Sean balled his fists and stepped forward, leading the offense rather than playing defense.
“I wouldn’t do that,” a second voice called out from the red sports car.
The female soldier who had run from the building stood by the passenger door, pistol aimed over the roof at Sean.
Nope. Not fun at all.
The back of Sean’s mind tried to spin up images of the last time he’d been unarmed and cornered, of the nightmarish days that followed, but he swallowed the fear and refused to give in. That was last time. This time, he had to win. His life wasn’t the only one to consider.
And he had orders of his own.
Sirens spun up in the near distance, stealing the two assailants’ attention for the brief second Sean needed. “Run!” He fired the word over his shoulder to Jessica, hoping she’d obey.
Her attacker was already in motion, diving through the door of the car before Sean could even get traction to follow him. As soon as his accomplice was inside, he floored the vehicle in a spray of gravel as the scene exploded, a military police cruiser roaring into the parking lot as two more soldiers ran around the corner of the building.
Sean waved an arm toward the sports car and yelled to the police. “That’s them! Go!” The car hesitated, and then took off in pursuit. Satisfied the officers had things in hand, Sean turned his attention to the woman he was supposed to be keeping an eye on.
Jessica Dylan sagged against the chain-link fence, fingers laced through the metal as she watched the car roar away. The instant she realized he was watching, she straightened and tugged the hem of her jacket, her face rearranged into an impassive mask.
This was a soldier who wanted him to know she was fully in control. No victim here.
Before he could reach her, the two soldiers who’d raced from the building swarmed her, but Staff Sergeant Dylan waved them off. “I’m fine.” She turned on two of the younger soldiers, eyeing them with an expression Sean hoped he never saw aimed in his direction. “Explain to me how Specialist Channing got into the company building when it was locked.”
Must be staff duty. And one of them had made a huge mistake. For their twenty-four-hour shift, those guys were responsible for manning the area and making sure everything stayed safe and low-key. From walking the battalion to answering the phones, they were the first line of defense. Sean would like to know the answer to how this all went down right in front of them, as well.
One of the soldiers stepped forward and Sean angled to read his name. Specialist Thompson. “I had stepped away to take a message to Captain Alexander. My runner was at the desk.”
Staff Sergeant Dylan tipped her head toward the younger soldier, a Private Meyers. “So you let her in?”
“She needed to drop something off in your office, so I let her in and came back to my post. I didn’t think it was a big deal.” Private Meyers kept his gaze just over Jessica’s shoulder.
Sean couldn’t blame the kid for not looking at her. He was facing a world of hurt leaving the desk unmanned and giving access to a soldier on the very day trouble went down. Sean stepped closer, drawing Staff Sergeant Dylan’s attention again, and she stepped away from the other soldiers to approach him, left hand extended, the only indication she’d been through trauma: a slight tremor in her fingers.
“I’m Staff Sergeant Jessica Dylan.” She grasped his fingers tightly in hers, her hand chilled from the elements and likely mild shock. “Thanks for stepping in.”
Something was wrong. Sean released her hand and eyed her carefully. “Most people I know extend their right hands, Staff Sergeant. Are you injured?” The way she angled her shoulder slightly back was a telltale sign. He looked past her to the two soldiers trudging back toward their post. “Private Meyers, call for an ambulance.”
“Meyers.” Jessica Dylan pulled herself taller and turned her back to Sean. “Do not. I’m fine.”
Meyers and the other soldier hesitated, and then seemed to choose their own chain of command over the random stranger, turning to walk back toward the building. Only Private Meyers cast an uncertain, slightly amused glance back at them.
She whirled on him so fast she wavered on her feet. “I don’t know who you are, but I said I’m fine.” Her eyes swept the rank on his chest, and she seemed a little prideful to find it equal to hers: Staff Sergeant.
Holding his hands up in surrender, Sean took a step back, giving her space before she took out her anger and fear on him.
“I’m fine, by the way. Just took a dive into the wall shoulder first. I’ll have it checked out, and I’m sure it will be bruised tomorrow but none the worse for wear.” She met his eyes with authority. “Again, thank you. I don’t know what made you do it, but I appreciate the help.” Without looking back, she turned and walked away.
The help? He took two steps to follow her, then stopped, unsure whether he should reveal his mission yet or not. Based on all he’d seen in the past five minutes, that man would have killed her. Without Sean, Jessica Dylan would be dead.
Shoulder throbbing with a very new and totally unwelcome kind of pain, Jessica sank to the wooden bench by the side door in her house and bent to unlace her boots, wishing the pain meds would kick in and give her relief.
“At least the doctor said nothing’s broken.” Her roommate, Angie Hunter, slipped off her shoes and kicked them under the bench.
Jessica had to dodge to keep her ankle from being pierced by heels so tall that airport security would likely consider them weapons. “At this point, I think I’m past caring.” She’d toughed it out in front of everybody, not wanting to get carted off in an ambulance like a weak female, but the pain had finally driven her to make sure the injury wasn’t more than it seemed. All she needed was a pointless injury to sideline her career. The doctor at the emergency room had assured her nothing was torn or broken, but he had told her to take it easy for a few days. Hopefully, his prognosis on how long the pain would last was wrong.
Stowing her boots under the bench, Jessica followed Angie into the small kitchen at the back of the house, letting a deep breath of the familiar spicy scents wash over her and ease some of the weirdness from her day. This room, with its cheery yellow walls and white cabinets, was her happy place, the one spot in the whole world where nothing could touch her. Running her hands along the cool granite of the counter, she thanked God again for leading her to a roommate who had gourmet decorating tastes, if not gourmet cooking skills.
“Hungry?” Angie pulled open a cabinet door and stood staring into the contents as though she knew what to do with them.
“You’re cooking? I’ll pass.” Jessica leaned back against the counter. No matter who was cooking, food didn’t sound appetizing with the pain in her shoulder twisting a knot in her stomach. Or maybe that knot had more to do with the fact Channing and her cohort were still out there somewhere, having eluded the MPs and slipped off post before the order came through to tighten security at the gates.
“I make a mean can of tomato soup, I’ll have you know.” Thumping the can on the counter, Angie reached up and pulled her blond hair into a ponytail, securing it with a hair band she slid from her wrist. “You should eat something.”
“I’m good. All I want is a shower and my bed.”
“Maybe you’ll dream about your mystery protector.” Two years younger than Jessica, Angie thought everything was romantic. Knowing her, she was wishing she had been the one facing down a bad guy while a handsome hero rushed to save her.
Reality was nothing like the fantasy. Jessica would roll her eyes, but she was afraid she’d fall asleep halfway through. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“Just