CHAPTER NINETEEN
ROGER
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How interesting.
I sit across the road from the Black Hawke Security building and watch Marshall Adams in some kind of altercation with an incredibly beautiful brunette woman.
Then he kisses her.
And leaves.
She touches her mouth but doesn’t look impressed. In fact, she looks shocked and angry.
I smile and adjust my plan.
After being sent back to the United States, reprimanded for drinking during an active operation—and being told there’d be no promotion and I’d be lucky if I wasn’t discharged dishonorably—I had every intention of confronting Sergeant Adams today.
I knew where he worked. BHS is well respected and somewhere a lot of active soldiers aspire to work should they decide to leave.
Personally, I’m a lifer.
Anyway, I’d been so furious, I hadn’t thought my plans through much beyond throwing my fist in his ugly face.
He’s destroyed my life and career.
My entire future could be down the gurgler. I’m not going to let that go unpunished.
But now...well, this is an opportunity I can take advantage of. It’s clear by his body language that he likes this woman, but she’s not sure about him.
I grin, start my vehicle as she climbs into hers, then follow her.
All day.
I can’t figure out which company she works for, but it appears to be a professional organization. After she attends three meetings at separate places around the Los Angeles area, she returns to her office for two hours. Then drives to what I assume is her home.
I sit outside for an hour and a half, then grab some dinner and return. By ten o’clock I’m certain she isn’t going out.
Nor has Marshall shown up.
I could be wrong but I’m guessing she’s single. This might be Los Angeles, but the way she was dressed in a pair of sexy high heels and a figure-hugging dress makes me suspect she is.
Men know.
I’m a good-looking guy, it’s not hard for me to get laid. If I’m having trouble I just slip in that I’m a Ranger and it’s a done deal. Sometimes, it’s as simple as flashing my dog tags. Most guys don’t wear them, but it never hurts on a Friday night.
Let’s hope she’s easy, because I get the feeling that if Marshall sees me with her, it’ll be way more impactful than punching the cunt in the face.
Fucking her? Even better.
Who knows, she could be the one.
Wouldn’t that be ironic?
Two nights later, I follow the sexy brunette into a bar and settle on a bar stool across from where she’s seated and order a beer.
Then, wait for the perfect moment to strike.