Tactical Strike by Kaylea Cross

shuttered.
“Don’t worry about that, Sergeant. I promise you I won’t let anything in my personal life affect my job
performance. Ever.”
    Meaning him. The asshole.
    He bit back a growl of frustration. “No, that’s—”
    “See you around.” She spun on her heel and walked off, wearing
that tangible pride around her like a goddamn cloak.
    “Not what I meant,” he finished lamely, though she couldn’t
hear him anymore. He swore under his breath.
    She left him standing there, clenching his jaw to keep from
saying anything else inflammatory, feeling like a total moron. Goddammit, he’d
been so close to cracking her shell. Why the hell couldn’t he say the right
thing for once? Jackson’s prophetic warning rang in his head. Despite his good
intentions, he’d just made things even worse. And now he didn’t have a fucking
clue how to undo the damage.
    Well, it was official, Ryan admitted to himself when she
disappeared from view without looking back. He’d definitely lost his mojo.
    * * *
    Candace fumed silently all the way back to her B-hut,
horrified by the pressure of tears in her throat. She was so stupid . One little glimmer of kindness and tenderness
from him and she all but turned to mush, when she knew what a domineering jerk
he really was. God, she’d never learn.
    She could still feel the imprint of his hand on her face. That
simple touch had lit up every nerve ending in her body. The honest concern in
his eyes had made her yearn to lean into his hand, reach for him. Take the
comfort he’d seemed to be offering despite all the reasons she shouldn’t.
    Then he’d opened his mouth and insulted her professionalism by
suggesting she was being negligent by not being rested enough. Well, fuck him.
He could think what he wanted. She knew better. When she was in that cockpit,
she brought her A-game, every single time without exception.
    She stomped up the wooden steps and yanked the door open.
    Maya looked up from her bunk, in the midst of toweling off her
hair. “Uh-oh.”
    Candace smothered the worst of her anger and put on a
half-hearted smile. “No ‘uh-oh.’ Don’t worry about it.”
    Seated on her foot locker, Honor laid her pen and journal
aside, sweeping her red-gold hair away from her cheek. A tiny smudge of grease
stained the side of her cheek, telling Candace she’d come straight from the helo
maintenance hangar without stopping to shower. “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing,” she said with a dismissive wave.
    “Saw Sergeant Irritating again, did you?” Maya guessed.
    That was the perfect title for him. How could a man awaken so
many needs inside her, then make her want to choke him? She gave up any pretense
of calm. “He’s making me into a total bitch, and I hate it. I’m not a bitch.”
    Maya laughed, a sultry, musical sound. “Being a bitch isn’t so
bad. You get used to it after a while.”
    Candace cracked a smile. “Yeah, but you do it with flair.”
    “Years of practice, my dear. Give it time. Want me to arrest
him?”
    “You’re sweet to offer, but no.”
    Honor winced in sympathy and picked her pen back up. “Sorry
he’s giving you such a rough time. You going to report him?”
    “No, it’s not like that.” Besides, she didn’t want to get him
in trouble. Why couldn’t he just be that guy who’d touched her so gently and
worried about her? Why did he have to spoil it all the time? And his mentioning
Dev’s crash brought all her inner anxiety to the forefront.
    The warmth from the space heater in the center of the hut did
nothing to erase the chill pervading her body. Beneath the unsettling encounter
with Ryan lurked a very real, deep-seated fear that something bad was about to
happen. Either to her or someone she cared about.
    Moving to the far end of the hut, her gaze landed unerringly on
the bunk beside hers. It remained pointedly empty, as it had for the past three
weeks since Devon’s Black Hawk had been shot down. A silent reminder that they
were all in