Unprepared, bitter anger joined the fear blooming thick and hot, shattering my immobility. I lunged down the hall. My hand was within a hair’s breadth of
my walking stick when my forward momentum came to an abrupt halt. Fingers
bit into my upper right arm, spinning me around. Since my left arm remained free, I used the spin’s movement for an awkward elbow strike.
He leaned back. I missed, but he let go of my arm. However, his leg sweep
took me by surprise. The asshole knew which leg to target too.
The narrow hallway made it impossible to avoid crashing my shoulder into
the wall. A grunt escaped as I hit the ground. Mindless fury vied for a toehold,
but I beat it back. He might be bigger, but I fought dirtier. Down on the floor was not my first choice, but daring a quick glance behind me confirmed a few more
inches would even the odds. Scrambling back with awkward speed, I dodged the
hand set to lock around my ankle. I kicked and gained another inch.
His low, frustrated growl proved the needed impetus for my last desperate bid for my staff. A rough tug on my pant leg dragged me down the hall, and I almost lost my tentative hold on the staff.
Breath pummeled my chest, while claws of panic and resentment dug in
deep. Clutching the staff in both hands, I swung down. Not the strongest way to
hit, but it might buy me a chance to get back on my feet. If it hit his thick skull, so much the better.
He let go of my jeans and blocked the strike. Admiration for his quick
reflexes sparked on some weirdly disconnected level. Unfortunately, he grabbed
the other end and I soon found myself in a tug-of-war for the staff.
“Arden! Enough,” he barked out.
Old habits are a bitch to break, and his sharp command slapped me into
momentary stillness. Narrowing my eyes, I studied my opponent. The hair was
longer, the goatee was new, but the mocking anger in his face, that was all too
familiar. So was the stinging emotion I refused to recognize, but shoved into a deep, dark corner. “What the hell do you want?”
“Always so polite. Nice to see some things don’t change.” His sardonic tone
grated over my nerves like sandpaper.
“Screw you.” I yanked on the staff.
He arched an eyebrow. “Are you offering?”
“Not in this lifetime,” I snapped. “Let go, dammit.”
He smiled. “Promise not to brain me?”
I kept my mouth shut.
He must have seen something reassuring on my face, because he slowly let
go of the staff. Yanking it back, I put as much space as I could between us, only
to stop when my spine met the doorjamb. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, and settled against the hall wall, pulling his long legs up until his feet were flat on the floor. The flash of an impressive tattoo peeked from under the T-
shirt’s sleeve.
My gaze went to his wrists, looking for evidence he was behind Kelsey’s
attack. If so, all bets were off. They appeared scratch free.
I assured myself it wasn’t relief I felt as I studied him. I knew he was dangerous, but the knowledge did little to ease the ache of his presence.
Reminders of why this particular man didn’t deserve shit from me, and nothing
that he said could be trusted, ran through my head.
He stared back with a disconcerting intensity. He had the dark and dangerous
look down pat. It wasn’t his coloring. His sun-streaked brown hair just brushed
his collar, and his skin told of someone who enjoyed the outdoors, but the strong,
edgy aura surrounding him made me pause. So did the grim look in his navy-blue eyes, turning them darker than the impending clouds during monsoon
season.
I held his gaze and fought the urge to squirm as memories pressed close and
heat bloomed in my face.
“Should I pose for a picture?” His voice held a knowing edge that left me grinding my teeth in a mix of embarrassment and frustration.
Unwilling to reveal how deep he was wedged under my skin, I forced my
lips into a mockingly sweet smile. “Lieutenant Kayden Shaw.” Yeah, there was
enough scorn in that one name to get me in serious trouble if I cared or still wore
a uniform. Since I no longer did either, it didn’t matter. “Ever hear of knocking?”
