CHAPTER THREE
QUINN
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My eyes blink open, and I wonder why I’m awake before my alarm, then I have a small panic that I’ve slept in. It would be highly unlikely given I’ve never done it in my life.
I glance over my shoulder, wondering if Mark is still here, but I already sense my bed is empty.
Not surprising.
We’ve only dated for a few months, and aside from once, he’s left in the middle of the night because the drive back to Victorville is too arduous in the morning.
It’s an hour at most.
But you know, he’s an accountant with an OCD lifestyle. Things have to be a certain way. I’ve shown up in his life and created chaos.
I let out a long sigh.
I don’t even know why I’m dating Mark.
We met in a bar in Victorville, and he was a little drunk and made me laugh. It’s hard to meet men outside the military where I have a strict no-dating rule with any of them. So, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get to know Mark and enjoy regular sex.
Note I say regular and not great.
It is what it is.
So here I am, sleeping with an OCD accountant who is sober most of the time, so the funny jokes are slim. God, that’s an awful thing to say, but unless he’s had a drink, he’s the most boring person on the planet.
Well, that’s unfair.
Christian, a dentist I dated a year ago, didn’t have any fun work stories. Our political leanings were too far apart, so after we had some invigorating sex, our conversation completely dried up.
Mark is good with his tongue, I suppose. Hence it being a few months. God, I’m a bad person.
Last night we saw a movie, which saved the need for any conversation, but I spent most of it thinking about Jeannie. She’s my best friend. We met in college, and she lives in Los Angeles with her husband, Carl. She’s just announced they’re having a baby.
“Oh my God,” I screamed into the phone when she rang. “A baby. My god, I’m so happy for you both. Young parenting is such a thing nowadays.”
“Young?” Jeannie laughed. “Quinn, I’m twenty-seven, the same age as you. Carl is almost thirty.”
I’d gone quiet.
She hadn’t meant to do it, but it was a slap in the face. We were the same age. It wasn’t like I was unaware of the ticking clock inside my body, or that I was hyper-focused on my career or proving to my father I could succeed.
I’d done that already, hadn’t I?
The problem is that there are still those who think I used other means to get where I was. And my father is still hoping I’ll grow out of this.
It made me dig my heels in deeper.
Using that pussy to climb the ladder, are we, Parker?
My teeth clench when I think about Tyrell Brooks and the things he’s said to me over the years. We joined the military at the same time, and he’s like a bad smell I can’t get rid of—that is, until I transferred to Fort Irwin a few months ago.
Tyrell saw me as competition, and I guess I was because I got promoted before him every time. Instead of working on his training and studying harder, he preferred to point the finger.
Unlike others, he seemed to pick up on the chemistry between Noah and me, regardless of the fact that nothing happened between us, and Captain Jenkins was harder on me than anyone else.
Darlin’, you can practice sucking my cock for a bigger promotion next time.
That day, I snapped and punched Tyrell in the face. We were in the chow hall with tons of witnesses, which was stupid as fuck. Tyrell clasped his face, fighting with his conscience not to punch a woman, which I used to my advantage and leaped at him a second time.
Unfortunately, Ridge, a bulky six-foot-four soldier, pulled me off the motherfucker like I was a sack of rice. Side note: I would have slept with Ridge in a heartbeat if I didn’t have my rule of not banging anyone in uniform. And if I wasn’t obsessed with a certain commanding officer of mine.
Speaking of, Noah—Captain Jenkins—found out about the tussles and called us into his office demanding an explanation.
“You want to tell him?” I lifted a brow, glaring at Tyrell, who was holding an ice pack to his cheek. For dramatics.
He was fine. I’d hit him an hour prior.
“Whatever.”
I opened my mouth to tell the captain what the jerk had said to me, but Noah held up his hand, halting me. “You want to press charges?”
“No, sir,” Tyrell ground out, knowing I’d be forced to share the history of his bullying and harassment if he did. There were witnesses, so he was smart to keep his big mouth shut.
I shouldn’t have hit him, I guess, but he’d crossed the line with that comment that day, and he knew it.
“Both of you will remain on base this weekend and pick up extra duties. For two weeks. If it happens again, your ranks are up for grabs. Do you understand?” Noah said firmly, glancing at us with disappointment written all over his face.
“Yes, sir.” We both stood.
“Parker, please remain.”
Shit.
Tyrell stared between us, still holding the ice to his face, and shot me a knowing look—he knew nothing—and walked out.
“What was that about, Quinn?” Noah asked, walking around the desk and stopping a little too close, towering over my five-foot-four frame.
I shivered. “I was out of line, sir.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
I chewed the inside of my mouth, hoping he would lose patience and dismiss me.
“Quinn.”
God, the way he said my name—it sent ripples of lust straight to my core. The number of times I’d made myself come to the sound of his voice in my head was shameful.
Sure, Noah was eight years my senior and my commanding officer, but the chemistry between us boiled away like a hot pot of oil.
The way his eyes lingered longer, his fingers curled, his nostrils flared. It turns out he was just as aware of my tells even when I thought I was hiding them.
Climbing on his bike each weekend was a dead giveaway at that point, but I was about to blow that. In more ways than one.
I was playing with fire, with Tyrell and my father breathing down my neck, waiting for me to fail. But I was damned if I’d do anything that said my success was because of my vagina.
Back then and now.
I looked up that day and met his stare. “Tyrell said something inappropriate and I couldn’t let it go.”
“Said. Or touched you?” Noah growled—literally growled—and his hands, which had been behind his back, fell to his sides.
Ready to rip Tyrell to pieces.
And he would for me; I already knew that.
My heart began to beat rapidly. I wished Noah could touch me, and that I could let him. That his large body could be the one climbing over me, between my legs, sliding his tongue between my folds, whispering in my ear, making crude promises he’d deliver while I screamed.
Something that could never happen.
“He never touched me.” I shook my head. Tyrell might be a snake, but I wouldn’t lie. I wouldn’t use the connection Noah and I had to my advantage.
“If I find out he’s—”
We both glanced down as his hand gripped my hip. Then he quickly stepped away and cursed.
I sucked in a breath.
“Dismissed, Lieutenant,” Noah rasped.
I turned, walked to the door but stopped when I heard my name.
“Quinn, that should—”
“It didn’t happen.” Noah nodded at my confirmation, but then his nostrils flared as the following words fell from my lips. “You touch me more when I’m on the back of your bike.”
He never came to the bar again.
“Ugh,” I flop my arm over my forehead as my alarm starts beeping, and I return to reality. One without Noah.
He was discharged six months ago, and I think about him every day. Which is unsurprising, given the way we left things on the night of his leaving party.
It drew a line in the sand.
One we can never take back.
The things he said. The things I said.
Now my best friend is having a baby, and here I am with my amazing career. Which I am very proud of but thoughts that have no place in my head are sneaking in and making me question what I want.
It’s not Mark, that’s for sure.
Climbing out of bed, I walk to the bathroom and stare at my naked body in the mirror. Cupping my B-cups, I run my hands down over my small hips and then study my face and long, dark wavy hair.
I’m beautiful.
I’ve been told that all my life.
Most women would never dream of being less beautiful, but at times I’ve suppressed my beauty, as it’s been a curse. I might be a soldier, but I am still a woman. I like feeling feminine and shouldn’t have to change that because of the profession I chose.
The men I serve with think I use my looks and body to get ahead, and I’m hit on constantly, which just supports the sometimes-unspoken accusations.
I know for a fact some of the guys have hit on me to test my rule of not sleeping with anyone in uniform, but it’s unshakable.
Damn jerks.
When I get to base and log in to my computer, I clear my emails and start looking through the documents we’ve been sent for next week’s training.
Fort Irwin is a training base, but the directive has come through to upskill in niche skills by military contractors outside of the standard military curricula from up above.
Opening the email I’ve been expecting, I scan through the program: hostage rescue, urban warfare and tactical training on new tech gear.
Not going to lie, I’m excited.
While my team of over two hundred GIs won’t be attending the two-week course, myself and fifteen other XOs from around the country will.
Ex-oh or ma’am is what most of the infantry refer to me as now that I’m a Company XO.
I note the address and details in my calendar, share the update with the appropriate platoon leaders and my CO, then hesitate for a moment when I notice the contract company name.
Black Hawke Security.
Why does that sound familiar?