Page 22 of The Scout

A sharp pulse of need shot straight to my core, and Iclenched my thighs instinctively, mortified at how much I wanted this. How much I wanted him.

His grip stayed firm for a few seconds longer, his body so close I could feel the heat rolling off him.

Then, just as quickly as he touched me?—

He was gone.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my body swaying slightly, aching from the loss of contact.

Ryker’s face was unreadable, his jaw tight, his eyes sharp as he took a slow step back.

“That kid?” His voice was rough. “He wouldn’t have had a clue how to handle you.”

And then—without another word—he turned and walked away, disappearing into the flow of the lobby like he hadn’t just set my entire world on fire.

I gripped the counter, my chest rising and falling too fast, my skin still tingling from where he’d held me.

Jesus Christ.

What the hell had just happened? And what would Will think—if he knew I didn’t want it to stop?

8

RYKER

Ishould’ve walked away.

Hell, I had walked away.

And yet, as I stepped out of The Palmetto Rose, my pulse was still hammering, my fists still tight at my sides. The sun was too fucking bright, but all I could see was that kid’s smug fucking grin.

I’d heard his name. Matt Ralston. Citadel cadet. Fresh-faced and full of himself.

I knew his type.

The way those pricks strutted around Charleston, all starch-stiff uniforms, acting like they were a cut above the rest. They wore their brass buttons like badges of honor, but they’d never seen real war, never felt the weight of a trigger against their finger and known this was the moment that decided if they lived or died.

They trained in classrooms, marched on well-manicured lawns, and called it discipline.

Fuck them.

The thought of his hands anywhere near Isabel made my jaw clench so hard myteeth ached. I should’ve broken his fingers right there at the front desk. Should’ve leaned in close, let him get a good look at the kind of man he really needed to be afraid of.

But I didn’t.

Because she had been smiling.

That easy little laugh, the one she hadn’t given me. The way she’d let him flirt, let his gaze drift over her like he had a fucking right to.

I exhaled sharply, forcing my fists to relax. A man like Ralston? He wasn’t a threat. He was a distraction.

The real threats were the ones who didn’t make a show of themselves. The ones who didn’t smirk and lean on hotel counters, trying too hard to impress a pretty girl. The real threats were the ones watching from a distance, waiting for the right moment.

Waiting for someone like Isabel to let her guard down.

I was already halfway down the street before I realized I had no fucking idea where I was going. I should’ve gotten in my car, driven back to Dominion Hall, found some way to burn this restless, gut-deep frustration out of my system.

Instead, I stopped at the corner, leaned against the brick of an old storefront, and turned back.

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