Forged in Fire Read online

  And Holly stood between him and an almost certain ass whooping that came in the form of a really big pissed off cowboy. Sal ground his teeth and headed over, never taking his eyes off her.

  Part of him wanted to throttle the ever-loving shit out of her for putting herself there. Pizarro wasn’t going to be a damn bit of help if Tex and his buddies decided to finish whatever Pizarro had started.

  “Look, I’m the unit first sergeant. I’ll give you my number, call on Monday and we’ll get the damages squared up. I can promise you Pizarro will pay for anything he damaged,” she said.

  “What seems to be the problem?” Sal said.

  Holly looked over, something dark and wild sparking in her eyes. “Pizarro decided to piss on Brian’s boots. I’m trying to keep Pizarro’s teeth in his head at this point.”

  “Brian?”

  She motioned to the big cowboy in front of her.

  “I’m his commander.”

  Brian the cowboy sneered and Sal caught a whiff of liquid courage on his breath. “I don’t give a fuck who you are. Shithead pissed on my brand new Tony Lamas.”

  “And he’ll replace them,” Sal said. The cowboy’s words were laced with threat. Sal stiffened and resisted the urge to reach for Holly and shove her behind him.

  “Goddamned right he will,” the cowboy said. “I’m going to take four hundred dollars out of his ass right now.”

  Holly stepped in front of the big cowboy when he tried to go around her. “The guy is obviously in the bag. You really want a piece of a guy who can barely stand up straight?”

  “I want my boots cleaned off.”

  Sal moved between Holly and the big cowboy. “Listen, bud. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The cops want Pizarro gone. I’m going to get him home. You can take my number and call me on Monday or you can get your teeth knocked in. Either way, you’re not having a go with Pizarro tonight.”

  Things did not go as Sal expected.

  * * *

  Holly was mildly irritated that Sal had opted to walk in at that exact moment. She’d just about convinced the big cowboy to take a walk, but the minute Sal showed up the situation transformed into a dick-measuring contest. Obviously, Holly came up short.

  But any hope she had of diffusing the situation took a turn for the worse when Sal decided to lay out the ultimatum. Brian the cowboy hauled off and took a swing at Sal, who dodged easily. Except that the cowboy’s buddies decided to jump into the fray.

  Holly remembered moving in front of Pizarro when one of Brian’s buddies dove for the intoxicated NCO and the next thing she knew, she’d been knocked into the bar. She scrambled to her feet and yanked one of the skinny cowboys back.

  She didn’t see his fist coming for her until it had already connected. Her jaw exploded with pain and black stars danced in front of her eyes.

  She went down without really thinking about it. Her brain screamed at her legs to stay upright but they were suddenly not listening. She sank to her knees as her eyes watered and blinded her to the fight going on around her.

  It was over before it began. The cops and bouncers decided they’d had enough and dragged Pissy Boots and his buddies out of the bar.

  There was a strong hand on her shoulder. She blinked and waited for her vision to clear, then suddenly wished she was anywhere but where she was.

  Sal was pissed. And worried.

  And it did interesting things to his eyes. “Can you stand up?” His voice was rough and jagged.

  She nodded and he helped her stand. She tried to rotate her jaw and stars erupted again. He led her to the bar and got a towel full of ice from the bartender. “Here.”

  He thrust it into her hand. Clearly, he was angry enough to reduce his vocabulary back to single-syllable words.

  Okay then. She held the ice to her throbbing jaw and swore a blue streak when it connected with the tender flesh. Her shoulder screamed in protest at the movement and she looked over to see her shirt was ripped. Damn it. This was her favorite white t-shirt.

  “Holy crap, Firs’ Sarn’t Washington?”

  Holly turned at the voice she wished she didn’t recognize. Sergeant Freeman—not looking anything remotely like the NCO Holly was accustomed to at work—leaned against the bar. Her hair was down, framing her face, her eyes lined with dark makeup. In the darkness, Holly could see the faint shadow of the black eye she had tried to camouflage. Freeman wore a low-cut lace tank top that glowed in the black lights and tight jean shorts that left little to the imagination. That was apparently a popular look for the country bar. More power to her. Holly was just insecure enough that she’d keep her ass in pants, thank you very much.

  “Sarn’t Freeman,” Holly managed, trying to ignore the fully pissed off Sal, over arguing with Pizarro.

  “Did you get in a fight?” Freeman asked, her eyes wide.

  “Not exactly. You wouldn’t happen to be here with Sarn’t Pizarro, would you?”

  Freeman’s gaze dropped to the ice that was currently numbing Holly’s jaw. “Can I answer that without getting in trouble?”

  She tripped over the word “trouble”, clueing Holly in to her level of intoxication.

  “I’m not actually interested in why you’re here with him. You’re violating your no-contact order. Again.” Holly frowned.

  “I’m his DD. I’m supposed to be taking him home tonight but he won’t leave.”

  “I don’t actually give a shit, Sarn’t Freeman. Get your ass back to the barracks right now. I’ll see you at my office tomorrow morning for your counseling statement. I’ve had just about enough of your do-what-you-want bullshit.”

  Freeman ground her teeth and for a moment, Holly thought the younger NCO was going to swing on her. Or stab her.

  But she turned and stomped out in a huff. She actually flipped her hair, too. If Holly hadn’t been so pissed, it might have been funny. Who the hell had ever made that soldier an NCO?

  Holly breathed out a deep breath as she touched the ice to her jaw again, just in time to see Sal jab a finger in Pizarro’s face and drag him outside. Holly followed, not needing to be in the bar any longer than she’d already been. Sal shoved Pizarro in a cab and barked something at the cab driver before he stalked back over to her.

  His eyes darkened as he looked at her holding the ice to her jaw. It was numb now, the cold taking the pain away for the moment. Hopefully it wouldn’t swell too much.

  She was not prepared for his reaction.

  16

  “Are you fucking stupid?” he snapped.

  She lifted both eyebrows and took a step back from the force of his anger. A thousand old memories snapped to life at his outburst and for a momentary flash, Holly was no longer standing in the middle of Texas but was back in Korea. Younger. More unsure.

  But just as ready to fight.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re a hundred fifty pounds if you’re soaking wet and you’re going to pick a fight with a guy twice your size?”

  Holly tipped her chin and pressed her lips into a flat line. “I had things under control until you showed up and started that dick-measuring contest,” she snapped.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’d damn near convinced Big Country in there to call me on Monday then you show up and all the testosterone starts flying and suddenly there’s a bar fight where there’d almost been an exchange of numbers.”

  “You think he wasn’t itching for a fight?”

  “I know he was,” she said. “But I was working on things. These country boys don’t like to hit girls. Screws up their sense of machismo. He was just trying to save face when you showed up. I mean, hell, Pizarro humiliated him by pissing on his boots in front of his girlfriend. The guy had a little bit of a reason to be pissed off.”

  “Don’t change the damn subject,” he barked. “You damn near got your head taken off.”

  “I was there, thanks,” she said. “Very much clear on what happened. And if it’s all th
e same to you, I’m going home now to get some more damn ice and some pain meds.”

  She turned toward her car, digging her keys from her front pocket.

  She was not prepared for him to stop her by stepping into her space.

  “We’re done here, Sal.”

  He stood too close. They were in the shadows on the edge of the building, away from the main entrance. Not private, not by a long shot, but out of the way since the crowd of people had migrated back inside the bar.

  "You’re hurt."

  “Again with you stating the obvious,” she said. “I’m going to take care of said hurt, if it’s all the same to you.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, his expression pained. Almost, she wanted to ask; almost she wanted to know what was going through his mind at that moment, but he had irritated her and at this point, she was out of fucks to give.

  “Holly.”

  There was pain in her name.

  She stopped. Looked up at him and said nothing.

  He said nothing for another impossible moment. “Let me take you to the hospital,” he finally said.

  She looked at him and tried to keep the crazy out of her expression. “You’re high, right? I’ve been through much worse.”

  “Which is why you need to get your head checked out.” She had the sense of still waters running very, very deep beneath the surface.

  She shook her head. “Thank you but I’m fine.”

  And of course, because her life was a goddamned cliché and the universe was screwing with her, a sudden wave of dizziness made her reach out, bracing her palm against his chest to stay upright. Her vision narrowed and damn near went black but Sal was there, in her space, his arm around her waist, holding her upright when she wanted nothing more than to stand on her own. Her weakness frustrated her, choking off her air until she struggled to breathe.

  “Holly.”

  There was something in his voice that called to her. That kept her still when she should be walking toward her car.

  She finally dared to meet his gaze.

  It floored her. The worry. The anger. A thousand unsaid things he lacked the words for were looking back at her.

  “At least let me keep an eye on you for a while,” he whispered.

  She couldn’t look away. Not from the fear. Not from the concern.

  Not from the something darker she saw beneath all of it.

  She needed to say no. She wanted to say yes.

  Instead, she let her aching jaw give her permission for something she badly wanted.

  She nodded, knowing she was damning them both and for once, not caring about the consequences.

  She let him lead her to his truck. Let him close the door. And closed her eyes as he drove them away from the sex and alcohol at Ropers to someplace quiet.

  Someplace where the rules were damn sure about to be left out in the cold.

  * * *

  He handed her ice for her lip and bit back the anger that threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to hurt the asshole who’d swung on her.

  To rail at her for not ducking faster.

  Instead, he lashed it back, pulling a cold beer out of the fridge and snapping the top.

  She hissed when the ice made contact with the slice in her lip. “This is going to hurt like a bastard tomorrow,” she said. Her voice was thick from the smoke inside the bar.

  “Probably.” He took a long pull off the beer, needing the delay to fully drag his temper under control.

  When he lowered the can, he found her watching him silently, the ice pack against her lip. She was fierce, his first sergeant, a fearless warrior who strode headlong into battle without thinking about the consequences.

  Those consequences had him pissed at the moment. She wasn’t his. He had no right to feel this wild possession toward this woman.

  But when he’d seen that asshole haul off and deck her, he’d stopped seeing things rationally. There had been no more separation between First Sergeant and Holly.

  It had been Holly who’d been hit. Holly who’d held her own against a man twice her size until the bouncers dragged him out of the bar to the waiting police.

  Who’d placed her hand on his chest and stopped him from going after the soldier who’d hit her while she’d been doing her job and trying to get their boys out of the fight.

  “You’re pretty wound up,” she said after a moment, finally looking away.

  “What gave it away?” His voice was ragged.

  The words he needed were missing in action, left back at the bar on the sawdust-covered floor.

  “The way you’re crushing the life out of that beer can.”

  He looked down, setting the can on the counter before he finished destroying it. “Touché,” was all he could manage.

  “So are you going to say anything or continue in single-word sentences for the rest of the night?”

  “You need to go to the hospital.”

  “We have to get beyond this tendency to repeat ourselves.” She shook her head, her eyes darkening. “I’ve been through worse. I’m fine.”

  “You may have a concussion.”

  “I know, imagine that? Someone tries to take my head off and it turns out that first sergeants aren’t actually God. It’s the end of the world for sure. Dogs and cats living together and all that.”

  He said nothing for a long moment. Watching her. Absorbing how she looked in that instance. The white t-shirt ripped at the shoulder. Her hair hanging soft and messy around her face.

  He’d never seen her with her hair down. It struck him at that moment that she was there, just there and with her hair down, there was a vulnerability to her now that he didn’t know what to do with. She was close enough for him to reach out and touch her. There was no one to see, no one to spread rumors and lies about what she meant to him.

  It was complicated. Infinitely so.

  But looking at her then, seeing the evidence of the fight on her body, he had another urge. A desire that had nothing to do with the army or what she was to him during the duty day and everything that she was to him in that moment.

  A woman. His, even though she probably wouldn’t appreciate the direction of his thoughts.

  He watched her watching him try to get his temper under control. Any other woman would have left him to burn off steam on his own. But she stayed. Leaning against his counter in his kitchen.

  Even bruised and battered, she was lush and sexy and everything he’d ever dreamed of in one beautiful woman.

  He took a step into her space until she was captured between the island and his body. He felt the motion of the air from her sharp intake of breath. He cupped her cheek, her skin smooth and soft beneath the roughness of his touch. He tipped her chin to inspect her lip, waiting for her to pull away.

  He rubbed his thumb gently over her bottom lip, careful to avoid the split. Her lips parted, a quiet huff of breath. “I’m supposed to tell you that seeing you get hit didn’t bother me. That I didn’t want to rip his spine out for hurting you.” He urged her lips apart a little more. Rubbed his top lip against hers. Gently, so gently. “I’m not that liberated,” he whispered against her lips.

  “So I take it your sense of humor is missing at the moment?” A hush of breath against his mouth. Forced lightness.

  He lowered his forehead to hers. “I can’t laugh about this.”

  Her hands slipped between them, resting on his upper arms. He braced for her to put them between them, to put the barrier he desperately needed back between them.

  But instead, they curled into his flesh and she leaned against him. Just a little. Just enough.

  He breathed out, relief and desire captured in that single gesture. He cupped her cheeks gently, so gently. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered.

  She slid her hands up, her palms cool against the fire burning beneath his skin, until they rested against his pulse. She met his gaze, her eyes dark and dilated. “Don’t stop,” she whispered.

  A violent sound rumble
d deep in his chest. Something primitive and raw and hungry.

  He brushed his lip against hers, questioning. Giving her time to change her mind.

  But it was Holly who surprised him and took the lead, parting her lips and sliding her tongue against his. A gentle stroke, teasing them both.

  A shudder ran through her and into him. He captured the sensation, clinging to everything it suggested and a thousand things that went unsaid in that moment.

  He leaned back, cradling her cheek in his palm, savoring the warmth of her skin beneath his touch.

  “This is going to be complicated,” she whispered.

  “We can stop.” He brushed his lips against hers, wanting, needing, but willing, no matter how much it hurt, to stop if she said the word.

  “We should.” She met his gaze. “It would be the responsible, adult thing to do.”

  A piece of his heart died a little with her words.

  She scooted up onto the island, spreading her thighs to urge him between them, then hooking her feet behind his hips.

  “I’m tired of always being responsible,” she whispered against his mouth.

  17

  It was dangerous and stupid to be there with him. Dangerous for both of them. For their careers.

  For her heart.

  But then again, she’d been fighting this thing, whatever it was, for him since she’d first seen him in the brigade headquarters. There was a darkness to Sal Bello but in that darkness, there was a purity. A certainty of purpose that made her heart ache and her blood burn.

  He pressed against her now, rocking gently against her as he sipped at her lips, driving her slowly crazy with the soft, sensual slide of his lips against hers. His soft bottom lip was infinitely smooth against hers. The pain from the punch faded beneath his sensual onslaught—a patient siege, breaking her down until she was nothing but sensation, raw and needy.

  He slipped his hands down her ribs, framing her belly for a moment. The warmth from his touch heated her skin, a delicious heat that made her squirm against him. His fingers slid over her abdomen before lifting the torn white shirt inch by aching inch higher until he tugged it over her head.