Son of a bitch.
Struggling not to scream or toss my chair at him, I chose to make a hasty exit. I stood and tried to walk away as gracefully as I was could. Unfortunately, after I’d ventured down the staircase, I was forced to hobble to the sliding glass door. The crisp air-conditioned condo was exactly as I left it, everything neat and in its proper place. I briefly wondered what Carter would think if I went on a demolition and ruined the entire decorative flow.
A little dent in the plaster here, a lamp tossed there.
Perfecto!
I rounded the corner and slammed into a hard, steel-like form. In an instant, I was sent off course. Thankfully, my fucked-up right knee held out for a change. With a simple realignment of my posture, I remained on my feet. I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful I wasn’t mopping the floor with my ass.
“You’re the new one.”
I lifted my head and studied the woman I’d bumped into.
At least, I thought it was a woman.
The individual was dressed in the fugly camouflage pants everyone seemed to love, a thin black wife beater and combat boots. Guns protruded from holsters strapped under muscular arms and large hunting knives rested along a ribbed waist.
I did a double take.
His or her features were definitely feminine—full lips, pert nose and dainty chin—but the illusion of femininity was ruined by caramel brown hair that had been cropped incredibly short. With the lean, rippling muscles along her tanned shoulders and arms that would do a man proud, I didn’t feel embarrassed I couldn’t identify her gender immediately. I met the woman’s stare and folded my arms over my chest. She-Ra was a good three or four inches taller than me and could probably kick my ass considering I was lame and lacking her firepower, but I’d be damned if I backed down.
When in doubt, hold your head up high.
“I think they should let you go back,” she said softly as she moved closer, leaning in so I heard her loud and clear. “You deserve to rot.”
“It’s a wonderful day in the neighborhood. Hello and greetings, fellow neighbor. What’s your name? I’m Rhiannon,” I replied, giving her a snarky wave and bow. “Top of the morning to you.”
“Bitch,” she snarled.
Fabulous.
In a matter of seconds, I’d made an enemy.
I braced myself to fight, my senses on hyper-alert.
“Jax.” Carter’s voice resonated through the room. I wasn’t aware he’d been eavesdropping. I pivoted on my good leg to glance at him before I returned my focus to GI Jane. “What are you doing here?” he questioned, slamming the sliding door closed behind him. “You didn’t request a formal consultation.”
“She thinks you should let me go back.” I turned my back to Carter and smiled at Jax. If he wanted to keep me here, I’d make him suffer. I inched in closer, whispering to the she-man across from me, “Personally, I think that’s a fine idea. I’ve been trying to talk Mr. Serious over there”—I hiked my thumb in Carter’s direction—“into giving it consideration. So far, he’s not listening. Maybe you can change his mind?”
“I asked you a question, Jackson,” Carter barked from just over my shoulder. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”
She didn’t avert her focus from my face, reaching for the bag resting across her chest. She pulled it loose, lifted it over her head, and threw it at my feet. “Quinn told me to bring her clothing to wear until she collected some of her own.”