Tactical Strike by Kaylea Cross Read Free Book Online

, Went , his laughing blue eyes said. Talk yourself out of that one .
    When he looked back at her, Candace was still spearing him with
that intense gaze. He let out a deprecating half chuckle. “Okay, I think I know
where you’re going with this. You believe he has the right to free speech, et
cetera, et cetera, and that we’re over here defending his Constitutional
rights?”
    One golden brow arched upward. “Something like that, yeah.”
    “Fair enough.” Much as he liked sparring with her, he didn’t
want to piss her off to the point that she avoided him completely. That wouldn’t
be any fun and it wouldn’t get him any closer to her. Because he wanted to get
much closer. He nodded at her coffee, which she’d already polished off. “Can I
get you another one? Maybe a decaf this time so you can sleep?”
    Inexplicably, the flush in her cheeks deepened. “I can take
care of myself, thanks.”
    “Whoa, I never meant otherwise.” Jesus, she really did think he was an asshole.
    Cam coughed and looked pointedly elsewhere. Jackson seemed to
be hiding a wince behind his paper. Ryan rubbed the back of his neck, again
struggling with the feeling he was about to go under and neither of his buddies
were coming to his aid. Pretty bad when a couple of Pararescuemen wouldn’t lift
a finger to help him.
    Before he could figure out what the hell to say to diffuse her
annoyance, she squared her shoulders and stepped past him. “I’d better get
going. Excuse me.” She didn’t look at him but nodded at Cam. “See you later.
Tell Dev I send my love.”
    “Will do. Take care of yourself,” Cam answered, shooting Ryan a
you’ve-got-to-be-fucking-kidding-me look.
    Ryan stood there floundering like an idiot while she walked
away, totally bemused by her reaction.
    Sipping his coffee, Cam shook his head in pained amusement.
“Wow. How’s that foot tasting, Went?”
    Ryan glared at him. “I didn’t say anything to get pissed off
about. She’s so damn touchy.”
    “Yeah, you’re a real smooth-talking Casanova, man.”
    Well, he used to be, until Candace. He was pretty sure he’d
never had this kind of effect on a woman before. Ryan didn’t like it one bit. He
jabbed an accusatory finger into Jackson’s shoulder. “Thanks for the help,
bro.”
    “Hey, even as a ‘woman whisperer’ there was nothin’ I could do
to save you from that train wreck.” The Texan’s black eyes danced with silent
laughter.
    “Whatever,” Ryan huffed. He glanced back over his shoulder,
totally distracted and off balance. When Candace turned the corner and
disappeared behind a warehouse, an unfamiliar sinking feeling settled in his
belly. Dammit, he couldn’t let her go like this. “Ah, shit.” He thrust his
half-full cup at Cam and started after her.
    “You’re gonna make it worse,” Jackson called out in warning.
“You want my advice so bad? Give her time to cool off.”
    Ryan ignored him, though he was secretly afraid the first part
might be true. Every time he opened his mouth around Ace, it was like tossing a
phosphorous grenade on a fuel tanker.
    “Well good luck with that,” Cam called after him, and the
fucker was clearly strangling on a laugh.
    Ryan raised a middle finger at him behind his back and hurried
down the busy street, stopping twice to let vehicles by. She was already halfway
to the barracks when he finally spotted her. Urgency to fix the situation
thrummed inside him. He broke into a jog. “Hey.”
    She glanced over her shoulder and dismissed him with a single,
cutting glance.
    Shit. “Hey, wait up.”
    She didn’t even break stride. If anything, she walked
faster.
    “Ace—” He gritted his teeth and broke into a fast lope. Fine,
he’d go the formal route if that’s what she insisted on. “Captain Bradford.”
    At his observance of military courtesy, her pace faltered.
Slowed.
    “Wait, please.” He didn’t even care that he was practically
begging for a moment of her time. This was more important