The Choice by Jean Brashear

myself every time.” She sniffed, turning away. “I’ll show you, too.” Resettling the headgear, she picked up her weapon again and took aim. “Now back the hell off.”
    She fired, her shot clean and true. Glancing over her shoulder at him, she smirked, then faced front and squeezed off several rounds. Calling for a new target, she loaded a new magazine, studiously ignoring him.
    After firing off the other rounds, she stepped away, lowering the headgear to her neck. “Okay, hotshot. What’s next?”
    Damn her. Eyes bright with temper, chest heaving with repressed emotion, she stirred him more than ever. He wanted to take her here and now, spark that temper into passion, surround himself with the life that brimmed from her and warm his cold, dark soul.
    Instead, he’d have to keep trying to break her, to take that wild spirit and crush it, to make this strong, gutsy woman doubt herself so she’d leave, tail tucked between her legs.
    Of all the hard things he’d ever done in his work, this might be the most obscene.
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter Fice
     
    “Across the hall,” Cullinane ordered. For a second, Jillian would swear she’d seen the flicker of something that might almost be...regret? He turned away too quickly for her to check again, but she had to be wrong. He was enjoying every minute of this. And she’d helped him by losing her temper.
    Her temper had always been a problem. She shouldn’t have given him the satisfaction of seeing her angry. Cold and rational just like him, that’s what she had to be.
    However much she could still feel him at her back, his powerful body pouring off a heat some perverse part of her itched to get closer to.
    Then she recalled his physical response as she’d brushed his body. And smiled.
    He wasn’t immune to her, either.
    Two can play this game, Cullinane.
    Pulling off her hearing protectors and goggles, removing the plugs from her ears, she picked up her weapon and followed him to the other room. She handed the protective gear to him but retained her weapon. 
    He stood at the gun case, waiting, doors open, watching her.
    For a long moment, she pondered the price of insisting on keeping it. Finally, she turned it butt out and placed it in his palm. Something like understanding flared in his gaze.
    “No weapons allowed in the practice room,” he explained. “Tempers get hot sometimes.” He placed his own weapon inside, closing the door and locking it. “I’ll give it back to you once we’re done.”
    He did understand how naked she felt without it. Maybe he was human, after all.
    The next few moments gave her doubts. Entering the practice room, every eye in the place was on her, and none of them friendly. The blond man she’d bested the night she’d arrived stood against one wall, walking cast on his foot and deep, burning anger in his gaze. If he could have been the one to take her on, she was certain he would have jumped at the chance.
    “Take your pick, MacGregor,” Cullinane offered.
    Jillian scanned the men in the room. Every one of them looked more than willing to be chosen, as though avenging their comrade was top choice on the menu. The second man who’d been in the room that night stood across from her, hands on his hips, all but daring her to pick him.
    She stifled a sigh, understanding how the game was played. You wanted respect, you took on the big dog. “I choose you, Cullinane.”
    He looked startled, then frowned.
    “What’s the matter, hotshot? Afraid I’ll embarrass you in front of your men?”
    A look of reluctant amusement. Still, he had to know that once the challenge was thrown out, he had no choice. “In case you hadn’t noticed, MacGregor, I have a sizable height and reach advantage over you.”
    She saw the smirks on the faces around the room, no doubt hoping she’d blink. “So?” She waved a hand. “Everyone in here’s bigger than me.” She upped the ante. “I’ve done it before.” Tilting her chin out at the man