Page 79 of Under Fire

Satisfied, he jumped into the driver’s seat of his truck. He flipped the engine on, too impassioned to say anything about the tears streaming down Alisa’s face, too furious to listen to her when she gasped that he was bleeding through his shirt and too damn fired up to feel where Dean had slashed him open.

“He called in reinforcements.”

“What?” she panted. “Did they see you?”

“I don’t give a fuck. We’re done here.” He hit the gas, peeling to the edge of the parking lot where it met with the highway.

“Where are you taking me?” Alisa whipped her head to face him, seeming to drink him in.

His body shifted in his seat. The way her dark eyes hit him… He gripped the wheel of the truck just to ground himself.

“Warren.”

“Just trust me. I got this.”

* * * *

I’ve stolen a biker’s girl, Warren grumbled to himself as he parked his truck in his garage.

Oh, he knew exactly what it was…after he’d seen that fuck’s jacket. There was no mistaking it. The goddamn Deadeye MC—Warren knew about that club. Vets mostly, some Army, some Navy—one of the roughest military biker clubs. Started off good but went to the wrong side of the tracks real quick.

“Should we head inside?” Alisa called over to him from the garage landing. Trepidation still coursed through her tone.

“Yeah,” Warren said, stretching around his ribcage to feel the blood on his back.

“Are you coming?”

“I’ll be a minute.”

Even though he could tell she didn’t want to, she listened to him.

And once she was gone, he made his way to the sink in the garage—cleaning out his wound.

The asshole had only caught him a bit. It was just a surface laceration. Removing his shirt, patching up the cut, he couldn’t help but grind out a deep, guttural groan in agony, nearly falling over the sink. He clutched the sides as he felt pure pain ricochet through his back. His scar. His injury. He’d been doing everything he absolutely shouldn’t be doing, making it so much worse than it had to be.

Sucking it up, convincing himself that it didn’t hurt, he paced to the front of his garage. At his height, he was able to glare through the small windows in his garage door, keeping an eye on his quiet street. He was too fired up to be trusting. He had to have a plan.

Warren pulled out his phone, texting his friends—the ones who had left the SEALs and lived nearby. He needed a goddamn insurance policy—not for himself but for her. After a few minutes, he strode inside, finding Alisa standing at his kitchen island, her trembling hands trying to peel a banana.

“You must be hungry.” Warren observed her every move, still processing everything she’d said to him.

“I’m tired,” Alisa admitted, and only ate half of it. “And I shouldn’t stay. I’ve missed an important meeting—for my career.”

“It can wait.”

She shot him a look. He wasn’t interested in arguing.

“Whatever it is, it can wait. You can call them and reschedule.Rest. You know where the bed is,” he said. His shoulder muscles twitched, and he felt the overwhelming need to protect her—to take care of her.

She dropped the rest of the peel and pushed away from him. She left in silence, but she had listened to him, climbing up the stairs.

Cracking the Scotch in his kitchen, he poured himself a heavy glass. Was that what it felt like to have a woman in his life? It wasn’t just the alcohol burning down his throat. There was something else boiling inside him, something about what she’d said to him. He didn’t want to think about it.

The Scotch seemed to agree with him, reminding him how far he’d come in such a short time with Alisa— How much she’d opened his eyes to what he was doing to himself. She’d been doing it to herself, too—self-medicating through work.

With the rim of the glass on his lips, a thought crossed his mind. Maybe he should tell her about his past, about how he’d got that scar. But then he shook his head, knowing exactly what would come of that conversation. It was nice and fine to tell him he was allowed to make mistakes, until she heard what he’d done.

Suddenly his phone vibrated on his countertop, snapping him back to reality. The highlighted screen revealed a call coming in from his boss, the master chief. Warren immediately picked it up.

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