Under Fire, page 8
She took a deep breath as he knocked, not hesitating to open it, and push her inside a loud room full of striking, energized people—people that she wouldn’t have anything in common with. It felt like everyone in that space was lively and social—and relaxed. That was the exact moment where Alisa’s body tensed into an ice cube. She just wanted to melt back into her textbooks, melt back into her apartment—where it was safe, where things wouldn’t change. Everything in her mind screamed—what was she doing?
Get out.
“Sir.” A young-looking man nodded at Warren as they entered.
Curt, Warren greeted him, along with many other young men who stood stiffly, respectfully acknowledging what Alisa could only guess was their superior officer. Most of them seemed partially in shock that he was even before their eyes. In fact, as Warren escorted her through the throngs toward the back of the house, it occurred to Alisa that Warren appeared to be superior in rank to…all the men.
Her gaze flitted up to him, the realization dawning on her. He was used to being in charge. And, if that wasn’t going to turn her crank all the way up, she didn’t know what would. Suddenly, she felt the metal of her engagement ring burning her skin, hidden underneath her dress. Don’t feel guilty. Dean has cheated on you since the day he gave you this.
Finally, they found their way into the kitchen, and some drunken blonde woman screamed. “Warren!”
The woman raised her arms, clearly already drunk. She ruthlessly pushed her friends aside, angling to wrap her arms around him, flipping her blonde hair back as she did.
“You came! Crash isn’t going to believe it,” the woman said.
“Jen.” He offered one sharp icy nod and promptly tugged Alisa into him.
“Oh, right.” Jen stopped dead in her tracks, surprise flashing across her perfectly painted face, but corrected herself and offered a fake bright white smile.
“Gaudet mentioned that you have a girlfriend?”
“Yeah, this is Alisa,” Warren said. His arm remained protectively across her.
Before Alisa could open her mouth, she was already being assaulted.
“So nice to meet you. Have you met anyone?” Jen grabbed Alisa’s hand without so much as asking, foisting her into a group of women hovering around the kitchen island.
Alisa fell into the edge of the quartz, observing the disapproving faces of the women surrounding it. They all looked pretty damn similar. They all looked like So-Cal girls. She felt immediately like an outcast, despite having been born and raised in LA.
“This is Warren’s new girlfriend.” Jen smirked, as if feeding her to the hounds. “Have fun.”
Then Jen flicked her long, bleached hair, spinning back to Warren and yanking him away as she loudly exclaimed that they would go see her fiancé. Alisa felt like a puppy being dropped off, wondering if she’d ever see him again. His gaze darted back to Alisa, mouthing that he’d be back in a minute.
Just be cool. Only a minute.
Alisa’s heart rate rose even higher, and she wasn’t totally sure she’d last long. Turning back to the group of women, she felt her anxiety screaming higher and higher. She danced her fingers on the quartz, looking for interesting textures.
One of the women at the island flashed pictures of her baby at the group, talking about it had just hit a milestone or something. The chatter continued, and Alisa struggled to keep track. As someone pushed a glass of white wine at her, she tried to decode the last comment made, but the women kept moving through topics—babies, mothering, daycare.
“How many do you want?” A brunette turned to Alisa, raising her eyebrow and looking in the direction where Warren had gone. “Fine stock like him, I’d think you’d want to have as many as you can.”
“Have as many…what?” Alisa tilted her head, a little confused.
“Babies!” Another woman laughed, as if Alisa couldn’t be serious.
The other women around the island chuckled, and Alisa found herself shaking her head. She should have just lied to them, but she didn’t. She didn’t fake it. And that was her first mistake.
“I don’t want any,” Alisa said.
Her words were met by radio silence. In fact, several of the other women’s mouths dropped. Alisa cringed, hating her own reply. They don’t understand.
“I’m just not like that,” Alisa added, as if she had to defend herself.
“Does he know that?” The brunette confronted her, eyes wide open, searching between Alisa and the hallway where Warren went. “I’d disclose that upfront, if I were you.”
Alisa shook her head, unsure how to respond. She chewed her lip and finally just admitted, “I’m more career focused. That’s my thing.”
But around the island, they did not seem to buy in. Eyes glazed over, and she could tell she was being rejected. Then the chittering started.
“Wow, I didn’t expect he’d go for that. His last girlfriend was like Miss Homemaker,” said one.
Another leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s like a totally different person now.”
“Well, I made a choice to give up my career and focus on supporting Travis,” said a woman with dark blonde hair. She proudly beamed at the rest of the ladies. “That was the only way it would work since we wanted kids. He’s a real family man, always has been.”
“I knew what I was getting into when I married a SEAL,” another agreed, then let out a girlish giggle, clearly a little tipsy.
“You can’t have three young kids, a husband on back-to-back deployments and still make partner at the firm,” the first chimed back in, cutting Alisa completely out of the conversation. “Unless you want your kids to be raised by a nanny, which I don’t.”
Alisa opened her mouth to say something but realized she had been forgotten. She felt her body floating backward into the empty space in the kitchen. Alisa could just barely hear that the conversation between the women went on without her at the island, and she was thankful for that. She wanted to stop being seen.
Zoning out, Alisa gulped back whatever wine was left in her glass. She winced at thoughts running wild through her mind. As much as she’d left the island, she’d promptly created her own—an island of one. Hovering by herself, hoping to disappear, she gazed around, mortified that Warren would catch her being anti-social. People were talking, drinking, laughing everywhere around her. What are they talking about? How am I supposed to talk to them? Her gaze darted from left to right, finding herself increasingly disconnected from the present.
She felt motionless, suspended in mid-air, observing a room she wasn’t really in. She couldn’t drum up the energy to paint on a fake smile. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She didn’t want anyone to talk to her. She just wanted to be alone, in the middle of that loud, busy party. So, she cowered—afraid of what that meant.
“Hey.” A warm, strong hand pressed onto her lower back.
She flinched and turned to find Warren’s ice-blue eyes bearing into her.
“You okay?” he asked.
Her head bobbed, but her lips remained sealed. Clutching her empty wine glass for dear life, she felt the urge to run, even from him. He assessed her quickly and moved to tow her down the hallway.
“Come with me,” he said.
As he dragged her, he absently addressed men along the way while they deferred to him. It was like he was a damn celebrity. Gazes drifted to her with questioning looks that told her everything.
I’m not the fake girlfriend this man needs.
In less than a minute, Warren had her outside in a dark spot on the backyard porch. He moved her body as he wished. Pushing her against the hard beam of a pagoda, Warren leaned in, concentrating. She tried to reconnect to the world, but she couldn’t. She shook her head, her gaze still off in the distance, finding stars on the horizon that she never saw in the city. She felt too self-conscious to even look at him.
“What’s going on?” Warren’s sincerity pushed through the fog in her brain.
“Nothing.”
“Liar. Tell me.” He traced his familiar, rough-feeling hand up her cheek, brushing stray hair off her sensitive skin. “Is this about the wives? Did they rake you over the coals?”
“Maybe. If it was a test, I failed.”
He let out an honest laugh. “You know, I like you because you’re different.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re Mr. Perfect.”
“Damn, couldn’t be more wrong.”
Her gaze shot up to him, confused. His hand never left her cheek, moving it down to hold her jaw in that firm, controlling way she liked. She fell into his touch as he wrapped both of his arms around her. It was the hug she needed, and she closed her eyes as she inhaled his masculine scent.
“Now, I didn’t give you permission to whine, did I?” he growled into her hair. “So, you better smarten the fuck up before I show you what happens to girls who defy me…”
His threat washed over her, reminding her of the game they’d once played. She felt something brighten in her chest, but her lips remained a hyphen. Unwilling to let go, he ran his hands up and down her back, finding her ass and squeezing it hard. She flinched with the momentary pain but felt a rush of arousal. She flickered her eyelashes up to him and bit her lip, wordlessly begging for more.
“You want me to hurt you,” he said, reaching up to grab her hair for leverage. He angled her lips to him. “I know you do.”
A little grin crossed her lips, and she was unable to hold it in.
“Yes, Sir,” she prayed, feeling his heat steep through her body.
In a second, he’d managed to flick a switch in her, reconnecting her to reality.
“You want it rough.”
“I want to feel something,” she admitted, biting her lip as she watched heat flush up his neck.
Loud voices spilling out onto the backyard patio interrupted them, and despite being in a dark spot, a couple of guys caught them. Warren exhaled, giving her one last, sly look. He then escorted her by her waist into the well-lit patio where drinks were starting to flow again. She felt herself ease up with him firmly by her side. It was certainly enjoyable to watch how he interacted with his team.
Unfortunately, the vibe shifted as Jen and her fiancé, Crash, joined the group on the patio, making a big show out of sloppily kissing each other in front of everyone. The resulting cheers told Alisa that almost everyone at the party was drunk—everyone except her and Warren. They’d clearly arrived a little too late, a little too sober. And she didn’t intend on changing that.
Then a guy she recognized stumbled through the circle toward Warren and Alisa. It was that same fit guy with receding brown hair and a face full of mischief who had shown up in Warren’s backyard.
“Chief, you made it,” the guy slurred. “And Crash was just about to cancel me as the best man. I told him I’d get you here—and he didn’t fucking believe me.”
“Gaudet.” Warren gave a curt nod. He seemed about to say something more but stopped himself.
Alisa analyzed the two men, curious what that was about. She didn’t have to wonder long.
“It’s a big deal for the guys that you showed up.” Gaudet motioned to the party, clearly starting a drunken rant. “I kept telling them that I got you.”
Alisa could practically sense Warren recoil in that same unease she’d felt earlier. She couldn’t tell if it was because he was surrounded by his drunken subordinates or the aggressive guy standing before him. Whichever it was, Warren’s body language was shifting.
Gaudet’s rambling didn’t stop. “And you being here? Makes us feel like you actually give a shit about us—as people, not just warm bodies.”
The comment came across backhanded, and Alisa didn’t miss how Warren’s eyebrow quirked.
“Obviously, I give a shit,” Warren said. He tightened his grip on her waist, drawing her closer against his body as Jen circled with a full glass of wine.
Gaudet turned to Alisa, gesturing to Warren. “You with this guy? He’s a fucking beast.”
“Her name’s Alicia,” Jen said in a fake Latina accent, lunging in. Wine sloshed against her expensive-looking dress, but she was too fixated to notice.
Warren shot an unimpressed look, and she felt him tensing. Alisa kept her mouth shut, scanning quickly for escape routes.
“I didn’t know you were dating,” Jen said.
“He doesn’t tell us anything,” Gaudet said.
“So, where is your family from?” Jen asked, focusing on Alisa.
“Why does that matter?” Warren started.
Alisa took a deep breath, knowing what the woman was after and hating those conversations more than anything. Warren tugged at her to turn them away, like she didn’t have to answer, and they could just bolt. But something stopped Alisa. She put her hand on his bicep, stilling him, and the silent look she gave Warren only seemed to rile Jen up.
Unbalanced, Jen continued to eye Alisa up and down, pointing a finger at her. “Aren’t you a Mexican?”
“No, I’m not Mexican,” Alisa explained slowly. “I’m American.”
“But where are your parents from?” Gaudet pointed at her golden-brown skin, demanding answers.
“That’s enough.” Warren waved his hand over the group.
Gaudet stepped forward. “No, really—I just am curious.”
“My father had Scottish heritage, my mother was from India,” Alisa relented, crossing her arms protectively.
She was used to shielding herself, and the topic of her deceased parents wasn’t a happy one.
“Oh, Warren—how exotic.” Jen smirked. “All the way from India.”
Alisa felt her jaw tighten and heard Warren grumble about why he didn’t go to parties. The way he pulled again at her waist told her it was time to go.
“So, wait.” Gaudet laughed, his drunken mind seeming to process. “Like, you’re from India?”
“My—” Alisa started to correct.
“And how’d y’all meet?”
“It’s—”
Gaudet cut her off, pointing at Warren. “So, like, is he your owner?”
Everything stopped. Everyone else in the circle sucked in breath, some people gasping.
Warren took one big step forward, right into Gaudet’s space. “What the fuck—?”
Laughing, Gaudet didn’t get it. “Like, she’s your slave and you’re her—”
Warren drove his hard, fierce fist forward, landing square on Gaudet’s smirking face, knocking the words right out of him. Standing over the top of the man as his body crashed to the ground, Warren snarled down, flexing and clearly ready for more if the body so much as flinched.
Alisa stumbled backward, gasping for air. What the hell had just happened? A familiar choking feeling swarmed up her neck.
Warren spun back to her, wrapping his arm around her, and moved her swiftly beside the house toward the long driveway. Heated voices flooded the backyard as they marched away, silent. Determined, he dragged her, until her heel got stuck in the packed desert ground. He wasted no time hauling her up into his arms. If she expected sympathetic, caring eyes, all she got was a cold expression briefly flashed at her before concentrating on the horizon. She closed her eyes, sinking into his chest. He was done. She felt that.
So am I.
Bobbing in his arms, she wiped a few fallen tears from her cheek. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t process. She felt cold inside. Gazing up into his face, intensity painted across it, a part of her still wished he’d connect with her once more, just like at the pagoda.
But that Warren was gone.
Chapter Eleven
Warren
He was going to kill that motherfucker. Warren snarled in silence as he drove into the parking lot of Alisa’s apartment. Gaudet—what a fucking joke.
Warren couldn’t even describe his level of anger. He had stewed silently for the entire hour’s drive back to the city, with Alisa cold and broken beside him. He gritted his teeth as fury coursed steadily through his veins. He should have listened to his instincts and avoided the party—kept Alisa to himself all night to kick off their seven-day deal.
But there they were. And every second that passed since they’d left the party, he had grown more and more incensed. Though, if he were to be honest with himself, that rage had been simmering since he’d been promoted…and had been forced to train the new guys. They were a different breed than him. Half of them didn’t deserve the trident. And guys like Gaudet? Well, they were fucking pieces of shit.
The Navy SEAL lifestyle brand—that’s all the new guys gave a fuck about. Warren clenched his jaw as he slammed his truck into park in the empty, dark parking lot. Pussy, money, status—new recruits didn’t care about the old ways. They didn’t know one thing about quiet honor, serving the country for the good of it and not for a fucking tell-all book deal. Hollywood just wanted them to parachute out of helicopters onto red carpets, but that wasn’t the way it used to be.
With his hands still tense on the steering wheel, Warren shot a look across the bench. Alisa remained still, curled up against the door, clearly desperate to get away. She was hurting. He could clearly see it. But, what the fuck could he say?
He was who had exposed her to that. He was sorry that a guy like Gaudet wore the trident. And he was going to beat the actual shit out of anyone supporting that mentality. Hell, he was going to beat the shit out of any guy who didn’t get it—being a SEAL meant pissing excellence, personally and professionally. He’d accept nothing less.
The truck motionless and quiet, Alisa glanced across the bench at him, unclicking her seatbelt slowly, as if she’d just woken from a long, slow nightmare. He felt how distant she’d become again, but he understood why.
“I should go,” she said.
He couldn’t find a reply, too angry to get words out. She gazed away, resigning herself to focus anywhere else as she pushed open the door. Watching her edge out, something inside him lit on fucking fire.
“No,” he snapped, seizing her backward, causing the door to slam shut in the process.
He hauled her body across the front bench, staring down into her eyes.
