Page 15 of Brawler
Before she could catch another breath, a strong hand snagged her by the back of the shirt and hauled her upright. That Texas twang filled with gravel rumbled in her ear, “Gotcha, sprite.”
Emily twisted, eyes flashing, and kicked backward with every ounce of fury in her tiny body. Her boot connected square with his shin.
“Son of a—” he cursed, staggering a step.
“The pixie has moves, LT.”
Emily bolted. Again.
But this time, her relentless giant was ready. He surged up from the mud, caught her ankle mid-stride, and yanked. Emily pitched forward with a yelp, landing sprawled full length on top of him.
Her senses short-circuited. Heat. Solid muscle under her palms. The unmistakable ridge pressed against her hip. Her breath caught, skin buzzing.
Before she could wriggle free, he rolled, pinning her beneath him, hands clamping her wrists to the earth. His face hovered inches from hers, eyes burning, jaw tight.
“Strawberry Shortcake…” His growl was low, dangerous, and absurdly intimate all at once. “We are American military. Cease and desist before I truss you up and hang you from the nearest tree.”
Her breath stuttered, fury and disbelief tangling in her chest. She stared up at him, unblinking. “You can spout that all you want. The English is almost perfect. But you could be lying.”
The man above her growled low, the sound rolling through his chest like distant thunder. The vibration sank into her skin, echoing in her bones.
His jaw flexed, teeth grinding. “All I’ve been doing since you ran into me is trying to keep you safe. We’re not here to hurt you. We rescue people. We don’t harm them. We’re fucking American military.”
Emily swallowed hard, caught in that impossible heat and weight, every nerve screaming she should fight, and every instinct betraying her with something much more dangerous.
He didn’t look away from her, but his voice snapped like a whip. “I will kill you, bury you in lime, Flash, and pretend to look for you.”
The team’s muffled chuckles filled the trees.
But Emily couldn’t hear them anymore. Not really. She was trapped under a mountain of furious muscles and controlled menace. When he lifted those goggles again, she was staring into storm-dark eyes, her pulse going wild.
She couldn’t tell if she wanted to escape…or kiss him.
Their leader crouched down beside them, rifle easy at his side, eyes sharp beneath the shadow of his helmet. His voice came steady, edged with a Texas drawl that rang too natural to be fake.
“What’s your name?”
Emily blinked up at him, chest heaving, heart still a wild thing. That accent wasn’t phony. Not an imitation. Real. Which meant she’d just led her own warfighters on a merry chase through the jungle.
Great. Just perfect.
“Emily Shade,” she admitted, heat creeping into her cheeks. Then she frowned and glared up at the anchor still weighing her down, shoving at his chest with both hands.Ha. She couldn’t lift him even an inch. “NotStrawberry Shortcake.”
The officer gave a short nod and flicked his fingers toward her captor. “Let her up.”
The jokester choked on a laugh.
With a grunt, the massive mountain of man shifted off her, pushing to his feet with infuriating ease. Emily scrambled upright, brushing mud from her arms and glaring at him even as her pulse refused to settle.
“I’m Tex,” the officer continued evenly, pointing toward the giant she’d just been wrestling. “This is Brawler.”
God, that name fit like a second skin. He looked like a brawler, broad-shouldered, built for impact, jaw set like granite, every inch of him a man made for fights he didn’t lose.
His body was carved from the kind of strength you didn’t get at a gym but in places where survival depended on it. Shoulders like a fortress, arms thick with muscle and corded with veins, chest wide enough to block out the slivers of light filtering through the canopy. Even beneath the camo and gear, she could see the raw power in him, the long stretch of thigh built for running down prey, the kind of core strength that moved like coiled steel.
Up close, he radiated heat, the kind that clung to her skin and made her pulse throb traitorously in her throat. He wasn’t justbig. He wassolid.A mountain given legs, hands like weapons, and a body honed for control and collision.
His voice…that husky rasp. It rumbled low when he barked orders, hard and unyielding, but there’d been a flicker of something softer too, a whisper threaded through the gravel that could have melted a woman’s bones if he aimed it right.
