W
hen I return to the range, there’s no one there. At first, irritation flickers that Sarge couldn’t stay put for a whole thirty minutes, but then I look at my watch and realize it was more like an hour. Shit. I glance at the service bars on my phone that are nowhere near consistent – ranging from zero to one – but that doesn’t mean I’m any less irritated by their up and disappearing.
So where in the hell are they? I try to figure out the most logical place for Sarge to take her, but I come up with nothing. Add the fact that neither is answering their cell phone because their cell reception probably sucks as badly as mine.
But the more I start searching for them in places near the range without any luck, my mind keeps going to Sarge’s comments about how attractive she is.
Hell yes, I’m an asshole for the suspicion that they could be off sleeping together somewhere, but my temper doesn’t fucking care. I start poking my head into random buildings, half expecting to get my ass chewed out for it and frankly not really caring. Both of their numbers are on constant repeat on my damn phone and still no answer.
By the time I’ve searched a seventh building only to come up empty-handed, the temper I try so fucking hard to keep under control is boiling over. So I make myself stop for a moment and wonder why in the hell I am so worked up… Why am I letting this get to me? First of all, I have no claim to her. Secondly, she’s a grown woman? able to make her own decisions regardless of how wrong they seem to me. Like sleep with me and the next night turn around and sleep with someone else. I remember meeting Beaux a few mornings ago in the stairwell dressed in her clothes from the night before.
I stop in the middle of the street and blow out a breath as I rake my hand through my hair. I just plopped her on a base of horny men and walked away. What was I thinking? My anger turns inward as worry starts to take over. I search a few more bungalows before I hear her laugh behind closed doors followed by a man’s laugh. In full big-brother mode I jog to the door, my imagination running wild in a way that adds fuel to my temper. When I pull the door open without knocking, what I expected and what I see couldn’t be more different.
There’s a room of about twenty soldiers, and Beaux is standing in the middle getting instructions from one of them on how to aim the dart in her hand properly at the dartboard on the wall opposite them. Her back is to me; her attention is on the fresh-faced kid while his hand is on hers, showing her the proper technique. The flash of jealousy that streaks through me instantly more than pisses me off.
“Okay, guys,” she says, rolling her shoulders to make an innocent production of it all in a comical way. She garners a few chuckles from the men around her who appear mesmerized by her. It’s not a hard thing to be, considering my boots are rooted to the ground as I watch the show. She shoots and misses, laughter falling from her lips as the guys stumble around her to help pick the dart up.
The guys reach out to touch her shoulders and arms – a pat on the back, a helping hand – all seemingly innocent; but I’m a guy. I know what’s probably running through their minds, and a single touch is way too many for my liking. So when she lifts her head and locks eyes with me, I stop in my tracks even though I’ve got one foot out to move forward. There’s something in the exchange that unnerves me: her soft smile, the fact that she’s looking at me when all of these men are vying for her attention. I don’t understand it exactly, but the minute it hits me, I hate it.
“You ready?” My voice comes out in an authoritative tone, causing the conversations in the room to die around us as my posture alone lets it be known that she’s with me. Exactly what I want them to think.