Maddox saw the app at the same time and blocked him when he started forward.
“I’ll handle this,” Maddox warned softly.
Miller, though, turned on Brewster. “You’re fucking surfing the internet during recon training?”
“It’s not for real,” Brewster spat, getting to his feet, fists clenched.
Zane could see it in the asshat’s eyes, Brewster wanted a piece of him.
“Give it your best shot.” Ice dripped from his words. “You’ll only get one.”
“Brewster, you’re out.” Maddox pinched the bridge of his nose.
“What?” The guy had a moment to look amazed, as if he hadn’t expected to be removed.
Apparently, the motherfucker hadn’t thought of anything past getting a hard on for some online date. Did Brewster seriously think he could get away with that during training for a shot at their team? A Special Forces unit that only accepted the best of the best?
“Christ,” Zane muttered.
“Are you kidding me?” Brewster gaped up at Infinity’s captain.
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Maddox’s tone changed, dropping low and lethal.
Nobody moved as Brewster grabbed his cell from the floor, rolled to his feet, and stomped from the training area.
Sweat soaked Zane’s shirt, the weight of his tactical gear and vest only making the room feel hotter. The whole facility normally ran warm, but today, the massive fans didn’t appear to be doing their job. His back hit the wall with a thud and he tore out his earpiece and unstrapped his vest.
“You’re dismissed, Sergeant Miller,” Maddox said.
“Sir,” Miller replied and left the room.
“I don’t know how Brewster got past the first round of cuts,” he muttered. Swiping a sleeve at the sweat running into his eyes, he followed Maddox down the stairs and out of the gray metal building.
“He tested high on the physical side.”
“And low on the brains.” Zane sucked in the crisp morning air, enjoying the slight breeze that swept through the small Army base. The base housed about a hundred soldiers at any given time.
Maddox chuckled and dropped into step walking across the asphalt to the main building.
“Oh hey, congratulations on your promotion, Master Sergeant.”
“Thanks.” Zane gave a rueful smirk.
Moving from Sergeant First Class to Master Sergeant came with a whole host of new responsibilities.
Isaac
One man’s history either defines him or sets him free.
Well, wasn’t that just poetic, he snorted under his breath and hunched his shoulders beneath his heavy jacket.
He twisted and then pulled a loose string from the army green material. Shifting in the seat of his SUV, he tried to ease the ache growing in his ass after an hour of sitting.
A silver sedan lurched into the driveway of the light gray-colored house that sat across the street, one house up from where he’d parked.
Just in case, he slouched further down into his seat, keeping his gaze locked on the visitor. The medical worker emerged from the car carrying several grocery bags. The nurse wore a brown bun set low on her neck and blue scrubs. She’d been hired by his brother and seemed capable enough.
The front door opened and an older woman emerged. She carefully shuffled her way to the top of the steps with one hand clutching the railing. She appeared frailer than he’d remembered.
Impatiently, he pulled his buzzing cell phone from his pocket and tucked it against his ear.
“Thorne,” he said, keeping his eyes on the older woman.
The pale pink housedress fluttered in the slight wind before settling at her knees, and matching slippers covered her feet. Good, at least this time, she wore shoes.
“Meet me at the shooting range,” his brother said.
“I need to pick up the food for the party,” he answered, eyes still locked on the front porch.
“That’s not until tomorrow.”
“I have to get the deli stuff.”
“Go shooting with me and I’ll help you with the shopping.”
“Where?” He hitched the phone higher between his chin and shoulder, gripping the wheel.
“What do you mean where?” Dillon asked, the frown in his brother’s tone coming through clearly over the phone.
His mother smiled at the woman and reached for the bags, but the nurse waved her away.
“Sometimes, we meet at the range by the colonel’s place and sometimes at the general’s house,” he responded absently.
“The general’s house? Don’t you mean my house?”
“I guess.”
He shifted higher in his seat for one last look as the nurse entered the house. His mother would follow and lock the door.
“So?” Dillon was growing impatient.
“K.”
“Where are you?”
“Nowhere.” He sat up fully, turned the key in the ignition, and the engine purred to life.
At the noise, she glanced his way, doing a double take and eyes widened when they locked with his.
He slammed the SUV into drive and peeled out.
His only fuck up was that he had to drive past her house to get out of the cul-de-sac.
With her hands covering her mouth, her gaze never wavered from his. He snarled past the lump growing in his throat.
“Isaac?” Dillon’s voice came from a distance since the phone had slipped. “What’s going on?”
He floored it, racing past his mother in the pale dress until she was nothing but a small speck in his rearview mirror. He juggled the phone back to his ear.
“Nothing. I’ll see you at the range.”
He ended the call and dropped the phone. It cracked against the plastic cup holder and bounced to the passenger side floorboard.
Unclenching his aching fingers from the wheel, he sucked in several deep breaths and swallowed until the knot lodged in his throat eased.
Although frail, she appeared well. He should have said something, anything. He should have stopped and at least gotten out of the car to say hello.
Nah, he couldn’t do that. Just picturing the blackened hallways and cracked floor tile inside the normal looking house made the breakfast he’d eaten that morning threaten to come up. The phantom odor of mold and Old Spice permeated the cab and he pulled over.
Jumping from the
