Page 6 of Ethan's Command

Still, she got out of the car and went to stand beside Liam in line.

“Hey,” he said, giving her a confused look. “I can handle it on my own.”

“I know,” she said with a forced smile. “I just thought it’d be nice to stand in the sunshine with you.”

He shrugged, ordering their ice creams as Brooklyn kept glancing over her shoulder. The van’s windows were tinted, and no one had gotten out. Her paranoia intensified.

Finally, they got their ice creams and headed back to the car. She put hers in a cup so she could eat it at home. The drive back was quick, Liam chattering happily about the mod his friends were playing. But Brooklyn’s eyes kept flicking to the rear view mirror.

When she saw a white van again, turning onto the next street over, sweat pebbled across her back.

It’s not the same van. You’re just being crazy, she told herself. But as they pulled into the driveway, she hit the garage opener and drove straight in, closing the door behind them.

“What’s with you?” Liam asked, giving her a quizzical look.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “I just thought it’d be nice to put the car in the garage tonight. It’s supposed to be chilly tomorrow morning.”

“You’ve turned into a wimp since moving to Hawai’i,” he teased.

She smiled weakly. “Probably true. Anyway, thanks for the ice cream.”

Liam headed inside, but Brooklyn sat in the car, gripping the steering wheel. She didn’t call the cops—they wouldn’t believe her. But deep down, she was certain the van had followed them. This wasn’t just a prank. It felt…intentional. And she needed to figure out how to keep Liam safe.

One face came to mind, and she grimaced. Calling him was the last thing she wanted to do. Ever since that night, she’d avoided him. One night stands were never her thing, but it had felt right with him, it had felt…special. She had been lonely, plus she’d been pretty sure he would be worth it. And she was right. But then he hadn’t called her and didn’t respond when she’d broken down and called him.

Then when she’d bumped into him at Ohana’s with another woman, he didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed or embarrassed. She’d been mortified and pissed all at the same time. He’d treated her like they were passing acquaintances as if they hadn’t spent hours having mind-blowing sex. He’d behaved as if he was doing nothing wrong. Technically, she’d had to finally admit to herself that he hadn’t. Still, it had been a humiliating experience, one that she relived every single time she saw him. It was Nate all over again. The thought of reaching out made her feel ill.

But she could put those feelings aside for Liam. If something happened to him because of her pride, she’d never forgive herself.

Brooklyn sighed and pulled out her phone.

CHAPTER 3

Ethan wipedthe sweat from his brow, the Hawaiian sun relentless even as it set as he guided Mojo through the obstacle course. The Belgian Malinois moved with powerful precision, muscles rippling under his sleek coat as he vaulted over hurdles and wove through the poles. Ethan couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride—Mojo was a beast, and working with him was the kind of partnership Ethan thrived on.

They’d just returned from a high-stakes drug raid with local law enforcement, adrenaline still coursing through Ethan’s veins. The bust had been a success, and while most people would be unwinding with a cold drink, Ethan found his release in the rhythmic training sessions with Mojo.

As Mojo cleared the final hurdle, Ethan broke into a grin. “Good boy, Mojo,” he praised, crouching to give the dog a hearty rub behind the ears. Mojo’s tail wagged furiously, his dark eyes shining with intelligence and loyalty. “You’re the best.”

Ethan took special joy in working with Mojo since he’d been in a car accident a little under six months ago. He’d ended up with a concussion he still grappled with. He’d been in the Special Forces for years and had had lots of concussions, morethan anyone should, but one car accident, and he’s still trying to recover.

He’s just been a bit bruised, but the concussion caused him to lose about twenty-four hours of his life. Still today, he had zero memory of anything that happened during that period, but he considered himself damn lucky. A bad rainstorm mixed with a dark night and an elderly gentleman. He could have gone over the cliff so, all in all, a few headaches were minor to what it could have been.

The sound of an engine broke the tranquility. A car rolled up, kicking up a cloud of dust on the dirt road that led to the Brotherhood Protectors’ compound. Ethan straightened, shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun. He recognized Brooklyn Alexander behind the wheel of the vehicle. He hadn’t seen her outside of Ohana’s Bar, where she’d brushed off his attempts at polite conversation with a sharp tongue and an expression that screamed "not interested."

Ethan frowned as she stepped out of the car. What the hell was she doing here? She’d made it pretty clear she didn’t like him. The tension radiating from her now was impossible to ignore. She looked frantic, her blond ponytail askew, her blue eyes darting around before locking on him. Her lips pressed into a firm line as she strode toward him with quick, purposeful steps.

“Ethan,” she said, her voice tight and clipped. “I need to talk to you.”

Mojo approached her and she automatically rubbed directly behind his right ear, just the way he liked. Ethan was shocked but didn’t want to show it. Mojo never went to strangers, and most people didn’t know that since Mojo had lost the tip of his right ear during an op, he liked to be rubbed behind it, not scratched.

Ethan crossed his arms, his brow furrowing. “This is a surprise. Didn’t think I was on your friend list.”

Her jaw tightened. “You’re not. But I don’t have a choice.”

His head snapped up. If Brooklyn Alexander was coming to him, something was seriously wrong. He tipped his chin toward the shade of a nearby tree. “Let’s talk.”

She hesitated, her hands fidgeting as her eyes swept the area again. Finally, she followed, her posture stiff and defensive. Mojo trailed behind them, his alert gaze flicking between them as if sensing the undercurrent of tension.

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