The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) by Edward Crichton Page B

appropriate duty jacket from my
locker, I announced, “I’m done here. Everything checks out. I’m
ready to go when you are.”
    Her reply was to barely even glance in my direction,
as she continued cleaning her rifle’s barrel with a long pipe
cleaner brush.
    What was her problem anyway? Even I couldn’t have
done anything to offend her.
    At least not yet.
    I sighed. It was always the pretty ones.
    “Excuse me, but are we going to have a problem here?
You’ve barely grunted a word in the fifteen minutes we’ve known one
another, and I’m starting to get the feeling you don’t like me,
which, you know…” I gave her a Hollywood, teeth sparkling smile,
“…is kind of hard to believe.”
    She continued to ignore me.
    I was really getting annoyed now.
    “Look, sweet cakes. I’ve had just about as much
trouble as I can stand with pretty girls in positions where they
think they…”
    I never got the chance to finish. She was on her
feet like a cheetah, and again staring icicles upwards into my
skull.
    I gulped. It was the only thing I could do as I
returned her stare, gazing into her overwhelmingly beautiful, but
currently frightening, eyes.
    “So?” I asked, trying to stay brave. “Got something
to say?”
    The words were barely out of my mouth when her fist
connected with my right eye socket, pitching me backwards into my
locker. Stars flashed in my vision and the rest of the world went
black when my head slammed into the locker behind me. When my mind
cleared seconds later, I shot my right hand to my face, wishfully
hoping to delay the inevitable swelling and darkening.
    Speechless, I just stared at her, completely
confused and taken aback by her assault. I wanted to yell at her
and hit her right back, but it was probably a good thing that I
kept my mouth shut and my hands to myself. She might kill me.
    I checked my hand to make sure my face wasn’t
bleeding, which thankfully came back clean. Risking one last look
at my attacker, I turned for the door and beat my retreat from the
crazed woman who had hit me for seemingly no reason. She was
already back at work cleaning her gun, oblivious to our
encounter.
    Despite the pain, I couldn’t help but smile.
     
    ***
     
    The multiplex was eerily silent when I returned to
the common area. Everyone, save McDougal, had gathered in the mess
area and was in the midst of socializing and chow. Noticing my
approach, they all stopped what they were doing mid motion and
turned to look at me. Santino had a glop of noodles hanging from
his mouth, while Bordeaux had paused as he sipped a steaming
drink.
    I stopped in front of their table, hands on my hips,
and looked each man in the eye. Each wore a passive expression and
for a few moments the five of us did nothing but stare at each
other before all of a sudden, the four men at the table burst out
in playful laughter. In the midst of their laughter, I couldn’t
help but noticed Wang pass a few Euros to Vincent.
    “Something I should know, gentlemen?”
    Santino was the first to stop laughing, but he had
to catch his breath before explaining the situation.
    “Jake, man, it’s nothing personal, but before you
got here, all of us, including Little Miss Van Strauss,” he said
the name, emphasizing it in a haughty and disrespectful manner,
“had lunch. Chit-chatting. She told us how she had just broken up
with some longtime boyfriend of hers or something because he’d
cheated on her when her time in the service kept them apart. Sad,
right? Well, here’s the funny part. She said she’d kill the next
guy she saw that even remotely pissed her off. I guess it doesn’t
help that you kinda look like how she described him. Tall, wavy
brown hair, broad shoulders, dashing good looks, as soon as I saw
you I knew there would be trouble, especially considering your
awkward way with pretty girls,” he paused. “I’ll never understand
how that works by the way.”
    I continued to stare at him stoically.
    “Vinnie over there won