should be.
And God, she looked young. The makeup she had worn had made her look older, more
experienced. He knew she had been eighteen when they married, and he was suddenly
desperately aware of how young she had really been.
At twenty-six, she still looked like a kid without the shield of cosmetics to add maturity to her
still unlined face. But the grief was there. It was thick and dark in her eyes, in the tightly
controlled line of her lips, the stiff set of her shoulders before she disappeared beneath the car.
He drew in a deep hard breath as the mechanics stared back at him, watching him as Sabella
disappeared beneath the car. Their expressions were wary, part relief, part concern. They
weren't the same men who had worked here when he left, they were unknowns and unknowns
were always the enemy. And he would never forget that only one, the youngest, had stepped
forward to protect Sabella while the others stood back.
"She's not alone anymore," he growled, knowing the fury that roughened his voice now. "Get your asses in there and finish the work now, or get your stuff and get out. I want every vehicle
in that damned bay finished before any of you go home tonight, or the only one I want to see in
the morning is this one." He stabbed his finger imperiously toward Toby. "And your ass
belongs in the office, if I'm not mistaken."
Toby swallowed tightly, his brown eyes flickering in indecision toward the garage where
Sabella had disappeared. It was obvious he was more concerned about leaving her undefended
than he was about his job.
"Go, boy," he snarled. "We'll discuss details later." His gaze swung to the other men, watching as they shifted nervously, their oil-streaked expressions and wary eyes staying trained on him.
"Make your choice now," he snapped. "And make sure you make the right one."
He didn't wait for their decisions. He made for the garage, striding straight to the line of
clipboards on the workstation and grabbing the first one. It was time to get to work.
He wasn't fooling himself; after the others had left, Sabella would let that temper he knew she
had, erupt. He'd only seen it once before in their marriage. The day he had made the mistake of
telling her she couldn't do something.
She had taught him fast and hard exactly what happened when he tried to control her.
Control came naturally to SEALs. It was a part of who they were and what made them so
efficient. So it wasn't unexpected that the night she had arranged to meet some of her
girlfriends for drinks and dinner, he had told her she couldn't go. He wanted her home with
him. He'd been horny, and he wanted his wife. He didn't want her at the local watering hole
together with a bunch of women and the men there lusting after her.
She'd stared back at him silently for long moments then continued to inform him where she
would be and when she would be home.
Dammit, Bella, you can stay home tonight. With me.
He'd barely ducked in time to miss the salt shaker that had been aimed a little too close to his
head. Then his sweet, soft-spoken little Southern angel had erupted.
Flushed, furious, she had proceeded to lay down the law regarding their relationship, and by
time she stalked out of the house, ass twitching beneath her jeans like an enraged little hen, he'd
had his tail tucked between his legs despite the fact that he had informed her to just stay the
night with her damned friends. He'd be fine without her.
Two o'clock that morning, he'd driven around town until he found her car, parked at the house
of one of those friends. He'd carried his tipsy little wife out of the house, put her in his track,
and driven her home. And he'd never made that mistake again.
And now, after hearing that muted, smothered little sound from beneath the car, coming from
the woman he wondered if he had even known as his wife, he realized that there was a chance
Sabella had held as much back from him as he had held back from her.
Because he
And God, she looked young. The makeup she had worn had made her look older, more
experienced. He knew she had been eighteen when they married, and he was suddenly
desperately aware of how young she had really been.
At twenty-six, she still looked like a kid without the shield of cosmetics to add maturity to her
still unlined face. But the grief was there. It was thick and dark in her eyes, in the tightly
controlled line of her lips, the stiff set of her shoulders before she disappeared beneath the car.
He drew in a deep hard breath as the mechanics stared back at him, watching him as Sabella
disappeared beneath the car. Their expressions were wary, part relief, part concern. They
weren't the same men who had worked here when he left, they were unknowns and unknowns
were always the enemy. And he would never forget that only one, the youngest, had stepped
forward to protect Sabella while the others stood back.
"She's not alone anymore," he growled, knowing the fury that roughened his voice now. "Get your asses in there and finish the work now, or get your stuff and get out. I want every vehicle
in that damned bay finished before any of you go home tonight, or the only one I want to see in
the morning is this one." He stabbed his finger imperiously toward Toby. "And your ass
belongs in the office, if I'm not mistaken."
Toby swallowed tightly, his brown eyes flickering in indecision toward the garage where
Sabella had disappeared. It was obvious he was more concerned about leaving her undefended
than he was about his job.
"Go, boy," he snarled. "We'll discuss details later." His gaze swung to the other men, watching as they shifted nervously, their oil-streaked expressions and wary eyes staying trained on him.
"Make your choice now," he snapped. "And make sure you make the right one."
He didn't wait for their decisions. He made for the garage, striding straight to the line of
clipboards on the workstation and grabbing the first one. It was time to get to work.
He wasn't fooling himself; after the others had left, Sabella would let that temper he knew she
had, erupt. He'd only seen it once before in their marriage. The day he had made the mistake of
telling her she couldn't do something.
She had taught him fast and hard exactly what happened when he tried to control her.
Control came naturally to SEALs. It was a part of who they were and what made them so
efficient. So it wasn't unexpected that the night she had arranged to meet some of her
girlfriends for drinks and dinner, he had told her she couldn't go. He wanted her home with
him. He'd been horny, and he wanted his wife. He didn't want her at the local watering hole
together with a bunch of women and the men there lusting after her.
She'd stared back at him silently for long moments then continued to inform him where she
would be and when she would be home.
Dammit, Bella, you can stay home tonight. With me.
He'd barely ducked in time to miss the salt shaker that had been aimed a little too close to his
head. Then his sweet, soft-spoken little Southern angel had erupted.
Flushed, furious, she had proceeded to lay down the law regarding their relationship, and by
time she stalked out of the house, ass twitching beneath her jeans like an enraged little hen, he'd
had his tail tucked between his legs despite the fact that he had informed her to just stay the
night with her damned friends. He'd be fine without her.
Two o'clock that morning, he'd driven around town until he found her car, parked at the house
of one of those friends. He'd carried his tipsy little wife out of the house, put her in his track,
and driven her home. And he'd never made that mistake again.
And now, after hearing that muted, smothered little sound from beneath the car, coming from
the woman he wondered if he had even known as his wife, he realized that there was a chance
Sabella had held as much back from him as he had held back from her.
Because he
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