hadn’t liked it when Sharp wouldn’t leave Grace alone with him.

What the hell had Grace been involved with that earned her the dislike of a career military man who normally didn’t give a rat’s ass about what a doctor like her might be doing or not doing?

“Still, watch yourself. Word around the base is, he’s got a hate on for the doc and you got in the way.”

“What do you know, Cutter?”

“Nothing specific. Marshall hasn’t talked, but his attitude toward the doc is clear. He hates her guts.”

Cutter was right, Marshall’s face had been twisted by disgust and hostility as he stared at her the night he got between her and the colonel. What had happened to cause it? Whatever it was, Sharp didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her. She worked just as hard and long at training their allied troops as the A-Team did. And she wasgood.

“Sharp.” Cutter’s voice had a wary edge and he took a step closer. “Be careful, man. I like the doc, too. Hell, the whole team likes her, but you and I both know falling for someone while on deployment is a mistake. It’s not a direct violation of the fraternization rules, since she’s not in our chain of command, but...”

“Preaching to the choir here, boss. That’s not why I was staring. I’m...worried.”

They’d both watched as a former team member fell hard for a woman he’d met while overseas. The relationship disintegrated within weeks after he’d been reassigned. It had damn near broke him, and the man had left the military altogether.

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