Chapter 4 #3
Flash clapped him on the shoulder, grin sharp. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, big guy. That’s a teeny tiny David, but she’s got a powerful slingshot.”
The guys all chuckled, the smug, married bastards.
The sound rattled through the trees, too loud for the jungle, too human against the hiss of insects and the low drone of something unseen moving in the canopy.
Brawler’s jaw ticked. They didn’t understand…
couldn’t. This wasn’t funny. She wasn’t just noise or ribbing material.
She was a live wire sparking against his system, a risk and a pull all tangled up.
As the others moved off, Tex snagged his arm, fingers tightening with quiet authority.
His voice dropped, meant only for him. “I know all about missions and women going amuck.” His eyes flicked to the backs of his teammates.
Every single one of them had a complication like Emily, and it had taken a toll both during the mission and afterward.
He wasn’t sure he was ready to handle anything like that, but Emily wasn’t going to recede quietly into the background.
“You might want to keep it in your pants on this one…unless you can’t.
Just be careful. She might look demure, but she packs a punch as I’m sure you know. ”
The words landed heavy. He did know. Not only the way she’d fought him—elbow to the gut, and a hard shot to his junk.
That was just desperate survival. What his body remembered was her beneath him, the silk and fury tangled under his hands.
A distorted hum surged in his jaw, memory mixing with the heat that hadn’t cooled since.
Tex’s gaze sharpened, steady as a rifle sight. “Keep me posted on…your shit. Nora made me crazy in the field, and I reacted irrationally.” Brawler remembered. Tex had taken on a warehouse full of Hamas…and won.
For a second, the iron in his expression slipped, and Brawler caught the flash of something rawer.
Tex wasn’t seeing jungle canopy or mission parameters.
He was seeing her. Nora. The only woman who could cut through his armor, who still carried his heart even when he was half a world away and up to his knees in hell.
The weight of that love sat in his eyes like live rounds, dangerous if you mishandled it, but impossible to set down.
His jaw flexed once before the steel snapped back in place.
“You have solid, special skills, B. Whatever decision you make regarding her, regarding this team, has always been couched in your care and your drive to preserve us and the mission. There’s no one else on this team who could handle her like you can.
” His voice dropped lower, quieter, meant only for him. “Just…don’t lose that balance.”
Brawler swallowed, throat dry despite the humidity pressing down like wet cloth.
He nodded once, but inside, everything was buzzing: her impact, the order, the weight of Tex’s trust. The jungle around them seemed to lean in, thick with heat and shadow, as if waiting to see whether he’d hold the line or burn himself alive.
They moved with quiet efficiency as dusk thickened, the team carving out a temporary camp from the press of jungle.
Weapons checked, gear sorted, a low circle of rest taking shape under the canopy.
The air was heavy with damp earth and insect whine, the smell of sweat and cordite still clinging to Brawler’s skin.
He volunteered for first watch, for perimeter. Sleep wasn’t in the cards anyway, not with his head buzzing and the weight of responsibility coiled tight in his chest. He brought his rifle up, finger sliding along the trigger guard, and started to step into the gloom.
A shift in the air, that citrus scent jolted him, and he twisted just in time to see her hand lift toward him.
Normally, that kind of reach set his nerves sparking.
He always needed to be prepared for any advance toward him.
He hated when hands came at his face. Too intimate, too unpredictable, the kind of touch that shorted his circuits.
It wasn’t casual for him. It was something earned.
In the back room of that bar, he’d intercepted the move, deflecting it the way he would any unwanted advance.
But Emily didn’t go for his cheek and, inexplicably, he craved that so deeply, he trembled.
Her fingers brushed his forearm, small and sure, her palm callused, warm, sweet, and for reasons he didn’t understand, the dormant urge struck like a spark against powder, detonating through him, making the place she touched come alive. Making him come alive.
Her features were soft for the first time since they’d met, the fight drained out of her expression. Ah, fuck…this Emily. He couldn’t fight her; his sensations and emotions were so strong, they swamped him.
“I know I hurt you on that path,” she said quietly.
“But I was scared, and I thought you were going to hurt me.” Her voice wove into her apology like a balm, husky, a whispered cadence that cut through the noise in his head.
Her eyes flicked away, her voice dropping lower.
“I’m glad you and Beast were there to save my life.
I was lucky to…ah…literally run into you.
” The hint of humor only made those words worse.
For a second, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.
Gratitude from civilians never meant much to him.
He was trained for it, and he expected it, brushed it off.
But from her, whispering into the dark while her delicate, devastating hand lingered on his arm, it hit differently.
Too close. Too sharp. It crawled under his skin and stayed.
He wanted to tell her not to thank him, that it was just the job. But the words jammed in his throat, because the sound of her gratitude lit up something raw inside him he didn’t have language for. He shifted, anchoring himself on Beast at his side, on the night air cooling against his sweat.
“I’ll say this for you, you know how to down a man, and that’s a goddamned good thing.” But Christ, it was bad for him too.
Her eyes widened, and he had to wonder if she got his double meaning or if it was wishful thinking.
“Kick ass, then sort out the names later? That’s you, isn’t it?
” she asked with a catch in her voice, as if the ground had slipped beneath her…
Or was that him? He turned away, his eyes closing for a moment.
It hit like a jab, sharp in his ribs. Christ, she was blowing him away here.
Seeing him. “Not entirely Neanderthal, huh?” She nudged his arm with her elbow, playful, grounding the moment.
He drew in a breath and looked back at her. Her eyes sparked with the shared joke, and for a heartbeat, it felt like they were the only two people in the jungle.
“Stay close,” he managed, voice low, rougher than he meant. Tex had pegged it perfectly. For a moment, he didn’t want to leave her, but his brothers would protect her with their lives. She wasn’t in his hands, but she might as well be.
He pulled away gently and slipped into the shadows, the jungle swallowing him. But her words, her humor… she …came with him, echoing under his skin as steady as the pulse of the forest.
Emily just became a freaking intriguing puzzle.
He didn’t know what the hell he was dealing with here.
Attraction, sure. He’d have to be dead not to feel the spark in her touch.
But there was more threaded through it. Respect for not holding a grudge when she’d tried to drop him to his knees.
Playfulness, too—that maddening streak that made her fun to fight with—and something else, something he didn’t dare touch, because if he named it, he’d have no defense left at all.