Page 9 of Damned
“It has nothing to do with you, honest. It’s just that…” Kruze hedged like the chicken-shit he could be when it came to admitting he’d been wrong, in this case, assuming Bree was the same kind of devil as a few other journalists. It all came back to the lies that had been spread about Chance, and the fact that whatever happened to one Sinclair brother, happened to all of them.
That was when Kruze could be the most unreasonable and reactive as hell. He knew the three Sin Boys weren’t always right. But when one of the many high-and-mighty media giants fabricated half-truths and innuendo, about either Chance or Pagan, Kruze went ballistic, as in nuclear meltdown. He might fight and squabble with his pig-headed brothers, who didn’t? But if anyone messed with them, by God, they had to answer to him.
“You’re a journalist,” he finally said, as if that explained anything.
Her shoulders stiffened. “So?”
“So…” He latched onto one of two remaining slivers, this one in her other poor butt cheek. It slid easily out once he had a good grip on it. He whisked it into the trash bag. “It just seems to me that Navy SEALs get a raw deal every time they tangle with anyone from the press. We’ve all been lied about, had false claims made about where we were, and who allegedly was with us. And hey, let’s not forget all the character assassination you guys are so damned good at, when we happen to eliminate the murdering sack of shit who just murdered eleven Marines we were sent to cover. Heaven forbid we SEALs don’t always follow those fuckin’ ROEs that keep us from defending ourselves and our Navy brethren, while we’re all taking fire and dying in the line of duty. For Christ’s sake, we’re not just replaceable parts in this war machine, you know. We’ve got families, too.”
Kruze snagged the final sliver, needing to put it and this discussion behind him. “Let’s just say I’ve got plenty of reasons to dislike anyone with a press card. Me and my brothers have been burned every damned time one of your buddies opened their mouths and lied. Hell, you don’t even have to know the facts before you sensationalize your version of the truth.”
“Is that the collective you in general, or do you mean me in particular?”
He growled, mad at himself for jumping on this particular bandwagon. “Not you,” he admitted, as the last shard of broken brown glass fell into the garbage bag at his side.
“So, you’re just taking it out on me.”
His cheeks puffed, then hollowed with a sigh. Kruze grunted. “Already told you I’m an ass.”
“Hmmm.”
“Hate to ask again but…” Kruze smoothed both palms over her bare butt and down the backs of her thighs. “Feel anything?”
“No glass shards,” she replied.
That sounded qualified, but encouraging. So, like the playboy he would always be, Kruze repeated the maneuver, pressing hard enough for Bree to feel any sliver he might’ve missed. “How about now?”
“Nothing that hurts.”
“But?” he asked, wishing there was a way to hit rewind and start over with Miss Brianna Banks. It wasn’t often he burned bridges as fast as he had with her.
“Nothing. I feel absolutely nothing.”
Kruze couldn’t help thinking,‘Well, damn. That’s too bad.’
