The Commander (Black Hawke Security #9)

CHAPTER ONE

QUINN

Two years ago

Fort Cavazos, Texas

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“Mom, I have to go,” I say, holding the door handle of my room with the phone pressed to my ear.

The moment I walk out into the hallway, I’ll be surrounded by soldiers and those I must salute. You’d think I’d be used to it after being at Fort Cavazos, one of the largest Army posts in the US, for the past twenty-four months.

I’m out of basic training and now a 2LT, or Second Lieutenant. There are plenty of opportunities to be promoted if I don’t mess up and let my attraction to a certain Commander get in the way of my future.

I haven’t yet. (Mostly.)

And I won’t.

“Are you going to be home for Thanksgiving, Quinn? It’s a simple question.”

Ugh.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Unlikely.

I need to focus on my fitness level to pass my next training test, and because Captain Jenkins rides my ass harder than anyone else I know, I need to be at the top of my game.

I know why he does it.

The same reason I refuse to date anyone wearing a uniform. Well, sort of. From the moment I stepped foot on this base, the men here have echoed my father. The fact that he is the colonel doesn’t help.

You’d think in this day and age, attitudes would’ve changed toward women in the military.

For some, they have. Not for me. Perhaps it’s my small frame and short height.

Being five-foot-four and one hundred ten pounds doesn’t exactly scream warrior status, but small and nimble doesn’t mean a GI is a hindrance.

In fact, in the late twelfth century in Japan, Tomoe Gozen, a female samurai in the Genpei War, led three hundred soldiers against thousands. She was one of the most celebrated onna-musha (female samurai) in Japanese history.

So, I’m just saying.

Except that’s not what this is about. Some of the guys in my platoon made derogatory comments when I started basic training, expecting me to fail.

I didn’t.

When I began to do well, it clearly upset them, and then they began to seek out reasons. Because obviously my hard work and tenacity weren’t the reason.

Let me backtrack.

Day one, I’m green as the grass when I’m standing at attention and meeting our commanding officer.

Noah.

I mean, Captain Jenkins.

He strides out in his uniform, wearing it like it was designed for his tall, broad frame. When he stopped in front of me and I got a good look at his square jaw, strong brows, and deep brown eyes, I swallowed.

In response, his nostrils flared.

But it was my core that truly responded. An attraction I’d never felt before burned inside me as we looked at one another.

He never blinked.

He never said a word.

But I knew.

As my body shuddered in reaction to his proximity, I felt his invisible response as if he’d lifted me over his shoulder, carried me back to his barracks and fucked me like I could only imagine he was capable of.

That didn’t happen.

He took a step away as if I was nobody.

Good.

But I wasn’t the only one who noticed the chemistry between us. Neither Captain Jenkins nor I acted on our attraction, but my male nemeses decided that I must be using my female wiles to get promoted.

The jerks.

My father didn’t want me to join the Army, and from day one, I was questioned by my peers. Not all, but enough of them that I decided very early on to never, ever, ever sleep with a man in uniform.

Which, of course, meant my commanding officer was off limits.

The US Army prohibits relationships between different grade ranks if they compromise authority, so it wasn’t like we had a choice, anyway. Sure, people get around it—they fall in love, get married and have families.

That wasn’t the case for me.

If I were to prove myself, I had to be serious and ensure no one ever questioned how I’d gotten my rank.

Especially my father.

“Quinn, your father is going to be disappointed.”

My shoulders tense as they always do when it comes to him.

“Why? I told you I didn’t have confirmation of my leave yet. I will try, okay? Sorry. I forgot to put in for the leave, and now I’ll probably have to work.”

I didn’t forget.

Growing up as an Army brat is one thing, but when you enlist without the blessing of your father, and he’s the Colonel, life is going to be uncomfortable.

That’s an understatement.

It’s a day I will remember for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t say I was close to my father. He had moved us from base to base and been stationed overseas a lot while I grew up. I had a decent but distant relationship with him.

Honestly, if I’d left home and chosen another career, I probably wouldn’t think about it all that much. He is who he is, and I respect that he served the United States of America.

But that’s not what happened.

“What? You are NOT joining the military, Quinn Parker.” My father leaped to his feet when I announced it.

“I am and I have.” I crossed my arms. “You don’t get to decide this for me.”

His face had turned red, and it was the first time in my life I’d seen this man realize he had no control over me.

He’d been a strict father.

When he was home.

Mom wasn’t, and so when he came home, the entire household had to adjust to his controlling nature. I love my dad, but honestly, I was happier when he wasn’t home.

For about thirty seconds, despite his fury, I sort of relished the power I held. Until his next words.

“I’ll make some calls and reverse it. This is not happening.” He stormed out of the room with me on his tail.

“Dad! Dad, stop.”

Could he do that?

Could he take away my dream and make me hate him forever? The answer was no.

Fortunately, Dad couldn’t influence the right people to, you know, break the law.

I’d left a few weeks later, disappointed he hadn’t changed his tune or come to the door where Mom waved goodbye as I drove off.

It had hurt.

But as I say, he’d been a controlling figure in my life since the moment I took my first breath. My mother was no wallflower, but Dad was in charge. His rules dominated our lives, and what he said was law.

Growing up on army bases meant it wasn’t unusual to have a strict father; they were all alphas, after all. But it gets into your DNA. The pride of serving, the life, the people.

From the time I was little, I was obsessed with toy guns. Mom tried to buy me dolls, but I’d steal my brother Ted’s toys instead.

I once built a grenade filled with rice, a small, harmless explosive that made such a mess I’m sure the people living in old houses are still vacuuming up the grains. I tried to tell Mom that Ted was responsible, but no one believed it for a second.

Can’t blame them, I guess.

Ted’s an accountant. He didn’t get the GI genes from Dad, and I know my father wishes it was the other way around.

Which I resent.

He had no problem when I was a little girl to have me sit on his lap and watch him clean his rifles.

I’d help out by picking up pieces and handing them to him.

It was cute back then. Even when I was a little older, he’d teach me to assemble and disassemble them, saying it was good that I knew how to handle a gun.

Later he’d regret it, but I don’t think it much mattered one way or another that he’d taught me. I loved everything about the military.

When I was about fourteen, I told him I was going to be a soldier, and he said no.

I had been shocked.

Mom encouraged him to let it go. That it would pass. That this was a phase I was in and it was his fault, as he’d encouraged me as a little girl.

“Bullshit. Ted did the same thing, and he hasn’t shown any interest. And he’s a boy.”

I’d done one of those hugely dramatic eye rolls and was told to go to my room. As if that was going to do anything.

My phase never passed as they’d hoped.

Dad got proactive; recommending different career options, setting me up on experience days with more feminine or safe jobs. After he encouraged me to be a nurse, I stopped talking about it because, honestly, there’s no universe in which anyone should trust me with a needle.

I attended the University of Texas at Austin, where I earned my bachelor’s degree in criminal justice and political science while doing ROTC part time. This earned me entry into the military. From there I was commissioned and began basic officer training here at Fort Cavazos.

Two years in, and I’m so close to being promoted to 1LT—first lieutenant—which requires Captain Jenkins' recommendation.

The same man my peers think I’m banging to have received my first promotion.

I didn’t.

The man might be the single-most good-looking male on the planet and melt my panties just by walking past me, but my career is important to me. I’ve earned everything I’ve achieved and will die before I let anyone think otherwise.

“Mom, I have to go, or I’ll be late. Love you.” I hang up because it’s the only way when she gets like this.

I pocket my phone in the pockets of my brown fatigues and grab my gym bag. I’m still in my boots and army green sweatshirt, but now I don’t have time to change, so I rip open the door and spin around with my bag on my shoulder, and—

“Lieutenant!” the familiar deep voice cries.

Shit.

“Sorry, Commander!” I spin around, whacking it into him a second time.

I attempt to salute him, get tangled, and fight my hormones as Captain Jenkins lifts my bag off my shoulder as if it’s nothing more than a napkin and drops it on the floor.

His eyes run over my body from head to toe.

Which, given I’m doing the same thing to him, it’s amazing I even notice.

I notice everything.

“Um, sir, have you approved my leave?”

His nostrils flare, and I cross my arms because I’m sure it’s due to my hard nipples. It’s ninety today, so they have nothing to do with the weather.

“Follow me, Parker.”

I’d rather not.

Being in close quarters with my hot commanding officer is never a good idea. That room has been the object of many of my dreams.

“I was just headed to the gym,” I say, picking up my bag and racing to follow him down the hall, where I step into his office after him.

The door clicks shut.

“I can see that.” Captain Jenkins’ gorgeous brown eyes flick to mine with a smirk as he rounds the desk. “You might be surprised to know I’ve been trained to pay attention.”

To me? I want to ask.

“Of course, sir.”

He digs through some papers, glancing up at me.

“Relax, I’m playing with you, Parker.” He laughs.

God, I wish you would.

My core clenches, sending my body temperature through the roof. I let out a breath that lifts my hair and fans my face. “Is it hot in here? It’s hot in here.”

“Are you sick?” Captain Jenkins drops the papers and circles the desk. Then his hand is on my forehead, and he’s frowning. “You’re hot.”

I don’t know what makes me say what I say next, but I am no saint, and this attraction between us is no secret. The chemistry has been building for a long time. We stand too close. Linger when we shouldn’t.

“Thank you. I know.” A cheeky grin accompanies my words.

As his large palm remains on my forehead, our gazes lock, my cheeky smile fades, and I realize my error as his enormous frame and masculine scent engulf me.

The line that could be crossed here is so fine, so close, so enticing. But the power imbalance and non-fraternization rules of the military linger between us like a brick wall.

Noah’s eyes dip to my lips, which I lick, not realizing I’ve done it until it’s too late.

I know what he’s thinking about.

I’m thinking it, too.

A few months ago, I went to a bar with some guys and drank far too many tequilas. Noah had been at the bar, nursing a drink and watching me dance.

I pretended I didn’t notice.

I’d never been a big drinker and knew I’d had enough, so slipped out of the bar without saying goodbye to anyone...and before I approached my commander and did something stupid.

I hadn’t even booked my Uber, wobbling on the spot as I squinted at my phone, when Noah appeared.

“Come on.” Hand in the small of my back, the six foot five Adonis led me to his motorbike, handed me a helmet and gripped my hand against his very nice abs all the way home.

While I sang.

I’m still not sure if he could hear me, but if he had, I hope he was impressed that I knew all the words to “The Gambler” by Kenny Rogers.

Back on base, Noah shoved a protein bar and a bottle of water into my chest, told me to have them before I went to sleep, then shut my door in my face.

I grinned so hard, remembering the feel of his hard, sexy body between my legs. And yeah, my vibrator had been on full speed after that.

Every night.

Now, as I stand in his office inches from Captain Jenkins, I have no idea what is happening. I can’t...we can’t...I want to...but—

“Quinn—” he rasps.

No.

No.

No.

Yes, yes, yes.

Two years of hard work would be thrown out the window if I let this happen.

I step back. His hand falls as he glances away and lets out a sharp curse.

“I feel fine.” I shake my head. “Forget the leave; I know I missed the deadline.” I reach for the door handle. “Thanks, Captain.”

When I meet his stare, all I get is a sharp nod before I slip out into the hall.

That cannot happen again.